wouldn’t be to her liking at all. What did he know about what women liked? She liked books. He’d tell Barney to order books. Lots of them. He raised his eyes to the heavens for a split second, seeking courage, before he turned around with the package in his hands. “I picked up a few things for you today. Figured you weren’t able to bring a lot of your clothes and such, traveling so far as you did.” He rubbed the back of his neck.
Rose put a hand to her chest. “For me?”
“Well, yes,” he said, smiling a little, setting it on the floor of the porch. “It’s not much. Nothing fancy.”
She stood up and hesitated, then stooped to inspect the package. “Thank you, Charles!”
What was it about the way she said his name? Seemed as though he’d never considered his own name before. From her lips, though, it was something special. It made him feel proud, bashful, weak, and strong. All at the same time. He rubbed the back of his neck again.
“Maybe you want to open it later,” he said quickly, seeing that she was attempting to untie the twine on the package. He had a sudden horror of her looking at all the unmentionables: the petticoats and such. Perhaps she would presume that he had picked out every item with deliberation. His collar felt extremely tight.
“Open it later? How could I wait? I declare I’m about as excited as a child on Christmas morning, eager for Christmas candy in the stocking!” She grinned, tugging at the twine. “Could you please give me the shears, Charles? They’re in the basket in the kitchen.”
He got them quickly and handed them to her. Within a moment she was opening the box. Standing up, she held the first dress against herself. She looked down at it, and smoothed it with a shaking hand.
Charles didn’t know what to say. He thought probably anything he could come up with would be the wrong thing, anyway. She must not like it. She wasn’t smiling.
Then she looked up. There were tears in her eyes. “Oh, Charles.”
“Don’t fret,” he said, his mouth going dry. “I can take it right back. I should have… let you pick out something you’d like, something that would suit you.”
“Like it? Charles, I love it. I’ve never had such a lovely dress. These buttons! The ruffles! The color and pattern!” She shook her head. “Thank you.”
He felt as though he could breathe again. He took a great gulp of air, as subtly as he could. Rocking back on his heels, he couldn’t get enough of looking at her as she held the dress against herself and then out so she could see it from every angle. “There’s another one,” he said.
She stopped and looked at him. “No!”
When he didn’t say anything, she reverently draped the dress over the rocking chair and pulled a piece of brown paper out of the box. She stared at the contents and then glanced at him. Lifting the next dress, she gasped.
It was the everyday dress, Charles remembered. Frankly, he couldn’t tell the difference. Both seemed pretty to him.
“Now I have three new dresses?” Rose sounded incredulous. “Three! And two of them are from a mercantile!”
Charles noticed she was wearing a different dress. It must have been the one that had been given to her by Mrs. Chadding. He noticed it fit her much better than her old ones had. He felt a surge of gratitude for the kindness of the people in his community. Pastor John had come by the forge and explained that he and his wife had met with everyone in the congregation. They would all provide meals and help for a month, hoping that Rose could recover completely. Charles knew, too, that Rose was in their prayers. He was still having the hardest time looking away from her. Her cheeks looked pinker, her expression less drawn. Her eyes looked bright. Still far too thin, she nevertheless appeared in better health than she had previously. His sense of hope ratcheted up a few notches. She was holding the dress against herself and she was looking at him as though
Rose put a hand to her chest. “For me?”
“Well, yes,” he said, smiling a little, setting it on the floor of the porch. “It’s not much. Nothing fancy.”
She stood up and hesitated, then stooped to inspect the package. “Thank you, Charles!”
What was it about the way she said his name? Seemed as though he’d never considered his own name before. From her lips, though, it was something special. It made him feel proud, bashful, weak, and strong. All at the same time. He rubbed the back of his neck again.
“Maybe you want to open it later,” he said quickly, seeing that she was attempting to untie the twine on the package. He had a sudden horror of her looking at all the unmentionables: the petticoats and such. Perhaps she would presume that he had picked out every item with deliberation. His collar felt extremely tight.
“Open it later? How could I wait? I declare I’m about as excited as a child on Christmas morning, eager for Christmas candy in the stocking!” She grinned, tugging at the twine. “Could you please give me the shears, Charles? They’re in the basket in the kitchen.”
He got them quickly and handed them to her. Within a moment she was opening the box. Standing up, she held the first dress against herself. She looked down at it, and smoothed it with a shaking hand.
Charles didn’t know what to say. He thought probably anything he could come up with would be the wrong thing, anyway. She must not like it. She wasn’t smiling.
Then she looked up. There were tears in her eyes. “Oh, Charles.”
“Don’t fret,” he said, his mouth going dry. “I can take it right back. I should have… let you pick out something you’d like, something that would suit you.”
“Like it? Charles, I love it. I’ve never had such a lovely dress. These buttons! The ruffles! The color and pattern!” She shook her head. “Thank you.”
He felt as though he could breathe again. He took a great gulp of air, as subtly as he could. Rocking back on his heels, he couldn’t get enough of looking at her as she held the dress against herself and then out so she could see it from every angle. “There’s another one,” he said.
She stopped and looked at him. “No!”
When he didn’t say anything, she reverently draped the dress over the rocking chair and pulled a piece of brown paper out of the box. She stared at the contents and then glanced at him. Lifting the next dress, she gasped.
It was the everyday dress, Charles remembered. Frankly, he couldn’t tell the difference. Both seemed pretty to him.
“Now I have three new dresses?” Rose sounded incredulous. “Three! And two of them are from a mercantile!”
Charles noticed she was wearing a different dress. It must have been the one that had been given to her by Mrs. Chadding. He noticed it fit her much better than her old ones had. He felt a surge of gratitude for the kindness of the people in his community. Pastor John had come by the forge and explained that he and his wife had met with everyone in the congregation. They would all provide meals and help for a month, hoping that Rose could recover completely. Charles knew, too, that Rose was in their prayers. He was still having the hardest time looking away from her. Her cheeks looked pinker, her expression less drawn. Her eyes looked bright. Still far too thin, she nevertheless appeared in better health than she had previously. His sense of hope ratcheted up a few notches. She was holding the dress against herself and she was looking at him as though
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