The Courting Dress A

the Courting Dress

A the Courting Dress

the Courting Dress

by Emjay Luby Emjay Luby

The Courting Dress

Published by: A Book’s Mind PO Box 272847 Fort Collins, CO 80527 www.abooksmind.com

ISBN 978-1-939828-80-4

No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means – electronic, mechanical, digital photocopy, recording, or any other without the prior permission of the author.

D the Courting Dress

Prologue

Mandy Stevens stepped out of her steam-filled bathroom wrapped in a towel and surveyed the piles of clothing and trinkets she had pulled out of Grandma Flo’s “membry” chest over the last three hours. Be careful, Man- dy. The warning played over and over again in her mind. Be careful. Careful. “Why? What’s in there?” She let out an exasperated sigh and nudged a pile aside with her bare toe. If only Grandma Flo could answer the question. For a second, Mandy was tempted to dump everything back into the chest and worry about it tomorrow, but as she reached for a stack of clothing, she was drawn to a blue dress peeking out from the bottom of the stack on the bed. She tugged it out and held it up to the light. It was pretty but not beautiful; feminine but not frilly. A smile flitted across her face as she imagined her grandmother putting it on for a special occasion. It obviously held some precious memories or Grams wouldn’t have saved it for decades. It certainly didn’t look dangerous, but then nothing in the hope chest seemed ominous. Did Be careful mean There’s danger lurking within? It could be that, or it could mean There’s something in there you really don’t want to see. Mandy shrugged, realizing it could just be that Grams didn’t want her to break or ruin something precious. She stopped trying to figure out her grandmother’s warning and concentrated on the silky dress in her hand. It was really quite charming. A deep sapphire blue, it had a collar trimmed with delicate hand-made lace and long sleeves that tapered down to lace-edged cuffs. The bodice of the dress appeared to be form-fitting to the waist, and the skirt flared out at the hips. The color would have accentuated her grandmother’s beautiful eyes; and her own, Mandy acknowledged. Holding the dress up to her, she surveyed her image in the full-length mirror. “Oooh, pretty,” she murmured. Impulsively, she dropped the big,

I Emjay Luby fluffy towel, slipped the dress over her head, and began to button it, gaining a new appreciation for zippers as she did. The bodice had at least thirty tiny, slippery, pearl-like buttons. It took infinite patience and deft fingers to hook the slender loops of thread around each pearl. Finally, all but one of the buttons were in place. Mandy smoothed the dress down, marveling at its perfect fit and the silkiness of the material. She twirled around and faced Grover, who was on the bed grooming himself. “What do you think, Mister?” He meowed a response and swiped a gray paw over his ear. “Yeah, I like it, too.” She whirled back to the full-length mirror as she slipped the last stubborn button into its loop. To her horror, she saw neither the mirror nor her image, but the headlights of a car barreling down on her.

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Mandy was paralyzed by shock. What she was actually seeing and what, in reality, she should be seeing did not jibe. Looking around frantically, she hoped but did not expect to see her bed, the chest, and all the familiar touches of home. Instead, she saw buildings, trees, and a dusty road. She heard indistinguishable voices shouting, the roar of a motor, the squeal of brakes, and a horn blaring. Suddenly, as the car came within mere feet of her, she was tackled and thrown to the ground. Hitting the shoulder of the narrow road with a thud and a whoosh as the breath was knocked out of her, she gasped and drew in a mouthful of dust. She coughed and struggled to sit up, but something held her down. A deep voice close to her ear asked, “Miss, are you all right?” Mandy realized a man lay beside her, his arm around her. Although she understood that he had risked his life to push her out of the path of an oncoming vehicle, she had not yet caught her breath or found her voice. She managed to nod slowly and tried again to get into an upright position. “Here, let me help you.” The stranger leaped to his feet with amazing agility. He extended his hand and pulled her up beside him. She bent to dust off her grandmother’s dress and noticed shoes peeking out from under the

II the Courting Dress skirt. Shoes? She had been barefoot when she put on the dress. She lifted the skirt ever so slightly and saw a lacy slip under the blue hem. “Miss? Can you speak?” “Is she all right, Nathan?” “Do you need help?” “Is anybody hurt?” Mandy noticed the crowd of people, all of whom seemed to be worried about her. She held up her hand. “I’m fine,” she managed to say. Nobody moved. She smiled tremulously. “Really, thank you for your concern, but I’ll be okay.” The crowd dispersed, except for the man who had saved her. “Where am I?” The stranger took her arm. “Let’s get you to a doctor. We need to make sure you’re not injured.” “I’m fine–I think. Just shaken.” She winced as she rubbed a small goose egg on the back of her head. “I don’t know where I am or how I got here.” “You’d better sit down.” He led her to one of the many benches that lined the street. “You must have hit your head pretty hard when I knocked you down. I’m sorry.” “Don’t be. After all, you saved my life.” Mandy studied the surrounding area. Parts of it looked vaguely familiar to her—the piece of a mountain jutting out beyond a building at the end of the street, the way the road before them curved and dropped sharply out of sight, some of the buildings themselves. She knew she had seen most of it before, but where? And what in the world had happened? Her mind struggled to make sense out of nonsense. How could she be standing on the cushy carpet in her bedroom one minute and lying in the middle of a dusty road the next? Although she didn’t remember falling asleep, she knew she must have, which meant she had to be dreaming. Nothing else explained the strange events. She sighed in relief. Yes, that was it–a dream. Having settled the puzzle, she decided to give in and enjoy it. It was, after all, a figment of her imagination. She turned and smiled at the stranger and knew the minute she saw him her suspicions were correct, because he looked precisely the way her dream man would. He was taller than she, had dark, curly hair sticking out from

III Emjay Luby under a cowboy hat, and a well-formed nose. She couldn’t determine the color of his eyes, but they looked dark. Above his full lips was a mustache— not the wispy, wimpy, why-bother type, but the sexy Omar Sharif-kind. He wasn’t just good looking, he was drop-dead gorgeous. His lips curled up in a lopsided grin, and she realized she had been staring. “Oh, I’m sorry. You must think I’m incredibly rude. I guess I’m still a little stunned.” “Think nothing of it.” He didn’t seem to mind an attractive woman openly admiring him. “My name is Mandy.” She was surprised that she didn’t feel awkward with him. She was usually totally tongue-tied around most men. “Thank you again for saving me.” “My pleasure.” He wiped the back of his hand across his brow. “Whew! You had me frightened for a few minutes there.” “I’m fine.” She brushed the dust from her sleeve. “And your name is?” “Sorry. I guess I’m as shaken up as you are. It’s not every day I save women from impending death. I’m Nathan Pierce.” “Hi, Nathan.” She shook his hand. His grip was firm; his hand warm. He didn’t feel like a dream. She reluctantly let go of his hand, closed her eyes, and pinched the back of her own hand. When she opened her eyes, Nathan was studying her. “Are you sure you’re okay?” She nodded slowly. “Yeah, I thought I must be dreaming, but...” She took a deep breath. “Now, I know you’re going to think I’m crazy, and I promise I won’t blame you if you do, but please humor me. Where are we?” Nathan laughed and pushed his hat farther back on his head. “Okay, you win. We’re in Jerome.” “Jerome?” “Jerome, Arizona. Haven’t you ever been here?” “Oh, yes.” A puzzled look crossed her face. “It wasn’t this big the last time I was here.” He nodded his agreement. “I can understand your confusion. If you haven’t been here for a while, the changes are amazing. Actually, this little

IV the Courting Dress town has grown quite a bit, thanks to the big mineral strikes a few years back.” Mandy was no expert on Arizona. In fact, she often felt guilty about how little she knew about her state; but to the best of her recollection, there hadn’t been any mining going on in Jerome since Phelps Dodge closed their mining operations back in the ‘50s. As far as she knew, it was one of the biggest old mining towns in the West. In recent years, Jerome had become a haven for artists, craftsmen, and free spirits. It drew droves of camera-wielding tourists who marveled at the houses clinging to steep hillsides and the spectacular views of the valley. Thrill-seeking guests stayed at the newly restored historic Grand Hotel, which had once been a huge hospital where scores of mining accident victims had breathed their last. The hotel had profited from rumors of ghosts that moaned, cried, and roamed the halls and rooms. Mandy studied her surroundings more closely. The buildings looked fairly new, the cars that chugged by were old models, but they weren’t worn, and everyone was dressed in old-fashioned clothing. Nothing made sense. “Is there a movie being filmed here?” “A movie? I think most of those are made in Hollywood.” She didn’t want to appear any crazier than she must seem to him, but she had to ask. “Nathan,” she began, “when I hit the street I rattled my brain just a little bit, so please don’t think I’m some kind of nutcase, but I have to ask another question. What’s the date?” “June 16th.” “It should be March,” she murmured. “What year is it?” The look of concern on Nathan’s face turned instantly to worry. “Mandy,” he said softly “don’t you remember? It’s 1934.”

V Emjay Luby

VI the Courting Dress

Chapter 1

Mandy stepped into the lobby of Cactus Rose Nursing Home and steeled herself against the blast of cold air that always took her breath away and made a rat’s nest of her hair. “This place would make a great meat locker,” she muttered as she rubbed away the goose bumps that popped up on her arms. She didn’t slow her long stride until she reached the relative warmth of the hallway on the other side of the super-cooled lobby. “Hi, Gretchen,” she greeted, as one of the nurse’s aides lumbered toward her. “When’s that baby due?” Gretchen rubbed her swollen abdomen. “I have three weeks to go. It seems more like a year at this stage.” “I can hardly wait to see her. Be sure to call me when she arrives.” “Will do,” she promised as she waddled away. While Mandy waited for the numbingly slow elevator to come down from the fourth floor, she danced in place to the music emanating from the sound system. She heard a chuckle behind her and whirled around to see Bernie, a long-time resident and ex-chef sitting in his wheelchair. “Nice moves.” Mandy flushed. “Thanks. I can’t hear that song without dancing.” “I wish I could join you.” “Me too, Bernie. I’ll bet you were quite a sight on the dance floor in your day.” “Oh, I was a sight all right,” he agreed, “but not in a good way.” The elevator door finally opened with a groan and Mandy stepped inside. “Going my way?” “No, I’m going to the kitchen to teach those amateurs a thing or two.” “Give ‘em hell, Bernie!” she encouraged, as the doors closed.

1 Emjay Luby

When Mandy stepped out on the second floor, she smiled at the now-familiar sounds of the nursing home. There was the soft bong of the paging system before a staff member was called, the clacketty-clack of an old meal cart being pushed from room to room, and over it all, the cries, laughter, and occasional demanding voices of the residents themselves. “Carol,” a plaintive voice called out, “bring me a bedpan, please. I have to tinkle.” That was Mrs. Dysart. She called everyone, whether male or female, Carol. “Nurse, Nurse, I want to watch Gilligan’s Island,” came the querulous voice of Mr. Farmer, who insisted on viewing his favorite old sitcom every hour of the day, whether it was showing or not. One of the nurses, tired of trying to explain television schedules to the befuddled, child-like man, had finally recorded several episodes of the show so she could pop a tape in at any time of the day. Her solution gave Mr. Farmer a measure of contentment and the nurses a few minutes of peace. As Mandy passed Room 134, she quickened her pace, hoping to avoid being seen, but Mrs. Littlefield’s rheumy eyes spotted the blonde. “Rhonda, Rhonda dear, is that you?” Mandy’s throat tightened. Poor Mrs. Littlefield thought every long-haired blonde woman who walked by was her daughter. Rhonda had died in a car accident more than thirty years before, but Mrs. Littlefield either didn’t remember or had chosen to live in denial. Mandy stopped mid-stride and went inside the small, stuffy room. “Hi, Mrs. Littlefield, it’s just me, Mandy. Florence Whitby’s granddaughter.” The old woman’s disappointment was palpable. “Oh, of course, Dear. How are you today? Have you seen Rhonda?” Mandy shook her head. “No, I’m sorry, I haven’t.” She took a few minutes to visit with the lonely lady. While she recounted her gardening woes, she curled her fingers around the frail, spotted hand nervously picking at the bedspread. Mrs. Littlefield sighed, settled back against her pillow, and closed her eyes. Mandy tiptoed out and continued down the hall, stopping once to chat with the nurses at the desk and again to bring a wide, gummy smile to the face of a bald man who sat idly in the darkened hallway. Reaching her grandmother’s room, she caught the light,

2 the Courting Dress comforting fragrance of White Shoulders and inhaled deeply. She entered the room, pleased to see Grams “gussied up”—a sign that she was having a good day. Since that horrible morning seven months ago when Mandy had found her comatose, Flo had made good progress in overcoming the effects of a stroke. She talked slower, but she had all her words back. Her left side was still weak, but the physical therapy had done wonders for her. “Hi Darlin’,” Mandy said, “how’s my favorite girl today?” Flo’s face lit up at the sound of her granddaughter’s voice. At eighty, she still had a beautiful smile and startling blue eyes, two physical attributes Mandy had been fortunate to inherit. Florence, however, had been blessed with thick, luxuriant deep-red hair, which only recently had become thread- ed with strands of white. At thirty-one, Mandy often cursed her own hard- to-manage, baby-fine blonde hair, which was already dusted with silver. “I’m great, now that you’re here.” She pursed her thin lips and craned her neck as Mandy stooped down to kiss her. Mandy’s nose wrinkled in distaste as she noticed the congealed remains of the lunch plate on Flo’s table. “What was that?” “They called it Chicken Alfredo.” “Was it good?” Flo shuddered and stuck out her tongue. “I don’t know Alfredo, but I know he can’t cook!” Mandy laughed as she sat at her grandmother’s feet. “Don’t worry, I saw Chef Bernie downstairs. He was headed to the kitchen to ‘teach the amateurs a thing or two.’” “Bless him!” Flo automatically began to stroke Mandy’s hair—something she had done since Mandy’s hair was nothing more than a patch of peach fuzz. Mandy sighed. “I’ll give you a week to stop that.” The two talked companionably about the day-to-day events at Cactus Rose, the people who had visited, and news items Grams had seen or heard recently. Mandy often thanked her lucky stars that Grandma Flo wasn’t like so many of the elderly people she knew–reduced to talking about nothing but their health and thinking nothing of sharing the most graphic, intimate

3 Emjay Luby details of their bodily functions with anyone who would listen. Flo was usually more interested in other people and events—both local and global. When asked about her health, she dismissed the question with a wave of her tiny hand and dived into conversation she found far more scintillating. Flo was a firm believer in the theory that keeping the mind active kept the body young. Those who knew her couldn’t deny that the theory was true— at least for her. Florence Whitby thought and looked much younger than her years. Mandy got up stiffly. “Ooh,” she moaned, “I’ve been sitting too long. How about taking a walk outside? The weather’s beautiful right now, but summer’s coming.” “I’d love it.” Flo took Mandy’s arm and pulled herself up from her chair. She walked slowly and leaned on a cane, but she was upright. Soon they were outside in the bright spring sunshine. It was, indeed, a gorgeous day. Although warmer than usual for March, the weather had yet to turn to the oppressive heat for which Phoenix was infamous. There was still a cool un- dercurrent of a breeze redolent with the sweetness of orange and jacaranda blossoms in the air. The trees were in full bloom, the winter grass was a verdant green, and the chirping birds seemed to revel in the glory of God’s handiwork. “Ahhh,” they sighed in unison. “We are so blessed to live in Phoenix,” Florence exulted. “Let’s see if you feel the same in July,” Mandy shot back. After walking a short distance, the two sank into one of the many covered swings in the garden. Mandy pushed off and they rocked in comfortable silence for several minutes, each savoring the sights, sounds, and aromas of the glorious day. That, too, was something the two women—though separated by two generations—had in common. They both had the utmost appreciation for the things most people took for granted. They reveled in billowing clouds set against a brilliant blue sky; yellow and orange sunsets painting a stunning panorama on the horizon before giving way to purple-y darkness; the pinpoints of light that made up the constellations in the inky nighttime sky; the melodious songs of the birds; and the beauty of wild- flowers dotting the landscape. The list of wonders never ceased. They had

4 the Courting Dress often laughed at how easily entertained they were. They never tired of the story of Mandy calling Flo one morning so excited one would have assumed she had won scads of cash. Only Flo would understand the thrill Mandy had felt as she drove to work that day and witnessed a little boy chasing after a dog that delighted in the chase, a cactus shaped exactly like her Great Aunt Lottie, and a fuchsia primrose growing out of a crack in the sidewalk. Even Mandy’s best friend, Beth, who was as close as a sister, didn’t get it. “What’s the big deal with clouds and flowers? You wanna rock my world, give me a diamond or take me on a cruise.” After a few moments Flo sighed, took Mandy’s hand, and rubbed it lov- ingly. “Darlin’, I have a big favor to ask you.” Mandy turned and gave her grandmother a tender look. There was no favor too big, nothing she wouldn’t do for the woman who had virtually raised her. Her mother, Carrie, Flo’s daughter, had been sickly all her life. The complications of her pregnancy had further damaged her already weakened heart and had come close to killing her. Mandy was the one and only child for Carrie Stevens, who after giving birth to Mandy, spent much of her time bed-ridden. It was Flo who had stepped in when Mandy was an infant and taken over the care and upbringing of her grandchild. When Mandy’s father stepped out of their lives forever shortly before her mother died, her grandmother had become her everything. Mandy squeezed Flo’s hand. “Anything for you, Grams.” Flo gazed off into the distance, not really focusing on anything. “You know my hope chest—the one I’ve had since I was sixteen?” “It’s the one in your room, right?” Flo nodded. “That old, scarred thing is probably not worth anything, but everything in it is precious to me—photos, some jewelry, little keepsakes, my wedding dress...” Her voice trailed away as she pictured each of her treasures. She cleared her throat. “I want you to take it home with you when you leave here today.” “Why, Grandma Flo?” Mandy’s voice was filled with concern. She knew how much Flo loved having her own precious possessions nearby to soften the institutional look of her little room. “Is something wrong?”

5 Emjay Luby

Flo hugged her arm. “Oh, of course not, Goose,” she chided. “I’m not trying to put my affairs in order, so get that thought out of your head. There have been a few petty thefts at Cactus Rose lately, and I don’t feel comfortable having my things here right now. I’d rather know they’re safe with you.” “Thefts? There have been thefts here?” Mandy half rose. “Grandma Flo, we’re going back to your room to pack all your belongings and check you out of here. It’s what I’ve wanted to do all along anyway. I’d feel so much more comfortable knowing you’re back in your house with me.” Flo tugged at the hem of Mandy’s blouse. “Sit down, Amanda. I’m not going anywhere.” It had been an ongoing battle between the two. Mandy had tried for months to get her grandmother to agree to come home, but in her heart, she knew Flo was in the right place. Grams was well-cared-for and there was immediate help on hand if her condition worsened. Dr. Weaver had advised them that, though Flo appeared healthy, her condition was still fragile and another stroke was highly possible. Mandy would never forgive herself if, out of her selfishness, her grandmother’s health was compromised. “As I was saying,” Flo repeated briskly, “there have been a few thefts here—nothing serious. It’s probably Nellie Preston from the third floor who’s doing it. She sometimes wanders from room to room picking up whatever strikes her fancy. She doesn’t even understand what she’s doing. Now, will you please take my hope chest home with you today?” Mandy sighed. “Yes, Grandma Flo, I’d be delighted to store it until the nefarious thief is caught and brought to justice. Then, I’ll bring it back here so you can look through your membries from time to time. Deal?” Flo’s stubborn jaw relaxed as her mouth curved up in a grin. “Deal,” she agreed. The two turned their attention to people watching—a pastime they found very entertaining. They made up innocent stories about those who came into their line of vision. “See the big guy over there?” Mandy pointed surreptitiously to a red- faced man of about 50 emerging from a sun-faded car at the curb. A blue plaid shirt was stretched over his huge belly and polyester pants hung well below the belt line, creating a butt-less look that amused her. As they

6 the Courting Dress watched, he took a large case from the trunk and lumbered toward the building. “His name is Fred. Fred Farnsworth,” she speculated. “He’s a plumber. You can tell because he wears his pants real low and when he bends over to work on the plumbing his shirt rides up, his pants ride down even lower, and his hiney is exposed.” Grandma Flo laughed, but Mandy maintained a serious look. “Didn’t you know all plumbers are required to wear their pants that way? If they don’t, they can’t get certified. That’s why they call it a plumber’s crack instead of an electrician’s crack or a mechanic’s crack.” “Oh, it is not,” Flo retorted. “Don’t you remember the nice plumber who used to come to the house? He was real thin and wore his pants cinched tight around the waist. His posterior never showed. I’m sure I would have noticed if it had.” “Oh, really, Grams? I didn’t know you were the kind of woman who would look at a man’s behind,” teased Mandy. Florence ignored her granddaughter’s ribbing. “My turn. I think his name is Clyde,” she whispered. “He’s a rancher, has six kids and a wife named Frie- da, who is skinny and sallow and doesn’t laugh very often. Clyde has worked hard all his life and has little to show for it except a few dollars in the bank, a couple of scraggly old milk-cows, and a big old rundown house that needs far more work than he has time to put into it. He and his wife don’t talk very often—they never really have. He wonders if this is all there is to life. Clyde is lonely and scared.” “Well, that certainly put a damper on our game. Where did this morbid- ity come from? This is not like you, Grams, not like you at all.” “Amos Radcliffe died last night.” Mandy gathered her tiny grandmother in her arms. “Oh, Grams, why didn’t you tell me sooner?” Amos lived on the same floor as Florence and had been a good friend to her since they had bumped into each other in the hallway one restless night. “No wonder you painted such a grim picture of our Fred.” Flo sat up straighter. “Clyde,” she whispered, just as the stranger walked up to the ladies and set his case down in front of them.

7 Emjay Luby

“Good afternoon. My name is Henry Curtis. I have with me today the finest brushes and small kitchen tools known to man. May I take a few minutes of your time to show you the dandy line of products I carry?” Henry reached into his pocket, which was somewhere in the vicinity of his knee, and withdrew a vegetable brush. “I can make this well worth your time.” He held the brush aloft. “If you’ll give me just ten minutes, I’ll give each of you one of these handy vegetable brushes.” Mandy and Flo looked first at each other, then at Henry, and back at each other. Mandy snorted, giggled, and then dissolved in amusement. De- spite her best intentions and her impeccable manners, Flo, who had always found Mandy’s laugh contagious, quickly joined her. Henry looked flustered and blushed, “I’m sorry. Did I say something funny?” “No, no, of course not, Mr. Curtis.” Flo was the first to regain some semblance of composure. “My granddaughter and I have been entertaining each other with silly stories and we were hit with a fit of the giggles. Please, feel free to demonstrate your wares.” For the next few minutes the two listened intently, a diligence born of guilt, as Mr. Curtis extolled the virtues of Garner’s Custom Brushes. When Henry Curtis walked away a few minutes later, he was able to do so with a few extra dollars in his pocket and another sale under his sizable belt. Mandy and Florence stared at the doodads they had purchased out of obligation. “Now what do we do with these?” asked Mandy. Flo’s face lit up as an idea struck her. “We’ll put them in the hope chest. They’ll make wonderful membries.” When the two returned to Flo’s room, Mandy realized how late in the day it was. “I have an idea, Grandma Flo. Let’s go out and have a decent meal. I think we’ve earned one today.” Flo was delighted with the thought of getting away from Cactus Rose and the people she sometimes couldn’t help but think of as “old folks.” The idea of spending the evening in a cozy restaurant eating “real” food and visiting with Mandy appealed to her far more than what she’d planned—an unappetizing institutional meal in the dining room, a game of cards with the Stern sisters, and an hour or so of mediocre television viewing before

8 the Courting Dress turning in for the night. It was no wonder the corners of her mouth turned up and eyes twinkled as she accepted Mandy’s invitation. The evening passed swiftly for both women. No matter how much time they spent together, they never ran out of ideas to explore and innocent gossip to savor. Over a perfectly prepared crème brûlée and glasses of sweet tea, the topic turned to Mandy’s business. “How are the maids these days?” Grandma Flo asked. “Is business still booming?” She was button-popping proud and somewhat amazed at what Mandy had accomplished thus far in her life. Her business had gotten started almost by accident when she’d been asked to housesit for her college roommate’s parents. Nancy Cobb and her family were going to Massachusetts to visit family over the Thanksgiving holiday. Bored, restless, and bleary-eyed from studying on a wet winter day, she got up from the desk and started to straighten up the room. Soon she was totally engrossed in a cleaning spree. Nancy and her parents arrived home the next night to an immaculate house, the heady aroma of a freshly brewed pot of coffee, and the spicy scent of carrot-raisin muffins. Although Mandy was somewhat embarrassed about cleaning someone’s house, especially when they hadn’t asked her to, the Cobbs were delighted with the results. Both were busy career people and were anything but offended by what the girl had accomplished. They asked her if she was interested in repeating her performance on a weekly basis. When she left that night, she not only had her house-sitting earnings but a verbal contract to clean the Cobb’s house every Tuesday after class. It wasn’t long before the Cobb’s friends heard about Mandy. By Christ- mas break that year, Mandy’s list of clients had grown to more than she could handle alone while juggling a full college schedule. She hired her first helper, Beth, right after the beginning of the year. Mandy knew then what she was going to do when she “got big.” She studied everything she could about running her own business. By her senior year in college, she had put away enough money to treat herself to a well-earned cruise to the Cayman Islands and a used van to carry her cleaning supplies.

9 Emjay Luby

Now, 12 years into At Your Service, Mandy had 16 full- and part-time employees, many of whom were culled from the college she had attend- ed. She’d only recently hired the first male housekeeper, who came to her with a handful of recommendations from people in his hometown. He was clearly well-qualified. Jeremy cheerfully endured the brutal teasing of his classmates as his savings account grew. He told Mandy that once his friends saw his paycheck, their jokes died and they wanted to know how they, too, could become “maids.” “Business is great,” she told Florence. She recounted the hiring of Jere- my and admitted that although she’d been dubious at first about hiring him, mostly because she didn’t know how he would fit in with her all-female staff, she was thrilled at how well her clients had taken to having a male housekeeper. “I never thought I’d have such chauvinistic ideas,” she admitted. “For some reason, I didn’t believe a man could clean as well as a woman. And here I thought I was a modern woman!” Florence shook her head. “Since when do you think you’re so enlight- ened when it comes to men? As far back as I can remember, you’ve had a problem with the men of today.” She tapped her temple. “Let me see,” she said, searching her memory banks, “it seems to me you have said, at one time or another, and I quote, ‘Today’s men are wimpy and un-masculine. They are so confused by today’s women they’re unsure how to act.’” Mandy blushed. “You’re right, Grandma Flo, I did say all that stuff, and I guess to some degree I still believe a lot of it.” She ran a finger over the rim of her glass and sighed. “Actually, to be fair to men, I don’t blame them for their confusion. Not too long ago women expected them to be the wage earners, protectors, and decision-makers. Suddenly, all that changed and women wanted men who were gentle, understanding, and ‘in touch with their feminine side,’ whatever that means. Masculinity was out, softness was in.” She stirred her tea. “Now it’s anybody’s guess what women want from men.” Florence studied her granddaughter. “It doesn’t matter what other women want,” she said softly. “What do you want?”

10 the Courting Dress

Mandy shrugged and pushed the hair out of her eyes. “Grandma Flo, I spent most of my childhood with you and Gramps, so my ideas about men come from the two of you. I guess you’d say–” “You had your father, too,” Flo interrupted. Mandy grimaced. “Oh yeah, my father. There’s a great example of man- hood! He was everything a man shouldn’t be.” “Sweetie, he was a good husband and father when you were little.” “Yeah, right up until the day he walked out on us.” She played with her napkin. “Anyhoo, as I was saying, I’m an old-fashioned girl looking for an old-fashioned man. I have nothing against a man being a protector. In fact, after taking care of myself all of my adult life, I relish the thought of someone bigger and stronger than I am who wants to take care of me.” She sighed, “Now, what are the chances of finding a guy like that in this day and age?” Not willing to let the subject go, Flo asked, “When was the last time you talked to him?” Mandy’s lips tightened. “I don’t remember—I think it was sometime around my birthday.” “He’s your dad, Mandy. The only one you’ve got.” Mandy’s gripped the napkin so hard her knuckles turned white. “Biolog- ically he’s my father, but he’s not my dad. Hasn’t been for a very, very long time.” A wave of sorrow dulled Flo’s usually bright eyes. She started to say something but stopped when she knew Mandy wasn’t ready to hear it. She shook her head and rubbed Mandy’s arm. “Okay,” she whispered. “I’ll just have to pray harder.” Just then the waiter presented them with their bill. As usual, they argued over which one of them should pay and Mandy emerged triumphant. “Be reasonable, Grams. I invited you to dinner, which means you’re my guest. When you invite me, you can pay. Deal?” “Deal,” agreed Florence, with a firm nod. Mandy took the slow route back to Cactus Rose, not wanting the time with her grandmother to end. She thought of so many women her age who would rather be in hell with their backs broken than spend a perfectly good afternoon and evening with an elderly woman. Most of her acquaintances

11 Emjay Luby spent their free time shopping, bar-hopping, or dancing the night away at a nightclub. She knew she was an anomaly among her peers—a 31-year- old woman who owned her own business, wasn’t into nightlife, and who cherished time with her grandmother. But, having lost both her parents and being an only child, Mandy knew firsthand how fragile life was—how quickly she could lose the grandmother she loved. So, she didn’t care what other people thought. Impulsively, she reached over and squeezed her grandmother’s hand. “Love you,” she whispered. “Love you too, Goose.” All too soon they were back at Cactus Rose. Mandy walked Flo to her room. It was fairly late, at least by nursing home standards, and the usual daytime noises and bright lights had been replaced with the softer, muted sounds and dimmer lights of nighttime. Mandy was getting ready to leave when she remembered her promise. “Oh, Grandma Flo, I totally forgot you wanted me to take the hope chest home. Is there somebody here at this time of night that can help me get it out to my van? If not, I can go out and get my dolly.” “No need.” Flo picked up the phone and called the front desk. Within moments, two uniformed men appeared at the door. Mandy was amused at their resemblance to Laurel and Hardy. They needed nothing more than bowler hats instead of caps on their heads to complete the picture. “Hi Flo,” said the tall, beefy one. “How’s my gal tonight?” “I’m just fine, Mike.” She turned to the shorter, shyer man. “Ed, it’s nice to see you.” He bobbed his head. “Thanks,” he mumbled. “You, too.” “Have you gentlemen met my granddaughter, Mandy Stevens?” she inquired politely. Before she could continue, Mike thrust his huge calloused hand forward. “Pleased to meet you.” He pumped her hand vigorously. “I’m Mike, head security officer, maintenance supervisor, and head of the moving crew. This here is my associate, Ed.” “It’s nice to meet both of you. Thank you for helping us on such short notice. My grandmother would like me to take this chest home with me tonight. Would it be too much trouble for you to carry it out to my van?”

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“Not at all.” The two men lifted the hefty chest with ease. “Be careful, please,” Flo warned, “there are special things in there.” Mike winked at Flo. “It’s in good hands with us, and with your granddaughter,” he assured her. “It will be fine.” He nodded to Mandy. “Okay, we got it. Lead the way.” Mandy kissed her grandmother good-bye and led the two men out to her van. After securing the chest in the back of the vehicle, Mike’s forehead furrowed with genuine concern. “How you gonna get it into the house?” “Not to worry.” She pointed to her hand truck in the back of the van. “I’ve got my dolly to help with heavy loads.” “Good idea.” Mike slammed the van door shut. “Saves your back. Well, good night, Miss Stevens. Nice meeting you.” With a wave, he ambled off; his silent partner beside him. By the time Mandy got home, an overwhelming fatigue weighed her down. Although the time spent with her grandmother had been enjoyable and relaxing, she’d put in several hours of hard work before she’d reached Cactus Rose. For a fleeting moment, she thought of leaving the chest in the van for the night, but her conscience wouldn’t allow her to take such a casual approach with her grandmother’s priceless possessions. After all, Grandma Flo had sent it with Mandy so it would be safe. There was nothing to do but get it inside immediately. Despite Mandy’s breeziness in assuring Mike she could easily move the load, she struggled for several minutes before she got the unwieldy chest from the van to the house. The combination of her weariness and the bulk and weight of the chest teamed up to make the job a challenge. Eventually, stubbornness and determination won out. She set it at the end of her bed, thinking that while she stored it, it could serve very well as a place to keep books, afghans, and maybe a plant or two. Although she knew she should fall into bed and get a good night’s sleep, her eagerness to go through the chest and look at all Grandma Flo’s membries sounded far more inviting to her. After pouring a tall glass of ice water, she knelt on the floor and opened the hope chest.

13 Emjay Luby

14 the Courting Dress

Chapter 2

The lid opened with a creak releasing the sweet fragrance that was Florence Whitby. Mandy’s mind was instantly flooded with images from the past: Flo sitting in her high-backed chair after lunch each afternoon, her feet propped up on the hassock while she crocheted darned socks, or mended a torn shirt. As she worked, the light from the floor lamp would spill over her shoulder, highlighting her rich mahogany hair and illuminating the faint downy fuzz on her jawline. While Mandy sat on the floor in front of her coloring or playing with paper dolls, her grandmother would tell stories about Mandy’s mother, Carrie, when she was a little girl. Mandy treasured those quiet hours with Grandma Flo. During those times she learned much about the tiny woman who had such a big heart. She learned about inner strength and beauty, principles to live by, what was important in life, and what was not. Her grandmother had taught her not to sweat the small stuff long before it became a cliché. She remembered planning the flower and vegetable gardens in the spring and deciding what kinds of jellies and jams they would make in the fall. Grandma Flo showed, rather than told, Mandy how to be resourceful, how to stretch a dollar, and how to make the most of what she had. These lessons had proven invaluable when Mandy started college and then her own business. Grover, Mandy’s cat, stepped boldly onto her lap, breaking her reverie. She wondered how long she’d been sitting on the floor reliving her past. Judging by the stiffness in her hip, she surmised it had been too long. She had read somewhere that odors were the best and most reliable triggers of deep-seated memories. According to the article, one woman, upon smelling an old baby buggy, had a clear memory of lying in just such a buggy as an infant and watching the trees, clouds, and sky overhead. Once a skeptic, Man-

15 Emjay Luby dy had become, in the space of an hour or so, a believer. She was amazed at how swiftly the memories cascaded through her mind at the first whiff of the fragrant sachet Grandma Flo used in her drawers and closets. Mandy shook her head to clear her thoughts and once again realized how utterly exhausted she was. With a sigh of regret, she gently closed the hope chest. “Tomorrow we’ll look at all the goodies, Grover. For now, let’s go to bed.” The gray, long-haired cat meowed softly and, as if understanding, stepped off of Mandy’s lap, jumped silently onto the bed, and curled up on his side, waiting for her to lie down beside him. Mandy reached for the book on her nightstand, but found she was too sleepy to read even the flyleaf. She let the book drop to the floor, shut off the light, hugged the purring cat, murmured, “’Nite, Grover,” and fell asleep within seconds. The next morning, Mandy gave little thought to the hope chest, until she came in painful contact with it as she staggered out of bed. “Ow,” she mumbled, rubbing her shin, “I’m going to have to get used to this big thing being here.” Mandy had a busy morning in the office. The week before she had signed three new clients—big ones—and was immersed with the myriad details involved in matching the right housekeeper to each client. She was especially concerned with Mr. and Mrs. Snodgrass, a couple who completely lived up to their name. They had arbitrarily rejected three of Mandy’s best employees so far, and Mandy wondered if she had anybody on staff that could please the picky couple. After considering and then deciding against three more promising candidates, Mandy gave up and called Beth, her best friend and assistant, into her office. Bright, energetic, and possessed of sound judgment, Beth was an invaluable part of the administrative staff. Mandy rarely made decisions without hashing them out with her first. Beth poked her head in the door. “Yeah, Babe, you need me?” Mandy nodded. “Come on in.” After Beth sank into the cushy guest chair, Mandy began, “I’m at my wit’s end. I’ve sent three of our top housekeepers over to the Snodgrasses, and all three were summarily dismissed. I have no idea who can possibly make these people happy.”

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“Who have you sent so far and why were they turned down?” “I started with Ginny because everybody loves her and she’s built up a loyal client base. But they claimed Ginny was unsuitable. Unless I am seri- ously misjudging them, and I don’t think I am, they were indignant I would send them a black woman. I’d be willing to bet Ginny was the first non-white woman to ever step foot in their snobby, narrow-minded home.” “If that’s the case, maybe we should tell the ‘Snob-grasses’ to shove it. Who do they think they are? Do we really need their business?” If a casting call ever went out for a spunky, out-spoken woman, Beth would fit the bill. Petite and wiry, she had long curly red hair that always looked as though she’d just gotten out of bed. Her almond-shaped green eyes tended to narrow when she was concentrating, her no-nonsense nose was neither cute nor perky, and her narrow lips could become little more than a red slit in her face when she was disturbed. It was clear from her expression that she was offended by the rejection of her beloved Ginny, who, in her eyes, could do no wrong. Mandy agreed. “I know, Beth. There are times when I feel like telling people to look elsewhere for help, but these people could generate ma- jor business for us. Mr. Snodgrass owns a large office complex. If he likes our work, he’ll give us a commercial contract. Do you realize what it would mean for us—all of us?” Beth nodded miserably. In her heart she wanted to personally kick the hoity-toity butts of the Snob-grasses, but her business sense told her Mandy was right. The wealthy, influential couple could generate business; lots of business. Besides, she didn’t have to agree with their clients’ philosophies and biases in order to provide service to them. If that was the case, she reasoned, they would have half as many clients. “Okay,” she grumbled, “who else didn’t suit their highnesses?” Mandy looked at her notes, although she knew the case by heart. “Well, you’re gonna love the next one. They wouldn’t take Donna because she’s pudgy and I quote, ‘...did not wear her uniform with pride.’” She spoke the last with a touch of an English accent. “Good grief, where do these people come from?” Beth’s face was a study in disbelief. “I thought elitist snobs like them existed only on television.”

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“Yesterday I sent Jeremy over,” Mandy continued. “He’s been so well received by other clients, (probably for the novelty of having a male housekeeper), I thought they would fall all over themselves to hire him...” She paused for dramatic effect. “And?” Beth leaned forward, eager to hear the lame excuse for rejecting him. “They worried a male housekeeper might be, shall we say, genderly challenged.” “Gay? They think Jeremy’s gay?” “Quite so!” Beth hugged herself and fell back against the chair her body shaking with laughter. Jeremy was all male, which was beside the point. His skills and experience were outstanding. In clipped, exaggerated tones, Mandy mimicked, “’I say, we mustn’t have a sexual pervert touch our precious belongings, don’t you know?’” “Did you tell them he’s straight?” “Of course, but they said even if he’s not admitting to it, he must be gay, because no self-respecting man would do a woman’s work.” “Oh, it just keeps getting better.” Beth tucked a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. “You’re not kidding, right? They actually said that?” “That and more.” Mandy tapped the case file with her pencil. “Now, who should we subject to their microscopic scrutiny next?” Beth narrowed her eyes and set her lips. “Think Aryan,” she suggested. “We need someone blonde, blue-eyed, and slim—other than you, of course.” The women searched their mental files for a maid who would fill the bill for the high-maintenance couple. Simultaneously, they came up with the same answer. “Gretchen!” “She’s a perfect choice.” Mandy made a note in the file. “I originally discounted her because she’s not as experienced as the others, but I think when it comes to the Snodgrasses, image means more than experience.” Beth nodded in agreement. Having solved the knotty problem, or so they hoped, the two women talked over other concerns of the business, and then went on to chat about

18 the Courting Dress their lives. The hope chest Mandy had taken home the night before partic- ularly intrigued Beth. “What’s in it?” A lover of antiquities, nothing thrilled Beth more than the thought of going through the belongings of people from an earlier gen- eration. Her hobby was collecting vintage clothing and jewelry, which, other than bringing her a great deal of pleasure, meant that nine times out of ten she won the “Best Costume” award at parties. Mandy shrugged. “I don’t know yet. I was so tired by the time I got home last night I never had a chance to look through it. I’m sure, though, that most of the things in there are not valuable, at least, monetarily speaking. My grandmother is such a sentimentalist, I’m fairly sure the majority of her treasures would have very little worth to anyone but her and other family members.” “Well, anyway, if you run across any jewelry or clothing in good condition, can I at least look at it?” “Sure, but let’s remember the stuff isn’t mine. I’m taking care of it for my grandmother until the stealing at the nursing home stops. However, Grandma Flo did mention that some of her jewelry and her wedding dress are in there. That dress would be...” Her voice trailed off to a whisper as she calculated the years that had passed since Flo and Frank had said “I do.” “...sixty-two years old,” she announced. “Grandma Flo and Gramps were married in 1932. She was eighteen, he was twenty-four.” At the eager look in Beth’s eyes, Mandy gave in. “I’ll tell you what. Why don’t you come over to my place this weekend, if you don’t have a date, of course. We can watch old movies and eat pizza. Then I’ll let you see some of the goodies from the past. Will that take the puppy-dog expression off your face?” “Oh, yeah.” Beth grinned in anticipation. “I can hardly wait.” Mandy glanced at her watch. “Hey, it’s past lunchtime. I’ve been dying for a big fresh salad. How does Olivetti’s sound to you?” “Scrumptious! Let’s go.” The rest of the day passed in a whirlwind of activity. It wasn’t until much later that night—after she’d gone through her mail, eaten a baked potato for dinner, and tended her plants—that Mandy remembered the

19 Emjay Luby hope chest. She set aside the book she had just picked up and, with Grover trailing behind her, went into her bedroom. Mandy tuned the radio to an easy-listening station. The smooth music set the stage for what she was going to do. She slipped into her favorite comfy nightshirt and tied her long blonde hair back with a ribbon. Once again she knelt beside the chest, lifted the creaky lid, and inhaled the powdery fragrance of her grandmother’s delicate sachet, but this time she didn’t let the memories come between her and the task at hand. With determination, she reached for the first thing that caught her eye—a pretty little velveteen box. She opened it and discovered a lock of baby hair tied in a delicate, slightly frayed pink ribbon. A slip of parchment paper underneath the hair identified it as Carrie’s First Hair Cut, August 15, 1942. Next Mandy picked up a couple of framed photographs. The first photograph was of a stiff, stern-looking man wearing a double-breasted suit and a hat. Although the brim of the hat shadowed his face, she knew it was a picture of her grandfather when he was much younger. He had looked rigid and unyielding until the day he died, but had a heart as big as the moon. As a child, Mandy had loved but been half-afraid of her grandfather, who rarely let his tender side show. Although she had seen glimpses of playfulness (usually with Grandma Flo), his sober demeanor had kept her from knowing him for the gentle man he was. It had taken his illness to show her the real Frank Whitby. At her grandmother’s prodding, she sat by his side night after night and read to him from his favorite books. Sometimes she sang songs or told him stories—both real and imaginary—to take his mind off his suffering. She was just eight years old when she kissed her Gramps good-bye for the last time. She could still hear his last ragged breath and see the tear that ran down his cheek the moment he took it. Mandy shuddered as she revisited her grandfather’s death. She felt tears form in her own eyes as she realized how much she still missed him. She dabbed at her eyes with the hem of her gown and turned her attention back to the chest. There was a picture of Grandma Flo taken about the same time as the picture of Gramps. Florence Whitby looked then much as she did today—

20 the Courting Dress soft, beautiful, and ultra-feminine. Even then, her inner strength was ap- parent in the slight stubborn lift to her chin and the glint of determination in her eyes. Tender, yet incredibly strong, those were the words that best described Grandma Flo. Inside of a plain, white gift box, wrapped in soft, pink tissue paper was a rock. The minute Mandy saw it, she chuckled. It was the heart-shaped rock she and Grandma Flo found a few years ago when they took a trip to the mountains to escape another hot, stuck-indoors weekend in Phoenix. After a quiet breakfast in a quaint cottage featuring home-style food and Victorian decor, they drove a short distance from town into a lush for- est. Mandy turned off the air conditioning and rolled down her window. “Air,” she exulted. “Real air!” The breeze whistled invitingly through the evergreens and a river burbled merrily somewhere close by. At the next pull-off spot, Mandy brought the car to a stop. “We need to enjoy this while we can. Walk?” They set off through the woods, their eyes and ears taking in all the unfamiliar sights and sounds. As they strolled along a rock-lined pathway, they talked about Mandy’s future. Having been happily married for so many years, Grandma Flo was positive Mandy would only be happy if she spent her adult life in the same state. She couldn’t bear the thought of her granddaughter growing old alone without the companionship of a man and children to care for her. Mandy gently pointed out that Grandma Flo had married, yet had lost her husband before old age had really set in, and had also lost her only child to a lingering illness. “So, Grams,” she concluded, “having a husband and children is no guarantee that I won’t die alone.” Grams was not to be defeated. “Well, young lady, if I hadn’t married and had a child who in turn had a child, who would I be walking with at this very moment?” Mandy had to laugh. As usual, Grandma Flo had gotten the last word. Having won the argument, she continued to extol the virtues of love, marriage, and family. As they rounded a bend in the trail, Grandma Flo spied something on the ground in front of her. A knowing smile crossed her face when she picked up a red, perfectly heart-shaped rock. “Look, Mandy, it’s a sign!” she declared.

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Mandy giggled. “Sure it is. Since when do you believe in charms and portents?” “Since I found this rock!” Flo’s voice was strong with conviction. “This is too perfect to be an accident. It’s like God is telling you romance is in the making.” “Grams, if that is so, then why did you find the rock instead of me? May- be God is telling you a new romantic interest will be coming into your life.” Flo playfully swatted Mandy’s arm. “Oh, hush! The reason I spotted it is because God knew I’d accept it as a sign from Him. He knows you’re nothing but a Doubting Thomas who needs lots of convincing.” “Okay Grams, whatever you say.” Until this moment, Mandy hadn’t known that Grandma Flo had kept the rock. The next thing to catch her eye was the corner of a white, mono- grammed handkerchief peeking out from under a photo album. Mandy carefully pushed the album aside and withdrew the handkerchief, which was tied in a bundle around something heavy. Working the knot loose, she found her grandpa’s watch. She flipped it over and ran her finger across the engraving on the back. The date indicated that Grandma Flo had given it to Frank on their twenty-fifth anniversary. She held it to her ear, but it had long ago wound down. Pulling out the stem to set it, she checked the time on the alarm clock. Two hours had flown by—two hours in which she’d been lost in the past, her grandparents’ and her own. After setting the pocket watch, Mandy listened for the dependable tick-tock of the old timepiece. How she had missed that sound. Stiff and thirsty, she rose and stretched her aching limbs. Leaving the chest open, she went to the kitchen to get a cup of tea before bed. The strident jangling of the phone made her jump. She fumbled for the receiver in the dark and finally brought it to her ear. “Yes?” Her heart pounded in her chest. “Mandy, it’s Grandma Flo. Were you asleep, Dear?” Her grandmother’s voice was almost a whisper, as though she did not want to be overheard. “No, Grams, I was just startled by the phone. Actually, I’ve spent the evening looking through your hope chest.”

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“Thas why I’m calling. When I was gettin’ ready for bed, I ‘membered there’s shomethin’ I need to talk to you ‘bout when you vishit me. Have you looked at ever’thin’?” “You already took your sleepy pill, didn’t you Grams?” Flo giggled. “Yesh. Gonna sleep shoon.” Mandy smiled. If nothing else, the conversation would be amusing. “Okay, about the hope chest. I haven’t even scratched the surface. With each treasure I touch, I’m flooded with memories of you, Gramps, and Momma, and I find myself lost in thought for minutes on end. In fact, it was the wristwatch you got Gramps for your 25th anniversary that made me realize how much time passed since I started looking through it.” She paused. “Was I wrong to rummage through it? I’m sorry. I know it’s not mine.” “Don’t be shilly, Goosh. I knew you’d wanna ‘splore it, but, the nes time you’re here, it’s very ‘portant that I tell you about somethin’ thas in there. Very, very ’portant!” “What is it, Grandma Flo?” She didn’t know whether it was Flo’s sleeping medication or something real speaking, but Mandy’s curiosity was thoroughly aroused. “You’ve got me wondering now.” “Oh, Manny.” Flo’s voice was wobbly. “I took my sleepy pill. I’ll ‘splain later. Jes be careful. Very, very careful.” “Of what?” She heard a soft snore. “Grandma Flo, please tell me now. I’ll go nuts before I see you again.” She heard her grandmother fumbling with the phone. “Lo? Who’s there?” “Grams, it’s Mandy. You called me, remember?” Flo giggled. “Did I? ‘bout what?” “You said to be careful about the hope chest. Why?” “You’ll shtub your toe,” she declared, and then giggled some more. Mandy took a deep breath before continuing. “Grams, listen to me. You said there was something inside of it. Something to be careful of. Do you remember what?” “Manny, I can’t think wif all the people here. Where they come from?”

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Mandy knew she wasn’t going to get any more information. Once Flo started seeing people she was minutes from sleep. Flo mumbled something about her nightgown, clouds, Frank, clothing, sleeping forever and other things that made little or no sense, before sigh- ing. “Oh my, Manny, hafta go. Gotta shoo all the people out.” “Yes, do that,” suggested Mandy. “Tell all the people it’s time to go home now. Besides, I’m pretty tired myself.” “’kay. God blesh…” “Bless you, too, Grams. I love you. Good night.” Mandy closed the chest as soon as she got back to the bedroom. She didn’t want to be tempted to rummage deeper to figure out what Grandma Flo was talking about. She had no choice but to wait. When she climbed into bed later that night, she wondered again what Grandma Flo was warning her about. So far, the things she’d found had been innocent and had evoked mostly fond memories. Could there be anything in that sweet woman’s hope chest that was unsafe or dangerous? Mandy shook her head and giggled. The thought was as unlikely as Grandma Flo admitting to having a lovechild with Michael Jackson. Mandy finally slept and dreamed of dancing watches on a hillside made entirely of red-heart rocks.

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Chapter 3

“Excuse me. I’m sorry.” Mandy reached out to steady the flower delivery girl she had knocked off kilter as she rushed into the nursing home. Oblivi- ous to the frosty blast of air, Mandy trotted through the lobby. Now that she had arrived, she could hardly wait to see her grandmother, but first she had to speak to Flo’s doctor. She’d been conducting a staff meeting earlier in the day when her sec- retary/receptionist, Millie, knocked timidly and then stuck her head into the conference room. Staff meetings were a top priority and Mandy had an iron-clad rule that they were not to be interrupted. The only other time it had happened in the history of the company was when her grandmother had fallen and broken her wrist, so, it was natural for Mandy to feel a twinge of panic when Millie knocked on the door. “Yes?” Only Millie and Beth, who had both been with Mandy since the early days of the business, could hear the anxiety in her voice. “I’m sorry, Mandy, but there’s a Dr. Weaver on the phone. He says it’s important.” Mandy jumped to her feet. “Please excuse me, everyone.” She handed her notes to Beth before exiting the room. “Would you take over for me, please?” Beth nodded. “Okay, gang, I believe the topic is the schedule.” Mandy ran into her office and closed the door behind her. She punched the flashing light on the phone. “Dr. Weaver? What’s wrong?” Dr. Weaver had been Flo’s doctor for years. It was he who convinced her to move to Cactus Rose after her stroke. His voice was calm, as always, but Mandy detected a sense of urgency behind his dulcet tones. “Florence had another stroke. At this point we don’t know the extent of the damage, but she’s comatose.”

25 Emjay Luby

Mandy gasped. Not again! “When did it happen? Why wasn’t I called earlier?” Dr. Weaver heard the abruptness in her voice, but knew her well enough to know she was speaking out of fear, not anger. “We’ve been focusing all our attention on getting your grandmother stabilized,” he explained. “I apol- ogize for not calling you when she stroked, but at the time we didn’t have much to tell you.” “When did it happen?” “About 5:00 a.m. The nurse was making her rounds when she discovered that Florence was breathing erratically. When she couldn’t rouse her, the nurse called me immediately.” Mandy looked at her watch. It was 8:20. “May I see her? I can come right away.” “Mandy, there’s really no point right now. We don’t know when she’ll come out of the deep sleep she’s in. It could be hours, it could be days. We promise to keep you in the loop if anything changes. Otherwise, plan to be here about 5:30 this afternoon. I can meet with you and answer any of your questions. Perhaps I’ll have more information by then.” Although Mandy wanted to go directly to her grandmother’s side, she knew the doctor was right. There was no point in her being there now. The staff at the nursing home was top-notch and would ensure that her grandmother received the best care possible. One reason Mandy had been pleased when Grandma Flo had chosen Cactus Rose was the round-the- clock medical staff and fully equipped medical center in the east wing of the building. There they could handle everything from a bruised toe to hospice care. “Thank you, Dr. Weaver. I really do appreciate your calling me. You’ll keep me posted if there are any new developments, right?” “I will, Mandy. Please try not to worry too much. Florence is in good hands.” “I’ll be there at 5:30.” After hanging up, Mandy said a quick prayer for her grandmother, asked Millie to let her know if anyone from the nursing home called again, and returned to her meeting, which was just breaking up when she got back in.

26 the Courting Dress

“Thanks, Beth. I’m sorry I ran out on you.” “No problem. We were going over next week’s schedule. It looks like everyone has a full plate.” Mandy ended the meeting in her usual way, thanking each and every worker there for his or her contribution to the success of the business. As they rose to leave, she gestured for them to sit back down. “Before you leave I want to tell you what that call was about.” She took a deep breath. “My grandmother had another stroke…” her voice broke, “…and is in a coma. I’ll keep you all posted.” Amidst murmured assurances of good wishes and promises to pray, everyone but Beth left the room. Mandy pointed across the hallway. “Let’s go to my office, and I’ll tell you everything.” After helping themselves to coffee in the break room, they retreated to Mandy’s tiny office. Beth sat down across from Mandy. “So, when did it happen?” Mandy sighed, rubbed her eyes and stared at an invisible dot on the wall. Then, drawing a ragged breath, she told Beth what Dr. Weaver had told her. “Oh, Babe.” Both women got to their feet and reached for each other. Beth enfolded Mandy into a strong, comforting hug. “She’ll be okay,” she whispered. “Everything will be all right.” Until the sweet touch and soothing promises of her friend, Mandy had been dry-eyed. Now tears clouded her vision. “You should go,” Beth urged. “You need to go.” Mandy broke the hug and wiped the tears from her eyes. “No, I’d be useless there. Dr. Weaver is expecting me at 5:30, so let’s dig in and get something done around here.” “Sure, Babe, whatever you need.” The day dragged on without any further word from Dr. Weaver. Mandy holed up in her office and tried to keep herself occupied with busy work while she kept an eye on the clock.

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27 Emjay Luby

When it finally ticked its way to quitting time, Mandy was more than ready to leave. A sense of apprehension weighed her down—she couldn’t wait to see Grandma Flo, but she dreaded seeing her in her current state. As she flicked off the light, Beth stopped by. “You need company?” “No, I’ll be fine.” “Really? Cuz you look a wee bit frazzled.” She laughed despite the stress. “I am. But once I talk to the doctor and see my grandma, I’ll be much better.” “Really, I can go with you.” Mandy shook her head. “Thanks, I appreciate your offer.” Inhaling deeply, she stood up straighter and gave her head a little shake. “I’m good. You go ahead with your plans.” Beth wasn’t quite ready to give up. “Only if you promise to call me if you need me.” Mandy made an X on her chest. “Cross my heart.” By the time she parked her late model van in front of the nursing home, Mandy felt calmer, more at peace. She knew that no matter what the doctor told her, no matter how bleak her grandma’s future, with God she could handle it. Dr. Weaver was waiting for her. Although well into his fifties, the doctor appeared much younger. His only concession to age was the slight graying at his temples and a few fine lines around his eyes. Otherwise, he could easily have passed for a man ten years his junior. When people complimented him on his youthful appearance, he claimed to have chosen geriatrics for an obvious reason. It wasn’t that he didn’t look his age, he insisted, it was just that he looked young in comparison to his patients. After greeting Mandy in the lobby, he led her into the office he used while at the nursing home. Once she was seated, he wasted no time with small talk and got right to the point, which Mandy appreciated immensely. “This stroke has taken its toll. Although she has come out of the coma…” “What?” Mandy’s tone was angry. “Why didn’t….” “It happened just ten minutes ago. We couldn’t reach you because you were on your way here, and if you have a mobile phone, we don’t have the number on file.”

28 the Courting Dress

Mandy slumped back into her chair. “Sorry.” “It’s okay. I should have told you the minute you walked in.” He picked up Flo’s chart and studied it briefly. “Her awakening is an excellent sign, but, so far, she is unable to talk or to understand. She’s very disoriented, and I must warn you, this stroke could have done some brain damage.” As Mandy’s face blanched, he rushed to assure her. “Of course,” he conceded, “it’s still too early to know what the final outcome will be. I’ve had patients whose condition was as bad, if not worse than Florence’s, who recovered completely, and to be honest, I’ve had other patients who never got beyond the point she’s at now. I’m sorry, I wish I had some more definitive answers for you.” Mandy kept a watchful eye on the doctor’s face for any telltale signs that he was holding back, but she knew he had always been straight with her. Her heart sank at his words, but she refused to lose her resolve. If anyone could pull through this medical crisis, it was Grandma Flo. She would not go down without a fight. She would not “...go gently into the dark night.” Mandy had only one question, which she voiced in a whisper. “Is she in pain?” The doctor shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. She doesn’t seem to be suffering any discomfort, but again, she’s still rather out of it, so to speak. Once she’s more lucid, we’ll know more.” “Can I see her?” Mandy rose as the question left her lips. “Of course.” Dr. Weaver got to his feet. “I don’t think a troop of com- mandos could stop you.” He stepped around the desk and gave Mandy a hug. “If anyone can overcome this, Flo can. She’s a tough cookie.” He took her arm. “Come on, I’ll go with you.” Despite Dr. Weaver’s reassurance, Mandy’s first sight of her grandmother made her head spin. Flo looked so tiny, so frail, so defenseless in the big hospital bed. She was hooked up to machines, tubes, and needles and was flanked by two nurses. Mandy noticed her grandmother’s blue eyes darting this way and that frantically. She was obviously trying to make sense of the scene around her.

29 Emjay Luby

When Mandy and the doctor entered the room, the nurses stepped aside. Mandy stooped down and looked directly into her eyes. “Hey, Grams, what are you doing lying down when there’s work to be done?” Florence’s eyes stopped roving and settled on her granddaughter’s face. The look of panic was replaced with a slight frown. “You’ve had another stroke,” Mandy explained. “Dr. Weaver doesn’t know yet how bad it is. He said we’ll have to wait a while and see what happens. Do you hurt?” Flo’s furrowed brow remained. Mandy wasn’t sure that she was getting through to her. She looked up to the doctor for help. He took Flo’s hand. “Good evening, Florence. You’ve been through a rough time, but you’re doing better now.” Flo gave him the same baffled look she’d given Mandy. “Florence, do you know who this is?” He pointed to Mandy. Flo stared at Mandy and then back at him. “Shorry, Doctor, I thaw you knew Manny.” Dr. Weaver threw back his head and laughed while Mandy grinned from ear to ear. “Why ever’body here?” Flo asked. “Somebody die?” “Okay then, everything appears to be normal,” Dr. Weaver announced. He ushered the staff out of the room so Flo and Mandy could spend a short time together. The brief visit was made even shorter when in mid-sentence Flo’s eyes grew heavy and she suddenly fell asleep. Mandy gently nudged her arm. “Grams?” Mandy instantly flashed back to that horrible morning seven months ago. Oh no! She pushed the call button in a panic. Within seconds, the room was again a beehive of activity as the nurses took Flo’s vitals and called Dr. Weaver back to the room. The doctor examined Flo and did a couple of preliminary tests, and then assured Mandy that Flo wasn’t in a coma, but would probably sleep heavily for a few days. “A stroke takes a lot out of a person,” he explained. “Sleep is the body’s way to heal.” Mandy kissed her sleeping grandmother’s forehead. “Get better,” she whispered.

30 the Courting Dress

As she drove through streets that were slick with an unexpected, but very welcome rain, her thoughts centered around two things: Would her grandmother recover fully from this most recent setback, and what was in the hope chest that troubled her?

31 Emjay Luby

32 the Courting Dress

Chapter 4

The rain didn’t keep Mandy from reaching her home in record time that night. On the way, she swooped through the nearly empty drive-through lane at Wendy’s to order a cup of chili, an appropriate choice for a rainy March evening. After wolfing down her meal, she was ready to dive into the hope chest. She felt a twinge of guilt at what she was about to do, but she had to know why Grandma Flo had called about it last night. If it was important, wouldn’t she have mentioned it a few days ago when she had first asked Mandy to take it home? Or again, could it have been the drugs talking? She took off her work clothes and slipped on a comfortable robe. Once again she knelt in front of the time-scarred chest. She quickly removed the items she’d already looked through, scanning them as she did to see if there was anything there that was suspicious. Seeing nothing, she searched further. After hours of careful scrutiny, Mandy had uncovered nothing that seemed to be ominous—nothing, at least, that signaled her. There were no secret diaries, no incriminating pictures, no cryptic letters or notes. Mandy leaned back against the chest, stretched her legs out in front of her, and sighed. Grover draped his body over her legs, purring loudly. She petted his thick, silky fur. “Well, Grover, I’m lost. I don’t see anything in there that could cause Grams to tell me to be careful. Do you?” The cat meowed his answer and nuzzled her hand. Mandy absent-mind- edly scratched his ears as she studied the objects spread out before her. Nothing struck a chord. Nothing seemed mysterious. The ringing of the telephone interrupted her thoughts. She answered, and was dismayed to hear Dr. Weaver tell her that her grandmother had slipped back into the coma she had emerged from a few hours ago. He did

33 Emjay Luby his best to reassure Mandy that what had happened was common in stroke patients—everything would be fine, he said. Wanting to believe it, Mandy did. She thanked him for his call, once again got his promise that someone would call the minute her grandmother awakened, and said good night. She took a deep breath and with more determination than before, forced her attention back to the hope chest and its contents. A frightening possibility clawed at her mind—could Grandma Flo be getting senile? The thought gave her chills. She shook her head to clear the unwanted thoughts. No, she wouldn’t believe it. Grandma Flo was as sharp and clear-headed as she had ever been. Mandy had not noticed—nor had any doctor suggested—any presence of dementia. So, that left only one possibility: there was something on the floor in front of her that, despite its harmless appearance, had caused Grandma Flo to call her late at night to tell her about it. Mandy was going to have to painstakingly examine each item again until the mystery was solved, or she was going to have to wait until Grandma Flo recovered from the stroke so she could answer the question on her own. Mandy sighed, gave Grover a hug, and put him gently on the bed. Her decision was made. Waiting for Grandma Flo was not an option. By the time her grandmother got well, Mandy was going to know whether or not the chest contained any threat to either of them. She was going to find her answer if she had to stay up all night doing it. Once again, she carefully perused each item. This time, she refused to let sentiment rule her thoughts. Instead she looked at each article from a wary point of view. She was able to pass over several ordinary, innocuous items rather quickly. Some things were, after all, exactly what they were—a fountain pen was that and nothing more. But other things required a more thorough examination, like the bulky, old photo album. Could there be a picture that had captured an embarrassing moment? Was there someone in one of the fading, yellowed photos who posed a threat to Grandma Flo or Mandy? After several minutes of such thorough scrutiny, Mandy’s eyes burned and her vision blurred. She rubbed her eyes wearily. Everything she had seen was a sweet keepsake for a sweet woman. Her neck was stiff and her

34 the Courting Dress mind was exhausted from trying to make something out of what appeared to be nothing. Despite her earlier resolve to see the project through no matter how long it took, she knew she was past the point of effectiveness. She’d ask Beth to help her tomorrow. Perhaps what this task needed was a pair of fresh eyes. She let out a frustrated breath and ran her fingers through her hair. What is it, Grams? What am I missing? She closed her eyes and leaned against the chest. In the quiet she heard Grover’s gravelly purring nearby. Opening her eyes she saw him rolling on his back on top of the dresses she had placed on the bed. “No, Grover,” she chastised. She forced herself out of her comfortable position and nudged the stubborn cat aside. “Sorry Buddy, these aren’t yours.” He meowed indignantly and rolled over on his back determined not to leave the cushy comfort of the bed. Mandy rubbed his fat tummy for a minute, and then, leaving the rest of the clutter on the floor, headed for the shower. The hot undulating spray massaged the knots out of her neck and shoulders. She instantly felt better, relaxed, more clear-headed, and ready for a good night’s sleep. But first she had to put everything away. Wrapping a towel around herself, she emerged from the bathroom.

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36 the Courting Dress

Chapter 5 Jerome

“Nathan,” she began, “when I hit the street I rattled my brain just a little bit, so please don’t think I’m some kind of nutcase, but I have to ask another question. What’s the date?” “June 16th.” “It should be March,” she murmured. “What year is it?” The look of concern on Nathan’s face turned instantly to worry. “Mandy,” he said softly, “don’t you remember? It’s 1934.” Mandy’s heart pounded so loudly she feared Nathan would hear it. She suddenly knew with certainty she wasn’t dreaming. This was reality. Somehow, when she put on her grandmother’s dress, she had been transported back in time 60 years. This must be what Grandma Flo wanted to warn her about. Nathan noticed that Mandy had gone pale. Fearing she might faint at any moment, he grabbed her arm. “We need to get you to the hospital. Let’s go.” Mandy shrugged off his hand. “No, really, I just need a little time.” “Then let’s go into the café and get you something to drink.” Nathan guided her across the street to a softly lit restaurant. As they drew near they could hear laughter and the sound of dishes clanging against each other. The mouth-watering aroma of frying beef wafted on the summer air. Mandy was acutely aware of everything that was going on around her. It was as if her senses had intensified a hundred-fold. The noises were louder, the smells stronger, the sights sharper and clearer. People gawked as the couple walked into the crowded café. Mandy wondered if they had seen the dramatic rescue shortly before or if they

37 Emjay Luby looked at every newcomer in town with curiosity. She whispered, “Why is everybody staring at us?” He chuckled. “They don’t mean anything by it. They aren’t used to seeing me with a beautiful woman beside me. I usually have my nose buried in charts, maps, and books.” He colored. “In the years I’ve been in Jerome, I’ve only been seen in the company of one other woman, and that was my mother.” For a split second Mandy’s radar went up. He was gorgeous, probably a few years older than her, unattached—could he be...? “Why’s that?” She hoped she sounded casual. “Work. At this point, I live, breathe, and eat my job.” He nudged her and pointed to the corner. “It looks like a table just got cleared. Let’s grab it.” Shortly after they sat down, the waitress appeared with tall glasses of iced tea and generous slices of apple pie, which Mandy knew they hadn’t ordered. About to ask how the waitress knew what they wanted, she decided to accept that as just one more unexplainable part of the whole weird experience. Before biting into the aromatic pastry, Mandy automatically wondered if it wasn’t too late for her to be eating. She looked at her wrist to check the time, and remembered she had just come out of the shower when she had impulsively decided to try the dress on, and therefore, had not been wearing any jewelry. “Excuse me, Nathan, do you have the time?” He pulled a pocket watch out of his coat, snapped open the lid. “It’s close to 9:00 o’clock. Do you have to go?” “Not at all. Just wondering.” As the two ate the delectable pie and sipped the smooth iced tea, they talked, mostly about Nathan’s job at the mine. Mandy shied away from talking about herself, except to say she lived in Phoenix and was close to her grandmother who had raised her. When asked about her work, she simply said that she cleaned houses for a living, a revelation that surprised Nathan who had taken her for a teacher or office worker. The couple continued to talk long after their plates were taken away and they had refused any more offers of tea or coffee. Without their noticing it, the dinner crowd had thinned out. The workers swept the hardwood floor,

38 the Courting Dress wiped down the tables, cleaned out the big coffee urn, and refilled the salt, pepper, and sugar containers in preparation for the next morning’s breakfast service. Nathan noticed the staff buzzing around them. “Mandy, I believe we have kept these fine people long enough. Shall we go?” She realized almost an hour and a half had passed since the two of them had come into the restaurant. She took Nathan’s proffered hand and allowed him to help her up. They stepped out into the cool, quiet evening. “Where are you staying? I’ll be glad to escort you there.” Mandy suddenly realized she had no idea how to return to her room. She was, after all, two hours away by car, but 60 years away on the timeline. The thought brought her to a sudden stop. Her hands flew to her face and she looked around frantically as panic set in. Maybe, she thought, there was no way to return. Maybe she had set something in motion that couldn’t be reversed. The idea terrified her. “I need to sit down again. Quick!” Nathan escorted her to a nearby bench. “Are you all right?” he asked, his brow creased in worry. “You turned white as a ghost back there.” “I have no place to go. I truly don’t know how I got here, and I have no idea how to get back. I’m stranded,” she gushed. “What a fool I am! I’ve rambled on and on when I should have taken you immediately to the hospital despite your objections.” Mandy drew in a ragged breath. Thoughts swirled around her head, but she couldn’t come up with any solution to her dilemma. Nathan patted her hand. “Please don’t think me presumptuous, but you are welcome to stay with my mother and me. We have a guestroom, which will be quite comfortable for you. I promise that my intentions are completely honorable.” Some of her panic subsided. “Thank you, you are truly a gentleman.” Impulsively, she leaned into him and kissed his cheek. His blush was obvious even in the dim light of the street lamp. “Shall we go?” he asked, offering his arm once again. Mandy was panting by the time they reached his house at the top of a narrow, steep street. Nathan left her to catch her breath on a squeaky porch swing while he went inside to speak to his mother. Less than a minute later, Nathan came back with Mrs. Pierce beside him.

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“Please come in, Dear,” she invited. Mandy was charmed by Nathan’s mother, who was more than gracious. While Mrs. Pierce prepared a pot of tea, Mandy excused herself and went upstairs to the bathroom. She studied herself in the mirror and found that her hair, which had been dripping wet when she put on the dress at home, was now upswept into a modest, yet becoming chignon. This just gets curiouser and curiouser, she thought. When she reentered the kitchen, Nathan was repeating the events of the evening, beginning at the moment he knocked Mandy to the ground to save her from an untimely death. They sipped the pungent brew until the story, with all its drama, was finished. “Shall we go to the parlor?” They all stood and went into the front room. The house Nathan shared with his mother was typical of those in the area. Though not as simple as the tiny shacks the miners lived in, it was, nonetheless, modest. Mrs. Pierce, however, had taken great pains to bring as much back-East refinement and culture as possible to the rustic mining town. A silver-framed picture here, a lacy doily there, and elegant candles here and there gave the humble home a touch of class. The grand piano that dominated the room, though, seemed more than a little out of its element. “Do you play?” Mandy asked Mrs. Pierce. “Oh, heavens no! The piano belonged to Nathan’s father who passed his talent on to Nathan. If he hadn’t chosen to be a mining engineer, he could have been famous.” She turned to her son. “You should play something for our guest.” For the second time in the last hour, Nathan reddened. “Please, Mother,” he pleaded, “don’t make Mandy suffer through one of my amateurish performances. She’s been through quite enough for one evening.” It wasn’t long, though, before the two persuasive women cajoled Nathan into sitting at the bench and playing for them. Mandy sat in a high-backed chair in the corner of the room as Nathan deftly played one haunting melody after another. Had it not been for the fact that she had no idea how she could get back to her real life, she would have been totally carried away by the lovely melodies that filled the elegant room. Her mind tried desperately to understand how she had gone from standing in her bedroom one minute to

40 the Courting Dress traveling both in time and space the next. But, the thought dominating her mind was how—no, if—she could get back to Phoenix, and 1994. The long day, the strain of the evening, and the soft music overtook Mandy’s fears. Against her will, her eyes began to close and soon her head lolled forward. Mrs. Pierce, ever the consummate hostess, noticed. “I think I need to show Mandy to the guestroom.” Nathan stopped playing in mid-tune. He looked at Mandy, so small and sweet in sleep. “I do believe you’re right, Mother.” Mrs. Pierce gently shook Mandy awake, shushed her embarrassed guest’s apologies, and led her upstairs to a simple but tastefully decorated room. After giving Mandy a fresh nightshirt, she kissed her check and quietly exited the room. Mandy sat alone on the edge of the bed, exhausted but terrified at what was to become of her. She wondered what would happen when she didn’t show up at work. What would become of her business? Her grandmother? Grover? As worried as she was, she knew she couldn’t think straight until she had a good night’s sleep. Perhaps tomorrow, in the clear light of day, the answers that now eluded her would present themselves. At least, that was her fervent hope. She began the slow process of unfastening the tiny buttons of her grandmother’s dress. She looked around the pleasant room that would be her haven for the night and noticed that as each button slipped free of its loop, the light in the room grew dimmer and the pictures on the wall became fuzzier, as though everything was slightly out of focus. Knowing she hadn’t had any alcohol to drink, she wondered at this phenomenon. As the shapes around her grew blurry and seemed to move away from her, her mind suddenly became crystal clear. That was it! The dress had brought her here, so taking it off would take her home. Of course! Why hadn’t she made the connection earlier? She quickly refastened the dress until the room was once again clear and bright. She had concentrated so hard on buttoning the dress when she first put it on, she hadn’t paid attention to her surroundings. If she had, she might have noticed the same manifestation—dimming lights, soft edges, receding objects. Mandy lay down on her back, relief flooding over her, and stared at the sloping ceiling above her. She noticed a rust stain above the bed that looked

41 Emjay Luby like a little copper-colored toad, complete with warts. She smiled and closed her eyes. Exhaustion washed over her—it seemed like eons had passed since she had risen from her bed this morning and prepared for work. In fact, as she added up the hours since first awakening, she realized she’d been awake for more than 20 hours. No wonder her eyes felt as though they had been sandblasted. Before she could sleep, she had to decide when she was going to go home. She could, she reasoned, take off the dress and return home immediately, but she knew the Pierces would wonder what had become of her. Her hasty departure would be rude after the thoughtfulness and graciousness of her hosts. She should instead get a good night’s rest, have breakfast with the Pierces, and then find a quiet place to remove the dress. With that settled, Mandy clicked off the light and drifted off to sleep, secure in the knowledge that she wasn’t stranded forever in 1930’s Jerome.

42 the Courting Dress

Chapter 6

A gentle rap on the door brought Mandy out of a deep, dreamless sleep. When she opened her eyes she was surprised she was still in the guestroom of the Pierce’s home. Right before falling asleep the night before, she wondered again, Could this be a dream? Now awake, hearing the birds chirping outside the window and the rapping on the door, and seeing the charming guestroom in the early light of day, she again acknowledged that she had traveled through time and space. The tapping grew louder and was accompanied by a soft voice calling, “Mandy, Mandy dear, are you awake?” “Yes, Mrs. Pierce, thank you. I’ll be out shortly. I’m almost ready.” In minutes, Mandy was once again sitting at the kitchen table enjoying Mrs. Pierce’s hospitality. She had prepared muffins and coffee, and had set jars of homemade preserves in the middle of the table. Mandy ate with gusto, thoroughly enjoying the simple yet delicious fare. After greeting Mandy, Nathan left for his morning walk among the hills of Jerome, leaving the women to chat. Mandy enjoyed talking to the kind lady, but found she had to pre-edit her words so that she didn’t accidentally bring the future into the past. She almost slipped up when Mrs. Pierce said she thought cleaning other people’s houses would be grueling, physically exhausting work. Mandy very nearly blurted out that the new lightweight vacuums and super cleaning agents made her life easier. Despite the easy banter, a new wave of anxiety washed over Mandy. She had been certain last night that removing the dress would take her back to her real life, but now, in the cold light of day, the fear that she was forever stuck in the past hit her full force. She found it increasingly difficult to continue the chitchat. An overwhelming urgency to return to her present plagued her. It wasn’t long before Mrs. Pierce noticed Mandy’s nervousness.

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“Is something wrong, Dear?” Mandy managed a weak grin. “I’m sorry I hope you won’t think me rude, but I must leave as soon as possible. My aunt is waiting for me.” “Oh, Mandy, I’m the one who’s been rude. I’ve been sitting here thoroughly enjoying our visit and I totally forgot that you came to us under less than favorable circumstances. Of course you must get back soon. Will you need Nathan to drive you somewhere?” “Oh no, not at all. Once my mind cleared, I remembered that my aunt was here to visit a friend. I was supposed to meet her at the hotel last night. She’s probably frantic with worry. I’ll just walk downtown and meet her there.” Mrs. Pierce began clearing off the table and putting away the breakfast things. “Which hotel is it? Perhaps we should call your aunt and let her know you’re safe. Because of Nathan’s job, we have one of the few homes in the area with a telephone.” As Mrs. Pierce talked, Mandy tried to recall the name of the hotel she had seen across the street from the café the night before. Con-something. She closed her eyes and visualized the sign. “Connor. We’re staying at the Connor. There’s no need to call. It will only take me a few minutes to walk there.” With that, she pushed away from the table and stood. “The muffins were wonderful, and you’ve have been more hospitable than I could have anticipated, but I must be going.” Mrs. Pierce wiped her hands on her apron. “I know you’re anxious to go, but Nathan should be back momentarily. He’ll be so disappointed if he doesn’t get to say good-bye to you.” Mandy was touched by the similarities between Mrs. Pierce and her grandmother. She knew that if the two women had lived in the same period, they would have been good friends. Impulsively, Mandy hugged Mrs. Pierce and kissed her cheek. “You are a very special lady. I only wish you could meet my Grandma Flo. The two of you would get along beautifully.” Ever eager to cultivate new friendships, Mrs. Pierce was ready with a quick response. “Well, then, you must bring your grandmother the next time you come to Jerome. I welcome the opportunity to meet her.”

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“I’d love to do that. She’d really enjoy visiting with you, but she’s not well.” The door opened and Nathan walked in, his face glowing from his brisk walk. “Well, well,” he said, taking in the sight of his mother and Mandy standing arm-in-arm, “it seems you two are enjoying each other’s company. I’m glad to see it.” “Who wouldn’t get along with your mother? She’s delightful.” Mrs. Pierce blushed and waved her hand in protest. “Thank you, but you’ve been a wonderful, easy-to-entertain guest. I wish all my guests were like you.” The two exchanged another hug while Nathan beamed. “It’s been nice for my mother to have company,” he explained. “I’m afraid Jerome has a dearth of women.” Mandy briefly explained to Nathan what she had already told his mother—she really must get going, pooh-poohed his concerns about her safety, and finally conceded to his strong suggestion that she at least allow him to walk her back to the hotel. As they were getting ready to walk out the door, Mrs. Pierce said, “Oh Nathan, I know Mandy is eager to go, but don’t forget to take a picture or two before she does.” He snapped his fingers. “Of course, I’ll be right back.” He raced out of the room and came back with a boxy, black camera. “Mother, you and Mandy stand over there in front of the stairs.” Mandy’s heart pounded. Not knowing what would happen when he tried to capture the moment made her want to call a halt to the Pierce’s plan. Since she didn’t exist in 1934, would she show up in a picture at all? She could imagine the Pierces reaction when they developed the film and discovered that their subject was missing. Her mind raced. “I hate to have my picture taken,” she protested. “May I take one of the two of you?” “You’re a beautiful girl, and I do want a picture of you,” Mrs. Pierce said, “but we’d love to have a photograph of us in the house to send to family back home.” Nathan wagged his finger at her. “But, you’re not off the hook.”

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Soon the Pierces were posed at the piano. Mandy fumbled with the instrument. “I’m sorry. I’m not good with cameras. How does it work?” Nathan showed her how to depress the shutter and advance the film to the next frame. She snapped a picture, turned the crank, and asked them to stay put. “Let’s do another to make sure it comes out right. I think my hand jerked when the bulb popped.” She took another and wound the film. “How about one in front of the house?” Once outside, she had a plan in mind. After finding the right location, she took one picture, then another, “Just to make sure.” “Your turn,” Nathan reminded her. “If you insist.” As Nathan and his mother turned back to the house, Mandy furiously wound, clicked, wound, clicked, wound, clicked until the film ran out. With a sigh of relief, she followed the Pierces inside. “In front of the stairs, right?” She stood arm in arm with Mrs. Pierce and smiled widely into eye of the black box. Nathan clicked, frowned, and then inspected the camera. He scratched his head. “I could’ve sworn… Mother, do we have more film in the house?” Please, no, Mandy silently pleaded. “I’m sorry, Dear. I think that was the last roll.” Nathan set the camera on the table. “Mandy, next time you’ll go first.” Within minutes, the two were walking down the steep hill, chatting like old friends. Mandy was beginning to feel a spark of electricity between them. She was attracted to his rugged good looks and his manners, along with other attributes she had noticed. It was becoming clear he was drawn to her. She felt a twinge of disappointment that there would never be an opportunity to find out if there was anything more between them. As they approached the hub of town and the Connor Hotel, Mandy was torn. She knew she had to go back, and was eager to do so; but she had thoroughly enjoyed being with Nathan and was reluctant to leave, knowing she’d probably never see him again. An awkward silence fell over them. To fill the void, Nathan plucked a rose from a nearby bush and set it in her hair. Mandy closed her eyes and breathed in the heady fragrance of the flower. Her heart lifted at the touch of his hand.

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Nathan broke the silence. “I hope you don’t mind my telling you that I have truly enjoyed our impromptu time together. You’re a lovely woman, and I’d like the chance to get to know you better. Is there any way you and I can see each other again? I’d love to take you somewhere nice; perhaps a play or the opera.” She was speechless. How could she respond? Yes, Nathan, I’d love nothing more than to spend more time with you, but we have a slight problem—I live 60 years in the future. It might be a tad difficult for us to work this out, logistically speaking. When Mandy didn’t answer, and in fact, looked ill at ease, Nathan dropped his hand, looked away for a moment, cleared his throat, and began again. “I guess I’m being presumptuous. It seemed to me that you and I were getting along so beautifully, and I just thought...” Mandy finally found the inner strength to save Nathan and managed to summon a smile. “What can I say? First you saved my life, and then you sacrificed your time to spend the evening with me, a total stranger. You even brought me into your home and showed me every kindness.” A look of dismay crossed his face, and Mandy realized her words sounded like the preamble to a brush-off. “What I meant to say,” she continued, “is that I’d love to go out with you.” She felt a twinge of guilt as a wide smile lit up his features. She knew she was giving him false hope, but she had to give him something. After all, she’d go back to 1994, he’d live on in 1934, and they, in all likelihood, would never see each other again. Since they hadn’t really had time to build a relationship, they’d both get over it quickly, but Mandy knew she had the advantage. She’d know why she wasn’t seeing him again, while he would be left to wonder why she forgot about him. At that moment, fate stepped in and saved Mandy from telling him anymore white lies when a loud siren sounded. Nathan’s attention was instantly riveted to the alarm. “Fire in one of the mines,” he explained, as people on foot, on horseback, and in cars began to come from all directions. “I’m sorry. I’ve got to go.” He kissed her cheek and squeezed her hand as a car pulled up in a cloud of dust. “Come on, Pierce,” hollered the driver, “I’ll give you a ride.”

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Nathan hopped into the passenger seat, and as the car sped off, he leaned out the window and mouthed four words that both warmed and tore at Mandy’s heart. “Come back to me.” There was one final word before the car was out of sight. “Please.”

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Chapter 7

Mandy entered the lobby of the Connor Hotel and was relieved to see that the clerks were in the back office. She located a public restroom in the hallway and ducked inside the spacious room. Catching a glimpse of her reflection in the ornate mirror, she smiled at the sight of the rose Nathan had tucked behind her ear. She’d put it in water as soon as she got back to her real life. With a sigh of regret about leaving Jerome and Nathan, she began the arduous task of unbuttoning the bodice. When the last pearl was unfastened, she slipped off the dress. Panic set in as she realized that nothing was happening. She plopped down on a chair, her heart drumming against her chest. Tears welled up as she feared she would never again see Grandma Flo, Beth, Grover. Even in her distress, she chuckled as she realized there were only three beings that were precious to her, and one of them was a cat. As quickly as it came, the chuckle died in her throat and she swallowed hard as her mind raced to solve her dilemma. Last night when she started to take the dress off in the Pierce’s guestroom, her surroundings immediately grew fuzzy and blurred. So, why wasn’t it working now? She picked up the dress and held it to her as she began pacing. She caught another glimpse of herself in the mirror. The rose! It was the only difference between the previous night and this moment. Reluctantly, she took it out of her hair and laid it on the edge of the sink. As her hand released the velvety flower, the room became at first hazy, then a blur.The next thing she knew, she was back in her bedroom, Grover was still asleep on the bed, and everything was as she had left it. The shoes that had magically appeared on her feet in Jerome were gone and her hair was once again wet from the shower. In fact, everything was exactly as it had been when she had suddenly disappeared from the present and showed up in the past.

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To her utter dismay, the clock on the nightstand read 10:48—no more than three minutes had passed since she had first put on the dress. Al- though she had spent some 12 hours in 1934, hardly any time had passed in the present. She was thoroughly rested from the pleasant sleep she had enjoyed in Jerome, but she knew if she stayed up all night, she’d be dead tired the next day. She itched to call Beth and tell her all about her amazing, inconceiv- able adventure, but it was late; besides, she wasn’t sure she wanted to tell anyone, even her closest friend, about the experience. Who’d believe it? Beth, who probably still believed in Santa Claus, would have a hard time swallowing this one. Mandy turned her attention to her grandmother’s treasures that- lit tered the floor and sighed. Okay, mystery solved. Grandma Flo didn’t want her to put on the dress because the same thing must have happened to her. But what time and place had she gone to when she donned the gown? Did Grandma know Nathan? Was Mrs. Pierce a friend of Flo’s? What was the connection? Only part of the puzzle was solved. There was much more to learn. After carefully putting everything back in the hope chest, she straight- ened up her room, and shut off the lights. Lying down on the bed, she grabbed Grover and pulled him to her. He purred, rubbed his silky head against her cheek, and cuddled against her. She felt surprisingly drowsy and gave herself up to the delicious feeling. When she again opened her eyes it was because the alarm, which she preset every morning, beeped its annoying wake-up call. She lay in bed for a short time and reviewed the events of the night before. Had they really happened? As a practical, down-to-earth, “Show Me” kind of woman, she believed neither in magic nor astrology, Santa Claus nor the Easter Bunny. She never read her horoscope, rarely read the fortune inside of a cookie, laughed at commercials for the psychic hotline, and was highly skeptical of near-death experiences. So, how could a woman whose feet were so firmly planted on the earth be involved in time travel? The events of the previous night were so crystal clear they had to have really happened; yet, they were so highly improbable, she knew she must

50 the Courting Dress have had a dream that had been brought on by going through Grandma Flo’s hope chest. Mandy threw herself into work that day, taking care of the myriad, sometimes trivial, problems that arose, giving her little time to dwell on the events of the previous night. She had seen Beth for only a few minutes that morning before her friend left to meet with potential clients, so except for telling her about Flo’s condition, they hadn’t spoken. She called Cactus Rose frequently throughout the day to check on her grandmother, but was told the same thing time after time—”She’s still in a coma, but her condition is stable. If anything changes, we have instructions to contact you immediately.” Mandy knew she was being a pain in the neck to the busy nursing staff, but she couldn’t help it. She wanted to know the minute Grandma Flo awakened from her deep sleep. She wanted to be there so her grandmother would not be afraid when she opened her eyes again. At five o’clock, when the last of the staff cleared out, Beth came back to the office and poked her head into Mandy’s door. “Hey Babe, how’s about we go out and get some food and drink so I can boast about my incredible powers of persuasion? I snagged some really good clients today!” Mandy was instantly cheered. She knew Beth was really offering her a shoulder to cry on. Mandy desperately needed to be with someone who cared, and outside of Grandma Flo, nobody cared about her the way Beth did. “You’ve got a deal, my friend. Give me a few minutes to clear up this mess on my desk, and we’re out of here. But I have to stop by the hospital on the way there. I have to at least see Grams, even if she doesn’t know I’m there.” “I’ll tell you what,” offered Beth. “You go ahead and visit your grandmother and I’ll take care of things here and then I have to stop at the dry cleaners. I’ll meet you at Shay’s in an hour.” Mandy was touched by her friend’s consideration. “Have I ever told you that you’re the best friend a...” “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Beth replied, waving away the compliment. “Now get out of here before I change my mind.”

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As suspected, the visit to the hospital yielded nothing. Flo’s condition was unchanged. Mandy kissed her grandmother, squeezed her blue-veined hand, and whispered, “Grams, you and I have some very important things to talk about. I think you know what I mean. Please wake up soon.”

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Shay’s Lounge was upscale enough to keep the loud, boisterous party crowds away, but simple enough to attract the working class. The decor was cheery without being gaudy. The owner, Cynthia Shay, had designed her lounge for a clientele that enjoyed a quiet atmosphere for drinking, eating, and talking. The beige and maroon furnishings gave class to the establish- ment, as did the numerous well-cared-for plants that hung from the ceiling. In contrast to the hubbub of most bars, Shay’s lounge was serene—the hush broken only by the whooshing sound of the white fans that whirled overhead, the soft murmurs of the patrons, and the low, soothing music that played in the background. The women found a booth in the back of the bar, gave their drink orders to a waiter who looked like he would be quite at home on the cover of a magazine, and settled back. Beth, never one for subtlety, waited until they had each taken the first sip of their expertly-mixed beverages. “So, other than the fact that you’re worried sick over Grandma Flo, what’s bothering you? It’s fairly obvious something happened between closing time last night and opening time this morning.” Mandy tried, but could not suppress, a grin. No matter how sure she was that she was putting up a convincing facade, Beth always saw through it. “That’s what I get for keeping you around all these years,” she teased. “Nothing gets by you.” Beth grinned impishly. “I know,” she quipped, obviously pleased with her gift of discernment. “Ain’t it great?” Mandy knew better than to try to hoodwink her long-time friend. She might as well tell her and get Beth’s best guess as to what had really taken place. “Okay,” she asked, “what version do you want? The mini-drama or the condensed version?”

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“Give me the mini-drama. Heck, nobody’s waiting at my door to whisk me away for an enchanted evening of romance.” Beth leaned forward ex- pectantly, her emerald eyes twinkling with anticipation. She loved a good story, and something told her this was going to be a lulu. “Do you mind if we order first?” Mandy asked, waving the male model over. “I’m famished.” When the oh-so-cute waiter approached the table, Beth said, “We’ll both have the special. Thanks.” “What’s the special?” Mandy asked, as he nodded and walked away. “I neither know nor care. Speak.” Mandy recounted her experience of the night before, making it perfectly clear that as far as she was concerned it had simply been a dream—a highly unusual one, to be sure—which in all likelihood had been brought about by her foraging through her grandmother’s belongings. When their food came— a tantalizing, sizzling plate of chicken fajitas— Mandy talked between groans of gastronomical delight. She spared no details, even going so far as to describe Nathan, his mother, and their quaint home in great detail. When Mandy finally finished, Beth leaned back and exhaled. “Wow! I think I held my breath the whole time you were talking.” Mandy felt a moment’s misgiving. Perhaps she shouldn’t have spilled her guts, but her regrets dissipated as quickly as they had come and she relaxed. This was her best friend—she could tell her anything and know beyond a doubt that Beth would neither laugh at her nor think her insane. “Well? What do you think?” Beth’s face lit up. “I wish it had been me instead of you.” “You don’t think it was just a dream?” “Not even for a second,” Beth replied. “Hey, you’re the pragmatic one, not me. If one of my loony, dingbat friends was telling this story, I’d know it was a dream, or a drug-induced hallucination. But this is you—practical, down-to-earth you!” Beth rubbed her hands together enthusiastically, as she often did when her excitement was intense. “Mandy, you know how dreams are—disjointed, chaotic, out of sequence. The guy you’re dream-

53 Emjay Luby ing about suddenly changes into a monkey, and the pretty car you’re driving turns into a rutabaga. Your dream wasn’t like that at all.” Mandy must have looked skeptical. Beth sighed loudly. “Did Nathan ever change into a chimp?” Mandy shook her head. “And you weren’t almost hit by a speeding rutabaga, were you?” Mandy laughed and shook her head. “I don’t even know what a rutabaga is.” “Well, that’s why I think your dream wasn’t a dream at all. I truly believe you discovered a link between the past and the present. I’m 99.9 percent sure you really did visit Jerome and meet Nathan and Mrs. Pierce.” Taking the final drink from her glass, she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, and whispered with a touch of reverence. “Wow!” Shaking herself out of her reverie, Beth caught the handsome waiter’s eye and indicated that they were ready for the bill. “We have to leave now, I mean NOW, go back to your house and do this again. This is amazing, Man- dy, absolutely fantastic! I have to see it for myself.” When the waiter returned with the check, Beth handed him several bills before she even looked at it. “We’re in a bit of a hurry.” Mandy couldn’t help but get caught up in Beth’s excitement. She had worked hard to convince herself she had been dreaming, but now that she had a comrade who believed in the improbable, she felt free to suspend her skepticism and give herself over to the adventure. Despite her eagerness to rush back to her house, she had to slow things down. “Let’s have some dessert. You know how much you love the key lime pie, and it would really top off that incredible dinner.” Beth was fairly dancing in her seat. “You’re kidding, right? Because if you think I’m going to sit here and dilly-dally over dessert… We need to re-enact the events of last night!” Mandy was ever the sensible one. “Yes, but we both had a drink. Nei- ther of us can drive right now.” Beth pouted. “Aww, c’mon. It wasn’t a big drink.”

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Mandy cocked her head. “Nevertheless.” When the waiter came back with their change, she thanked him. “I hate to ask this, but could we share a slice of key lime pie, please?” The consummate professional didn’t even flinch. “Of course. I’ll be right back.” “Oh, and some iced tea?” Beth groaned. “Sometimes you act just like my mom.” Mandy just laughed.

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We hope you have enjoyed the first seven chapters of The Courting Dress. Buy this 270 page book now at: emjayluby.com, lubynovels.com or download the Nook and Kindle version.