Chapter 8

I just can’t believe I’m being courted by the new doctor.” Clara’s strong voice resonated in the mercantile. She obviously wanted everyone to hear what she had to say. Deborah pursed her lips and rolled her eyes. Clara’s voice was so loud, she sounded like a town crier. Deborah highly doubted Timothy was courting Clara, but he had quickly fallen in love with beautiful Eve, so she could imagine his being smitten with pretty Clara. Clara was in the back of the store, probably talking to one of her friends. The woman loved socializing—she reminded Deborah of Eve so much—and that was probably why Timothy was attracted to her.

He’d spent the last two Sunday afternoons at Clara’s house. The first time Clara had had a headache, of all things! The second Sunday, Clara’s ma, Mildred, had been ill. Deborah had known both ladies for years. Mildred really had been sick. Apparently, Timothy had given her some medicine and Clara had served him dinner. Since Mildred had to stay in bed for a few days because of her illness, Timothy had had to go to Clara’s home to treat her ma. She’d hardly call that courting someone.

Deborah had continued studying with Timothy, and they were making progress. However, he’d been reserved and quiet, and not nearly as friendly as he used to be. She had so many questions to ask him, but she just didn’t have the courage to do so.

“Can I help you?” An unfamiliar woman spoke to her from across the mercantile. She looked to be about the same age as Deborah, and she smiled widely.

“Good afternoon. I don’t believe I’ve met you before?” She approached the woman, curious. She’d known the owners of the mercantile for years, and she’d not heard that they’d sold their store.

“I’m Lucy. The owners recently hired me to work in the store.”

“I need help,” Clara commanded from the counter. Looked like she’d finished her conversation with the woman she’d been speaking to earlier. Clara nodded at Deborah. “Hello, Deborah.”

Deborah returned the nod. “Hello, Clara. Nice weather we’re having.”

“Well, it’s been a mite too cold for me.” There’d been a definite cool autumn snap in the air, hinting at the forthcoming winter. Deborah loved the cool autumn mornings, but she didn’t think it was wise to tell Clara that she enjoyed the changing weather. At times, when someone disagreed with Clara, the woman had a fit and wouldn’t stop arguing until everyone agreed she was right.

Lucy approached the counter to help Clara select fabric, and Deborah continued browsing the shelves. She needed coffee, more chalk for school, flour, oatmeal … Her ma needed so many things. It had been a good long while since they’d been to the mercantile, and she’d been so unsettled lately, an outing seemed like a nice idea for a Saturday afternoon. After Clara had taken her exit, Lucy again approached Deborah. “Did you need help finding anything?”

“No, thank you, I think I’ve found everything I need.” She placed her items on the counter. “My ma goes through a lot of flour when she makes her hand pies.”

Lucy grinned. “I’ve heard about your ma’s delicious hand pies. I’ll need to try one.”

“You should. They’re the best pies I’ve ever tasted.”

Lucy gestured toward Deborah’s merchandise. “I’ll get somebody to carry that to your wagon.” The woman hesitated and bit her lip. “How about sitting with me for a spell and having a cup of coffee? I’m new in town and don’t know anybody yet.” Deborah paused, mentally sighing. She really wanted to get home and get some studying done this afternoon. She wanted to be ready when Timothy quizzed her after supper. “I don’t mean to keep you. Just being friendly is all.”

Well, why not? There was nothing wrong with being friendly. Her ma was always chastising her about spending too much time alone. She was sure Ma would be thrilled that she’d shared coffee with the new mercantile worker. “Yes, I’d love a cup of coffee.” She and Lucy strolled to the back of the store where Lucy settled into the seat across from her. Deborah sipped her coffee. “So, where are you from?”

“Maryland. Just arrived almost a week ago. My husband died in the war.”

Deborah set down her cup. “I’m so sorry.” Her town had lost a number of men in the war against slavery.

Lucy waved the comment away. “It happens. I still miss him. We never had any little ones, so I’m sad about that. I’m thirty, and don’t take kindly to the men who’ve courted me since my Stanley died. I’ll probably never marry again.” Lucy sipped her coffee. “How about you?”

Lucy seemed so open and friendly. The urge to tell her about Timothy, Eve, and her dream of going to the women’s college swelled within her. For some reason, she liked that Lucy was thirty, a little bit older than she, and was unaware of her reputation as the town’s spinster schoolteacher. Unable to resist, she told Lucy about her history with Timothy, Eve’s death, Timothy’s return to town, and his apparent “courtship” with Clara. Lucy listened intently, in spite of the fact that they were interrupted by customers. After she’d finished talking with Lucy, Deborah felt better. Sharing her feelings, her dreams, with someone felt refreshing.

Lucy poured them fresh cups of coffee. She appeared to be weighing her words, pondering. Even though she’d just met Lucy, Deborah sensed that she was wise and sensible. She pulled out her pocket watch and realized that she’d been sitting there talking to Lucy for two hours! She honestly couldn’t recall the last time she’d had such a long conversation with someone. Truth be told, the last time she’d spoken to anyone at such length was with her ma, pa, or Eve.

“So, Deborah, your twin sister, Eve?”

“Yes?”

“Was she a kind person?”

Such an odd question. Deborah paused, unsure of how to respond. “Eve was just … Eve. Talkative, friendly. Like I mentioned, we were not alike at all.”

Lucy touched her hand. “Just think about it. When you told me about how you used to spend time with Timothy and then he started courting Eve, I felt the need to ask you that. You don’t have to answer the question if you don’t want to.” She frowned. “You mentioned that Timothy has been quiet lately?”

“Yes.”

“He might be feeling guilty about his feelings for you because of your sister, Eve. He might feel that he’s being unfaithful to her.” She shrugged. “I know that seems strange since Eve has passed away, but I’m familiar with such feelings because I’m a widow myself. Even though I never had particularly romantic notions for the few men who’ve courted me since Stanley’s death, I still felt like I was doing something wrong when I was courted by a man. It might take Timothy some time to get used to feeling romantic for somebody other than Eve.”

Oh, Lucy must not have understood everything she’d just said. “But he doesn’t have romantic feelings for me—”

“I think he does, from what you’re telling me.” Lucy shrugged. “Of course, I could be wrong, but …” She shrugged again. “I think he likes you, and that’s one reason he wants to help you. He knows that going to college will make you happy, and he wants you to be happy.”

Deborah raised her eyebrows. “Lucy, I don’t know about that.”

“You mentioned Clara.” Lucy changed the subject. “He’s not courting her. I don’t think he even likes her, not romantically. Clara has been coming into this store every day for the past week. She usually waits until another woman shows up in the store, and then she starts boasting about the doctor being her new beau. She wants attention, and I think she’s stretching this out to get as much attention as she can. I think she knows that in a matter of time folks will realize the doctor is not courting her.”

Now that was no surprise. “Even though they’re not officially courting, I think he still might find her attractive.”

Lucy took a sip of her coffee then said, “Yes, he might. Most men would find Clara attractive, but that doesn’t mean they’d want to court her.” She tapped her fingers against a nearby barrel of pickles. “My advice to you would be to simply ask Timothy.”

Deborah blinked. “Ask him what?”

“Simply ask him about why he’s been so quiet lately. Sometimes you’ve got to just come right out and ask a man what’s wrong. Do your ma and pa always listen in on you and Timothy when you study in the kitchen?”

“Yes. They’re right in the next room.”

“Well, take him out on the porch. Serve him some of your ma’s hand pies. Have a nice chat alone and ask him if something’s bothering him. Tell him that you’re concerned and would like to help him—same as he’s helping you. Do that and see what he says.”

Deborah pondered Lucy’s words as Lucy got a delivery boy to help load her supplies into the wagon. Right before she flicked the reins, she paused. “Lucy, would you like to come to my home tomorrow for Sunday dinner?” She’d just made a new friend, and it would be nice to have someone to converse with during the family meal. Besides, if she wanted to be honest with herself, she wanted her new friend to meet Timothy. She appreciated Lucy’s insight, and she loved being able to talk to someone about all that had been bothering her lately.

Lucy grinned. “I’d be much obliged, Deborah.”