Karen Kirst - The Engagement Charade

The papers consisted mostly of ads for prized bulls and assorted livestock, farm equipment and workers. Her hope had fizzled by the time she read the last one.

“Excuse me, miss.”

Ellie scooted out of the way as a heavyset farmer removed an ad for a rabbit hutch and, with a nod, ambled down the aisle. She looked at the board again and realized a second paper had been hidden by the one he’d taken. As she peered closer at the wrinkled note, her heart leaped with excitement. She ripped it from the nail and hurried onto the boardwalk.

After leaving her purchases at the café, Ellie walked to Mrs. Calvin Trentham’s house. Located near the church, the white clapboard house boasted a shingled roof and black shutters. Late-summer flowers provided bursts of violet, orange and green along the foundation. Thick groves of deciduous trees dominated the landscape and gave way to the steep, forested mountainside a couple of acres behind the house.

Ellie’s chest grew tight. The farmhouse was very similar to her grandparents’, the last place she’d felt completely safe and free to be herself. She squared her shoulders and knocked lightly on the door. Her summons was answered by a diminutive woman with gray coronet braids and periwinkle-blue eyes set in a thin face.

“May I help you?”

“Good morning, I’m looking for Mrs. Trentham?”

“That’s me.”

“My name is Ellie Jameson. I saw your note at the mercantile. Do you still have a room to let?”

Blinking in surprise, the woman chuckled. “I posted that months ago. When I didn’t get any takers, I figured Mr. Darling had tossed it in the waste bin.” Waving Ellie inside, she closed the door and gestured toward a room to their left. “Would you care for coffee?”

Clutching her reticule in her hands, she shook her head, her ponytail tickling her neck. The scents of cinnamon, nutmeg and yeasty bread clung to the air, putting her in mind of cinnamon rolls. Her stomach rumbled. If she wasn’t queasy, she was starving. There was no in between.

“No, thank you. I can’t linger. I work at the Plum, and I’m needed back to help with the noon meal.”

“I patronized the place years ago. Hated to see Mrs. Greene leave.” She nodded in understanding, her gaze keen. “Are you from here originally? I don’t recognize the surname.”

“I arrived in Gatlinburg in May. My husband passed in June, and now I find myself in need of alternate lodgings.”

Mrs. Trentham made a commiserating noise and patted Ellie’s hand. “You poor dear. I lost my Calvin a decade ago. We were together for forty-five years.” Glancing about the neat room made cozy with quilts and colorful knitted throws, she said, “Our children have all moved away. The quiet gets to me sometimes. That’s why I decided to rent a room. I’ve been praying for just the right person.” She smiled, little wrinkles fanning out from her eyes. “You’re the only one to answer my ad. How about I show you around and then you can decide if it suits you?”

“I’d like that.”

While not large, the house boasted a separate kitchen and pantry, main living room and two bedrooms. The room Ellie would reside in had two windows, both with views of the rear property, pretty rural scenes. Blue-and-white-checked curtains echoed a blue, white and rose quilt covering the bed. An oversize wardrobe dominated one corner. A slim table carved from pine held a kerosene lamp and pitcher and bowl for morning ablutions.

Mrs. Trentham tapped the cedar chest at the foot of the bed. “I store extra mattress covers and blankets in here, but I could clear it out for your things. What do you think? Will it suit you?”

Ellie turned from the window. “I like it very much. But there’s something you should know.” She sucked in a breath and took the plunge. “I’m expecting a baby. Come March, you’d have not one but two boarders.”

Her face lit up. Clapping her hands together, she enthused, “How wonderful for you! A child to remember your husband by. I wouldn’t have placed that ad if I hadn’t craved company. A baby in this house would bring it back to life.”

“A baby fussing in the middle of the night won’t bother you, Mrs. Trentham?”

“Please, call me June.” Her expression became reminiscent of bygone times. “My husband used to say I slept like the dead. My sleep is rarely disturbed.”

Ellie pushed aside her lingering concern. They’d adjust once the time came. She couldn’t let this opportunity pass her by.

“Then it’s settled. I’ll take it.”

* * *

Alexander was perfectly aware he was behaving like an adolescent. His younger brother would tease him unmercifully for hiding out in his office and waiting for Ellie to leave before making his escape. Shifting on the fallen tree that served as his seat, he watched as one by one the stars popped out in the post-sunset sky. His fishing string bobbed in the water. His lamp cast golden light on the bank but did little to disperse the shadows. Night blanketed the countryside in complete darkness.

He smothered a yawn and considered going home. Ellie had asked for fish, however, and it felt wrong leaving empty-handed again.

In his peripheral vision, a second man-made light registered. Balancing his pole against the log, he stood to his feet and studied the figure traversing the field. He was about to have company.

“Hello there,” he called.

The light stilled. He could make out the figure of a woman. “Mr. Copeland?”

Shock washed over him. “Ellie? What are you doing out here on your own? I thought you’d gone home.”

Her steps were slow. “I did.”

The brush of tall grass against her boots joined the frogs’ chirruping and occasional hoot owl. When she reached him, the evidence of tears made his mouth go dry. Curious emotion locked his chest in a vise. Aside from her periodic bouts of testiness related to hunger, the young widow was consistent in her sugarcoated optimism. Ellie Jameson looked at life through rose-colored glasses. Seeing her in such a despairing state was so unusual he wondered briefly if he’d nodded off and was engaged in a rare dream.

Circumventing him, she set her lamp down, spread a quilt on the bank and lowered herself to the ground, using the tree trunk as a support for her back. Her head fell against the trunk, and a deep, shuddering sigh escaped her. Alexander returned to his spot and resumed his seat.

“Did something happen?” Bewilderment tightened his voice.

“I informed my in-laws of my decision to move.” Staring straight ahead, she spoke in a monotone. “They didn’t take it well.”

Dismay flooded him. “You’re leaving Gatlinburg?”

She turned her head, her brown eyes appearing coal black. Her ponytail had long since lost its starch. The ribbon was close to coming undone and tendrils of hair had escaped to tease her ears and cheeks. She looked young and vulnerable...and alone, like him.

“No. I don’t have the resources to return to Kentucky. Even if I did, there’s no one left there to return to.”

Her words eased the tension in his body. “That’s a relief.” When she regarded him quizzically, he rushed to add, “I won’t have the tedious task of searching for someone to replace you.”

“I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you,” she muttered.

He winced. “Where are your new accommodations?”

“I’ll be staying with a widow named June Trentham. She lives near the church.”

“That will save you some time.”

“Yes.”

Her gaze dropping to the quilt beneath her, she traced patterns with her fingertips. She seemed troubled.

Since leaving Texas, Alexander had determined not to get involved with anyone’s problems. He’d learned in the worst possible way that doing so led to disaster. Up to this point, he’d stuck to that decision. The wisest course of action would be to gather his things and bid her good-night. Ellie Jameson was a grown woman capable of seeing to her own affairs.