The Valentine's Dance

I thought of the prostitutes who'd been my only source of affection over the years since Laura. Paid whores, they were, who gave me what felt for some minutes to be affection, when in truth they were just doing their job and didn't care any more for me than the next guy they would meet. Those poor women had more morals than I, since they did what they did as a job, while I did it to fool myself for scant moments of pleasure.

"No," I continued, "what you've proven is that I'm a weak, pathetic guy, not strong enough to do the right thing and avoid such thoughts but not evil enough to steal you away and make you mine. Good bye, my old love. Please don't tempt me again."

Her mouth opened to speak but I turned and walked out of the stall, not wanting further temptation. I got it anyway when she spoke, calling me.

"Jeremiah, stop. Please?"

Something about her voice...

***

1885

After saving the calf, Sarah had slowly emerged from her grief and the doldrums in which she'd found herself. While I knew she wouldn't attend the annual Valentine's dance in 1884, I was surprised when Rachel also said she'd like to skip the event. With no prospects for me and with Charlotte still living with William in Franklin, I had no incentive to attend and was actually glad to take a year off.

However, in early February of 1885, Rachel approached me one afternoon while I was replacing a worn brake on the wagon. The nut was rusted tight to the bolt so I was struggling to break it. It was a cold day, even in the barn, but I was getting hot and getting a little hot under the collar about it, so I'd taken off my coat. Her teeth were practically chattering as she spoke to me.

"Jeremiah, do you think we could go to the Valentine's dance this year?"

Surprised, I stopped what I was doing and looked at her. "Sis, you know better than to come out here dressed like that. Where's your coat and scarf? Your gloves?"

"I didn't want Sarah to know I was talking to you about this."

Out of all of my sisters, Rachel, with her red hair and emerald green eyes, reminded me most of my late mother. She was on the shorter side, just an inch or two over 5-feet, so when I draped my coat around her shoulders, it dwarfed her and made me smile.

"Thanks, Jeremiah," she said as she leaned into me.

I put my arms around her to keep us both warm and asked, "Are you afraid that you're going to hurt Sarah's feelings if you go and she doesn't?" Even two years earlier, Rachel wouldn't have given Sarah's feelings a thought when it came to her own desires, but she'd matured a lot as she helped her sister through her grief.

"No, but I don't want to pressure her, either," she said.

"Have you met someone?" I asked, wondering why I hadn't heard earlier.

Again, though, she said no. "Can we go anyway?"

I nodded. "Sure. Anything for my sisters."

As expected, Sarah declined, but Rachel and I attended. I spent my time with the older single men, while she split her time between young men on the dance floor and speaking with a number of people around the hall. I noticed that the most discussion seemed to be with our town's new doctor, Saul Levinson, and his wife, Rebecca. Doctor Levinson was about my age and he and Rebecca had only been married for a couple of years, so they were there chaperoning. From what I could tell, Mrs. Levinson was well pregnant with their first child.

It was getting late and I was getting discouraged that Rachel hadn't done a second dance with any of her potential suitors, despite a number of second requests, so I went to find Charles Tewkesbury to give him my thanks before we headed for home. I heard my name called and was surprised to see Doctor Levinson approaching me when I turned.

"Mr. Daniels, may I speak with you for a moment?"

"Sure, Doctor. What can I do for you?"

"Well, it's about your sister, Rachel."

A married doctor does not ask about an unmarried young lady unless something is wrong, so my heart raced. "Is something wrong with her, doc?"

"Oh, no, nothing of the sort, though I am speaking to you on professional level."

"What do you mean?"

"You may not know but Rebecca, my wife, is a nurse. Has Rachel spoken with you about her interest in that profession?"

"Ah, no."

"I suspected as much. She's stopped by to speak to Rebecca a couple times recently, and even borrowed one of Rebecca's books on nursing. There's a new program for training nurses in Nashville, and similar programs have been started in several other cities in recent years. I think Rachel is considering attending but she's very concerned about the cost. Most are one year programs, but they aren't exactly cheap."

With payments still due on the 30 acres I'd purchased a few years earlier, money was tight, which made me fear his response when I asked, "How much are we talking about, doc?"

"It's a working program, where everything's clinical, so the women get room and board in return for their work. There's a stipend of a couple dollars a week for incidental expenses, but the upfront cost is about two or three hundred dollars."

I slumped visibly on hearing that. It might as well have been a thousand. It would take years to raise that much spare cash. "Thanks, doc. I'll speak with her about it."

"Mr. Daniels, Rebecca tells me that Rachel will be a great nurse. She's offered to pay $100 of the amount as a sort of scholarship if you and Rachel can come up with the rest."

I thanked him and talked with Rachel about it that evening on the way home. She'd saved $35 over the years, but I still didn't see how I could raise the rest without selling some land.

However, I hadn't counted on our sisters. Sarah gladly threw in her $20, and said she'd do more, leading her to contact each of our other sisters. Over the next few weeks, Mary and Leah (with Samuel's blessing) came up with $15 each, and, to my surprise, Esther came for a visit with Fredrick and their four kids to bring $8 more. Times were hard in Texas, so Deborah and Clement sent $3 and their love by mail.

With some frugal living (including avoiding any "encounters") on my next two trips to Nashville, I was able to raise the rest and Rachel was off to be a nurse that fall. She completed her training and took a job at the hospital in Nashville before eventually meeting a promising young doctor. They married in 1889.

Five down, one to go.

***

1892

That voice...

I turned to look at Charlotte as she dropped the mask from her face. It was her, but, strangely, it was as if it wasn't. The look on my face must have made her realize my questioning.

"I'm sorry to have deceived you, Mr. Daniels, but Mother's always spoken so highly of you that I had to meet you."

"Mother?" A chill ran through my bones.

"I'm Charli," she said, "Charleen Fellowes, Charlotte's daughter."

I immediately felt sick at my stomach. She'd listened to what I'd admitted, to still having feelings for her mother after all that time. Worse still, at her tender age, I'd lusted after her.

"I'm so sorry. I have to go," I said haltingly as I turned away, but she took my arm.

"Please don't."

"I must. You're all of what, sixteen? Seventeen?"

"I'm twenty, Mr. Daniels. Not a child, but an educated, full-grown woman."

"Yes, but...you're Charlotte's daughter." Ashamed, I pulled away from her grip and ran from the stable.

I heard her calling my name as I went directly to the mansion rather than back through the gardens. Inside, I saw Sarah sitting with Matthew Kelley. Both were smiling and speaking as if they were old friends or young lovers. My urge was to get my sister and flee the infernal place, but she was doing what she needed to do as the last step in her healing following Jacob's death, so many years before.

Needing to get away, I entered the men's parlor. Cigar smoke lay heavily on the place despite the fact that no one was currently inside. Spotting a bottle of Tennessee whiskey, I poured a shot and was about to quaff it when the door opened. I turned to see Charlotte enter.

This, I knew, was the real Charlotte. She was still beautiful but her features were a bit fuller, more mature, and her brown hair now had a smattering of gray. My hand almost shaking, I set the drink down.

"Hello, Jeremiah."

"Hello, Charlotte. This is the men's parlor. You shouldn't be here."

"This is my childhood home and my brother's house. I'll go where I please, thank you."

I considered what she said and nodded, leading to her laugh in response.

"But Charlotte, I can't speak with you," I said. "It wouldn't be proper."

"Proper be damned," she replied, causing me to draw back in surprise. She approached me and from only inches away, continued. "I spoke with Charli. She said you wouldn't give her a chance."

My face reddened. "She told you what I said?"

"No, Jeremiah, what you said was between the two of you, but, despite the years, I suspect I still know you better than you think and could guess and be pretty close."

I shook my head, rather rapidly, in denying her claim, but she put her hand on my heart.

"I know what's in here," she said. "I know why you denied her, but Jeremiah, you know, deep in this same heart, that what you still seek, what you yearn for, is lost, that it can never be."

I nodded this time, knowing that despite the years, she still knew my feelings. "Charlotte, I couldn't live with myself if I settled for copy of perfection."

She laughed heartily at that, and waved to a couple of guys entering the parlor to go elsewhere. I nodded in confirmation; after they left, she replied, "Jeremiah, I'm about as far from perfection as one can get."

"So you say, but, whatever the case, I couldn't be with someone who's a copy of you. I wouldn't see them when we were together, whether in deep conversation or making sweet love. Instead, I'd see you, always you, and that wouldn't be fair to you, her, or me. Don't you see?"

She nodded this time. "You flatter me and warm my heart, though I do ask that you avoid sharing that thought with William. He might not see it in quite the same light as I do." Her look caused me to smile, knowing how she meant it. "Seriously, Jeremiah, I must apologize to you and ask you to allow Charli to explain further when you speak with her again."

"Charlotte, I can't—"

"You can and you will, whether you wish or not, since she's currently right outside that door waiting, hoping you'll give her a chance."

"No, Charlotte," I said forcefully. "I'm 39 years old and she's little more than a baby. Your baby. Looking just like you. No."

"Jeremiah, please! Please, I beg you. Speak with her. For me, for you, and for her, I ask you to do this."

"Why, Charlotte? What difference would it make? I would forever be seeing you rather than her, and it wouldn't be fair to any of us."

"Other than a little in the way of her looks, she's really nothing like me, Jeremiah. She's smart and sweet, and she knows what she wants."

"What she wants? Are you trying to say that I'm part of that, Charlotte? Why?"

"I can't say, Jeremiah, other than possibly. Who knows what truly is in a woman's heart? Even one who's been happily married for 21-years, but who still hasn't forgotten the past?"

She grinned at me, causing me to look away, embarrassed. She wasn't done. "Charli's my eldest, and I spent years telling her stories of my childhood and stories of my best friends...including you. Jeremiah, she knows all about you, your family, and your sisters, but she also knows the kind of man you are, and I think you confirmed it for her tonight."

"I shouldn't have anything to worry about then if that was the confirmation she was expecting. At least you said she is smart, so maybe she'll figure it out and find the person she really deserves."

"Don't belittle yourself, my friend, and don't worry, she'll figure it out, whether it's you or someone else. She's not only smart, she's educated, too, Jeremiah, and she's traveled, so she's developed what the Europeans call taste. If she thinks she might want something, she'll go after it to find out for sure. I hope you'll give her that chance."

"Maybe so, Charlotte, but she's still too young, at least for me."

She glared at me. "That's poppycock and you know it. My father was fifteen years older than my mother, and I'd bet we could both name five or six couples around here who have as much as twenty-five years of difference between them. Even your own sister Mary is fourteen years younger than Richard, and you yourself approved that union."

"That's different, Charlotte."

"Only if you make it so."

I sighed. She was correct, but I still wasn't prepared to concede an inch of ground. "Charlotte, I'm sorry, but I can't do what you ask. I have to go. Is there a servant's entrance into this room so I can leave and avoid embarrassing both of us? You once told me that there were secret passages in your house."

She glared at me before smiling. "Me and my big mouth and your good memory."

She lightly touched one of the wood panels in the corner and the top and bottom panels swung open to reveal a passageway. "Down this way to the left. I'll take care of Charli so you can escape for tonight, but don't be at all surprised if you see her again."

***

Sarah, looking the happiest I'd seen in years, babbled the whole way home. As far as she could tell, she and Mr. Kelley had hit it off quite well. I listened and tried to concentrate, but the events of my part of the evening weighed heavily on me.

"Are you okay, Jeremiah?" she asked as we neared home.

"Just very tired, Sarah," I told her, hoping that news of my actions during the evening would never reach her ears.

After asking me to undo the back of her dress, she clutched it to herself and ran into the house while I dealt with the horses. Feeling intensely frustrated, I started to try to relieve myself, but as I slowly increased the speed as I pumped my member, thoughts of Charlotte—or was it Charli? I couldn't be sure—entered my mind. Stopping abruptly, I cursed at myself and at both of them, and went to bed feeling even more frustrated and uncomfortable than before.

Mr. Kelley sat with us at church during the service the next morning on Saint Valentine's Day. He and Sarah spoke for a while after the service ended, and I was regaled with more about him as we drove home, though I seemed to vaguely recall significant parts of it from the night before. Neither Charlotte nor Charli had been at the service, so I was spared any questions about either of them from Sarah.

Unlike some who prepared a major feast after church on Sunday, we'd always made a practice of a light lunch and preparing a meal on Sunday night when there was more time and so we could have any leftovers on Monday. Beyond the everyday chores like milking and emergency repairs, Sunday was a day of worship and rest, so I took the front porch for little while to read the latest farm journal and perhaps a few pages of A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court", which I'd picked up on my last trip to Nashville. It was a very cool but bright day, so I didn't plan to be out there long.

I marked the place in my book and rose to go inside when I heard a buggy coming up the lane. On seeing the driver, I called inside the house for Sarah. She came running, saw who it was, and then went running back inside. I suspected her hairbrush was getting a workout.

"Mr. Daniels, may I have the courtesy of speaking with Sarah?" asked Mr. Kelley when he approached the porch.

"It's Jeremiah, and she'll be right out," I told him.

"Thank you, Sir, and please, call me Matt."

We spoke for the next fifteen minutes or so as Sarah did far more than brush her hair. She put her church dress back on, did her hair, pinched her cheeks for coloring, and even added a bit of color on her lips. She also brought a pitcher of tea and some glasses.

They whispered for a few moments, before asking if they could sit together on the swing.

"Sure," I replied, moving to the rocking chair. Playing chaperone without trying to be too obvious about it, I opened my book and started to read the next chapter.

With the quiet discussion and occasional laughter coming from the two young love-birds, I wasn't getting much read, so my thoughts turned back to the previous evening, despite my wishes. I was struggling to concentrate on something else when I heard Sarah say, "Jeremiah, wake up! There's someone coming up the lane."

I stood up to see a young blonde woman ride up and draw rein on her black horse. She was wearing trousers and boots, so she threw her leg over the saddle horn and slid out to drop to the ground rather than doing a proper dismount. Tying the reins to the hitching post, she approached the porch and looked up at me. Something looked familiar, but I couldn't quite place her until she spoke.

"Hello, Mr. Daniels, would you like to go riding with me?"

Sarah and Matt were looking back and forth between me and the young woman.

"Ahh, Sarah, Matt, this is, ah, Charleen Fellowes." I said it almost like a question since she sounded like Charli but looked considerably different. She gave a polite curtsy to them, and then I introduced my sister and Matthew Kelley to her.

Sarah was looking at me in disbelief. I knew the words on the tip of her tongue were "Can we talk for a minute?" but I waved my hand behind my back to keep her quiet as I looked at Charli and trying to form a semi-coherent statement.

"Miss Fellowes, I would be delighted to ride with you but my duty at the moment is to chaperone my sister and Mr. Kelley. Perhaps—"

"Oh, Jeremiah! Of course, he'll go with you, Miss Fellowes," said Sarah. "As a widow in all but name, I'm not really required a chaperone." She smiled sweetly at me as my face fell, realizing that she was correct. At 29, she probably didn't need one anyway, but she'd just pulled my excuse out from under me as surely as if it had been a rug.

"Ya'll have fun," she said smiling, as she turned back toward Matt and they started talking again.

"Have a seat, Miss Fellowes. I'll change into my boots and then we'll have to saddle my horse."

She took a seat while I went inside. By the time I returned a couple of minutes later, the three of them were chatting happily, and Sarah probably knew more about Charli than I did.

"To the stable?" I asked, giving her an out if she'd changed her mind, but she took her horse's reins and my arm and we walked out back in silence.

I put the blanket on Boots, but stopped before I added the saddle.

"Charli, tell me—your hair? It was brown and you looked just like your mother last night. Now, I see a resemblance but you're blonde and different. What's the story?"

"Wig and a bit of theatrical makeup. I was involved in several plays at Hamilton."

"What's that?" I asked.

"My college for women in Kentucky. I was accepted at sixteen and I've passed my boards so I'm a graduate and have a degree. I'm going to be a teacher."

"Charlotte told me you were educated but I didn't realize she meant that. Now, back to the original question: why'd you dress up like that?"

"Proven results. I wanted to attract your attention so looking like Mother was a quick way to grab it. I wore her old dress and her old wig. I was going to show you last night and tell you how different I really am before you huffed off."

"I didn't huff off. I made am appropriate decision under the circumstances."

"Perhaps, but it's usually best to know the lay of the whole board before one makes a move. If you'd looked beyond the square in front of you..."

"I don't think it would have a mattered. I'd have still told you the same thing. Knowing that, why are you here?"

"To get to know you, of course."

"Why? I've told you we have no future together."