respect that. No amount of arguing will change his mind.”
“So you won’t say anything?”
“Essie,” he’d said. “Is it the stories about the deputy that bother you, or is it the fact that he’s intrigued by you?”
She moved to the washbowl, dipped a rag into it, then wrung out the water. Perhaps her father was right. If the townsfolk told tales about Deputy Howard, goodness knows they told more about Essie herself. Perhaps the rumors about Howard were as false as the ones about her.
But why couldn’t the deputy pursue some other woman? As Uncle Melvin had reminded her, she was well into her thirties and had another birthday fast approaching. She might not have a man, but she didn’t want one, nor did she need one.
Her work in the bicycle club brought great satisfaction, and she enjoyed helping Papa with Sullivan Oil. Her neighbors and friends had known her all her life and loved her. She attended a thriving church. She had a wonderful God.
No, she didn’t need a man to make her whole. She was whole already. Picking up the egg bowl, she wiped it clean, then placed it on the shelf.
Her only wish was for a close female friend. She knew plenty of women and most all of them cared for her and would help her if she were in need. But she didn’t have a confidante.
Now that her mother was gone, she found herself longing for another woman who could give her an opinion on which hat would best suit her new outfit. Or someone she could play a duet with on the piano. Someone to go bike riding with. Someone to share a cup of coffee with.
For a while, Essie thought perhaps Shirley would fill that role. But her helper at the club was almost fifteen years younger than she, a new bride and a bit too whimsical to suit Essie’s taste. They were friends, but the intimate rapport she longed for had yet to materialize.
She gave the soup a stir and tried to recall ever having a girl chum. But even as a child, her friends were always boys. And she got along with them famously.
Didn’t matter the age, the occupation, or even how long she’d known them. If they were male, she had something in common with them.
Boys loved the outdoors. They didn’t play catty games with each other. They spoke their minds. They were everything she’d ever wanted in a friend. Even now, in spite of the many women who had embraced the Velocipede Club, she was closest to Mr. Sharpley, the young man she was training for the Corsicana Oil & Gas Bicycle Invitational.
Yet lately she found she’d rather stitch a sampler than climb a tree. Or read a book of poetry instead of hunt snakes. Oh, she still enjoyed the outdoors, but having a man for a chum simply wasn’t practical at this juncture of her life. Besides, she couldn’t whisper secrets and press flowers or discuss facial creams with a man. There were some things only a woman could understand.
Picking up a teakettle, she put some water on to boil. It didn’t do to dwell on such thoughts. God knew her heart’s desire for a friend. She would wait on Him, and He would bring it to pass. It was only a matter of time.
chapter FIVE
ESSIE DISHED veal soup into two bowls, then called her father to the table. She hoped Uncle Melvin’s visit had brought Papa some comfort. He stepped into the kitchen, his eyes puffy.
She set down their ice tea glasses and walked into his arms. He wrapped them clear around her shoulders, squeezing her so tightly she couldn’t breathe.
“I don’t think I can eat in here tonight, Squirt. Would you mind if we ate on the porch instead?”
She patted his back. “Of course not, Papa. We’re having soup, so it’ll be no trouble to move outside.”
He released her and pinched a napkin against his tea glass in one hand, then tucked his spoon and bowl in the other.
From the porch, they could look across the flat, coastal plain of East Texas where the town of Corsicana resided. Black silhouettes of derricks too numerous to count stretched to the sky, the smell of
“So you won’t say anything?”
“Essie,” he’d said. “Is it the stories about the deputy that bother you, or is it the fact that he’s intrigued by you?”
She moved to the washbowl, dipped a rag into it, then wrung out the water. Perhaps her father was right. If the townsfolk told tales about Deputy Howard, goodness knows they told more about Essie herself. Perhaps the rumors about Howard were as false as the ones about her.
But why couldn’t the deputy pursue some other woman? As Uncle Melvin had reminded her, she was well into her thirties and had another birthday fast approaching. She might not have a man, but she didn’t want one, nor did she need one.
Her work in the bicycle club brought great satisfaction, and she enjoyed helping Papa with Sullivan Oil. Her neighbors and friends had known her all her life and loved her. She attended a thriving church. She had a wonderful God.
No, she didn’t need a man to make her whole. She was whole already. Picking up the egg bowl, she wiped it clean, then placed it on the shelf.
Her only wish was for a close female friend. She knew plenty of women and most all of them cared for her and would help her if she were in need. But she didn’t have a confidante.
Now that her mother was gone, she found herself longing for another woman who could give her an opinion on which hat would best suit her new outfit. Or someone she could play a duet with on the piano. Someone to go bike riding with. Someone to share a cup of coffee with.
For a while, Essie thought perhaps Shirley would fill that role. But her helper at the club was almost fifteen years younger than she, a new bride and a bit too whimsical to suit Essie’s taste. They were friends, but the intimate rapport she longed for had yet to materialize.
She gave the soup a stir and tried to recall ever having a girl chum. But even as a child, her friends were always boys. And she got along with them famously.
Didn’t matter the age, the occupation, or even how long she’d known them. If they were male, she had something in common with them.
Boys loved the outdoors. They didn’t play catty games with each other. They spoke their minds. They were everything she’d ever wanted in a friend. Even now, in spite of the many women who had embraced the Velocipede Club, she was closest to Mr. Sharpley, the young man she was training for the Corsicana Oil & Gas Bicycle Invitational.
Yet lately she found she’d rather stitch a sampler than climb a tree. Or read a book of poetry instead of hunt snakes. Oh, she still enjoyed the outdoors, but having a man for a chum simply wasn’t practical at this juncture of her life. Besides, she couldn’t whisper secrets and press flowers or discuss facial creams with a man. There were some things only a woman could understand.
Picking up a teakettle, she put some water on to boil. It didn’t do to dwell on such thoughts. God knew her heart’s desire for a friend. She would wait on Him, and He would bring it to pass. It was only a matter of time.
chapter FIVE
ESSIE DISHED veal soup into two bowls, then called her father to the table. She hoped Uncle Melvin’s visit had brought Papa some comfort. He stepped into the kitchen, his eyes puffy.
She set down their ice tea glasses and walked into his arms. He wrapped them clear around her shoulders, squeezing her so tightly she couldn’t breathe.
“I don’t think I can eat in here tonight, Squirt. Would you mind if we ate on the porch instead?”
She patted his back. “Of course not, Papa. We’re having soup, so it’ll be no trouble to move outside.”
He released her and pinched a napkin against his tea glass in one hand, then tucked his spoon and bowl in the other.
From the porch, they could look across the flat, coastal plain of East Texas where the town of Corsicana resided. Black silhouettes of derricks too numerous to count stretched to the sky, the smell of
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