His Forever Valentine by Kit Morgan

“Why don’t I start?  I’ll ask questions, you answer.”
    Rose set down her own cup. “All right. What would you like to know?”
    “How old are you?”
    “Eighteen.”
    “Can you read?”
    She started at the question, but had to remember where she was, and where she’d come from.  Her reading was decent, her father taught her when she was still quite young. “Yes,” was all she offered, she didn’t like to talk about her parents or how they died. As soon as that subject was opened, they would want to know the details.
    “Do you have any brothers or sisters?”
    “None, and if I had, I’m sure I could never have left them behind in New Orleans. You?”
    He shook his head.
    Tom and Charlotte watched them go back and forth, and leaned in during the pause, waiting for one of them to speak again.
    Rose glanced about the parlor. “What did you study?”
    Matthew pus hed his spectacles up. “Study?”
    “At school. Your mother told me you were gone for a long time.”
    “Oh,” he said and looked at Charlotte. “Yes, I was. Four years.”
    Rose watched him.  He wasn’t looking at her like that. Hmmm … maybe she should think about Elle’s suggestion, and pay attention to Tom Turner for a while to see what her “intended” would do.
    “Do you like being a deputy, Mr. Turner?” she tossed out, and then adjusted her position on the love seat, to add to the effect.
      His eyes darted between her and Matthew. “Ah, I like it fine, Miss Smith,” he said slowly.
    Charlotte’s face, meanwhile, had softened as she looked at Matthew much the same way he was looking at her.  Was she showing her true colors, and vying for his attention like the Riley women said she would?
    “Do you like being a mail order bride?” Tom drawled.
    She stared at him, her mouth half-open to speak, but she didn’t dare say the word that rushed to the tip of her tongue. No! She smiled instead and picked up her cup. “This is all so very new, I don’t know what to think.” Which was true enough, and at this point, she really didn’t know what to think. Matthew was looking at Charlotte like she could do no wrong, but with a sadness she didn’t understand.  What was going on?
    “Where were you born? ” Tom asked.
    She pulled her gaze from Charlotte and Matthew and gave him her full attention. “Philadelphia.”
    “Me, I was born and raised in Clear Creek. I imagine I’ll raise a family, grow old, and die there too.”
    “Clear Creek? Where is that?”
    “Couple hundred miles south of here, nice place. You outta see it sometime.”
    Right now, Rose wanted to see Matthew look at her, but he was staring at the teapot again, his brow furrowed in … what? What was he thinking? Charlotte too, had turned away, and gazed at the door which led to the storefront. 
    Rose sighed. This tea was about as productive as a room full of turnips trying to out grow each other.  She thought today would be better, but Matthew was distracted, and not as interested in her as she hoped he’d be. There had to be something they could talk about! Then she remembered, “I hear there’s a Valentine’s dance.”
    Matthew’s head snapped up, and he looked directly at Charlotte.
    Rose’s shoulders slumped.  If she didn’t know any better, she’d say he was more interested in Charlotte, than he was in her. But how could tha t be when everyone told her she was such a difficult person to be around?
    “Yes, it’s held every year,” Matthew said matter of fact. Finally, he looked at her. “I would be honored to escort you.”
    A chill went up her spine, but not out of anticipation.  If not that, then what? Shouldn’t she be happy he said he’d be taking her to the dance? “Do … do you think we’ll be married by then?”
      Tom sipped his tea with a loud, slurp.
    Everyone turned to him. He looked at them over the rim of his cup, his cheeks red, then set it down. “Ah, mi nd if I have some more of that? I’m plumb out.”
    Matthew