Wallflower

If Gerald enjoyed the feel of the young woman in his arms, he did not tell her. He was trying to overcome the awkwardness of his impulsive kisses of the previous night. She had been rather stiff during the first dance, but was finally becoming comfortable in his arms. With her soft breasts pressed lightly against him, he could not resist the thoughts that she was a luscious woman, soft, shapely, and yielding.

He heard the upstairs bedroom door close and knew that within a few minutes Benny would be asleep on his back, softly snoring. The man could go to sleep faster than anyone Gerald had ever seen.

Sometime during their dance, Mary Margaret suggested Gerald might be more comfortable calling her Mare as Benny did. They talked a little, growing more comfortable with each other. Some of their conversation was about how long their families had known each other. For a short while, they stopped dancing and just stood in the middle of the kitchen talking about how different things might be for her in the next couple of years, and then resumed their dancing.

That Mary Margaret did not really understand what was happening was probably an accurate description of the introverted nature of a Wallflower. Other than the occasional interaction at church, her contacts with men were those of her father and two brothers.

Granted, four years ago, she had graduated after many years of school with boys and girls her own age, but the introspective nature of some people does not encourage them to join groups. They seem quite content within their own small world of self-imposed self-sufficiency. Her isolated existence on a farm left her without the everyday intrusion of neighbors or of the world outside her familiar home life. Such is the description of the Wallflower.

"Mary Margaret?" Gerald spoke quietly as he led her across the room. He sat on one of the sturdy chairs in the large country kitchen and pulled the young woman down to sit on his lap.

"Hum-m-m?" she responded, still wrapped in the euphoria of the softly playing music and the quiet room after a long day of activity.

"Have you thought about what you're going to do when your parents leave and Thomas marries Becky Griffin?"

Startled out of her tired and half-asleep state, Mary Margaret started to sit up, but Gerald held her, "Just stay there, I'm enjoying this." He paused for a moment, and then continued. "If Becky is anything like her mother, she's going to be the woman of the house."

Mary Margaret chuckled, "Gerald you are being very diplomatic. Becky is a female dictator. I think William Shakespeare called a woman like her a shrew."

Laughter rumbled up out of Gerald's chest, gently shaking Mary Margaret, whom he had pushed back to rest against him. "I think Thomas has enough Petruccio in him to tame her, but it won't be pretty for the first few years."

Finally, answering Gerald's question, Mary Margaret said, "Mother thinks I should go to college and be a teacher."

"Is that what you want to do?"

"Heavens no, I love Jeremy and Janet, but I don't want to take on the failures of other parents. Sorry if that didn't come out as it should, but I helped Pastor Widener with the children's service a few times. I don't think I want to do it every day all day long."

"Well, I was wondering," Gerald began to speak, his words hesitant and quiet. "I've thought about it...you know Benny and I...I mean it's just the two of us...there isn't anyone else...we do pretty well for ourselves...but it's not the same. Sorry if I'm not being very clear with what I'm trying to say. Would you consider coming to live with Benny and me?"

"Live with you?"

"Oh well, not right away...I mean if you don't want to right away, your mother might still need you here to help her. But when they get back from their trip, the children will be gone, at least that's what Bruce said. I mean, he did say he wanted you to pack all of their things so they could go live with Charlene and Preston instead of coming back to this house."

Gerald paused for a moment, while Mary Margaret thought about how empty the house would be during the day.

Gerald's voice was quiet and caring when he continued, "I thought maybe if you weren't here, it would make it easier for you." He took a deep breath and added, "And for the children, too."

"Oh." Mary Margaret didn't have any other answer for Gerald. It did give her something to think about, even though a few tears escaped her eyes, ran down her cheeks, and soaked into the denim shirt Gerald wore.

Instead of responding to her tears, Gerald tightened his arms. He may not have known how to comfort a woman who was crying, but he knew he wanted to hold Mary Margaret, so that's what he did. He ignored his growing discomfort with her sitting on his lap, or at least disregarded it. He sat quietly, feeling the occasional brush of her hair across the back of his hand and along his forearm as he moved his hand up and down her back, as his cheek came to rest against the top of her head. She cried for a short while, sniffed a few times, and then left Gerald sitting in the darkened kitchen, with his own thoughts, while she took her thoughts to bed with her.

***

For the final few days of that week, Gerald did not mention his invitation or ask if Mary Margaret had given any thought to what he had asked. Each day he asked if she wanted Benny to stay with her so she wouldn't be alone. She appreciated his consideration, because Benny could carry the bags and boxes of children's toys and packed clothing downstairs where they were stacked by the front door. Charlene's husband would come by Sunday afternoon to get the children's things so Charlene could have everything unpacked when the children got home.

As the pile by the front door grew and the two bedrooms were emptied of clothing and toys, Mary Margaret began to realize exactly what her future would look like. She would be alone, all day long, in a house where she had once been surrounded by two happy and active children... no men would be coming and going throughout the day who were dependent upon her for their clean clothing and hot meals, and there would be no mother's arrival at the end of a school day.

Instead, there would be only her older brother Thomas, the most solemn man imaginable, and his new wife, a woman one year older than Mary Margaret was. Becky was a person the youngest McNabb daughter had never gotten along with, despite the one year difference in their ages. Even when she was much younger, Becky was bossy and demeaning to the younger students on the school bus they all rode twice a day. She seldom had a pleasant word to say to anyone, but her worst fault? She said Benny was stupid.

Benny Malone might not be brilliant, but he was kind, helpful, polite, and funny. He joked with Gerald, teased Mary Margaret and made her laugh. That Mary Margaret had ever heard, Becky Griffin was the only person with an unkind word to say about Benny. He might need a little more supervision or instruction than most people would need, but he did a man's work every day, other men respected him, and spoke kindly of him, and best of all, he could poke a stick in dry dirt and make it grow.

***

Saturday morning dawned bright and clear. While Gerald and Benny ate their breakfast, Mary Margaret tended to the fresh milk.

When Mary Margaret refilled Benny and Gerald's coffee cups, Gerald pushed his empty plate away from the edge of the table. He leaned back in his seat, "Thank you for a delicious breakfast, Mary Margaret." She reached for his empty plate and Gerald caught her hand for a moment, "We need to go home to tend to a few things. I told one of my hands he could keep the milk if he would come do the milking this evening."

"Oh, that's good. With the house empty, I have far too much milk. I'll have extra butter and a big batch of cottage cheese in a few days. I think I'll make some kolaches one day next week."

Benny's attention was alerted at the mention of the fruit filled pastry. "Peach and cheese kolache?"

Mary Margaret patted his shoulder and agreed, "Yes, peach and cheese and if you'll go down to the cellar and find me a jar of apricots, I'll use them too." She looked at Gerald, "It's a way to use the extra milk and they freeze well. I'll make a few small packages for you to take home."

Gerald playfully clapped his hand on Benny's shoulder, "We could use some of that, couldn't we Benny?" After Benny's laughing agreement and his announcement that extra dessert around their home was a "good deal" Gerald turned to Mary Margaret, "Benny and I will be back about four to get you. What are you taking for the supper?"

Pretending to think about it for a moment, she placed her hand on the younger man's shoulder and leaned toward him, "Mister Bennett Malone, would you like meatloaf for supper?"

The man's enthusiasm was obvious from the smile he shared with his older brother. However, he stopped smiling and turned to ask, "Mare-Mar-Get can you have long hair for supper? I like long hair."

"Oh," surprised by the request Mary Margaret placed her hand on top of her head spreading her fingers around the sides of the familiar, tightly secured bun she customarily wore. When she looked at Gerald he nodded, a soft look on his face, less than a smile, but more than his usual solemn look.

"Yes, Benny," she agreed. "I will leave my hair down for supper."

"Good deal," announced Benny as he turned back to eating his breakfast.

"...and the dance," pronounced Gerald, softly.

***

It took Mary Margaret much less time than she expected to shower and dress for the evening. She chose a cotton dress she occasionally wore on Sundays when the weather was hot. The top was form fitting which allowed her to go without her bra, but she included the short sleeve jacket because her shoulders were bare except for thin straps and left so much skin showing she feared she would sunburn with the late afternoon heat of the day. At the back of her closet she found a pair of sandals that she hadn't worn in several years. Rather than the high heel shoes she wore on Sundays, the sandals would be cool and present no difficulty walking through the grass of the park.

She was ready before the meatloaf was. The large picnic hamper she had packed earlier and lined with newspaper to hold in the heat sat on the kitchen table. There were no children to wash and dress, nor were there men needing a shirt ironed at the last minute. The lack of other things to do reinforced the emptiness of the house. It was almost a relief when Benny and Gerald arrived to carry the basket out to Gerald's truck.

As the pickup turned onto the main highway, headed toward the county park, Benny asked, "Mare-Mar-Get, if you come to live with Gerald and me, does that mean you will be the mother or the sister?"

"Oh," she answered, not sure how to answer Benny's question and not even sure what Gerald had intended when he had asked.

"Or perhaps a sister-in-law, Benny," Gerald answered quietly.

Mary Margaret's head jerked to look at Gerald as Benny asked, "How does a law make Mare-Mar-Get a sister?"

Mary Margaret began to shake, clasping her hands tightly in her lap. Gerald took his hand off the steering wheel and put his hand around hers, holding tightly as he answered his brother.

"When a man marries a woman, she becomes a sister-in-law to the man's brother."

"Good deal, Gerald," Benny nodded. "I want Mare-Mar-Get for the law sister."

The cab of the truck was silent until Benny began to name the occupants of each of the cars or trucks they passed, frequently waving with excitement at anyone who would wave back to him.

Gerald had timed their arrival at the county park perfectly. Cars were finding parking places, tables were beginning to groan with the efforts of the community's cooks. The occasional clang of a perfectly thrown horseshoe joined the laughter and screams of children of all ages. Men's voices exclaimed over a well-placed move on a checker board and women laughed as they watched children play and talked of recipes and the latest gossip.

As Benny walked away from Mary Margaret and his brother, Gerald reminded the younger man, "Benny, remember, no running."

"Good deal, Gerald, no running," Benny responded, tucking his chess board a little tighter under his arm.

Mary Margaret jerked her attention to Gerald who placed his right hand on his chest and tapped his fingers lightly above his heart. The man did not bother to hide the pained expression on his face. Instead of an explanation, he lowered his arm, put it around Mary Margaret's waist, and announced, "He'll have a good time, let's go do the same."

If eyebrows rose at the appearance of Mary Margaret without the other members of her family, those eyebrows lowered as she explained why the various family members were missing. If women noticed Mary Margaret helping Benny fill his plate or carry Gerald's glass for a refill of iced tea, a few may have nodded their heads. As the sun set and small lanterns appeared on a few picnic tables, the open-air dance floor was swept and dance wax was scattered. Two violins were tuned and an accordion played its first wheezing notes, while the drummer played a few fancy riffles to demonstrate his skill.

As the sun dipped lower in the sky women removed their long sleeve shirts in an effort to cool off, no longer worried about sunburn. People removed their hats, leaving them on their tables in favor of a little breeze ruffling through sweat dampened hair.

Parents, bringing lawn chairs, collected to watch a local children's square dance club. Additional spectators created a growing crowd for the adult square dancers, who demonstrated their fancy steps with the metal taps attached to their shoes. Immediately after that the dance floor filled for the first two-step. Trudy Powell stood on the bench seat beside the table where she and her brother were visiting with friends. Trudy quietly applauded, then stepped down and reported on the way Gerald Malone was holding Mary Margaret McNabb as he took her around the perimeter of the space cleared for dancing.

Although there was no structure for the Wallflowers to collect against, a nearby tree served the same purpose. They collected under the spreading branches watched quietly, unobserved, disregarded, and passed over by anyone seeking a dance partner. Those who were selected had little need for a chair and a few women may have noticed that Gerald did not ask for a dance. If the farmers, with whom Gerald would usually spend his evening, noticed his absence, they did not comment.

"My goodness Mare, have you been practicing?" Gerald teased as he turned her away from a quickly approaching couple, deftly avoiding a soft collision. Mary Margaret did not miss a step during his quick maneuver.

Laughing lightly, the young woman nodded, "Yes, and I had a few lessons, too. Thank you Gerald, this is fun."

Gerald nodded toward one corner of the area around the dance floor. "There are some single men over there who may want to dance with you. How do you feel about that?"

Mary Margaret grasped his hand tighter and moved a little closer to Gerald, "If they ask, do I have to dance with them?"

"We can probably stay out here until you get tired, then take a walk to cool off."

"Yes, please," she responded, resting her cheek against him for a moment as she took a deep breath. "I'm not sure I can dance with anyone else."

"You never know until you try."

During the third dance, Mary Margaret complained, "This is a lot harder than dancing in the kitchen."

"Yes, it's this concrete surface. Are you ready for a walk to cool off?"

When she nodded, Gerald directed them toward the ring of lanterns around the band and walked off the edge of the concrete holding Mary Margaret's hand. A few steps away they found a narrow path and walked away from the noisy crowd up a rise into cooler air. Following the path, at Mary Margaret's urging Gerald talked about Benny's heart problem and shortened life expectancy.

Looking behind her, Mary Margaret asked, "Where is Benny? I haven't seen him since supper."

"Look for the brightest table. He's probably challenged someone to a chess game, or he's gone to the truck to take a nap. He knows to do that when he gets tired."

Tugging Gerald's hand, Mary Margaret moved off the path to sit on a park bench. "Oh, that's much better."

Gerald sat down beside her, put his arm around her, and pulled her close to his side. "Did I tell you how pretty you are tonight?"

Mary Margaret did not know how to respond, other than a polite, "Thank you."

"I'm afraid I didn't make myself very clear the other night. I asked a rather foolish question, when I should have been more direct."

"A question?"

"Yes, I asked if you would like to come live with Benny and me when I should have asked, Mary Margaret McNabb, will you marry me?"

"Gerald?"

Instead of responding to her, he explained, "I spoke to your father a few weeks ago. He asked me to wait until their trip, which would give you a little time to know me better."

Perhaps not fully understanding what Gerald was saying, Mary Margaret repeated, "You spoke to my father."

"Well, I wanted to say something to you for some time now, but you seemed a little afraid of me. I heard your mother mention that she wanted you to go to college. I guess that made me believe you might want to do that. Benny said something one day that caused me to think you weren't afraid of me, but that you were simply shy."

Mary Margaret looked up at Gerald's face just as he put his hand under her chin to tilt her head for his gentle kiss.

When she could do so, Mary Margaret smiled, "What did Mister Bennett Malone tell you?"

Gerald chuckled, "I can already see I'm going to have a problem with my little brother. He said you smile at everyone, but you give me your pretty smiles."

Mary Margaret McNabb put her arm around Gerald Malone's neck to pull him closer for a better kiss and spoke as his lips descended to capture hers, "I can see I'll have to convince your little brother not to give away any more of my secrets."

After a very thorough kiss, Gerald Malone asked, "Does that mean you will agree to be Benny's law sister?"

"Oh yes, that's much better than being a Wallflower."

They sat on the bench, enjoying the coolness of the evening breeze, and sharing an occasional kiss until Gerald became a little dissatisfied with his inability to hold Mary Margaret as tightly as he could when they danced. She yelped in surprise when he slid his hands up under her arms, deftly turning her and seating her on his lap.

"Much better," Gerald announced. "Now I can really kiss you." He put his hand under her chin to lift her face to him. While he kissed her, he lowered his hand to rest softly against her breast covered only by the thin material of her dress.

"Have the bruises faded?"

"Oh yes, they're almost gone." Unconcerned that they were out in the open, although it was fully dark there was a faint light from a half moon, Mary Margaret pulled the top of her dress away from her to show Gerald the soft skin between her breasts no longer showed the mark of Benny's fingers. As he had done once before, Gerald kissed the softness of her breast, yet this kiss bore no resemblance to that of a parent offering parental sympathy. His hand cupped beneath the breast to lift it as his tongue touched her skin to taste the saltiness left there from their afternoon in the sun and while they danced.

Mesmerized with the freedom she offered him, Gerald pulled the top of her dress down a little further until her breast was free of its confinement. He moved him mouth to cover her nipple and the areola and heard her sharp intake of breath and a soft moan.

Gerald lifted his head to look at the woman he held, "I need to stop this now, or in a moment I won't be able to stop."