Wild Rose

Haven's End, June 1873The door to Mr. Watson's general store banged shut behind Geneva. She paused a few seconds at the door to give herself time to adjust to the dim light. The sweeter smells of spices, tobacco and new leather mingled with the more pungent odors of pickling barrels, hard cheeses and salted fish. Three women leaned over one end of the long counter that ran the width of the store, examining lengths of ribbon and lace. At the sight of Geneva, they drew in their ranks, as if afraid of contagion in such close quarters. Used to such a reaction to her presence, Geneva ignored them and strode to the opposite end of the counter. She would state her business and leave as quickly as she had come. Leaning her hands against the counter, she drummed her fingers lightly against the scarred, wooden surface. "What can I do for you, Geneva?" Mr. Watson approached her with a smile. Geneva didn't smile back, lest she give the storekeeper any encouragement. Suspicious of the teasing look in his eyes, she deemed it best to keep him at a distance. "I'll take two dozen long nails." Mr. Watson slapped the counter with his palms. "Two dozen nails it'll be." When he turned his back to her to rummage in the keg, Geneva could hear Mrs. Bidwell's voice at the other end of the store. "I hear tell he begged and pleaded with his intended to forgive him." Geneva glanced toward the speaker, whose bonnet nod-ded up and down, giving the impression she had been in the very room at the time, an eyewitness to the scene she was de-scribing. Her listeners seemed to think so, too, the way they drank in her words. "Poor Miss Arabella Harding must have been broken-hearted." Young Annie Chase, who was engaged to one of Mrs. Bidwell's boys, expressed this opinion. "Such a pretty woman. So ladylike." At the name, Geneva's fingers stopped their drumbeat against the countertop. She'd never forget that name. Nor the way Captain Caleb had looked at its owner when he'd intro-duced her, as if she were an angel. Annie was soft-spoken, and everything she said came out sounding tenderhearted. "I don't know what I'd do if my Amos ever did anything dishonest like Captain Caleb." She hugged herself. "But Amos would never dishonor his family name in such a despicable manner." "Of course not! Amos would never do any such thing," his mother answered, aghast at the mere notion. "He hasn't been brought up that way."What gave these biddies the right to pass judgment on Captain Caleb? She bit her lip, holding in her anger, when Mr. Watson set the nails down in front of her. "These long enough?" She glared at him, as if he, too, were guilty of blasphem-ing her sacred memory of the captain. "Anything else?" She shook her head, her reasons for being in his store pushed aside by the more pressing matter of Captain Caleb's reputation.carried the clearest. Geneva knew she prided herself on her opinions, and she gave full voice to them now. "Embezzling company money! Didn't he think he was going to get caught? He was Phelps' heir. Had everything he could wish for. If anyone was ever born with a silver spoon in his mouth, it was Caleb Phelps III. To go and steal from his own father! Why, it's wicked!" The thudding between Geneva's temples drowned out their voices. She was sick and tired of hearing the captain gossiped about. It seemed she couldn't come into the village anymore without hearing the accusations hashed and rehashed. Didn't people have anything else to talk about? "He had to pay for that big, fancy cottage on the Point," Mrs. Webb reminded the others. "The old farmhouse wasn't good enough for him. Oh, no. He had to tear that down. He probably ran short of money to pay for it all." Mr. Watson looked toward the women and gave a chuckle. "I hear Phelps Senior's a mite close to the bark. I figure he kept young Phelps on a tight leash with his salary. The youMorren, Ruth Axtell is the author of 'Wild Rose ', published 2007 under ISBN 9780373786091 and ISBN 0373786093.