Boxed Set: Deep in the Heart of Texas

  “I know.” Belinda shook her head and whispered the rest, holding her fan up so that no one would be the wiser. “Surely they will turn up shortly. I have it on good authority that James took her to meet the pastor. I do hope that’s true.” Her mother opened the picnic basket and began to unpack their lunch.

  George gave her a knowing look. “Could I have a moment of your time away from the group?”

  “Certainly.” She folded her fan, fussed with her skirts and, with George’s help, rose to her feet. “Mama, I will be back shortly.”

  Her mother gazed up with a curious look on her face. “Take your time, Belinda. It will take me awhile to get things unpacked. Papa will help.”

  Her father glanced up with a nod. “Go on, you two. But be back soon. You don’t want to miss Mama’s fried chicken and biscuits.”

  Belinda smiled as she took George’s proffered arm. They strolled beyond the groups of people, George whispering all the while. “I require your help, Belinda,” he said, keeping his focus straight ahead.

  “Oh?” She gazed at him, confused. “What can I do?”

  He prompted her to keep walking. Clearly, he did not want others to glean anything from their conversation. “I’ve given this a great deal of thought. In fact, I’ve scarcely slept all week. I need to woo Corabelle, but I don’t have a clue where to begin. She’s from the city and is accustomed to fine things and fine words. She needs to be romanced. I am not a man of words. And surely you can see that I am not the romantic sort.”

  “Well, of course you are!” Belinda stopped and gazed at him, astounded at his confession. “Why, you’re the kindest, most thoughtful man I know.”

  “Thoughtfulness and romance are not one and the same,” he debated.

  “On the contrary.” She took his arm, and they began to walk once again. “I find it quite romantic when a man is thoughtful.”

  “Still, I believe something more is required here.” He paused and gaze into her eyes for a moment. “Surely the only way to win Corabelle’s heart is through a poem. A...well, a love poem.”

  “Oh, marvelous idea!” Belinda practically squealed. “Have you written one?”

  He groaned. “I tried, but it sounds ridiculous. I thought maybe you could help.” He paused a moment. “In exchange for your help, I will cover the cost of Corabelle’s train ticket. Greta told me that you paid for it yourself, and I want to do what I can to help, since you’ve obviously arranged all of this for me.”

  Belinda felt her cheeks turn warm. She opened her fan once again. “I do hope you will forgive me for that. It was rather presumptuous, I know. But I’m thrilled that you have taken an interest in her. That’s wonderful news. Of course I will help you. Just show me what you have written and we will build on it.”

  George gestured toward the steps in front of the church, and they both took a seat. He pulled a piece of paper from his coat pocket and slid it her way. “This is it.” He shrugged. “Not much.”

  “Let me be the judge of that.” She skimmed over the page and then began to read aloud, using her most romantic voice:

  Oh, lady fair

  With golden hair

  And winsome smile

  You’ve crossed the miles

  To meet me here

  And now, my dear,

  I offer you

  My heart so true

  Belinda paused and gazed at George with new admiration. “George! This is lovely.”

  He sighed. “Do you think? The ending needs some work, wouldn’t you agree? Seems rather open-ended. And what am I offering her, after all?” He rose and began to pace, finally turning back to Belinda. “You see my dilemma? How can I say I’m giving my heart to a total stranger? I don’t even know my own heart yet.”

  Belinda rose and put her hand on George’s shoulder. “Well, of course you do.” She placed her palm against his chest, feeling the beat of his heart. With a smile, she added, “Don’t you see? It’s been with you all along. If anyone can read its messages, you can.” For a moment, she held quite still, feeling the beat of his heart against her hand. Then, realizing that a couple of youngsters were looking on, she pulled back. “So sorry.”

  “No.” He shook his head and gave her a funny look. “No apology necessary. You’re trying to help.”

  “Yes, well, let’s get busy on this poem, shall we?” She took a seat once more and read the words of the letter. “What are you thinking for the end? If you’re not offering her your heart, then what?”

  George sighed. “That’s just it. I don’t know. Maybe my time? My attentions?”

  “Yes, I think that will do.” Belinda stared at the page once again. “Though I’m not quite sure what rhymes with attentions.” She chewed on that problem for a bit. Suddenly an idea came to her. “I know what we can do. Tomorrow, when we’re both on our lunch breaks, we should visit Peter Conrad at the bookstore.”

  “Of course.” George looked over with a hopeful expression. “He’s the best poet in town.” After a moment’s pause, his enthusiasm seemed to wane, however. “On the other hand, I don’t know that I care to expose my feelings—if that’s what they are—to Peter. What if word gets around town?”

  “I think Peter can be trusted,” Belinda said. “But if you are concerned, I will go to him myself and ask for his help in advance, and then we can meet with him at an appropriate time. I know he will give it. He’s our town’s poet laureate, after all! Corabelle will never know that he helped.”

  “Hmm.” George sighed. “I don’t wish to be deceptive.”

  “No, you won’t be. Don’t you see?” She gazed into his eyes, overcome with excitement. “You’ve laid the foundation with what you’ve already written. He will build on it, but it will still be yours. And I promise, Corabelle won’t see it until you put your stamp of approval on it. Agreed?” She stuck out her hand.

  George paused a moment then slowly extended his hand. “I suppose that would be all right.”

  “Wonderful! Just watch and see what the Lord does, George! I have a feeling He’s up to something mighty big here!” As she spoke the words, Belinda looked up and discovered the widow Hanson and Samuel Bromstead walking side-by-side and talking. Wonder of wonders! The Lord really was up to something here. Something grand!

  Overcome with joy, she folded the paper and tucked it into her waistband, far from watchful eyes. Then she linked her arm through George’s and they made their way back across the church lawn to join her family for dinner on the grounds.

  ***

  George couldn’t help but feel that something was amiss all through the meal. It wasn’t just the fact that Corabelle scarcely looked his way. It was the overwhelming sense that James might very well take his head off if he dared to engage her in conversation. Well, he would do his best, regardless. By the time they’d finished their dessert, George had worked up the courage to open his mouth.

  “Might I have a few minutes of your time, Miss Corabelle?” he asked as he swallowed down the last of his peach cobbler and lemonade.

  She turned from a giddy conversation with James to say, “Why, certainly, George.”

  Moments later, the couple walked arm in arm beneath the overhanging trees. Finally, George could speak his mind. Only, when he tried to, the words stuck in his throat. Something about being next to this beauty caused him to lose all his ability to think clearly. Or to string two words together in a sensible sentence. He found himself babbling...about the weather, the barbershop, and other ridiculous nonsense. He would’ve slapped himself if she hadn’t been watching.

  Corabelle, ever gracious, appeared to play along, but he could tell that her heart wasn’t really in it. Only when they rounded the back side of the church and met James face-to-face did her eyes light up.

  “Do you mind?” James asked, with a twinkle in his eye. “Miss Corabelle and I have some unfinished business to take care of.”

  George nodded on the outside, but inside his heart twisted. Looked like it might take something more th
an a poem to woo this big-city beauty.

  Not that it would make much difference. No, as he observed the way she came alive in James’s presence, as he caught a glimpse of the undeniable sparkle in her eye, George had to ask himself a question: “She is a beautiful woman...but is she the woman for me?

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  The Saturday after the picnic, Belinda sat at the edge of the creek, beneath the shade of her favorite oak tree, with her bare legs dangling over. Dipping her toes in the water was a familiar, comforting pastime. Here, she could think clearly—and pray. She held a fishing pole in her hand, as always. Something about coming to the creek for a little quiet time always put her in a better frame of mind. Besides, she had a lot to think about today. She and George planned to meet in town to visit Peter Conrad at his bookshop. He would advise them about the poem, and George’s relationship with Corabelle could move forward as planned.

  Pushing thoughts of the poem out of her mind, she attempted a prayer. “Lord, I know You see all things. You know what’s going to happen long before we do. Father, I ask You to work a miracle here.” She focused her prayers on George and Corabelle, of course, but threw in an extra one for Samuel Bromstead and the widow Hanson. Surely if just one couple could be happily matched, her business would begin to blossom. Men would come from out of the woodwork to find wives. And the town, of course, would thrive as a result.

  After she whispered a soft, “Amen,” her thoughts shifted back to George. They had been friends for so long...all the way back to grade school. Oh, the merciless teasing he’d endured from the little girls. He wasn’t like the other boys; he didn’t tease or cajole. No, George Kaufman had always been the kindhearted one. The one who got overlooked at game-playing time. The one you knew you could count on if you were in a jam.

  And now the poor fellow was subjected to torment of a different kind.

  “Poor George.” Belinda sighed as she thought about his plight. All week he’d been forced to watch James and Corabelle’s growing relationship. He’d endured it like a champ. But today all of that would change. With Peter’s help, George would craft a beautifully written poem, one guaranteed to win any woman’s heart.

  A squeal rang out and Belinda turned, surprised to see Corabelle running her way.

  “W–what happened?” Belinda dropped the pole and scrambled to her feet, fearing the worst.

  “Oh, Belinda!” Corabelle paused to catch her breath. “I—I can’t believe it! He—he—asked me to marry him!” She stuck out her left hand and showed off a delicate opal ring. “Isn’t it beautiful? I’m getting married! I’m really, truly getting married!”

  Belinda scrambled to her feet, overcome with joy. “Really? Oh, this is marvelous!” She could hardly believe it! Even without the poem! “George actually proposed?”

  The color drained from Corabelle’s face and her lips curled down in a pout. “Not George, silly. James. Your brother!”

  Belinda felt as if her stomach had plummeted to her toes. James...proposed? Could such a thing really be possible? She tried to force a smile but could not, for happy as she was to have Corabelle join the family, there would be one whose heart was supremely broken over this news.

  Corabelle grabbed Belinda and gave her a tight squeeze and then giggled. “We’re going to be sisters! And you have to help me with the wedding. I’ve got the dress, of course, but I know nothing about the rest of it. Flowers. Cake. Veil. I have nothing ready!” She squeezed Belinda’s hand. “Please say you’ll help me.”

  “I suppose I could help....” Belinda’s voice drifted off as she found herself distracted. In her mind’s eye, she could see the look on George’s face when he received the news. She pulled on her shoes and laced them up, trying to stay focused.

  Corabelle grinned from ear to ear. “Oh, thank you, thank you! If I hadn’t come to this wonderful place, I would never have met your James. And now I have! I’m so blissfully, gloriously in love! I’ve never felt this way before. Why, it’s the happiest feeling in all the world.”

  “I’m sure you’re right.” Belinda swallowed the lump in her throat. She couldn’t help but wonder how George would feel about all of this, however. Perhaps the word had already spread through town. Or would by day’s end.

  Swallowing her pride, she rose, grabbed her fishing pole, and tagged along on Corabelle’s heels. Once at the house, the feisty New Yorker spent a good hour making plans for her big day. Mama was beside herself with glee at the whole thing. She chattered on and on, clearly thrilled with it all.

  “We want to marry right away,” Corabelle explained and then released a giggle. “James says there’s no reason to wait.”

  “But you two hardly know each other,” Belinda argued. “Surely you don’t mean to rush things.”

  “Your papa and I met in May and married in June,” Mama said with a girlish smile. “Honey, when you find the right one, there’s no disputing the fact. All the waiting in the world won’t stop the hands of time.”

  “Yes, but...” Belinda wanted to argue. Wanted to say, “But if you wait, perhaps you will see that you’ve snagged the wrong groom.” Instead, she kept her thoughts to herself, pasted on a smile, and joined the conversation about the ceremony.

  “You will stand up for me, of course!” Corabelle said, turning Belinda’s way. “I have you to thank for this...for all of this!” On and on she went, talking about the wedding, which would take place at the church in two weeks.

  Two weeks. Two short, sweltering-hot, midsummer weeks. Two weeks to keep George from taking back the money he’d given her for Corabelle’s train ticket. She would need that money to secure another bride—from who knew where—for George. Surely someone somewhere would want to marry the town barber.

  After lunch, Corabelle and James went off for a ride in the buggy. Belinda used this opportunity to sneak into town. Speaking with George was critical. She had to tell him herself, though the very thought of it made her ill. She made her way onto Main Street, dragging her heels all the way. Oh, how she dreaded sharing this news.

  As she arrived at the barbershop, George happened to walk outside to sweep the front porch. “Belinda.” He turned to her with a smile. “You’re early. I thought you were coming at four thirty. Peter isn’t expecting us till then.” He grinned. “You’ll be so proud of me. I’ve been working on the poem. The ending is really coming along, so I think Peter will have a strong foundation.”

  “I see.” She drew in a deep breath. “George, I have something to tell you. Are you busy?”

  “No. In fact, there’s not a whiskery man in town, apparently.” He grinned. “Business has been slow today.”

  “I’m here to talk about Corabelle.”

  His eyes lit up at once. “I’m so glad you brought her up. You’re not going to believe what I’ve done. I went off to Terrell yesterday afternoon and fetched a ring.”

  “You didn’t.” Belinda began to fan herself as a wave of dizziness passed over her. She pushed aside her fears as best she could.

  “I did!” He raced to the back of the store and came back carrying a small velvet box. “A man can’t very well propose without a ring, can he?”

  His hand trembled as his fingers uncurled, revealing the most beautiful ring she’d ever seen. Belinda felt her heart plummet to her toes as she stared at the lovely silver band with a shiny blue stone. She couldn’t help but gasp at the ring’s beauty. “What is that stone, George? I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  His hand continued to shake as he extended it her way. “A sapphire. The jeweler said there’s nothing like it in this area, so Corabelle will be able to wear it with great pride. No other woman in the county has a ring like this.”

  Belinda took the ring in her hand and held it out, examining the stone’s many facets. She’d never seen anything so beautiful in all her life.

  “Try it on,” George whispered. He looked around then grabbed the ring and pressed it onto her left ring finger, though he had to struggle a bit to get it p
ast her knuckle—probably swollen from the heat.

  Belinda gasped once more, this time astounded by the feelings that came over her with such a lovely ring on her finger. What would it feel like, to wear a ring like this...forever? She could only imagine.

  Belinda pondered this and a great many other things as she stared at the exquisite stone. Oh, how she hated to tell George the news, especially now. She looked up, wishing she could mask the tears that sprang to her eyes. “George, listen, I have something to tell you.”

  “What? It’s the wrong color? I should have purchased a diamond. I knew it.”

  “No, the color is perfect. The ring is quite unique—and beautiful, to boot.” Belinda extended her hand, more than thrilled with his purchase. “It’s about Corabelle.” She squeezed her eyes shut and whispered a prayer. Opening them, she forced the words out. “James proposed and they’re getting married in two weeks at the church.”

  “W–what?” George’s face took on an ashen look. “I think you’d better repeat that.”

  “James and Corabelle are engaged. There’s just no other way to say it. The wedding is planned. We’re...well, we’re all invited. The whole town.”

  George slumped down onto the bench in front of the barbershop. Belinda watched the tips of his ears turn red. For a moment, he didn’t say a word. Then, finally, he extended his hand. “I guess I won’t be needing the ring, then.”

  She reached to pull it from her finger, but her breath caught in her throat as she realized it was stuck. “Oh, George!”

  “What?” He rose to his feet and grasped her hand. “Don’t tell me it’s—”

  “I’m trying. Hold on a minute. Please.” She wrestled with it, unable to get it to budge.

  “Here, I know.” George turned to the right and then the left, making sure no one was watching. Then he took hold of her arm and led her into the empty barbershop. “I’ll lather it up. The soap will help it come loose.”

  “Are you sure?” She continued to fight with the stubborn ring but couldn’t get it past her knuckle. “Ugh! This is so humiliating! I always told Mama I had a boy’s hands. Now I have the proof.”