Savannah, Georgia, 1902
More than anything in the world, Eliza loved the sunshine. She loved the way it warmed her long, sandy-blonde hair as she strolled reluctantly to school in the morning and the way it greeted her in the afternoon like an old friend who couldn’t wait to see her, enveloping her in comfort after a long, boring day spent indoors. She loved the way the sun showed her the world, illuminating the leaves on the trees that lined the streets to her home and the old, familiar faces she encountered along the way—Mr. Macallister, the barber her father visited for a shave once a week, Mrs. Sloan, the seamstress who had sewn all of Eliza’s dresses since she was a little girl, even old Widow Flanagan, who seemed to do nothing but sit out on her rocking chair on the front porch of her enormous house and scowl at people.
“Afternoon, Mrs. Flanagan,” Eliza called, waving at the widow as she passed. The old woman weakly raised a hand in response and glowered at Eliza as she continued down the street.
On this Tuesday afternoon in early June, Eliza had just been let out of school for the day—thankfully, because she couldn’t have taken another minute of it. Bright though she was—she always earned the highest marks in her class—she just couldn’t stand being cooped up in the tiny, one-room schoolhouse all day, listening to Miss Wood drone on and on about one thing or another. The only time the teacher ever stopped talking was when she had to reprimand Eliza for staring out the window instead of paying attention. But Eliza couldn’t help it. How could she be expected to do schoolwork when there was this whole great, big, sunshine-filled world out here just calling to her?
Something great is waiting for me in this sunshine, I can feel it, she thought as she neared the center of town, headed for the shops. That morning, her mother had given her a list of goods to order from the local mercantile after school—some soap, some sugar and various other household necessities that didn’t interest Eliza in the least. Though her elders often told her she was mature for her age, at seventeen, she had not yet developed a mind for the minutiae of everyday life. She was more concerned with spending time with her friends, reading good books, discovering new things and…
She sighed. If there was one overwhelming thing that the sunshine reminded her of, it was that she didn’t have anyone to share it with. All of her girlfriends had already paired off with young men who showed a great deal of promise. Mary’s beau, the son of a prominent local businessman, would soon be taking over the family’s feed store, which was awfully successful. Clara’s young suitor, Alexander, had plans to study medicine and become a doctor.
But Eliza… Well, a couple of boys from school had shown interest in her. One had asked to walk her home one day, and another had invited her to go boating on the lake. But she had denied them both. It wasn’t that they weren’t sweet or handsome, but they just weren’t—
“They weren’t like him,” she said quietly, coming to an abrupt halt outside the fence of the local lumberyard. Inside, a crew of men worked diligently, turning enormous tree trunks into piles of stove-sized logs. Their tanned faces covered with sawdust and sweat, they joked and shouted at one another as they worked, chiding each other into cutting and stacking the logs faster and faster. In the middle of the group, while everyone else bent over their work, one young man stood tall, pausing to push a lock of hair out of his eyes. Brown but streaked lighter by the sun, his hair was straight, a little unruly, a mess made only worse by his thick, dirty work gloves as he pawed it back into place.
Who is he? Eliza wondered, an unbidden smile sneaking onto her lips. She’d passed by the lumber mill hundreds of times before but had never seen this young man here—though, of course, being a prim and proper young lady, she had never stopped to ogle the men working there before, either. Had he been there all along, right under her nose, without her even knowing it?
How could I not have seen him? she thought now, unable to take her eyes off of him. He was surely handsome, with a muscular build and the rugged features of a man unafraid of hard work. Once his hair was out of his eyes, he resumed tossing logs onto a pile and Eliza couldn’t help but notice his finely muscled arms moving easily under his white, sleeveless shirt. Tall and slim, he moved with grace, speed and obvious agility.
Yet, there was more to him than that. Eliza could not put her finger on it, but something rooted her to the spot, compelled her to follow every swing of his arm, every turn of his head. It wasn’t just his looks. There was something about him, something that made her think—
“Oh!” Eliza cried out, whirling around to face the street again. Deep within her reverie, she hadn’t noticed that the young man had paused again while waiting for his coworkers to cut more logs for him, nor that he had looked over at her quizzically. Wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of his forearm, he’d peered directly into Eliza’s green eyes for just a second before she’d turned herself away from him, her pale cheeks blushing a rosy pink.
Putting a hand up to her warm forehead, Eliza let out a long breath and looked around her, hoping that no one had seen her staring at the man. Get a hold of yourself, old girl, she told herself, fighting the urge to turn back and look at him again. And before she could change her mind about it, she picked up the hem of her long skirt and ran off down the street toward the general store.
***
“Miss Anceaux,” said Mr. Jackson, the owner of the mercantile shop and an old friend of Eliza’s family. “What can I get for you today? Or, rather, what can I get for your mother today?”
“Good afternoon, Mr. Jackson,” Eliza said with a smile. “Just a few things…” She handed over the list her mother had given her and he looked at it, then nodded his head.
“No problem, my dear, we have all of this in stock. I’ll get it all ready for you. Won’t be but a few minutes.”
“Thank you,” Eliza told him, then wandered off to look around the store while he prepared her order.
A trip to the mercantile was indeed a chore for Eliza, something that she wished her mother would do herself or send one of Eliza’s younger siblings to do. Knowing how much she disliked it, however, her mother softened the blow a little by giving Eliza some extra change with which to purchase something for herself—a small amount of perfume, a ribbon for her hair or some candy, which she invariably shared with her brothers and sisters. Today, she had in mind the latter—some licorice, perhaps, one of her favorites. She headed over toward the candy shelf as Mr. Jackson packed up a bag for her behind the counter.
As she perused the selection of sweets, she heard the bell over the shop’s front door jingle, signaling that another customer had come in. Not looking up from the candy, she heard heavy footsteps cross the store’s creaky, wooden floorboards, and then a deep, strong voice began to speak.
“Afternoon, Mr. Jackson,” it said. “How are you this fine day?”
“Oh, just about right as rain, John, thank you for asking. And yourself?” Mr. Jackson replied.
The man let out a low whistle. “Hot as Hades, sir. Can’t wait to get down to the lake and cool off in the water!”
“Well, what can I help you with then, so you can get on your way?”
The man laughed. “I have a taste for something sweet today. I was thinking about…some licorice. Do you have any?”
Eliza laughed a little at the request, thinking it odd that someone had come in for just the same thing she’d decided she wanted. Still lingering by the candy shelf, she peeked out around a display of fabrics and sewing notions to see who it was who shared her sweet tooth and—
She gasped, then threw a hand over her mouth to quiet herself. She could barely believe it, but there, standing just a few feet away from her, was the young man from the lumberyard! He had a long-sleeved shirt on now, and he appeared slightly cleaner, especially about the face. But he was still tall, handsome and alluring in a way that Eliza could not explain.
“I’ll tell you what, John,” Mr. Jackson went on, his voice quiet and conspiratorial. Eliza saw him reach down behind his counter and pull up a small, brown-paper bag folded over at the top. “I just got in a new shipment of licorice whips. I haven’t even put them out yet. They’re nice and fresh. I think I can spare a few for one of my best customers.”
From her hiding place, Eliza could see the man—John, she’d heard Mr. Jackson say—in profile, and his smile suddenly lit up the room. “Why, that would be fantastic,” he said to Mr. Jackson, retrieving a few coins from his pants pocket and handing them over. “Thank you kindly, sir.”
The two men shook hands and then John turned to go, opening the bag and reaching in for a piece of candy before he even reached the door.
“Enjoy your swim, now,” Mr. Jackson called after him, and John raised his hand in a wave just before the door’s bell rang again and he was gone.
Now, if I didn’t know any better, Eliza thought, standing up straight again and smoothing out her skirt, I’d say this was a sign. Seeing John in the lumberyard and then again in the store, his sudden taste for licorice, just like hers—it couldn’t have been mere coincidence. Eliza’s mother was always scolding her for daydreaming, but she knew, this time, that her fantasy was real. It had to be; the signs were just too clear. There was no mistake that she had to meet this John—but how and when would be a problem.
Or would it?
The lake, she thought, a devilish smile twisting across her lips.
“Mr. Jackson,” she cried, running back over to his counter, startling the poor old man half to death. “Mr. Jackson, please hurry. I suddenly have something very important to attend to!”