The Valentine's Dance

The main focus, though, was on Rachel, now 18, who, while staying with Mary and Richard to help care for their new baby boy, had met Richard's younger brother, Samuel. Eight years her senior, they'd been seeing each other for several months. I'd been friends with Sam for years and liked him. He'd been to our house several times since they met, sometimes for dinner with Leah chaperoning as they finished their evening in the swing on the front porch. He hadn't yet spoken to me about her hand, but I knew from the way he looked at her that it was just a matter of time, including possibly that night.

There was practically no hope for me, now 27 years of age and still caring for three sisters. After Laura had opened my eyes a few years earlier to how I was perceived by the women of my community, I had essentially given up on finding a partner in our area. Instead, I found what little companionship was available to me in the embrace of the whores of Nashville during my two sales trips each year.

The nameless woman who had been my instructor in the art of making love was nowhere to be seen, despite my searches, but the others with whom I spent an evening on each trip excelled at the skill of fucking and I slowly became better at that and more complacent with each such session about searching for anything more. Charlotte, long off-limits to me anyway, had been gone from town for years, easing my temptation, but stoking my heartache. As for Miss Laura Weatherby, I'd never given her a second thought.

As the dance began that evening, Sarah danced with one young man after another, having the time of her life. Samuel and Rachel danced, too, but only with each other. I spent my time talking with a couple of the other older bachelors who still held out hope of someday finding a companion, and Leah was near the punch bowl with a couple of her friends in similar situations to herself.

At nearly 22, Leah still had a few years of hope left, unlike me, but that she'd never been asked on even a single date was wearing on her confidence and on my nerves. While she was by no means ugly, she was rather plain, her clothes mostly drab and her hair always pinned up. With no experience and a severe lack of confidence, she was what some would call mousy, practically fading into the background when her sisters or other young women were around. That was basically always the case, so I secretly suspected that Leah and I would be spending our elder years together, with each of us sad and lonely.

When the band took a break, Rachel and Sarah went to join Leah, and Sam approached me and asked me to step outside with him. A light rain was falling so we stayed on the porch under shelter.

"Jeremiah, I've grown to care about Rachel and, though we have some little issues, I'm in love with her and will do whatever it takes to make her happy."

I nodded. "She can be difficult at times, Sam, but I think the two of you can be good together."

"That's what I want to speak to you about. I'd like your blessing to ask her to be my wife."

Knowing him as I did, I gave him my now standard permission speech and shook his hand. "I look forward to finally being your brother."

"Me, too," he replied, before making his way back inside and finding Rachel. I trailed along, thinking to catch the happy event even if I was too far away to hear what was said. When he dropped to one knee in front of her, several other people noticed, too, and a crowd started to form a short distance back.

Words were spoken, then more words, louder words. I moved closer, beginning to question what was happening. Leah came up to me with a worried look, putting her hand in mine as we stepped even closer.

"So you really don't love me?"

"No, Samuel. I like you a lot, but I don't love you and I don't want to get married now."

"Rachel, then why didn't you tell me?"

She looked uncomfortable as she hunched her shoulders for a second. "Samuel, I...I enjoy being with you, but I don't want to be with you like that. Not now anyway. Maybe not ever. I just don't know."

Like Leah and me, the crowd, once standing back politely, had moved closer to be able to hear. I raised my hands and said, "Let's move along, folks. They need some privacy to work this out." I stayed where I was in case they needed help, and Leah stayed, too, apparently in case Rachel needed her.

"Rachel, you're saying you'll keep me for yourself so you'll be happy but not let me find the happiness I'm seeking, too? Do you honestly think that's fair to either of us?"

With the look she gave, it was fairly obvious that she didn't see the problem with it.

"I'm sorry, but if you won't have all of me, you can't have any. Goodbye, Rachel. I won't bother you again."

He walked away looking heartbroken. I couldn't believe what I'd just seen, but was even more surprised a moment later when Leah, looking angrier than I'd ever seen her, stepped in front of Rachel and took her by both arms.

"Rachel, you are a stupid, inconsiderate dolt—"

"Leah!" I said, my voice low but stern.

"Shut up, Jeremiah. She needs to hear this," she said with a force of authority I didn't know she possessed. Turning back toward Rachel, she said, "Samuel has been to our home seven times—"

"No! Not that many," Rachel interjected as if Leah was out of her mind.

Several people had once again moved closer, but this time, all eyes were on Leah.

"Yes! Seven times! He has shown his interest and how much he cares for you, with his looks and the way he holds your hand, even the little sweets and presents he's brought you. But what have you done? Nothing but lead him on as if you felt the same about him! If you have an ounce of common sense, you'll go after him, ask his forgiveness for your actions and stupidity, and beg him to give you another chance."

Rachel was crying, but only from embarrassment, as even more people had gathered around. She picked up the front of her dress and ran out the other way, leaving me the responsibility of following her.

It took me a while to track her down, so I missed the next drama of the evening. Sarah later told me that Leah had gone after Sam to apologize for the hurt Rachel had caused him, so she'd followed behind.

"I'm so sorry for what she did to you, Sam," said Leah when she caught up to him. "And she'll come to be sorry someday when she finally grows up. I've seen how you looked at her and know that she would have been the light of your world forever, but I hope you'll find a true, roaring flame to light your way rather than the fluttering, forlorn flicker of my sister's foolish selfishness."

Leah started to turn away and Sarah with her when Sam reached for Leah's arm.

"Leah, that...that means more to me...than I can ever express in words. Thank you."

When she told me about it, Sarah added, "I've never seen Leah stand up and act like that." She started to say more, but when I asked, she just shook her head with an odd little smile.

To say that I was surprised after that when Samuel Duncan came calling on Sunday afternoon would be a great understatement. Rachel must not have expected it either, for she was quite excited when she looked out the window and saw him get off his horse. While she didn't love him, she greatly enjoyed his company and his sense of humor. She threw the door open and said, "Hello, Samuel."

Neither Rachel nor I expected his response. "Good afternoon, Miss Daniels. May I ask if your sister, Leah, is available?"

To my even greater surprise, Leah changed in the weeks and months that followed, and our plain little wallflower became a more confident, even pretty, young woman for the man she'd grown to love from afar. Sam and Leah married that fall after the crops were in.

Sarah, on the other hand, didn't seem surprised at all.

That was four.

***

1892

Our Saint Valentine's Dance was usually held on the Saturday night closest to February 14. In 1892, that was Saturday the 13th, with the moon only one day past full. I was glad of that as I went faster and faster through the Tewkesburys' gardens in search of Charlotte. The paths were fairly well lit as a result, and the couples who'd retreated to their private niches to chat or embrace were clearly visible, though not enough to cause either them or me great embarrassment.

I was almost to the end when I saw movement ahead, leaving the gardens area and heading toward Charles' new stable. I recognized the dress, the coiffed brown hair, and the party mask on the stick in her hand just before she went inside.

I stopped at the edge of the gardens. It was my last chance to turn away, to avoid the foul temptation that was overcoming me, but it was too much. I continued on, knowing I was following Charlotte to eternal damnation.

***

1883

Jacob Summers had become a fixture at our home in recent weeks, and he made it a point to be at Sarah's 20th birthday party, just days before the annual Valentine's dance. Mary, Richard, and their three, had come, as had Sam, Leah, and their little one. We'd even received a letter from Deborah and Clement, so our home was a happy place except for the presence of Rachel, who, despite her lofty goals and ambitions, found herself without suitors. Like me when it came to seeking companionship, she was isolated and alone.

The cake was delicious and everyone was enjoying watching the children play when Jacob asked quietly if he could speak to me. He was only twenty-two compared to my thirty years, so I said nothing when he called me "Sir."

"—so with your permission, I'd like to do it at the dance on Saturday. You know how she so loves to dance; I think it will be something she'll long remember and treasure in her heart."

Thinking him a true romantic, I asked, "Jacob, are you sure you don't write verse?"

"No, Sir. I mean yes, Sir, I'm sure I don't write poetry. Why, sir?"

"Never mind. You have my blessing, Jacob, and, assuming Sarah's willing, my welcome to our family."

On Saturday afternoon, he called for her at 5 PM so they could ride together, with plans for her to ride home with Rachel and me after the dance. Two buggies made their way toward town and we were joined by two others somewhere along the way.

Jacob and Sarah were together all evening, but no one approached Rachel to dance and only a few of the young ladies seemed to want to speak to her. I wanted to cut in on a couple of women, but my eye kept swinging toward my sister. Despite her intransigence, I felt bad for her, and hoped that she would find someone soon. Therefore, I skipped the dances and did a bit of clandestine work on Rachel's behalf.

"See the redhead?" I whispered to Jack Henshaw's son as I stood behind him. I didn't know his name but knew that Jack and Loretta wouldn't have raised a disrespectful child. "No, don't look around. She might see you do it. See, I saw her looking at you earlier. I think she may think you're handsome."

Barely controlling my laughter at the subterfuge, I slipped off without letting him see my face. I used the same ploy on two other young men, and soon, my Rachel was busy dancing with a whole string of boys, most of whom I hadn't primed with the suggestion.

It was around 9 PM, about an hour before the dance was to end, when I saw Jacob and Sarah step out into the gardens. The first crack of lightning and boom of thunder came shortly thereafter. I smiled when I saw a wet but jubilant Sarah came in with an equally soaked Jacob right behind her. From their smiles and Sarah's excitement, I knew their engagement was on.

With the weather worsening, the dance had to end early and everyone made for their buggies, carriages, or wagons. Rachel looked sad as she saw Jacob and Sarah make their first public kiss before running their separate ways.

That, I thought, was five.

Due to the continuing downpour, the treacherous conditions of the roads, and flooding in spots, it was almost midnight before we made it home. When we finally arrived, Rachel gave her sister a hug and was surprisingly courteous. I gave Sarah a hug and my best wishes, too, and gave Rachel the first hug she'd allowed me to give her since her breakup with Samuel. We all changed into much welcomed warm, dry nightclothes and went to bed listening to the steady rain on the roof and the thunder's repeated roll.

On Sunday morning, the rain was over and I rose to find several trees or limbs down and a couple of fences knocked flat. "I'm going to miss church this morning to fix these, or else we'll be chasing cows all afternoon and into the night."

Sarah wanted to go to church to see Jacob, but I told her the road conditions would be too treacherous. She pretended to pout for a moment before smiling and coming out to help. I was surprised when Rachel followed along behind her just a few seconds later.

Working together, we had the damage repaired by 1 PM and headed back into the house for a bite to eat. I thanked them both for their efforts, and, after lunch, I walked fence lines throughout the afternoon, making sure there weren't any other problems in other areas of the farm.

There were two carriages and a buggy in front of the house when I got home. Leah saw me and came running out, hugging me as she cried.

"What's going on?" I asked, confused.

"It's Jacob. He was apparently crossing the bridge on East Creek when it washed out in the storm last night. Sam was part of the search party that found his body downstream this afternoon. We got Richard and Mary from town and came out as soon as we could to bring Sarah the news. She's in the house, completely devastated."

Shocked, I rushed into the house to comfort my sister only to find Rachel there holding her as she cried. Many of us took turns trying to help, but she seemed to take no comfort from our efforts; her promised was dead, and, in her eyes, so was she. Sarah, our beautiful, happy young woman was no more.

She took to wearing widow's weeds despite the fact they weren't yet married. "He was my love!" she cried out when some busybody in town said it wasn't right and proper. "We were pledged to marry, and he is gone. I mourn him all the time." After that, she continued to wear the black and she didn't return to town for over a year.

Rachel, my former chief frustration, shocked me as she turned over a new leaf.

Somehow understanding the pain that Sarah was experiencing and doing everything she could to alleviate it, Rachel was Sarah's comfort and she became my new right hand. Chores formerly done grudgingly if at all were now completed without question; aid when needed was rendered, often without being asked. She made her sister's life better by being there for her and my life, if not easier, at least tolerable.

It was about that time that I purchased another 30 acres from a neighbor to add to our farm. It was mostly cleared, so it was added it to our crop and pasture rotation. I was able to add a few more beef cattle and a third dairy cow, and was even able to find someone to help from time to time with the plowing, planting, haying, and harvesting. Rachel generally did the milking and most all of the housework as poor Sarah got thinner and thinner, wasting away over the next few months.

We lost a calving cow that May, and it was all I could do to get the calf out before it died, too. Too weak to stand and with no mother to lick it clean, the little one was a horrible mess but I threw her around my neck and made for the house as fast as I could go.

"Rachel! Rachel!" I called as I neared the house. "I need help!"

Sarah, so thin she looked as if the wind would blow her away, came out on the porch.

"Jeremiah, she's gone to town to deliver the eggs and things. What happened?"

"I lost her mother, but I don't want to lose this baby, too. Did she leave any milk or did she take it all?"

Sarah had tears in her eyes as she saw me gently lower the calf to the ground. Shaking her head sadly, she turned and went inside.

She may have given up, but I hadn't. I looked out in the pasture where we kept our milch mows. One was dry, expected to calf again in another month or two, but the other two were out there. If I could get one of them to take the baby, we might save it. If I could get it to stand and latch onto a teat, if the cow had produced enough milk since the morning milking, if—well, too many ifs.

Sarah came out of the house with some burlap, a stack of towels, a pitcher half filled with milk, and a little bowl. "This is all we have until the evening milking. Start wiping it down with this burlap, and finish with a towel," she said as she picked up another towel. She poured a bit of milk in the bowl, dipped the corner of the towel in it, and then placed it into the calf's mouth. I stood watching it try to suck the milk out of that towel as if it was its mother teat, my mouth probably hanging open, until she added, "Jeremiah, we don't have all day."

Together, we cleaned and fed it, giving the little calf enough energy and encouragement to stand. "I'll keep feeding it this way through the day, and Rachel and I will get it on one of the cows this evening when it's stronger. Now, you grab a bite to eat and go start plowing. You've already lost half a day; you don't need to lose the whole thing."

As detached as she'd been, I hadn't known if Sarah even realized we were still in the middle of planting season. I usually started plowing on March 15 in preparation for the start of planting in mid April, but I was behind this year, so it was a welcome relief to have Sarah's help. When I got home that night, I learned that the calf was doing well, one of the milch cows had accepted her, and, according to Rachel, Sarah had been busy all afternoon despite her ongoing grief. Still wearing her widow's weeds, she was at least up and helping.

In hindsight, I think the loss of that cow and the effort to save the calf was what saved my sister. She saw that the world went on despite grief and hardship, and slowly, bit by bit, she once more became a part of it all.

***

1892

There were no lanterns lit in the stable, so I struck a match and found one hanging on a hook. A moment later, it was casting a small glow. Hearing movement, I looked and saw the swish of the back of Charlotte's blue dress as she ran into a stall. The giggle that followed would have given away her position if I hadn't already been coming around the corner of the stall to peek in.

Charlotte stood there wearing that blue dress I'd seen so many times in my memory as she dismissed my suit and once again accepted William's. Her long brown hair was piled up on her head the same way, too, with just a few curls hanging down. One had found its way to the front, gracing her décolletage as if drawing attention to the gentle swell of her delicate femininity.

My breath caught as I looked up at her face, with the top half covered by the mask, supported on a stick with her left hand. "You are a vision of loveliness," I whispered.

She gave a curtsy and smiled, but said nothing.

I couldn't smile, though, for my doubts were overtaking me. "But why, Charlotte? Why are you doing this? You made your choice twenty-one years ago, and I've lived with that choice every day since."

She looked down at her feet, her smile fading.

"You remember, don't you? Well so I do, as hard as I've tried to forget. I would take you and run away with you if I thought it would make us both happy, but I really don't think it would...either one of us. You'd miss William, for I know he's a good man and that you love him, and I'd be consumed with guilt for what I'd done to the two of you and what I'd done to my own soul."

The mask quivered as I saw her hand shake. I believed I was starting to get through to her. Therefore, I had to end it before my resolve was exhausted. "The game's over, Charlotte. I don't know what you were playing at—or maybe playing for?—but I can't play anymore. While I'd like to think that my morals are such that you don't tempt me, that's not it. You do, believe me. But you wouldn't like me if you knew how weak my morals really are."