“Cat got your tongue, George?” Peter asked with a laugh.
“Sorry.” He startled back to attention. “Just preoccupied today.”
“So am I,” Charlie responded. “Gotta head over to Terrell to pick up a ring for a certain young women named Prissy.”
“Really?” George asked, as he began to trim Charlie’s unruly locks. “You’re going to ask her to marry you? Don’t you think you should wait awhile?”
“I’ll give it another few days,” Charlie said. “Got to clean up a few things first. She seems like the kind of woman who likes things tidy. And my house, well...let’s just say it needs a woman’s touch.”
“Everything about you needs a woman’s touch, Charlie.” Peter erupted in laughter. “But I daresay this will shake out the cobwebs.”
“Speak for yourself,” Charlie said as he turned to examine himself in the mirror. “I am a man transformed. Just watch and see.”
“Mm-hmm.” Peter reached for a newspaper, slapped it open, and grew silent.
George paused, trying to think of a way to join the conversation. Prissy was definitely the sort to like things tidy. Looked like she had a lot of work on her hands, whipping both Charlie Grundy and his house into shape.
Still, as George stared at the man with shorter hair and a clean-shaved face, he had to admit...the possibilities were there. And stranger things had happened, after all.
At once, he thought of Belinda. How she planned to change the town by bringing in these women. With all the trouble brewing between Sarah Jo and the reverend, and with the obvious ill feelings between Marta and Myles, there was sure to be a mess to clean up.
Might take a lot of elbow grease on Belinda’s part to clean things up. He couldn’t help but think she was up to the task.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Bucky and Katie Sue were married the following Sunday in a simple but delightful ceremony on the church grounds. Reverend Billingsley led the festivities, of course, though Belinda took note of the pained look in his eyes every time he looked Sarah Jo’s way. Sarah Jo was hard to miss, since she played the role of maid of honor. Her bright green dress stood out against the purple wildflowers, but she didn’t seem to mind. Neither did Katie Sue, who only had eyes for Bucky.
Belinda’s favorite part of the ceremony came when Bucky read a poem he’d crafted just for Katie Sue. Belinda had it on good authority—from Peter, of course—that Bucky had had very little to do with the actual creation of the poem. Bucky’s voice trembled as he read the words:
One waits for years with hopeful heart
Believing always from the start
That somewhere, somehow, another waits
To take his hand, to be his mate
Then she arrives and time stands still
Heaven whispers God’s perfect will
And two are one, mysterious plan
The love between a woman and man.
There were several oohs and aahs from the crowd as he finished reading, and more still as he took his new wife in his arms and leaned down to kiss her for the first time as her husband. The oddest feeling came over Belinda as she watched it transpire. Certainly she felt some sense of relief, even satisfaction, for playing a role in bringing them together. Still, seeing the two of them made her want to search out George, to see the expression on his face. Would he—with her assistance—end up happily matched, as well?
She caught his eye and he gave her a wink, which sent her heart into a tailspin. Yes, surely he hoped to one day stand before the congregation and speak such words of love over his bride-to-be. Once Belinda located her, of course.
After the morning service, everyone picnicked on the grounds, as was the custom after summer weddings. Belinda watched with a sense of pride as Bucky and Katie Sue made their way through the crowd, greeting their wedding guests with smiles and conversation. Both beamed ear-to-ear, clearly happy to have found each other. Belinda whispered a prayer of thanks that the Lord had given her the foresight to bring them together, though all of the credit truly belonged to Him.
Belinda smiled as George approached. “What do you think, George?” she asked. “Isn’t it all so wonderful?”
“All?” He gestured to Reverend Billingsley, who now chatted quietly with Myles Lott. Neither looked terribly happy.
“Well, maybe not all,” Belinda said. “But I have a feeling the Lord will take all of it and use it for His glory, even the parts I’ve made a disaster of.”
George laughed. “He has a habit of doing that, doesn’t He? The Lord takes our blunders and uses them for His glory. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been grateful for that.”
“Amen.” Belinda nodded, her enthusiasm mounting. There was some consolation in the fact that the Lord would fix whatever she happened to break. Still, she didn’t want to go overboard to test that theory.
“Did you hear about Prissy Finkelstein and Charlie Grundy?” Greta asked, drawing near.
“No, what?” Belinda swallowed hard, preparing herself for more bad news. Had Prissy left on the early morning train out of Terrell, convinced that Charlie would never change his messy ways?
“They’re courting. But that’s not all.” Greta pointed off in the distance, and Belinda gasped as she laid eyes on Charlie. “I don’t believe it! He’s as clean as a whistle.”
“No doubt about it,” George said. “I trimmed his hair myself.”
“And I sold him a comb just yesterday,” Greta whispered. “Can you believe it?”
“No!” Belinda gave him another look, stunned at his fresh appearance. Who would have guessed? “The man is even wearing a new suit!”
“I sold him that, too,” Greta said. “And who knew he was so handsome underneath all of that dirt? Or maybe he’s just glowing because he’s been transformed by love. That’s what he’s telling everyone, anyway.”
“Transformed by love.” Belinda shook her head. “Amazing.” She had to smile as she thought about Charlie Grundy in love. Surely if she could find a match for Charlie, there was a suitable woman to be found for George. She gazed at her friend with a smile as he spoke.
“I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t witnessed it myself,” George said with a brusque nod. “He’s been into the shop nearly every day for a clean shave. And trust me when I say he’s cleaned up more than his appearance. Even his language, which was somewhat questionable, has been put through the wringer. I haven’t heard a foul word from him in days.”
“It’s a miracle,” Greta whispered. “Next thing you know, the Lord will be parting the Sabine river and asking Charlie to walk across.”
“He does clean up nice, I must admit,” Belinda said, smiling as she took it all in. “See what the hope of new love does to a man?”
“Yes, but look at the opposite,” Greta said. She pointed to Marta Schuller, who sat alone on a quilt at the side of the church property. “Poor thing. I have to wonder if she’s giving thought to going back home now.”
“I hope not.” Belinda bit her lip, deep in thought.
“Perhaps we should go over there and spend some time with her,” Greta suggested.
They took a couple of steps in the woman’s direction but stopped suddenly when something happened to change everything.
“Would you look at that!” Belinda’s enthusiasm grew as she watched the reverend approach Marta and offer her a glass a lemonade.
“Thank goodness for Reverend Billingsley,” Greta said, fanning herself in an attempt to dispel the stifling heat. “Such a kind man. He must sense her pain.”
“Well, think about it, Greta,” Belinda whispered. “He’s unhappy with his match, too.” She sighed. “Though I don’t know what to do about that. I feel just awful for getting his hopes up.”
“Who says you have to do anything?” George asked.
“Well, I feel compelled to fix the things I’ve broken.”
“I think it would be wiser to let the Lord fix them,” George said. “I daresay His plan is the best.”
“You’re right.” Belinda looked at him with a smile. “Why is it that you’re always right, George Kauffman?”
“Me? I’m not. On the other hand...” He gestured with his eyes to Marta and the reverend, who had taken a seat on the quilt next to her. Within seconds, the two were talking nonstop.
Greta looked at Belinda, a stunned expression on her face. “Do you suppose it’s possible...?”
“Who knows?” Belinda giggled. “Stranger things have happened.”
“Indeed. And are continuing to happen before our very eyes.” Greta nudged her and gestured off in the distance, where Peter Conrad stood on the porch steps with Sarah Jo beside him. “If I didn’t know better, I would say Sarah Jo has her eye on Peter.”
George snorted. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say Sarah Jo has her eye on every man in town.”
“Still...” Greta whispered. “If you pay close attention, you will see that she focuses her real attentions on one. The others are simply a diversion. This I have already taken note of.” Greta grinned as she looked over at Belinda. “Maybe I should try my hand at matchmaking. I daresay I would do a good job.”
“Indeed. Though I would spend my hours focusing on finding a match for myself, if I were you. You will make a lovely bride someday, Greta.” Belinda nodded. Then something caught her eye. She focused once again on Peter, who had taken off running across the church lawn. Folks turned from every direction, and a roar of laughter went up.
“Come on back here, honey!” Sarah Jo called out, her voice rising and falling above the crowd of parishioners. “I ain’t finished with you yet!”
“I’ll bet she’s not,” George whispered. He forced the smile away and then cleared his throat. “Maybe I’d better go after him and make sure he’s all right. I will meet you for lunch in a few minutes.”
“Do that,” Belinda said. “I will check on Sarah Jo, in the meantime.”
She took Greta by the arm as she headed off to check on the older woman, who stood on the church steps with her hands on her ample hips.
“I see you hiding behind that building, Peter Conrad!” Sarah Jo hollered as she waved her finger in the air. “C’mon out and face me like a man.”
“ ‘Like a man’ being the key words,” Greta whispered with a giggle. “She might as well be wearing pants herself! Have you ever seen such an almighty-powerful woman?”
“Never,” Belinda added. “But I think that’s half of her charm. Trust me, Sarah Jo Cummings might be wearing a skirt on the outside, but she’s definitely wearing men’s pants on the inside. It’s going to take a doozy of a fella to calm her down. Still...” Belinda’s eyes scoped the crowd. “I’ve got to believe there’s at least one man in Poetry, Texas, who’s man enough for the likes of her.”
***
George walked around the back of the church building, where he found Peter bent over and gasping for breath.
“She wearing you out?” he asked as he drew near.
“Mm-hmm.” Peter looked up and shook his head. “What am I going to do about her, George? She’s got her claws into me.”
“And you’re opposed to the idea?”
“On every conceivable level.”
“Then you have but one choice,” George said. “You’ve got to speak it plain.”
Peter shook his head. “You know me, George. Have you ever met a plainer-speaking man? I don’t mince words. Even my poems are brutally honest.” He paused to wipe his brow with his handkerchief. “But I have never in all my born days come up against a handful of a woman like that Sarah Jo Cummings. She—she—” He shook his head again. “Well, anyway, I’m wound up tighter than a clock when she’s around, and I don’t know that my heart can take it.” He put his hand on his chest. “On top of it all, she wants to involve me in this nonsense about an opera house. Because I’m artistic, she says. I love literature, true, but artistic? Do I look the sort to be hopping around on stage in a theatrical getup?”
George shook his head and laughed. “No. And I can see that she has you worked up. Perhaps it will do you good to write down your thoughts on paper. That is your natural inclination, after all. Share with her what you are really thinking, really feeling.”
“There is no poem on planet Earth to do that woman justice, and I don’t mean that in a good way.” Peter sighed. “Still, I will give some thought to what you’ve said. Perhaps I could come up with something to put me out of this current misery.”
“Yes.” George nodded. “And in the meantime, come and have lunch with us. I’m eating with Belinda and her family. We’ll have a great time.”
“Perfect.” Peter nodded, and a look of relief swept over his face. “If I’m with all of you, Sarah Jo will leave me alone. She wouldn’t dare interrupt our lunch for any of her flirtatious wrangling.”
They rounded the building, and George looked around until he saw Belinda in the distance. She looked up with a girlish smile and waved. A sense of wonderment came over him as he took in her soft pink dress and whimsical smile. Strange, he’d never noticed how the sunlight played with the lighter strands of her upswept hair. And how the sun kissed the tip of her nose.
Snap out of it, George. What in the world is wrong with you?
He pushed the feelings of awkwardness away and chided himself silently as they made their way to the Bauer family. He and Belinda were only friends. They’d always teased one another. More often than not, he’d been on the receiving end. But he had never felt anything more. What had brought this on? Probably just the idea that everyone else in town was now happily matched.
Well, almost everyone. As they approached Belinda’s family, Peter groaned. “Tell me it isn’t so.”
“What?”
Peter pointed to the quilt, where Sarah Jo now sat beside Belinda and her mother. The red-haired woman looked up with a flirtatious smile. “Well, Peter Conrad, as I live and breathe. Have you come back to have lunch with me after all, you silly man? Ready to repent for your wicked behavior?”
“My wicked behavior?” Peter let out a groan, pulled off his hat, and whacked the nearest tree branch with it. “Dad-blame it, woman! How many times do I have to tell you that I’m not interested in courting you?”
“Oh, I don’t need courting,” she said with a wink. “Courting’s for kids. I’m a full-grown woman. You could just up and marry me and I’d be happy as a lark. ’Course, I could stand to hear a love poem every now and again. Like that one you wrote for Bucky to read to Katie Sue, I mean.”
Peter slapped himself in the head. “How in the world did you—”
“Oh, never mind that,” she said. “I have my ways of finding out what’s what around here. But I’m also interested in finding out who’s who. And my who of the day is you!” She roared with laughter. “What do you think of that, Peter Conrad? I just wrote a poem, did I not?”
“Your metric pattern was off a bit,” he said. “But I cannot deny its rhyming scheme.”
George could see that was not the only scheme at work. Sarah Jo clearly had designs on Peter Conrad. But what could be done about it?
“You’re my perfect match!” Sarah Jo said with a coy smile. “And I promise you, honey, I’ll give you a hundred reasons to write love poems, if you’ll just give me a chance. And I’ll promise you the starring role in our first theatrical, too. Why, with a face like yours, you were born for the theater. No doubt about it!”
Peter closed his eyes and shook his head. After a few moments, he shoved his hat back on his head, then took a seat—not next to Sarah Jo, but on the end of the quilt nearest Belinda’s father. George joined him and found himself seated next to Belinda.
“Is everything alright with Peter?” she whispered.
“Mm-hmm.” He wanted to say more, but the scent of lemon verbena caught him off guard. And something about the sound of Belinda’s voice, like the breeze moving across fields of wildflowers... It captivated him.
Have I lost control of my senses? What’s happening to me? br />
“George, you don’t look well.” She placed her hand on his arm and gave him a pensive look. “Do I need to fetch Doc Klein?”
“No.” He tugged at his collar, pushing away all strange thoughts of Belinda. “I’m sure I’m just overheated. After I have something to eat, I’ll be fine.”
“Let me make you a sandwich, then.” She began to sing one of the hymns they’d sung in church that morning. Her voice rang out across the grounds, almost sounding angelic. Her smile. The soft tendrils of blond hair that curled along the edges of her cheeks. The ruffles on that beautiful pale pink dress.
George found himself humming the song. For a moment anyway. He shook it off as Peter asked him a question. He wanted to answer. He really did. But something about all this had him in a state of complete and utter confusion.
And he was loving every minute of it.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Three days after Katie Sue and Bucky’s wedding, a new shipment of newspapers arrived at Poetic Notions. Belinda sat at her desk, devouring them, on a quest to find brides for several new clients. She had almost given up on the idea of locating someone for George, when she came across the perfect advertisement. A match conceived in the heavenlies, no less.
“Greta, look!” Belinda ran with newspaper in hand to the register, looking for Greta. “You’re not going to believe it, but I think I’ve found a wife for George. Finally! He’s going to be thrilled.”
Her cousin, who was working diligently to clean the glass case at the front of the store, looked over at her with interest. “I’m not so sure about that last part, but I’m intrigued. Who is she? What makes her perfect for him?”
“Oh, she sounds delightful. Her name is Adeline. Very lyrical, don’t you think?”
“Very.”