Ten days after Hattie sang at the train station, she huddled next to a bonfire at the base of her sloped yard. Lena and her beau, Wilhelm Mueller, arrived late. Giggles sounded before the flames illuminated their faces.
“It’s about time you two showed.” Hattie sidestepped an onslaught of pungent smoke before joining the duo. Clustered in groups of twos and threes, the Waltz’s guests circled the crackling blaze. Bandit, her family’s black-and-white border collie, barked and raced from guest to guest.
“Someone spent an extra-long time primping.” Wilhelm, the local heartthrob and longtime family friend, nodded toward Lena in an exaggerated manner. An olive-green newsboy cap topped his head. A few honey-colored curls peeked from beneath.
The army had rejected Wilhelm’s services due to a faulty ticker, stemming from a childhood case of rheumatic fever. According to him, the ailment amounted to nothing more than a hill of beans. Hattie prayed he spoke the truth.
“And doesn’t he look adorable?” When Lena laughed, her beau gripped her middle and tickled until she escaped, racing for the shadows. Riotous laughter soon followed. Everybody suspected an engagement. Hattie anticipated an imminent announcement, but what did a romantic novice like her know?
The autumn air nipped the night, stirring thoughts of hot cocoa and downy comforters. A lengthy silence brewed while folks stared at the hypnotic blaze. Daddy elbowed her arm, coaxing her into singing a few ditties while he puffed on a harmonica. Before long, everybody raised their voices for a hearty rendition of “Hail! Hail! The Gang’s All Here.”
Afterward, she slipped away to check on Hawk, her seven-year-old brother, who’d left earlier for a cup of cider and never returned. Moonlight lit a path of swishy leaves, and halfway to the house, Lena came up alongside her. “I have two things to tell you.” Her friend bounced on her toes, either eager to deliver the news or a visit to the privy was in order.
“Where’s Wilhelm?”
“With your big brother, but let’s focus on my announcements. Guess what?”
“Wilhelm proposed.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Lena ran both hands through disheveled hair, plucking a dried leaf from the back of her head. “What I need to tell you has nothing to do with Wilhelm or me. It’s about last night’s Knitting Brigade meeting.”
“Old news.” Hattie resumed her stroll toward her hilltop home, where an electric light glared from each window.
“What you don’t know is this.” Lena swung Hattie around by the elbow to stand face to face. “The Brigade needs a new leader. Meridee Moss is stepping down, and I nominated you.”
“What were you thinking?” Hattie gasped and then covered her mouth. The prospect sounded scarier than singing before strangers with her apparel topsy-turvy. After a piercing glare, she continued up the hill, Lena on her heels. “I can’t possibly manage such a responsibility. In case it’s slipped your mind, I dropped out of school when Mama died. Did you hear me?” She stopped to shout at the moon. “I was e-le-ven!” The last syllable echoed across the hills.
“However, you’ve since read a thousand and one library books on every subject under the heavens, including philosophy and arithmetic.” Lena latched onto Hattie’s arm, leading her up the porch steps. “I’ll fasten myself to your side the entire time. We’ll do it together.”
“Why didn’t you volunteer yourself?” Hattie wrestled her arm free and, for the umpteenth time, wished for the impossible—Lena to stop fussing with her life.
“Those ladies would never appoint me. I’m too … I don’t know … unpredictable. All those biddies on the county level snub me.” A crease sprang between Lena’s brows. “They probably think I’d make a mockery of the entire Brigade, all the way from the national level to us locals. I wouldn’t, but I’d likely spice it up. Trust me, the committee can stand a pinch of seasoning.”
Hattie raised her hand. “Let me get this straight. At this point, I’m only nominated, not elected, which means there’s a strong possibility another candidate will fill the position, correct?”
“Nope, they chose you last night, a unanimous decision.”
With an oomph, Hattie collapsed onto the porch swing.
“Want to hear my other piece of news?” Lena wedged her rear onto the same paint-chipped seat.
“No, thank you.” What was the proper protocol to remove oneself from a committee appointment and, at the same time, hush a best friend’s mouth?
“Arno mailed me a letter, says he’s more than fine.”
Over the last ten days, Hattie had trained herself to picture Barrett’s handsome face whenever Arno’s mug trespassed through her thoughts. “Good for him. I pray for all the local boys each night by name.”
“Oh, me too. Sometimes twice a night.”
“Sure, you do.” Thick skepticism laced her reply.
“Arno sent you a letter too, stuck it inside my envelope. I didn’t read it.”
Hattie balled her necklace into her fist. Other than baths and bedtime, she wore Mama’s pearls nearly nonstop. The soothing touch calmed her pulse.
In two shakes of a cat’s tail, Lena yanked the evidence from the pocket of her fox-collared overcoat before dangling the envelope within Hattie’s reach.
Should she peek into Arno’s new life? Glean his thoughts? But why fiddle with fire? The boy reeked of trouble. She knew it, Daddy believed it with his whole heart, and Lena was biased.
“What’s wrong?”
“Why would he write me out of the blue?”
“I’m holding your answer.” Lena ran her fingers through her long blond hair, the same shade as Arno’s.
Hattie pushed her shoe against the porch’s floorboards to set the swing in motion. “I never told you what happened on my sixteenth birthday at your aunt and uncle’s barn dance. You suffered in bed with a nasty cold.”
“I beg to differ. I was on the brink of pneumonia.”
“And I was on the brink of a huge mistake.” Hattie sighed, uncertain how much information to divulge. “I waited alone on a tree stump for Daddy to haul me home, plucking flower petals from a daisy patch. A decent full moon hung overhead.”
“That’s specific.” Lena started to braid three strands of hair, Arno’s letter in her lap.
“It’s why I remember everything so clearly. I heard rustling and peered over my shoulder. Here comes Arno, minus a dancing partner. He plops into the grass near my feet. For the first time in years, we talked like friends. Our conversation hopped from fishing to the price of corn to hair ribbons.” Hattie glanced sideways at Lena. “According to him, they’re silly.”
“Go on.”
“We debated who’d win a footrace, him or me, and when I reached for another flower, he propped a finger under my chin and tucked a daisy behind my ear. Our faces were inches apart.” Hattie closed her eyes. Sometimes, in the privacy of her bedroom, she relived that night, embellishing the details by adding bigger smiles, richer laughter, and the wittiest verbal exchanges known to man or woman.
With the swing in a backward motion, Lena jammed her feet against the floor, halting the sway. Hattie slid down the incline until her black boots stopped her.