“You girls make the days brighter and the nights warmer. And what a swarm of young people we’ve had ’round since you two moved in! I swear, I think Jerome Clayton is plumb gone on you, Vaden. And every other bachelor in the state must be camping out across the street waitin’ for Vonnie to come out of the mercantile so they can catch a glimpse of her!”
Yvonne smiled. “Everyone in town has been very friendly and accepting.”
“ Everyone except Belva Tibbits,” Vaden corrected.
“ Belva Tibbits don’t count,” Dan chuckled. “Her nose is too long, and her eyes are too far apart.”
“ Now, Daniel,” Myra scolded, trying in vain to suppress a smile.
“ She’s only jealous because Jerome Clayton is Vaden’s beau,” Yvonne stated.
“ Jerome Clayton is not my beau, Yvonne. And you know it!” Vaden felt overly defensive. For the past two weeks, she had been mercilessly teased by her Uncle Dan and Yvonne. Jerome Clayton appeared at least once a day in the mercantile, claiming to have just stopped in for a visit with Dan. He stared at Vaden all through church on Sundays too, and though Vaden knew he was every girl’s ambition, she could not commit herself to the idea of being too involved with him. At times his consistent and obvious attentions caused her unbearable discomfort. He was too attentive, and often the expression in his eyes sent a nervous shiver down her spine. Perhaps, she had mused over and over, it was merely because she wasn’t used to such intent attention from a particular young man. Everyone adored Jerome Clayton and sang his praises at every turn. However, Vaden felt differently. Somehow, she wasn’t sure she trusted him. Furthermore, ever in the back of her mind lingered the image of Ransom Lake, and she secreted a profound curiosity about him—a need to know him. Ever he was in Vaden’s thoughts—quiet, alone, and tragic. Her mind never lingered on Jerome Clayton that way—never.
Suddenly, at the sound of Dan’s jolly voice again, Vaden once more returned her attention to the conversation going on around her.
“ It seems we’ve got young folks under foot here and there every free minute of the day. I just can’t believe it’s been two weeks since you girls got here. How time does fly,” Dan said, continuing to chew his toast.
Vaden and Yvonne had made several friends among the girls in town since their arrival. And they did have prospective suitors buzzing around like bees to honey. Yet this only served to remind Vaden that Ransom Lake hadn’t shown his face anywhere near the town citizenship since the day he’d been in the store to buy boots. Often, when she had free time or Yvonne and Myra sent her out on a walk, she would sit in the largest maple tree on the creek bank near the old bridge or on the bridge itself. She’d let her bare toes skim across the water’s top and watch the road she knew led from town to Ransom Lake’s farm, hoping to catch a glimpse of the strange man who kept to himself. But she hadn’t seen him and had almost given up hope of ever seeing him again.
“ Vaughn Wimber says he’s gonna start his punkin harvest next couple or three weeks, Vaden. I knew you’d be lookin’ forward to that.” Dan winked affectionately at his niece as she looked up and smiled. “Maybe you and Yvonne could go out and choose a few of the biggest and best to buy for us to use or sell in the mercantile.”
“ I’d love it, and you know it,” Vaden admitted, returning her attention to the conversation.
“ I thought ya might.”
As quickly as her attention had been arrested, it was lost. She thought of having finally met, and distinguished in her mind, the two Wimber families in town. One was the Vaughn Wimber family. Vaughn owned the pumpkin patch. He and his wife, Sue Ellen, were Nathaniel’s parents. They had two younger daughters as well who had been in the mercantile several times. Raylin and Selma’s parents were Kent Wimber, Vaughn’s
Yvonne smiled. “Everyone in town has been very friendly and accepting.”
“ Everyone except Belva Tibbits,” Vaden corrected.
“ Belva Tibbits don’t count,” Dan chuckled. “Her nose is too long, and her eyes are too far apart.”
“ Now, Daniel,” Myra scolded, trying in vain to suppress a smile.
“ She’s only jealous because Jerome Clayton is Vaden’s beau,” Yvonne stated.
“ Jerome Clayton is not my beau, Yvonne. And you know it!” Vaden felt overly defensive. For the past two weeks, she had been mercilessly teased by her Uncle Dan and Yvonne. Jerome Clayton appeared at least once a day in the mercantile, claiming to have just stopped in for a visit with Dan. He stared at Vaden all through church on Sundays too, and though Vaden knew he was every girl’s ambition, she could not commit herself to the idea of being too involved with him. At times his consistent and obvious attentions caused her unbearable discomfort. He was too attentive, and often the expression in his eyes sent a nervous shiver down her spine. Perhaps, she had mused over and over, it was merely because she wasn’t used to such intent attention from a particular young man. Everyone adored Jerome Clayton and sang his praises at every turn. However, Vaden felt differently. Somehow, she wasn’t sure she trusted him. Furthermore, ever in the back of her mind lingered the image of Ransom Lake, and she secreted a profound curiosity about him—a need to know him. Ever he was in Vaden’s thoughts—quiet, alone, and tragic. Her mind never lingered on Jerome Clayton that way—never.
Suddenly, at the sound of Dan’s jolly voice again, Vaden once more returned her attention to the conversation going on around her.
“ It seems we’ve got young folks under foot here and there every free minute of the day. I just can’t believe it’s been two weeks since you girls got here. How time does fly,” Dan said, continuing to chew his toast.
Vaden and Yvonne had made several friends among the girls in town since their arrival. And they did have prospective suitors buzzing around like bees to honey. Yet this only served to remind Vaden that Ransom Lake hadn’t shown his face anywhere near the town citizenship since the day he’d been in the store to buy boots. Often, when she had free time or Yvonne and Myra sent her out on a walk, she would sit in the largest maple tree on the creek bank near the old bridge or on the bridge itself. She’d let her bare toes skim across the water’s top and watch the road she knew led from town to Ransom Lake’s farm, hoping to catch a glimpse of the strange man who kept to himself. But she hadn’t seen him and had almost given up hope of ever seeing him again.
“ Vaughn Wimber says he’s gonna start his punkin harvest next couple or three weeks, Vaden. I knew you’d be lookin’ forward to that.” Dan winked affectionately at his niece as she looked up and smiled. “Maybe you and Yvonne could go out and choose a few of the biggest and best to buy for us to use or sell in the mercantile.”
“ I’d love it, and you know it,” Vaden admitted, returning her attention to the conversation.
“ I thought ya might.”
As quickly as her attention had been arrested, it was lost. She thought of having finally met, and distinguished in her mind, the two Wimber families in town. One was the Vaughn Wimber family. Vaughn owned the pumpkin patch. He and his wife, Sue Ellen, were Nathaniel’s parents. They had two younger daughters as well who had been in the mercantile several times. Raylin and Selma’s parents were Kent Wimber, Vaughn’s
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