Chapter 9: The Tale of the Tamrins

It's been a while since I have shared my baking activities with you. Due to the aches in my hands, using kitchen equipment was proving to be rough and once I stopped eating gluten to assist in the healing/coping of the tendinitis in my hands, I hung up my apron and walked out of the kitchen like a lone ranger headed west. I wasn't sure what my baking fate would be, but at last, I am back in the kitchen again.

My best friend Victoria gave to me a gluten-free baking book, so like the days of old, the oven is roaring and the goodies are lining up to be enjoyed!

A few weeks ago, I made a cranberry cake, then a chocolate nut tort, and last week I baked a pumpkin-pie cheesecake for a friend's birthday. Here as I sit talking into my computer (yay for talk to text programs!), I'm sipping rooibos tea and enjoying the personal cheesecake that I made just for me!

Personal Pumpkin Cheesecake with a side of red rooibos tea!

Alrighty you lot, now to what you came to read!

Chapter 9: From Dreams to Reality

The day before the festival was worse in the classroom than it was before any other holiday. The promise of caramelized apples, cider, games, and a day off from school sang to the children drowning out the lecture of Ms. Grace. In their minds she was condoning their dreaming of tomorrow’s goodness. In her mind, she was quietly condemning the founders who decreed a Wednesday to be appropriate for a festival. ‘Why a Wednesday? Why not a Friday?’ she wondered after the eleventh time of snapping to regain the attention of her students. ‘Today is shot and on Thursday everyone, including myself, will be hung-over from an exorbitant amount of fun, so the rest of the week is out as well.’  Experience had developed Ms. Grace’s curriculum for this week: Monday was heavily laden with lessons for the students and for the adults; Tuesday was mostly composed of picking up what might have been missed or that which was more difficult on Monday for the younger ones – the older students did not meet because most of them were helping their parents erect their stands anyway; Thursday, was a bit more fun because Ms. Grace designed the lessons around the themes and games of the festival, and Friday was mostly back to normal even though the merchant carts would remain up and running until Sunday. It was a lot of effort to compensate for the loss of one full day.

The younger children were the worst lot to manage in the sun filled schoolroom and Ms. Grace could not wait for the last five minutes of class to end. It seemed like an endless cycle of her getting after them to sit down, sit still, quiet down, wake up. It was a disaster, but she managed. In the last portion of today’s class the children were making decorations for the booths of their parents – she figured that this way they could continue to dream of the festival while simultaneously being creatively productive.

“Alright everyone, start cleaning up,” she announced while staring at her pocket watch that lie on the desk. Even she was counting down the seconds.

A small burst of excited shouts erupted from the children. Ms. Grace did not even bother with the attempt to curb their eagerness to leave. She removed herself from grading the essays of their parents – that chore could wait until Mr. Tamrin came later to help. Instead, Ms. Grace went to work helping to reorganize her class. The last thing she wanted to do on Thursday morning with her head pounding was to clean up after her students. The children worked quickly – she earlier promised them that as soon as the class was spotless they could leave for home.

No sooner had Ms. Grace announced that the class was looking good, the children leapt upon the opportunity and bolted for the door. Their screams of delight and laughter made them sound like some great parade barreling through town. The banners and streamers that they had created for their parents, made them look that way as well. To the man on the other side of the door attempting to enter, the colorful herd looked more like an oncoming stampede. The children unintentionally bumped into the reverend as they merrily dashed on their way.

“I hope they didn’t damage you terribly, Mr. Tamrin,” Ms. Grace nervously apologized. “Dodging my students is hardly a fun rush to endure.” The children flowing out from her classroom like a tidal wave was a force that had swept over her many times before. “Had I known you were out there I would have restrained the little ones.”

Mr. Tamrin waved his hand dismissively. “Nah, I’m fine. It’ll take more than my toes being stepped on to take me down.”

“Oh no, now I really feel bad,” Ms. Grace pointed at one of the desks in the middle of the school house. “Why don’t you sit down?” Feeling the need to sit herself, Ms. Grace took the initiative and sat in the chair beside his designated spot. The pair had not been granted the opportunity to talk since their intimate moment on Sunday night. They were both very glad to have this moment together and both felt equally as shy from the reverberating memory of the kiss (even though it was a simple kiss on the cheek).

Sitting did sound like an inviting prospect. The hours spent on his feet helping to prepare the community room in the church for tomorrow’s dinner ceremony, were more strenuous than he would have preferred.  

The pair of them made grunts of exhaustion simultaneously as they looked across to one another.

“Ha, it sounds like you’ve had a rough day too,” Mr. Tamrin said with a light laugh.

‘Rough’ was an understatement. Ms. Grace leaned heavily onto the desk’s small table and said, “Oh, goodness, yes! If I wasn’t getting after one student for bragging about his father’s pumpkin entry for tomorrow’s contest, I was getting after another for eating sweets he took from his mother's pantry. But it’s all a part of the normal pre-festival excitement. How about you? How’s your day been? By the way, it’s sort of discouraging to think that we’re both exhausted and it’s barely one-thirty.”

Mr. Tamrin instantly denied himself from making a comment about getting older. This was not the time to joke about matters that genuinely made him feel insecure. With a smile, he said, “I’ve been pushing around and building tables all day with a couple of other people. We’re getting the hall together for tomorrow’s evening ceremonies.” Mr. Tamrin paused to stretch his already aching arms. It had been a lot of work, but ten years ago he would not have regarded it as so exhausting. The preparations seemed to become harder and harder with every year. “You wouldn’t be willing to trade labors next year, would you?” he asked jokingly.

Although Ms. Grace loved her job, the prospect was interesting. “It might not be such a bad idea – you could put the fear of God into the children to behave while you teach and I would make an excellent supervisor to those poor fellows building tables at the church.” She laughed a little, but then added, “In all seriousness – I love those children. Their excitement, although a little frustrating at times, it fuels my own. There’s an energy about them, which, if not channeled right is draining, but I’ve been with this group long enough to know how to adapt and how to thrive with them.”

The way that she always spoke in such glowing regards of her students made Mr. Tamrin feel a twitch of jealously for the fulfillment of her profession. The envy had been there for some time, but he never before realized exactly what it was until now. It was something that he decided to confess; “I know that this is going to sound odd, but…I’m envious of your post here in Providence.”

“Of teaching? Staying up to all hours of the night planning and grading after spending the day on my feet attempting to teach while trying to referee families that hate each other on top of the regular attitudes and energy of children? Dealing with the problems of the teens like I’m their mother or older sister? It’s a lot of work.” The fact that she ended her complaints with a smile told entirely of her character – she loved it. This was the perfect profession for her high energy, her need for organization, and her desire to make those around her happy.

“I’m sure it is all that and more, but…” Mr. Tamrin thought a moment before elaborating upon his confession. “It’s the people that you serve that make the difference. How do I say this? Yes, your job is laborious, but you have the honor of working with the youth, the innocent joy of children, while I deal with correcting and abating the sins of their parents.” Ms. Grace had never really thought of the people of Providence to be capable of sinning. But she did not hear the grumbles of confession that came to the reverend. For one hour every Saturday evening, Mr. Tamrin made himself available for confessions, but on nearly every day in between someone came to him to share their troubled thoughts, their lies, their deceit. It was a demanding business to continually prescribe remedies of redemption, but helping people to rise from their ashes was a calling that Mr. Tamrin had heard all of his life. He too smiled. “Now, please don’t go thinking that everyone in Providence is two-parts possessed. It’s really not so bad, but it feels unbalanced at times. I love what I do and there is not a day that I regret my choice of profession, but there are times when I wish, and please keep this between us, but I wish that I could slam a ruler down when some of the ungrateful sods I lecture to fall asleep in church!”

This made Ms. Grace laugh. “Ah, now I see the true source of your envy.” Sighing, Ms. Grace changed tones and conveyed her empathy. “I understand what you mean by balance; I have both sides of the coin and it seems like you only have the tails. You need some type of peace to get you away from all of that, Mr. Tamrin.” For a second, she considered offering herself as his source of peace, but her mind caught her heart before it came off of her tongue. Instead, she quickly said, “Do you think that maybe you could become more involved with the children?” The next words that came out did not have the opportunity to be filtered from her heart through her head, “Perhaps having a few of your own?”

The words were like a bat knocking the wind from his lungs. Mr. Tamrin turned a bright shade of red. He shifted nervously in his seat while Ms. Grace attempted to sit still. She was tearing herself apart inside for asking so bold a question and embarrassing him like this.

“Well,” Mr. Tamrin did everything in his power to not look at Ms. Grace. The man even coughed to buy himself more time. “I’m afraid there’re a few, quite a few steps between now and that.”

The taste of her foot in her mouth had not dissipated, but since it was there anyway, Ms. Grace decided to grab her chance. Meekly and while looking at the tip of her boot, she guessed, “If I’m not mistaken, I’d say you’ve crossed a great many of those steps already.” Her dark, beautiful eyes rose up to his.

The pair shared the same expression of hope and wonder once more.

An uplifting swing of silence passed between them. The moment was being savored like a fine wine.

Eventually, Mr. Tamrin swallowed hard then quietly asked, “Have I, Ms. Grace?”

“Yes,” she answered quickly and equally as quietly. “But only if that is your intent, I mean…” Now she was smiling uncontrollably and the words were struggling out from her heart. “If it’s, if it’s me that you’d be interested in taking those steps with.”

The world felt as if gravity had gone. Mr. Tamrin could hardly believe this moment to truly be happening. An incredible high of emotions passed through him. It was nearly impossible for him to finally say, “Only if it’s equally desired on your part.”

Ms. Grace leaned close toward Mr. Tamrin and confessed, “I assure you that it is.”

Every gift, every blessing and every experienced good feeling was nothing compared to this moment. Though he had desired her attention and affection for years, Mr. Tamrin rarely believed he stood a chance, even with their building relationship over these past few weeks. Hearing this now, hearing her confirm that all of the little things between them had not been imagined, it still felt like a dream. To be sure that it was real, Mr. Tamrin extended his hand across the aisle to touch her face. He cradled her warm cheek in his hand and she leaned into his touch. She even pressed her hand to his to assert in her own mind that this was real.

Mr. Tamrin slid his fingers to her forehead to push the strands of hair that always seemed to escape from her tight bun back behind her ear. He quickly returned his hand to be held by hers. “I can’t tell you how long I’ve wanted to do that.”

“To fix my hair?” Ms. Grace laughed, knowing the odds of it to be low.

“No,” Mr. Tamrin interlaced his fingers with hers. “To touch your face. To tell you how much you mean to me.”

Feeling his hands interlaced with hers was so exhilarating for Ms. Grace. So long had she prayed for this day! Swallowing hard, Ms. Grace did everything she could to continue the conversation. “Well, you know, you haven’t done the latter yet,” Ms. Grace corrected, but her voice was failing her from the high of her happiness.

“I never thought I’d have a chance to so much as catch your eye, but, Ms. Grace,” he lovingly squeezed her hand. “Not a day has gone by since you returned from school in which I have not been completely and madly bewitched by you.”

‘Manners and propriety of Providence be damned!’ Ms. Grace leapt across the small aisle to wrap her arms around him. The feet of the desk screeched as it slid a few inches from the impact. The pair held tightly onto one another, cramped between the seat and the desk. Ms. Grace kissed his cheek and then his forehead before saying, “You’re the reason I came back.” She lovingly ran the tip of her nose to his. “You’re the reason I came home.”

Being this close, Mr. Tamrin could not help himself. He pressed his lips to hers. The vision that the pair of them had created of this moment under a thousand different circumstances could not have compared to the way it actually felt. 

The kiss did not last long, it did not have to. 

Mr. Tamrin had never felt so full of joy. Hearing her words, holding her so close – it gilded his nerve and affirmed his intention to ask for her hand once the moment was right. Everything would have to be perfect if he hoped to spend a lifetime with this earth bound angel. She deserved a proper ring and a well-thought out proposal. He was determined to do everything in his power to prove to her his love. 

The closeness they held allowed her to finally see the way that he looked at her. It made her almost cry. “Have you always looked at me like that?”

The inability of her sight to have seen the countless times that he fell lost to her angelic temper and beauty was not yet known to him. Instead, Mr. Tamrin simply assumed that she had not noticed, ‘Perhaps I’m more sly than I think.’ He nodded and said, “Probably.”

A moment more passed before Ms. Grace reluctantly suggested, “I suppose I should get off your lap before someone comes around and gets the wrong impression.” Mr. Tamrin did not know what to say – it felt like his head was filled with air. How she was able to think of people seeing them baffled him. To him, whenever they were together, it felt as if the whole town, the kingdom, the world disappeared. The issues of Providence's faults were nothing to him when he was with the woman who took the weight of the world from his shoulders. 

She slid from his desk and resettled in her own. The teacher sighed delightedly. “I know that this cannot yet happen, but we are something that I want this whole stupid town to talk about.”

Mr. Tamrin full-heartedly agreed. If only she knew how much it pained him that no one recognized that he was an eligible bachelor. Although, upon second thought, he figured that their lack of talking about him was probably equivalent to their overzealous talking about her. “But, you’re right. There’s so much going on this week and I’d rather people figure it out rather than us making any sort of announcement.”

“I agree,” she smiled. “I wish that there wasn’t so much to be done today.”

The reality that there was still a church to be completed and a hundred other chores to see through dropped like a weight on Mr. Tamrin. In his instant of forgetting, he had already resolved to spend the whole day with her, walking through town as if they were already an old married couple.

“Do you need any help over there at the church?” Ms. Grace asked, hoping to conjure any time together with him that she could. The essays that were piled on her desk could wait to be graded.

“I’m certainly not going to ask you to build tables, Ms. Grace,” Mr. Tamrin assured.

Standing (although she would have much preferred to have stayed with him hidden in the classroom all day), Ms. Grace said, “I can decorate and add my artistic effeminate touch to the place.”

Mr. Tamrin stood too and walked with her to the door. The pair stopped in the frame, unable to look away from each other or to take another step. Without a word, they knew that they would spend the rest of their lives loving one another. It was a beautiful feeling knowing that the lonely nights would soon be at an end.

The gentlemen extended his arm to her and she hooked her arm in his. 

There was work to be done.   

~*~*~ 

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Chapter 8: The Tale of the Tamrins

Can you tell that I enjoyed my weekend? Aside from not posting at my regularly scheduled time, I made you all wait a whole two more days! My apologies for leaving you hanging, so without further adieu, feel free to read the below segment entitled "Seeds"!


Chapter 8: Seeds

Church was as awkward as the ladies anticipated. Each one of them would quickly dart their eyes away when the light brown haze of the reverend’s would fall upon them. Mrs. Callaghan did attempt to stare back, but she found herself too susceptible to laughing whenever he looked her way to maintain the stare. Whenever a seemingly random chortle escaped and echoed within the brightly lit white-hall the ladies from the card game knew exactly from whom it had escaped.

“I can’t believe we made it through that sermon,” Mrs. Elderbe exclaimed as the four women met outside the church.

“What, did you think that we would burst into flames?” Ms.Joyce asked sarcastically.

“You know, after last night’s conversations, I wouldn’t have doubted something like that happening today,” Mrs. Elderbe answered.

Mrs. Callaghan nodded her head in agreement, sweeping her dirty blond hair from her face. Actually, with what I was thinking in there I wouldn’t have doubted it either,” she said quietly. “I’m going down for sure.”

“What could you possibly be thinking during church?” Ms. Grace incredulously asked. She quickly scanned the people surrounding them to ensure no one was listening. She knew that Hewie would certainly not check for other listeners.

Indeed Mrs. Callaghan did not check her surroundings as she widened her eyes, leaned forward, and said, “You know, I was wondering if maybe…if maybe he actually had before.”

“Oh, my goodness!” Ms. Joyce exclaimed, throwing her hand against her heart and turning bright red. “Why would you think about that in church?”

“Of course she would,” Mrs. Elderbe chuckled. “Do you honestly believe she thinks of anything else?”

“Well that’s not all,” Mrs. Callaghan furthered with a serious shake of her head. She leaned even more forward. Her collection of comrades followed her action, leaning close to each other, enclosing the circle from any other face around them. Mrs. Callaghan pushed her hair behind her ears as she elaborated, “So my thought process was this: ‘what if he has before? It’s not like any one of us would know what he was like before he came to Providence. For all we know he could have been a fop of sorts. So then I started thinking, I wonder what he’s like? And then I started thinking that of all the men in Providence, and aside from my bartender-husband, the reverend is probably the best.” (Ms. Joyce’s mouth was agape, Mrs. Elderbe was laughing uncontrollably and Ms. Grace was nearly as red as an apple’s flesh.) “Think about it,” Mrs. Callaghan continued. “He would be so attentive and engaging and, and sensitive.”

“Hewie, you’re disgusting,” Ms. Joyce said shaking her head from heavy disapproval.

“I can’t handle this,” Mrs. Elderbe muttered through her laughter. “I can’t!”

“Hewie, how on earth can you even think about these things during sermon?” Ms. Grace asked simply appalled, for even she did not think of these things while in the church.

“Ugh,” Mrs. Callaghan scoffed, “You’re all such prudes. Besides, it’s not as though he can read our thoughts or have any way of knowing what we are saying.”

“Hello,” the reverend’s kind voice shattered Hewie’s safety zone and sent all four of the ladies leaping away from the source. The reverend stared, unnerved by the reaction the women had to the sound of his voice.

However, after a moment the reverend found their expressions rather humorous, which generated a playful smile on his face. He had to keep himself from laughing especially when his eyes fell upon one of them in particular. “Up to no good again, the lot of you?” he asked kindly. He certainly was not green – he had a good idea that the subject they were discussing was less than something to be regarded highly by society. However, he did not assume that the conversation connected to him.

“Uh, n-no, reverend, none at all,” Ms. Grace timidly answered. “We were just, er, just planning our next card game of course.”

“Yes, of course,” Mrs. Elderbe quickly added.

“For next month,” Ms. Joyce further added.

“Cards,” Mrs. Callaghan said somewhere in between as she fought her best to not implode with laughter.

The reverend’s brow rose as he attempted to filter out sense from what Ms. Grace’s comrades added to the conversation, but he no longer saw relevance to said deed once Ms. Grace asked, “Er, Mr. Tamrin, what part will you be playing at our festival this week?” The other women were much relieved from Ms. Grace’s quick diversion, but none so much as Ms. Grace. Pointing at herself, Ms. Joyce, and Mrs. Callaghan she added, “We are to be on child watching duty on the first morning ourselves.”

“Keeping track of the young ones is one of the nobler duties for the festival I must say,” the reverend said cheerfully. Though blurry to her eyes, his smile was a bounty pure of joy for Ms. Grace. Mr. Tamrin sighed, but he answered with an only slightly lesser smile, “I’m going to be one of the judges for the cider and pie contests, as always.”

“You should definitely request something different, Reverend,” Mrs. Callaghan suggested with the most serious expression she could conjure. All eyes of the group turned quizzically to Mrs. Callaghan. All were held in great suspense as to what philosophical or (the more likely) total hysterical nonsense would emerge from her. Mrs. Callaghan parted her lips and said her one-line spiel, but the reverend failed to hear the humorous offensive words that escaped from her. At the very moment of her line, one of the Davis family dogs hounded after one of the Thomas children who blundered against the reverend.

As Mr. Tamrin straightened himself from nearly being knocked off his feet he failed to see the women behind him: Mrs. Callaghan was laughing in her menacing little way; Mrs. Elderbe was screaming “What?!”; Ms. Joyce was a shade of red she had not been in ages; and Ms. Grace was the jolted into action. She did not permit the reverend the chance to query the lady’s queer behavior. Ms. Grace rushed to the man, looped her arm through his and swept him off without a word.

The group of women left behind continued to laugh at the crude comment of Mrs. Callaghan while the church crowd scorned the Davis’ dog for its poor behavior. The community took this golden opportunity to scorn both families for never attending church. But Ms. Grace and Mr. Tamrin were deaf to the commotion around them. At first the reverend did ask Ms. Grace what it was Mrs. Callaghan said, but after a quick dismissal of the comment as naught to be recalled, both souls came to a slow and steady revelation.

Their bodies were touching. Their arms were looped at their elbows.

True, it was nothing more than an innocent stroll, but this was the first time they shared anything more than a handshake. In their years of knowing one another, this was instantly becoming one of the more beautiful moments. The pair were elated from the electric energy of their arms being linked like a couple as they walked through town. It was almost too good to be real, but here they were already quietly walking past Mrs. Huff’s house. (Ms. Grace knew that it was not likely, but she wished with all her might that Mrs. Huff would see the pair of them together looking so happy – maybe that would finally give her something real and wonderful to talk about.)

The pair was quite content with their relative solitude – mostly everyone in town was gathered around the church for the Sunday afternoon market.

The joy devolved into nervousness as Ms. Grace’s ever quickening heart became aware to the notion that there remained a wall of professionalism and of propriety between them. “So, er, Mr. Tamrin,” Ms. Grace cleared her throat then she continued, “I received that book you ordered last month in the post yesterday along with an item I secretly ordered for you, which I think you will like very much. So if you do not mind coming with me to the schoolhouse –”

“No, I don’t mind at all,” Mr. Tamrin quickly said, accidently cutting off the end of Ms. Grace’s sentence. Feeling horribly rude, he cleared his throat then said from his humble heart, “Excuse me for interrupting, Ms. Grace, but you did not have to get me anything.”

Ms. Grace turned her intense and lovely dark eyes to Mr. Tamrin. He simply melted inside. He could sometimes hardly stand to look at her for fear that he was looking too much. She smiled because she was able to see the tiny flare of admiration in Mr. Tamrin’s eyes as they continued to stroll along. Ms. Grace sighed then softly said once their feet turned down the short road to her home, “Come now, Mr. Tamrin, you do so much for this town and for me out of the simple goodness of your heart, so this is my thank you. Think nothing of it, sir,” Ms. Grace’s heart was beating at what she guessed to be three times speed once they reached the steps to her home. The original plan to go to the schoolhouse was lost to the weightless feeling her pulled her instead to her house’s short stoop. “Besides,” she added once her hand was on the doorknob. “I certainly will not tolerate not having a gift for you on your birthday.”

The reverend blushed. Hardly any soul knew his birth date and he was positively thrilled to find that Ms. Grace not only knew, but that she was also kind enough to acknowledge it as well. Mr. Tamrin took a step up onto the stoop as Ms. Grace opened the door, she could not turn her eyes away from his.

However, the light from the concentrated stare was engulfed with shock once Ms. Grace heard from within her house two voices startled from her entrance.

“Oh, my God!” Ms. Grace shouted as she saw the producers of the sounds.

Mr. Tamrin leapt the stairs so that he could come to her rescue, but he, like Ms. Grace was too stunned from the scene to say or to do anything, but produce an awkward stare.

“Ms. Grace, Mr. Tamrin?! I can explain!” the young Miss Thomas desperately claimed while clutching the sheet from Ms. Grace’s bed to her chest.

“We didn’t do anything!” the young Mr. Davis claimed as he too held the sheet up to his chin, lying beside Ms. Thomas in their teacher’s bed.

“Right,” Ms. Grace mumbled in her fury. The blatant appearance of the scene was enough for proving guilt without the messy necessity of hard evidence.

“Christ, she’s got the reverend,” Mr. Davis whispered to Miss Thomas.

“Why are you naked in my bed?!” Ms. Grace’s consciousness finally came to full function. “What on earth told you that it was alright for you to, to…” Ms. Grace threw her hands about madly as she tried to configure the appropriate word, which eventually she did, “To fornicate in my house?”

“We didn’t think you’d be back until later,” Miss Thomas shouted, “PLEASE, don’t tell our parents!”

Out of decency, the reverend turned away from the children and shut the door so that no chance passersby would see or accidently overhear anything.

“I’m not going to bloody tell your parents,” Ms. Grace cursed. “Just, just get dressed the two of you, but don’t crawl out the window and don’t do anything else, don’t even look at each other.” Ms. Grace inhaled deeply and upon the exhale said much more calmly, “Knock on the door when you’re done. Mr. Tamrin and I will be right outside.” Ms. Grace did not wait around for disputes. For the second time that day she ushered the reverend away, pushing him and herself out the door. The trap slammed behind Ms. Grace immediately and the school teacher lowered herself to sit on the bottom step of the stoop.

Mr. Tamrin had his hands in his pockets and he looked as though he could not be more disappointed.

“Oh, Reverend, what are we to do?” Ms. Grace softly asked. Her face was buried in her fingers. “If it were any other pair…”

“I know,” Mr. Tamrin whispered understandingly. “I know.”

The adults remained quiet for a long moment. The happiness that had them feeling gilded was temporarily broken. Behind them they could hear the teens fussing to dress as quickly as possible.

How could it be that the one thing she hoped for most for the sake of Providence could be taken to such extremes and to end up so intimately tied to her? The children in her schoolhouse she considered partly her own. She knew that it was somewhat wrong of her to do so, but how could she not? She spent countless hours with each one of those children and because of the extra special attention she always gave to the Davis and the Thomas children to keep them in line, she was closest to those students in a way. Miss Thomas had only last week confessed to her that she was nervous about something or other and now Ms. Grace could only assume that this situation was the issue formally mentioned. She now understood why it was such a difficult topic for the girl to breech.

The reverend seemingly randomly started to chuckle. Ms. Grace slid her hands off her face. “Find a bit of sunshine to laugh at, did we?” Ms. Grace could not help to smile too from seeing a light expression on the reverend’s face.

“I guess these two are proof that world peace is a viable possibility,” the reverend responded.

Ms. Grace chuckled. Her warm laugh again touched the reverend’s heart. “I suppose so, dear sir, but in this case for our town does that make the lining around the clouds silver or led?”

Before the reverend could say anything a knock came to the door. The aperture squeaked open and the adolescent face of Mr. Davis peaked out. “D’ you want us to come out?” The boy’s eyes could hardly stay still. His brown eyes were shooting this way and that, but there were no bodies walking in this part of town today.

The adults looked to each other for a tick before they tacitly decided to keep the teens from any further embarrassment and enter themselves.

The room had been messily restored to normalcy; Miss Thomas was sitting nervously on the end of the bed, which she had sloppily remade. (In the back of her thoughts Ms. Grace was not exactly sure if she wanted to sleep in those sheets tonight.) It was obvious that the child on the edge of the bed was already realizing the potential consequences of her actions.

“Go ahead and sit, Mr. Davis,” Ms. Grace instructed, pointing to the opposite corner of the bed from where Miss Thomas planted herself.

Ms. Grace leaned her back against the cast iron oven and the reverend kept his back against the door.

The children independently thought of him as a sort of barricade against the potential dangers that could come even though they feared for the future salvation of their souls.

And then it happened; the crying began.

Miss Thomas’ eyes lined with tears and then in an instant the girl fell into hysterics.

The men looked terrified at this sudden surge of emotion. Ms. Grace was not wholly surprised, but she listened attentively to the girl’s words so that she could properly offer advice instead of scorn, for the latter was not presently needed. Through the sobs Ms. Grace was able to discern: “What ‘ave we done?! M’ parents are going to kill us! They’ll never accept him and me! But I love him! They’ll never understand. Oh! I can’t believe we did this! An’ the reverend of all people had to be the one with you, Ms. Grace! Why couldn’t it have been anyone else but the reverend! We’ll be damned for sure!”

Ms. Grace raised her hand to say something, but the reverend did so first.

The gentleman stepped forward so that he would receive proper attention from the teens who both were clearly scared for what would happen next. “Miss Thomas, Mr. Davis, he started softly, understandingly. “I assure you that we will not let your parents lay a hand on you. Ms. Grace and I will not be so quick to condemn you for your acts and nor will be God.” The words of the reverend never before sounded more from the heart. “Our Creator would never condemn an act that was done out of the purity of love. That you two overcame decades of hatred from your families is a blessing in the eyes of our Lord. If you do truly love each other then you have done nothing wrong.” The reverend scratched his chin and straightened his white and black collar before continuing on a firmer note, “However, our town’s standards of propriety are more the focus now. You two are both so young.”

“But we, we knew what we were doing,” Mr. Davis quickly replied. “We’re not children.”

“But you are,” Ms. Grace leapt into the conversation. Miss Thomas resumed her crying even more. The reverend reached over to give her his handkerchief. “You’ve still your baby faces,” Ms. Grace informed looking at the youth still clearly visible on the physical forms of the babes she addressed. “Yes, I do see your maturity in class, but being in a relationship such as that which you have entered with Miss Thomas requires a level of responsibility that I am not sure I could have handled at your ages.”

“Aside from keeping it secret, how hard could it be?” Mr. Davis greenly asked. He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against the air, feigning his comfort.

The reverend scoffed, mildly disgusted as he answered, “Evidently a hell of a lot more than you realize.” That was the first time any soul present had heard the reverend curse. Ms. Grace found it surprisingly dashing. “What if she conceived, Mr. Davis? At fourteen would either of you be ready to take on the responsibilities of being parents? Especially if both of your families oust you?”

“Conceived as in pregnant?” the boy asked. All of the color drained from his face. The truth of where-do-babies-come-from struck him like a brick to the brow.

Still sobbing, Miss Thomas uttered, “Then we’ll marry. You can marry us, can’t you, reverend?””

“No,” Ms. Grace quickly intervened. “Darling, you both are far too young for that. Your first steps ought to be to get your families to drop the feud. Then we’ll see what steps ought to be taken.”

“But if we get married, they’ll have to accept us,” Miss Thomas argued as she wiped the tears from her plump freckled cheeks with the base of her palm.

The reverend and Ms. Grace shook their heads, for both were old enough to remember travesties between the families that the younglings could not.

“Why are you two so anxious to grow up?” Ms. Grace asked. When she was a child all she ever wanted was to roam the trees of Homewood forest with her very best friends until the end of time. Trying to become an adult a second faster never crossed her mind. She was not then yet obsessed with time.

Miss Thomas popped up from the mattress and shouted, “I don’t want to end up a spinster!”

Ms. Grace and the reverend almost laughed, but then both adults came to realize the seriousness of the statement. “Sweetheart,” Ms. Grace started gently. “You are far from that. You are only fourteen. I’m twenty-three and not married, but becoming a spinster is not a threat that concerns me.” And then the revelation hit Ms. Grace. She understood where the seed of this fear potentially originated. “Did Mrs. Huff tell you that I was a spinster?”

The girl became quiet. She turned her eyes away from everything.

Ms. Grace gently pulled the girl’s chin up so that the child looked at her. The teacher re-asked her question.

Miss Thomas struggled to swallow ere she squeaked, “Yes.” But of course Mrs. Huff would have something to do with this. “She told me tha’ I had better look for an ‘usband now before I run out of men to choose from like you.” The girl sobbed then added while Ms. Grace’s shocked and blank expression remained, “I heard her talking to m’ mum and aunt about how they were considering men for me to marry. They want me to marry a man I’ve never met from Dansend. They want to send me away, Ms. Grace! I don’t want to leave! I love Providence and I really do love Ryan!” Miss Thomas sent an adoring look to the boy who looked like he was going to be sick. “This is my home, Ms. Grace,” the girl continued. “Please, I beg of you don’t let them send me away. It’ll break my heart to leave Ryan and my home. If I marry Mr. Thomas, they’ll have to let me stay. Oh, Reverend, please, if you’ve mercy in your heart, please, marry us!”

The reverend did not know what to say. In his lifetime of experience, even with the vampires, he had never undertaken the responsibility of overseeing any sort of situation like this. He was also distracted and offended because Mrs. Huff dismissed him as a suitable suitor for Ms. Grace. The self-consciousness that plagued his heart and his recurring doubts began to rise.

This situation was becoming more and more like a clouded dream to Ms. Grace. It was almost like watching her memories from another’s eyes. She understood the situation only too well. The teacher removed herself from her spot on the floor. She placed a reassuring touch to the reverend’s hand, which suggested to him to hold for just a moment. Ms. Grace cleared her throat then quietly told her own story: “When my parents passed away I was placed in the care of Mrs. Huff and her half dozen feline fiends. I spent most of my time with my friends exploring Homewood forest, but one rainy day we were all kept inside. My friends and I were in the basement of the house, for what reason exactly I can’t now remember, but we overheard Mrs. Huff discussing my future with Mrs. Winford and a strange man from Portland. They were arranging my engagement to the man, a person I too had never met before.” Ms. Grace chuckled ironically. “He was a sailor – they wanted me to marry him in a year so that he could discipline my wild head and heart. I was sixteen. They only wanted to wait a year because Mrs. Huff considered me homely – because I did not have a dowry Mrs. Huff wanted to wait with the hope that I would bloom in that time.” The teacher sighed then she turned her gaze to the reverend. “Do you remember all of this, Mr. Tamrin?”

The gentleman nodded. It had been quite the scandal. Remembering how close Providence came to letting this happen made his stomach sick.

The children looked lost, so Ms. Grace further elaborated. “You see, dears, I ran away. I ran deep into the forest. Mr. Tamrin’s cousins found me and calmed me. With their help and the reverend’s they arranged for me the opportunity to go to school in the east long enough for the sailor to lose his interest in me.”

“But Mrs. Huff always brags about herself being the one who sent you there,” Mr. Davis argued.

“Of course she would,” Mr. Tamrin said, crossing his arms. “She is responsible for Ms. Grace’s education, in a sense.”

The school teacher sighed and then she looped her experience back to the issue at hand. “My point is that sometimes we have to leave our homes in order to prove or to protect our hearts. If, Miss Thomas, Mr. Davis is indeed who you honestly and rationally believe is who you see yourself with until the end of times and if Providence is where you long to reside, both options may still be within reach. Regardless, you both may have to leave for the time being.”

The children looked to each other. Their futures were so uncertain.

“What brought you back, Ms. Grace,” Mr. Davis asked, snuffling himself. “You escaped Mrs. Huff; why did you come back?”

With a sigh, Ms. Grace kept herself from looking at the reason standing so close to her. She answered plainly, “For the simple reason that Providence holds a piece of my heart that no other town in the world, great or small could ever dare to claim. Even if I have to leave again, I will always return here. This is my home.”

The reverend admired the strength radiating from Ms. Grace more now than ever before. And as he and Ms. Grace continued their efforts to plan and to sort out the mess for the feuding families, in the back of his head, the reverend secretly hoped that he was Ms. Grace’s reason for returning home.

~*~*~

The hours spent with Mr. Davis and Miss Thomas were more difficult than the pair could have anticipated. Whenever the possibility of leaving Providence crossed the conversation, Miss Thomas would burst into tears. She had never left the county before in her life, so it was understandably daunting, but indeed it was reasonably the only option for the children were things to go awry in any way.

“Do you think it’ll work?” Ms. Grace asked Mr. Tamrin as they strolled once more together through town. “Do you think the families will go for it as a total matter of chance?”

The reverend sighed. He was ready to leave town for the night to go see the Cärabadés, but it was so difficult to leave Ms. Grace. “I can only hope that we’ll have God on our side for that affect, but if not I will see what the, er, what, um, my cousins will have to say as their input for this mess.” The reverend stumbled over his words. He had become so comfortable with Ms. Grace that he very well nearly blatantly admitted that he was off to see his vampire friends (as if she did not already know).

Ms. Grace was not daft. She knew what words the reverend was being careful to avoid, but she did not mind. She understood the means for secrecy. Providence was a town of fairly liberal and accepting thoughts, even with the gossipers and the rival families, but the rest of the kingdom was a bit touchy with anything that was even the slightest bit different. Enchanted peoples such as witches and wizards, vampires and werewolves certainly were not excluded from said categorization.

The pair continued to walk quietly. Ms. Grace kept her hand on the neck of the horse the reverend brought along as his to-be means of transportation once he left town. The horse could feel the energy of admiration emanating between the people and flowing through him, but as a horse he certainly could not say anything to inquire about their identical feelings.

“I have high hopes that our plan will work, so long as Miss Thomas did not conceive,” the school teacher said, patting the horse’s shoulder. The adults grew very tense for a second. They had only mentioned the threat of pregnancy once or twice during the conversation with the teens. It was such an awkward topic to address with children who were not their own.

“But what then?” the reverend asked. “If that is the case, as much as I believe in the goodness of mankind, I’m also exceedingly familiar with those families and their sins. It’s wretched, Ms. Grace, but I have very little faith that any sort of peaceful understanding will be made between the families over this.”

Hearing the worry in the reverend’s voice was something that Ms. Grace could not stand for. She jokingly replied, turning so that she stood in the gentleman’s way of progressing forward, “If they did conceive, then I suppose that it’s lucky you are our town’s reverend and thus can marry them quickly, no?” Her smile shone so brightly even in the darkness of the night.

Her smile was simply infectious. The lightness of her words did help him to relax a little regarding this mess. “I suppose so,” was all the reverend could say at first. After a moment of collecting himself, he did manage to add, “But again, I’ll see if my cousins could maybe host them for a time; their home is rather large after all.” The reverend kept himself from chuckling to think of two children from his town hiding out in the lair of the vampires from characters more vicious than his blood sucking friends.

The teacher sighed. She took a quick look behind her to see that the road they tread had come to an end. They had reached the road the reverend always took on Sunday nights. “I had better let you go, Mr. Tamrin,” she said kindly even though she obviously did not want to leave his side. She sent another look to Homewood whose trees were soon to absorb her reverend’s presence. “Um, but, er, before I do, here,” Ms. Grace removed a small cotton satchel from the apron’s pocket she had earlier tied around her waist. “Happy birthday, Mr. Tamrin,” she kindly wished as she handed him the soft little bag.

The reverend chuckled and smiled greatly. “What’s this?” he asked. The satchel was light and the weave of the bag was obviously holding an abundance of something that felt like seeds.

Ms. Grace shrugged shyly and informed as the reverend took a peak into the little sack that fit in the palm of his hand, “They’re seeds. Lavender seeds, to be exact.” The reverend’s smile said it all; he was extremely grateful for so sweet a gift, but Ms. Grace kept talking out of her nervousness, “Well, you kept the tuberoses I gave you last Christmas so beautiful all year, I don’t know how you did, but I thought why not give you some more seeds for that absolutely marvelous garden of yours, so I ordered these because they were the first flowers to come to my mind because they are my favorites, so yes, there you are.” Ms. Grace realized that she was babbling, so she quickly cut her words to an end.

The reverend thought her babbling to be adorable. He understood, for he had caught himself doing the same with her many times before. “Thank you, Ms. Grace,” the reverend said, “I’ll be sure to find an extra-special spot for them as soon as the weather is fine next season.”

Ms. Grace realized that her smile was a spot beyond necessary, so she looked away and said, “Oh, nothing at all. Um, yes, well, do be careful getting where you’re going alright? It’s getting dark, so keep your eyes up and on the lookout for low branches and bulging stumps.”

The reverend smiled at Ms. Grace’s continued rambling. He decided to make it slightly easier on the poor lady. “No need to worry about me, Ms. Grace. I know Homewood almost as well as you. I’ll see you tomorrow night.” The reverend extended his arm as though to shake her hand in a professional manner, which was a running joke between the two of them.

Ms. Grace more than gladly put her hand in his. ‘It feels so right!’ her thoughts hollered.

A light breeze blew and gently pushed a thought into Mr. Tamrin’s mind and before the man could analyze it he acted. “Until then, Ms. Grace,” the reverend said as he pulled her forward with the handshake. His other hand softly landed upon her shoulder. As though driven by fate and not his own manner of thought, Mr. Tamrin found himself leaning down towards the lady and then he did something that Ms. Grace could never have predicted.

His lips softly touched her cheek.

“Good night, Mr. Tamrin,” Ms. Grace said as she slipped away like a feather dropped into a soft breeze. She lingered, holding the man’s hand for a second longer than a normal handshake should last, for she was still entirely lost in what felt like a dream.

Mr. Tamrin stood as though paralyzed. He could not believe what he just did. “Good night, Ms. Grace,” he quietly uttered as his rigid body watched Ms. Grace float away until she was swallowed by the night’s shadow. The night’s cool air kept the reverend from acting too irrationally while his thoughts ran wild with the heat flowing through his body. Did the kiss actually happen? Did he really feel his face to her soft skin? Was it real or was it nothing more than a dream? Mr. Tamrin looked to the pack of seeds in his hand that touched the woman’s shoulder. He held the seeds as though they were a mountain of wealth. They were the second most precious thing in the world to the reverend.

~*~*~

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Your humble author,
S. Faxon

Chapter 7: Tale of the Tamrins

While the rest of the country is enduring bitter winds and harsh weather conditions, we in Southern California are on fire watch. Yes, by mid-morning it's a sunny 75* here. We are so spoiled. I guess it's Fate's way of easing the blow of our Charger's loss to the Broncos this weekend. But, as has become the mantra of Charger fans, we stand comforted by the fact that there's always next year.

Alright, now, you're not seeing double - last week's entry and this week's entry are indeed entitled the same. Chapter 7 was a smidge on the long side, so I divided it to keep the read to the intended 10 minutes as opposed to something that takes more time away from your grind of 9 to 5, not that I encourage people to take a break from work to read my blogs or anything... ;)

If you can, sit back, relax and enjoy this week's segment of Providence: The Tale of the Tamrins!

PS - Parents, keep in mind the power of pre-reading if your youngin's are reading along.

Chapter 7 ~ Part 2: Visits

In the floor above the hat shop Ms. Grace gathered with three of the four of her very best friends. The fourth was off wildly establishing her independence from Providence in some unknown remote corner of the world. This was the women’s Saturday afternoon routine to meet for a couple of rounds of cards in the privacy of one of their homes. Tonight’s game was extra-special because their host for this game, Mrs. Elderbe, recently returned from her travels with her husband to visit his family in Viramont. The women all entered the building with the full realization that surely this day was to be filled with wonderful stories and uncontrollable throngs of laughter.

The woman with whom the reverend saw with Ms. Grace was a young lady named Ms. Julia Joyce. The pair entered the hat shop belonging to Mrs. Victoria Elderbe’s husband. Mrs. Callaghan arrived only a couple of minutes after Ms. Joyce and Ms. Grace. The social standards of Providence that required formal recognition of last names had been adapted by this group of gals long ago. The nicknames were adaptations of their maiden names, which suited their purposes of friendship like a glove.

“Do you need us to read your cards for you, Gracie?” Mrs. Callaghan teased, using the teacher’s nickname. All her friends knew that her sight was less than perfect even though she would never outright come to admit such a fault.

“No,” she succinctly, sharply barked. She could see the colors and the pictures fine. Ignoring the comment completely, Ms. Grace asked Mrs. Elderbe how her recent trip to Viramont had been as they all settled around the table in the second story of the hat shop.

After opening the window to let a breeze into the room, Mrs. Elderbe brushed a braid of her black hair from her face to answer, “You would not believe what madness happens there.”

“What do you mean?” Ms. Joyce asked as she started to shuffle the deck of cards. “It’s only a couple of miles north of us.”

“Yes, but the capitol of Viramont is insane! You don’t even know how huge it is!” Mrs. Elderbe excitedly shared. “There are so many people there. There was one point when my husband and I just looked at each other and said, ‘alright, that’s good enough for us,’ and then we came back. It was too much, I could not handle its size.”

“You’re the only person from Providence to make it to the Viramont capitol and back and that’s all you have to say about the place, and the whole country you went through to get there?” Ms. Joyce asked, pouring wine from the bottle she brought into glasses for her friends.

“I brought my own, thanks,” Mrs. Callaghan denied a glass from Ms. Joyce, flashing from her pocket a small water bladder her husband (the barkeep in the neighboring town of Dansend) had given her. The message of using it for water had been lost to her higher tastes.

The women chuckled and rolled their eyes at Mrs. Callaghan, dismissing her antics on account that they had been exposed to her eccentricities for years.

“I guess I do have one story, it’s really involved, but it’s the only one worth telling,” Mrs. Elderbe admitted as she accepted a glass from Ms. Joyce.

Scooting her chair closer to the table, Ms. Grace encouraged, “Oh, please do tell.”

With little more convincing to Mrs. Elderbe the most involved, incredible, and the most hilarious story was told. At several intervals throughout the tale, the listeners would beg for the teller to stop so that they could have a chance to recover from their laughter. Ms. Joyce lost the ability to breathe once or twice and Ms. Grace fell out of her chair from the provocation of utmost incredulous laughing. By the end of the story, Mrs. Callaghan’s forehead was deemed to be permanently made red from when she knocked her head on the table as she was bent over from stitches.

“What did I say? I told you, you wouldn’t believe it!” Mrs. Elderbe mockingly accosted.

The women continued to talk for some time and to play their cards after their hooplah settled. 

They all quickly found that their sides and stomachs were sore from their roaring, but it was routine for such aches to accompany these card games. Many more howls were made at Mrs. Callaghan’s capers along with pokes at Ms. Grace’s lack of proper vision. However, those jests at Ms. Grace’s sight were a great relief to her because the general topic of marriage, which she dreaded most was being almost entirely avoided. But of course, it always did come up.

“Tell us, J.J., are you ready to become Mrs. Vega at the fall festival?” Mrs. Callaghan asked of Julia Joyce while shimmying her shoulders at the queue of saying ‘Vega’ as she always did when the man’s name surfaced.

The pale skinned Ms. Joyce went stark pink. She pursed her lips, pinched the cards in her hand to her chin, and said excitedly while kicking her feet below the table, “I can’t wait!”

“Oh, marriage,” Mrs. Elderbe sighed despondently. “Can’t wait for the fights and the frustrations, I’m sure.”

“Who cares about that when there’s the sex,” Mrs. Callaghan bluntly said.

All of her card playing comrades stared at her in dubious shock. None could believe that she actually said that word even though Ms. Callaghan was the most indiscrete of them all. Talking of such things was more of a taboo than talking about the vampires.

“Why are you all looking at me like that?” Mrs. Callaghan asked with her deceptively innocent voice. Her question filled eyes looked at them curiously over her poor hand of cards. Mrs. Callaghan combed her long-dirty-blond bangs from her face as she added, “It’s not like you all don’t know what I’m talking about, well, maybe you two don’t,” she pointed her cards at Ms. Grace and Ms. Joyce, “but you will soon and then you’ll understand.”

Ms. Joyce and Ms. Grace continued their stares, but Mrs. Elderbe actually nodded her head in approval, “I’ll give her that.”

“Thanks for that truly enlightening conversation, Hewie,” Ms. Grace sarcastically said, addressing Mrs. Callaghan by her nickname that was based on her maiden name, Hewlett.

“What? Do you want details, Gracie?” Mrs. Callaghan asked, but mostly proposed, “’Cause I can give you details.”

“I’m sure you could,” Ms. Grace said with a chuckle as the image of Mr. Callaghan’s incredibly gorgeous figure and form flashed into her mind.

“Oh, don’t!” Ms. Joyce bashfully protested. “I’d much prefer to find out for myself, thanks.”

Tapping her fingers to the table, Mrs. Elderbe asked Ms. Joyce, “So, who is this man that you are marrying anyway? I’ve been in and out of town so often that I don’t even know who one of my best friends is marrying. Is this man alright?”

“Oh, he’s alright, alright,” Mrs. Callaghan answered suggestively for Ms. Joyce. “Mr. Vega’s the exotic type,” she added with another shimmy of her shoulders. “And he’s a wizard too if you can believe that, which makes him even more exotic.”

“No, no he’s not exotic!” Ms. Joyce vehemently protested to defend her shyness once more. (Ms. Grace and Mrs. Callaghan were struggling to not burst out with laughter because the two of them had this conversation among themselves already – the consensus between them was that Mr. Vega could properly be categorized as ‘exotic’). “Stop,” Mrs. Joyce demanded from her friends who were pink with laughter.

Mrs. Elderbe shifted her eyes from one friend to the next as even she began to chuckle from the general contagion of their laughing. Mrs. Joyce glared at her friends as she answered, “His parents are immigrants, but he was born here. He has a light accent, but he speaks perfect common tongue just like any of us.”

Throughout this conversation Ms. Grace had become very quiet. There was little toward it that she could contribute, especially because of whom it was her heart desired. However, Mrs. 

Callaghan was not about to let her friend go unnoticed at this card game. “How do you think Mr. Higley will be?” Mrs. Callaghan directly asked Ms. Grace.

Ms. Grace nearly spat out the drink she was attempting to swallow. Choking down her mouth-full of wine Ms. Grace quickly said, “None of us are of any authority to speak so inappropriately about anyone, especially him!”

“Oh, come off it, you will be someday,” Mrs. Callaghan said under her breath. “Who else in Providence could you marry, Gracie?” she added with more panache. “How many single young bachelors are there here?”

“She could look in neighboring towns like I did,” Ms. Joyce suggested looking to Ms. Grace with utmost sympathy. “It’s rough out there; the only single men here are Mr. Higley…um…”

“Grissom Honer,” Mrs. Elderbe added. “Oh, and the Witten brothers.”

“Ewe,” the other women all omitted their disgusted thoughts to that last suggestion.

Shaking her head adamantly Ms. Joyce protested, “No. Gracie deserves way better than either of the Witten boys.”

“Thank you,” Ms. Grace said although she did not care for this conversation to continue a word farther. She pretended to be interested in rubbing the top of her hand where there was a scar from childhood on her skin. “I teach those boys in my adult class with the reverend. They are vial. If I had to choose between either of them and Mr. Higley I would remain a spinster.”

“That wasn’t an option,” Mrs. Callaghan corrected with a chuckle.

Without making any sort of response Ms. Grace placed down two cards, which earned her several points in their card game. Her comrades made disgruntled noises of defeat. They all had fallen behind in their rankings with this move.

The women played in a remarkably lengthy silence. It was a full five minutes of silent card playing before Mrs. Elderbe asked, “Wait, what do you mean the reverend and you are teaching together? When did that happen?”

“It’s been about three weeks now,” Ms. Grace answered. “We’ve only added curriculum to my continuing education class.”

With a sigh Mrs. Elderbe said despondently, “No one tells me anything anymore.”

“That’s because you removed yourself from the Providence gossip-loop for several weeks,” Ms. Joyce said smartly. “Had you been here last month you would have heard repeatedly from Mrs. Winford about the ‘union of Providence’s greatest teachers’ or something like that.”

“No, that is how she was selling the class,” Mrs. Callaghan confirmed. “I live in the next town over and I heard it from her like that.” She shuffled the deck of cards. In the duration of the ruffling sound, Mrs. Callaghan thought of something rather odd, but something so plain that she could not believe it took her and many others so long to perceive. Smacking her palm to her forehead, Mrs. Callaghan said, “Oh! There is another man we’ve all forgotten!” The ladies looked at Mrs. Callaghan as they awaited an answer which she eventually exclaimed, “The reverend!”

Ms. Grace nearly fell out of her chair.

“The reverend?! What? Come on, really, Hewie?” Mrs. Elderbe asked in total shock. “I don’t know. That’s odd. Wouldn’t he be a little old for Gracie?”

“Why is it odd? And I don’t think he’s that old. He doesn’t look it at least.” Mrs. Callaghan pursued. (Gracie was clinging to her hand of cards like a vice.) “Think about it before you judge so fast: Mr. Tamrin would be faithful and certainly honorable and forgiving by default. Why not? He sounds like the perfect husband if you ask me.”

“But what about that other thing we were just talking about,” Mrs. Elderbe muttered as though afraid to be overheard. “Do you think he’d be…I don’t know…would he even know how?”

Ms. Grace was absolutely tepid and her knuckles were white with anxiety. Ms. Joyce was too appalled to even say anything aside from, “I can’t believe you two are even talking about this – this has to constitute a sin.”

Mrs. Callaghan rolled her eyes as though indeed this subject was nothing out of the ordinary. “I’m sure he would know how, for goodness sakes. A man’s a man regardless of his profession; it’s in his instincts. And what would be absolutely one-hundred percent the best part about marrying the reverend, Gracie? It is guaranteed that he would be a virgin just like you!”

~*~*~

“Don’t pay them any heed, Gracie,” Ms. Joyce consoled her dear friend as they slowly walked through Providence together. “Hewie was just joking about the reverend, you know how she is,” Ms. Joyce continued, giving Ms. Grace’s arm that she held onto for congenial support a little squeeze.

Ms. Grace was grateful that Providence was covered in a blanket of twilight – the dim yet beautiful light masked the red that flared on her face. “I can’t believe we were talking about him like that, so openly, the poor man,” Ms. Grace said after a while.

Mrs. Joyce nodded as they slowly neared the western part of town where she lived with her parents. “It was really odd, I’m not sure if any of us will be able to make it through church tomorrow and look him in the eye. Ugh, and he is so good with making eye contact with us during his sermons.”

Ms. Grace made an unenthusiastic note. “I’m sure he’ll be able to see our very thoughts.”

The women both sighed. They had reached the end of town where the reverend’s house lay directly across the road from the house of the Joyces.

“How are your parents, J.J.?” Ms. Grace asked quietly as they lingered outside the house.

“They’re getting nervous about the wedding,” she answered after a reflective thought. “True as it is that they’ve still another daughter to marry off, but I think they are going to have a hard time giving me away next week.”

“I would imagine so,” Ms. Grace said quietly. Her peripheral vision was locked on the reverend’s home. “You are the favorite, after all,” she added with a wink.

“Oh, I know,” Ms. Joyce said proudly, holding onto the hope that the statement was true even though she was the middle child of three daughters. “Well, I’d better get going; I’ll probably have to get up extra early tomorrow to go to confession to purge my soul of guilt.”

“So, you’re going to go to the reverend and confess to him that we spent an hour debating if he was actually a virgin or not?” Ms. Grace asked sardonically. “But I still stand by what I said: probably most men here are until they marry.”

Ms. Joyce planted her hands on her hips and gave Ms. Grace an angry, yet delighted smile. “Stop talking about it.” She shook her finger at Ms. Grace then turned around on her heels and skipped off to her front door. “G’ night, Gracie!”

Shaking her head at the queer delightful silliness of her friends, Ms. Grace chuckled a goodnight as well.

The school teacher began to walk away with the heavy thought that her days were filled with people, sometimes more so than she could endure, while her nights empty and lonely. She locked her sight onto the reverend’s house, which was without light. Ms. Grace wondered if the good man had already adjourned to bed for the night at such an early hour. For the briefest of moments she considered entering his home and confessing her love to him so that they could marry right away. She was very curious as to what his reaction would be, but she was not that foolish or that bold. As close as she was to her friends, she dreaded ever telling them about her attraction to him, that is, unless he confessed his love to her at which she would shout it from the rooftops.

Ms. Grace took the time to wonder if the reverend was lonely and her heart felt heavy from the thought. With yet another sigh, Ms. Grace began to walk back towards her home, but a bright light and a sweet voice coming out from inside Mrs. Keithly’s house distracted her from her course. Ms. Grace’s heart swelled again. Through the window of Mrs. Keithly’s home Ms. Grace could see the reverend (though not clearly) visiting with the darling widow. Mr. Tamrin seemed to be telling the older woman a story of some sort, for his features were animated with excitement. It looked as though he was acting something out as he was speaking.

Ms. Grace smiled. She immediately deemed that surely Mr. Tamrin would make an exquisite father for their children someday. She blushed at the thought and recommenced her journey home. She knew that she would sleep well tonight, for even though he was not with her she knew where her heart was and she knew that at least he was not alone. 

~*~*~

In regards to the Golden Globes the other night, I cannot agree with this post more:
http://www.buzzfeed.com/lyapalater/emma-thompson-was-secretly-but-not-so-secretly-the-best-part

Emma, if you're reading - you are, without doubt, one of the greatest people around!

Your humble author,
S. Faxon