Harvest of Love

Chapter 17

                   I'm thankful that work has resumed. It keeps me occupied proving that I can still pull my weight. Otherwise, I'd be consumed with thoughts of MaryBeth and Rebecca. The work week flies by, and come Saturday, I'm driving to pick up MaryBeth to go eat lunch. I can't decide if I should apologize for my poor reaction to her declaration of love or just ignore it and move on as if it never happened. She ends up making the decision for me, though, as she opens the door with a big grin.

"I've missed you!" she exclaims and wraps me up in a hug that I return.

"It's good to see you too," I laugh. "Hungry?"

"Famished! I hope you got paid on Friday," she teases.

"Don't you worry, little darlin," I say in a thick country accent and pat the pocket that holds my wallet. She laughs, grabs my hand, and drags me down the steps to the truck.

            We have a good time with neither one of us mentioning how our last date ended or Rebecca's return looming closer, and that is how we keep it. I work through the week, date MaryBeth on Saturday, and go to church on Sunday. Three weeks come and go in this steady rhythm. Christmas break starts with most of the farm hands returning to their families for the two week reprieve. So, after three days into the break, it's pretty much just me and Clem.

"You're anxious to see her, aren't ya?" Clem asks as he hands me our morning coffee.

"Why do you say that?"

"You think I haven't noticed how you glance out the window every so often? Unless you got a sudden interest in bird watch'n, I can't think of any other reason you'd be doing so over the last three days."

"Just curious, I guess." I answer nonchalantly.

"Yeah, well, curiosity killed the cat, you know." Clem looks at me pointedly. After a moments contemplation, I say,

"I guess I can't believe she's really going thru with it, but having this engagement party here at her dad's will make it really official." Clem is the closest thing I have to a friend besides MaryBeth, who I definitely can't have this discussion with, so I decide to just be honest.

"I'd say so with all the trouble, Mr. Thomas is going through gussying-up the house and all," Clem states simply. 

           I nod in agreement. In the last few days, professionals have come to clean and manicure everything at the main house. Just from what we can see on the outside, the yard is resplendent with freshly planted shrubs (who plants in winter?), potted Chrysanthemums, garland with red and gold bows, and twinkling lights accent the porch. I can only imagine what the inside looks like. I've seen cleaning crews and furniture delivery trucks come and go. Mr. Thomas was going all out for his only child, so it seems.

"Well," Clem slowly stands up, finished with his morning coffee, "I'm heading to go play some cards with Jim. Are you gonna be okay?" he pauses to place a hand on my shoulder.

"Yeah," I answer, trying to sound carefree, "since it's Wednesday, I've got church with MaryBeth this evening." Clem looks like he wants to say something, but changes his mind. "What?" I ask defensively.

"Nothing. I'm glad you're going to church," and with that, he ambles off to gather his things.

              Clem hasn't been gone fifteen minutes when I hear a vehicle outside. I figure he must have forgotten something, but go to the window to look out anyway. But it isn't Clem's beat-up work truck I see. Instead, the shiny black luxury sedan is making the turn towards the main house. My fingers grip the windowsill tightly as my heart picks up speed. I realize I'm holding my breath and force myself to exhale. I watch as they park, and Harlow hurries to open the door for her. From this distance, I can't see much as far as expressions go, but I'm hoping to at least see her turn to look in my direction, maybe indicating that she too is anxious to see me in some small way, but she doesn't. Instead, she allows Harlow to kiss her cheek and lead her hand in hand up the steps to the front door where they are quickly ushered inside. My great moment I had been waiting for falls flat.

          I decided to take a shower and wash my disappointment down the drain. The day drags by, and I haven't seen anyone exit the main house. I have tried to keep busy cleaning, shaving, and ironing my clothes, but I finish still too early to go to church. Frusterated, I grab my keys and decide to go for a drive. I could pick up MaryBeth, but I decided to meet her at the church as we usually do. I crack the windows down just enough to let the cold air in. It is refreshing, and with the Christmas music playing on the radio, I find myself relaxing. I drive aimlessly until time to be at the Wednesday night service. The thought of whether Rebecca would show up does cross my mind. I glance around and see no fancy cars in the parking lot, so I go on in. I sit beside MaryBeth in a pew close to the front. She smiles at me and takes my hand. I give hers a squeeze.

"Has Rebecca made it home yet?" she asks.

"Yep, just this morning," I answer casually.

"Have you got to talk to her?"

"No, I just saw the car pull in is all."

                 Our attention is called to the front as the song director instructs the congregation to grab a hymnal and turn to page two-thirty-seven. As we are doing so, I lean toward MaryBeth and ask, "Does she know about us?"

"I have told her that we hang out a lot and have grown a lot closer."

"Did she seem fine with it?"

"Yes, she admitted to me that she had hoped this would happen and that she wishes us the best."

             I nod and start to sing along, but the information doesn't sit well. It irritates me. I stew over it the entire service. Afterward, MaryBeth walks me to the truck.

"The engagement party is this Saturday night . . . have you decided if you want to go as my date?" she implores. It doesn't take me long to answer.

"I want to go."

"Really!" You're sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure. We've got nothing to hide."

              She smiles, albeit a brief look of puzzlement crosses her face over my last statement."Okay, great. It's a black tie affair. Do you have something to wear? I can go shopping with you    if . . . "

"I'm good," I interrupted her.

"I have to be at the house early to help set up, so I'll just meet you there. It starts at seven," she informs me.

"Seven it is then." I give her a brief hug only since we're at church with a hundred eyes that follow the pastor's daughter, especially when she is with me. I drive back to the farm and park by my cabin. As I'm getting out, I notice Harlow smoking a cigarette under the front porch light of the main house. He lifts it to acknowledge me. I nod once in return and then head straight toward my cabin, thinking that I'll get the pleasure of meeting him soon enough.