Twine Mid the Ringlets
Hope could feel tears filling her eyes, and she knew what her mama would say—she didn’t love Doc Howard. But that would beg the question of who did she love, and something told her right now was not the time to confess how she was truly feeling about the man standing in front of her, the one tearing her heart out and tossing it out the window. He’d leave—she knew he was strong enough to do that. How, she didn’t quite understand, but then, he’d been through enough in his life that he had to have built many layers of protection around his own heart, and for the moment, she was slightly jealous of that armor, even if she didn’t envy him the way it’d been formed.
“Don’t cry over me, Hope. I ain’t worth it.”
She nodded and used her free hand to swipe away at the solitary tear that fell down her cheek. He was wrong—he was worth it. But she would find a way to keep her tears in check until she was in the solace of her own home, the one he’d built for her.
“When do you think you’ll go?”
“Soon,” he replied quickly. “There’s a town springin’ up not far from Manhattan on the rail line. They need people who can throw buildin’s up quickly but soundly. Buddy of mine sent me a telegram a couple of weeks ago.”
Hope took that in, her head bobbing up and down. “Do the children know yet?”
“Not exactly, but I’ve been tellin’ ‘em for a while it won’t be much longer. I don’t think George understands, but Ginny’s mature enough to handle it, I think. She’ll write me letters.”
“I’m sure she’d enjoy that aspect of it, but I know how fond they both are of you.”
“Counting Caroline then, I guess that’s four people who might miss me a little. Those numbers are in my favor.”
“There are other people who will miss you. The people from your church. Mr. Canton. Paul will, too, even though he might not admit it. Judah, just because the people in town are mostly fools doesn’t mean there aren’t some who can see the good in you.”
“Ah, Hope, if everyone was as kind-hearted and optimistic as you are, this world would be a better place.” He glanced down at her hand where he held it fast in his, and she thought he might let it go, but he didn’t. “Will you do me one little favor before you leave?”
She pulled her eyes away from their hands and met his eyes, her breath catching as she wondered what he might ask. She couldn’t help but nod, though. Whatever it was, she would do it. He wouldn’t ask too much of her, she was certain of that.
“Will you dance with me? I know it’s forbidden, and I heard you turn down every poor bastard who asked you at the barn raisin’, but I don’t think anyone’ll see us up here, and I figure one little dance never hurt anyone.”
Hope stared at him for a moment, thinking how wrong he might be. A little dance could hurt her, very much. But it could also turn into a precious memory, the kind that would linger for years after he was gone, and she was still trying to put herself back together.
“I’d love to dance with you, Judah. But there isn’t any music.”
He stood up off of the window sill, pulling her over toward the center of the room where there was plenty of space, and put his hand on her hip. “You leave that to me.”
His feet began to move, and she fell into step with him even before he began to sing. It was soft and low, close to her ear, and his voice was a sweet tenor, clear and true like none she’d ever heard before. He knew every word of the song her daddy used to sing her mama, and as the words rang through the air, Hope couldn’t keep the tears out of her eyes. She rested her head on his shoulder and tried to hold in the memory of the way he felt, his scent, his breath on her neck, thinking it all seemed like a dream, and soon enough she’d awake in her bed, and none of it would’ve been real.
I'll twine 'mid the ringlets of my raven black hair
The lilies so pale and the roses so fair
The myrtle so bright with an emeral hue
And the pale aronatus with eyes of bright blue.
I'll sing and I'll dance, my laugh shall be gay
I'll cease this wild weeping, drive sorrow away.
Tho' my heart is now breaking, he never shall know
That his name made me tremble and my pale cheeks to glow.
I'll think of him never, I'll be wildly gay
I'll charm ev'ry heart, and the crowd I will sway.
I'll live yet to see him regret the dark hour
When he won, then neglected, the frail wildwood flower.
He told me he loved me, and promis'd to love
Trough ill and misfortune, all others above
Another has won him; ah, misery to tell
He left me in silence, no word of farewell.
He taught me to love him, he call'd me his flower
That blossom'd for him all the brighter each hour
But I woke from my dreaming, my idol was clay
My visions of love have all faded away.
With the last refrain, Judah stopped, his hand moving from her waist, and as Hope looked up to meet his eyes, his palm caressed her cheek. Her hand flew up to meet it, to hold it there, to hold him there. Through her tears, she could see he was just as pained as she was, and the idea that none of this made any sense rushed to her head. How could he possibly think of leaving, of deserting her when it was obvious he was in love with her, too? Rather than give into the kiss she was certain he was about to press to her lips, she said, “I... can’t do this, Judah. I just... can’t. If you wanna go, I know I can’t talk you out of it. But....” She saw his eyebrows knit together and realized she probably wasn’t making any sense. Hope pulled away from him. “I should go.”
“Hope, wait,” he said, taking a step toward her, but he was confused, and she was a flurry of skirts as she took off for the only exit, thinking she would sort everything out better once she was on solid ground again, once she was out of the reach of those penetrating blue eyes.
She was already through the doorway, searching for the first rung with her boot when she realized he was warning her to be careful. He was right to caution her, she realized. She was distracted and moving too quickly for her own good, but she felt the first rung with her boot, and then the next, and the next, and with each successful step, she picked up speed and confidence, until she reached for another board about halfway down the tree, and it wasn’t there. And it wasn’t anywhere. Before she realized what was happening, Hope was falling. The last thing she saw before she hit the ground was Judah’s eyes wide with fear as he screamed her name—right before everything went black.
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