Mountain Junction

** Chapter 4 **

The Welcoming Party

 

The evening was beautiful.  The clouds that had opened up the day before had dwindled to sprinkles in the morning, and had completely disappeared by the evening.  The result was a crisp cool evening, with a velvet sky full of twinkling stars.  The street in front of the Inn was brilliantly lit with white and blue lanterns, their soft glow illuminating the gardens and porch.  The Can Can, while open, was quiet, as only a sparse few chose the dance hall over the church social.  Carriages and wagons drew up to the front of the Inn in a line, as people made their entrances.  Inside the lobby of the Inn, streamers with flowers lined the walls, the floors shone, and tables of fresh mountain flowers lined the hallway separating the lobby from the restaurant.  A band played from the corner.  This was after all a country town.  But the musicians were in their best attire, and could play a variety of music, from a waltz to the more country style music.  The guests found themselves surrounded by a comfortable, homey elegance.  Julie had outdone herself.  All who entered felt welcome, comfortable, and happy.

 

Clyde was already in the lobby.  As the guest of honor, he thought he should be at the hotel early, and had hoped to talk to Julie.  Nancy, who had arrived early to help with the transformation of Morgan, had quickly dashed his hopes.  She was in a hurry as usual, but told him that Julie would not be seen until she descended the staircase that evening to head the receiving line.  Nancy never heard his reply, as she ran up the stairs amidst rustling skirts.  Her husband David pumped his hand, stuck his cigar in his mouth, and proceeded to tell him about his newest venture as co-owner of the lumber mill.  David's preening was getting to Clyde, however, and he was noticeably glad to see people starting to enter the Inn.  Reverend Stanton greeted him with a jolly handshake and a quick joke.  As more people began to come into the lobby, Clyde relaxed.  He was even glad to see André strolling into the Inn in characteristic good taste.  His tall frame was covered in a fine black French suit.  Gone were the smooth eastern leggings and suede vest.  He was every inch the gentleman; suitably dressed down for a country evening, but elegant all the same.  André, surprised at the pleasant reaction from the preacher, smiled as well, especially when he saw Clyde's relief when Carmack was drawn away into a fiery political discussion with some of the other business owners of the town.  André, Clyde and Stanton were soon discussing the cities that they once had lived in, cautious but genuinely enjoying the discussion.

 

All three men heard soft cursing coming from the front entrance, and immediately turned to see who was responsible.  Their eyes widened when they saw Hawke lumbering in, hands pulling at the new, starched collar of his shirt.  He stopped short when he saw Clyde in his preacher's attire.  It was not Clyde, however, who spoke.  André, embarrassed at Hawke's lack of civility, quietly but sternly reminded him that he was at a town social event, where ladies were always within earshot.  Mumbling an apology to the preachers, Hawke couldn't seem to stop pulling at himself.  He was so uncomfortable, that even André found it hard not to laugh.  When Clyde told Hawke that he too hated starched collars, and pulled at his own, André let out a laugh that caught everyone in the room by surprise.  It was a sound full of genuine humor that not many had head from him before.  Conversations stopped, as people looked toward the entryway, and then animatedly continued talking.  Stanton, seeing the widow Grimsbe, left the trio of laughing young men, to try and catch her ear and maybe a dance later in the evening.  The remaining three men stood together smiling, laughing, and wondering how on earth anyone got pleasure out of dressing up like pall bearers for social occasions.

 

Upstairs, Julie and Nancy were busy trying to steady a tipsy Morgan, who had been tippling since before church that morning.  They had managed to keep her away from the sherry, and were now busy attempting to dress her for the evening.  Her nervous chattering had stopped, replaced by a surly annoyance with having to endure the seemingly endless ministrations of Nancy.  Julie, still in the buckskins she preferred was bustling around the room as her assistant.  Nancy was taking the two women in stride, although silently she wished she had brought along her ladies maid.  Julie, whose heart was in the right place, was just not up to her high standards.

 

"Morgan, if you don't stand still, I can't get this tight enough!" Nancy scolded, as she pulled at the lacings of her friend’s stays.  Morgan, more interested in getting to the sherry decanter on the dressing table, would not stop wriggling away from her assailant. 

 

"Well, I always did hate these damn things!” she said in exasperation.  "That's why I never wear them.  Can't you just tie them off and be done with it?"

 

"Not if you want to fit in that dress!  Now please, stand still!"

 

"Whose idea was it to make the waist a size smaller then normal?"  Morgan growled as she managed to get away from Nancy long enough to pick up the decanter.

 

Julie moved quickly, and took the delicate crystal from her hands.  "That would be you," she said as she crossed the room.  "You said you wanted a small waist, to accentuate the skirts."  She put the decanter in the closet, out of the reach of her persistent friend.

 

"Oh, and you chose that moment to actually listen to what I was saying?"

 

"Well, that was the one thing you said that made sense, and we wanted to make you feel better."  Nancy laughed.  "Up to that point you had chosen a scandalous bodice, and bright red silk."

 

"Regina Irribane almost fainted," Julie chuckled as she arranged the brushes, combs and pins on the dressing table.

 

"If the new preacher had seen it, he would have," Nancy quipped over Morgan's shoulder.

 

"Hawke would have liked it," Morgan pouted.  "And so would André."

 

Taking advantage of the fact that her friend was now standing still, Nancy gave the stays a sharp yank, and quickly tied the strings off.  "John too, dear.  But that's not the kind of "liking" you want, remember?"

 

Morgan, breathless from the tug, just nodded.  Julie quickly sat her down at the dressing table, and attacked her impossible mane of curls.  Within minutes, she gave up trying to smooth them down, instead using a packet of pins to pull up the sides and work with the curls to form a pretty mass of curls on the top of her head with long pieces falling down her back and shoulders.

 

"Do you go through this everyday?"  Morgan sighed.  "How can you stand all this cra— … I mean, fuss?" 

 

"You get used to it," Nancy said simply.

 

"No you don't," Julie laughed.

 

"I give up on both of you.  I mean really, you are both hopeless!  One never wears stays, the other one always wears buckskins," Nancy huffed.

 

Julie looked down at her soft buckskin trousers and blushed.  "I do wear dresses, too."

 

"Only when you absolutely have too, and then I bet you complain as much as Morgan."

 

Julie stayed silent.  Nancy was right, but she was not about to admit it.  Standing Morgan up, they helped her into the blue ball gown.  All three women gasped at the reflection in the mirror.  Morgan had never looked more beautiful.

 

Nancy quickly moved Morgan to the chair in the corner.  "Don't move.  Don't breathe."

 

"Don't worry," Morgan said, gasping for breath.

 

Nancy turned her attentions on Julie.  "Now you.  Get out of those ... things."

 

"Yes mother," Julie laughed.

 

"I'm sorry my friend.  But if you want to catch the eye, you have to look like a woman."

 

"Catch the eye of who?"  Morgan asked, bewildered.

 

"No one," Julie quickly said, shooting Nancy a long look.

 

"Oh Lord," she said rolling her eyes."  Just let me survive these two."

 

Finally, all three women appeared at the top of the stairs to the strains of Mozart.  The people in the lobby looked up at the landing with appreciative stares.  Nancy stood on one side of Morgan, Julie on the other, trying to steady her between them.  The three women were visions.  Nancy wore a Pink dress, lower cut, with white piping that reached points in the front and back, across a modest bustle and plain skirt that stretched out in a train.  Morgan was in deep blue, the puffed sleeves gently hugging her arms below the elbows, the modest bodice covered in pale blue lace, and the skirt gently reaching the floor in soft folds.  Julie was dressed in Green, shoulders bared, with flowers at the waist and threaded throughout her long black hair, which had been pulled into a soft sweep.  Her full skirt was actually two, the green overskirt split up the center to reveal a soft ivory underneath.  As they descended the staircase, the four men at the bottom could do nothing but stare.  David held his cigar loosely in his hand as he watched his wife come toward him looking more beautiful then she had on their wedding day.  Hawke, his collar forgotten, gaped at Morgan, who he had never seen in anything but the clothes she wore to work in at the saloon, and her church clothes. 

 

André and Clyde, while appreciating the other two women, watched Julie as she seemed to glide down the stairs toward them.  André, who had only seen her from a distance, and usually in her buckskins, was having trouble believing that the woman he had seen, and the one he was seeing now, were one in the same.  He could not help but stare up at the small women before him.  Julie too, could not seem to take her eyes off the handsome Frenchman.  It was as if she was a magnet, and he the iron.  Green starbursts looked up into emeralds, drinking in each other.  He was so focused on her that he did not even notice his own voice as it exclaimed, "Mon dieu!  A émeraude entré perles!"  It did not bother him to say that, however; the partygoers were all used to him throwing French phrases into his speech.  They never understood what the phrases were, so he was not concerned with his uncharacteristic outburst.

 

Until much to his surprise he heard Clyde reply, "Oui.  Parfait!"

 

André slowly turned to face the preacher.  He was astonished.  Julie was momentarily forgotten, as he and Clyde faced each other, one in stunned disbelief, and the other with a mischievous grin.  Each man was secretly turning over the knowledge that they both knew French.  André felt as if he was losing the one thing that allowed him to express his true feelings, when under normal conditions he could not.  Clyde on the other hand, simply found it amusing to have stopped the elegant gentleman in his tracks.  He silently thanked his mother for forcing him to learn French when he was a boy.

 

Finally, all three women arrived at the bottom step.  Still surprised at the revelation from Clyde, Andre stole a glance around the room, to determine if anyone had noticed their exchange.  Clyde took advantage of the momentary loss of attention, walked toward the women, and offered Julie his arm to escort her to dinner, followed by David and Hawke.  Julie, who had not heard the exchange between Andre and Clyde, could not help herself, and turned to glance at the face of the Frenchman.  Suddenly realizing that he was now standing without an escort, and that the crowd was assembling to go in to dinner, he bowed deeply to the three ladies, and made a hasty retreat into the crowd.

 

Dinner was a success, the townspeople all talked and gossiped together like the old friends that they were.  Morgan and Hawke, still safely encased between Clyde, Julie, Nancy, and David managed to get through the ordeal with little mishap, except when Hawke wiped his hands on his trousers, rather then use his napkin.  Both of them went lightly on the wine.  Morgan did this partly out of discomfort from her stays, Hawke because he did not want to wake up believing that his escort was some kind of alcoholic apparition.  André was seated with the school teacher Mary, who everyone called Kitten, her date Ron, who he knew from the dance hall and saloon, Evelyn Grimsbe and her sister Mackenzie, and Reverend Stanton.  While he listened to the conversation, and was much more lively a talker then usual, he could not stop himself from looking toward the center table at Julie.  Their timing was off; he never saw her subtle glance his direction every time a laugh from his table broke out.  He did see the looks that Clyde gave her; and for a moment felt a stab of pique.  Because of this he never noticed the quiet way that Stanton studied him, watching the glances with a mixture of pleasure at a side of Jermond he had rarely seen, and unease with a potential romance emerging.  Stanton moved his food around his plate, pondering the latter, until a flirtatious comment from Evelyn pleasantly diverted his attentions.  Finally, the dinner was over, and the dancing could begin.  Everyone returned to the Inn's lobby; it was time to dance and mingle.

 

It was the custom, at a ball or social event involving dancing, that the host and hostess dance the first dance together.  Since Julie was a widow, she danced the first dance with Clyde, the guest of honor.  As they whirled around the floor, she looked up at him with a smile and a twinkle that set off his own grin.  As the others joined in, all were soon lost in the music and the dancing.  Everyone found himself dancing as the musicians alternated between the more customary dances and the country ones.  All danced, had punch, and were having a glorious time.  Even Hawke, who had never done much dancing, was grinning.  It didn't matter to anyone, especially Morgan, that he was not very good at it.

 

André stood on the sidelines watching, as was his custom.  Leaning against the frame of the hallway separating the lobby from the dining room, he watched Julie and Clyde as they broke into a reel.  As he watched Clyde twirl Julie expertly around the room in the country dance, he plucked at the flower garland that hung along the side of the wall.  Picking out a long strand of greenery, he watched and plucked at the leaves.  As Julie giggled and smiled, the plucking became more frequent, his expression not as disinterested as he thought it was.  He was not used to feeling overlooked, and he definitely felt that way at the moment.  The leafy strand he had plucked from the wall was soon reduced to a green, leafless stalk.  Morgan, who had taken a break from dancing in order to give her trod-on toes a rest, noticed him watching the new preacher with Julie, and smiled.  With Hawke safely away from her toes and getting punch, she gingerly walked over to where André stood.

 

"Why don't you just ask her?"  She whispered.

 

'Humm?"  He looked down at the blonde in surprise.  "Ask who what?"

 

Morgan couldn't help but laugh.  "André, you should move before someone notices that you're shedding leaves faster than oak trees in the fall."

 

He looked down at his feet, and saw the small collection of plucked leaves at his feet.  Turning to her, he said simply "Can you stand to dance with a man who won't step on your toes?"

 

Smiling wickedly, and looking out at the room she said, "Oh, I think I could suffer through it.”

 

They took to the floor, just as the music changed again.  It was a slower dance, where everyone eventually danced with someone else's partner.  Morgan and André found themselves separated, and Morgan noticed immediately that both he and Julie seemed to be gauging when they would eventually end up face to face, and smiled.  She soon found herself in front of Clyde, who seemed to be doing the same thing.  As they moved around each other, she asked him how he liked the town.

 

"It has definite possibilities," was all he said, as he continued to circle.

 

"Some better then others," she said pointedly.

 

Clyde smiled and bowed.  "I can see that."  Refusing to take the bait, he asked, "How are your feet holding up?"

 

Morgan chuckled.  "They are fine.  He is fairly light on my feet."

 

Clyde was about to say something else when he felt a tap at his shoulder.  Turning, he saw Hawke glowering at him.  Smiling pleasantly he asked, "Do you plan to dance with a cup in your hand?'

 

Hawke, unused to the decorum of formal dancing just grunted.  Morgan, seizing the opportunity to get off of her sore toes and effectively get Clyde out of the dance, walked past him to take the cup of punch from Hawke.

 

"How did you know I was parched, sugar?" she said as she kissed his cheek.  She quickly thanked Clyde for the dance, leaving him no choice but to sit the rest of the dance out.  As he moved toward the punch table mothers who were anxious to point out the many attributes of their daughters soon surrounded him.  David Carmack, seeing the uncomfortable preacher's situation, soon interjected and pulled Clyde into a group of local businessmen who were talking about the need for a fire department in town.

 

With Clyde out of the way, André smiled to himself, and continued to dance, chatting away with each woman as he silently wished they could just move on to their next partner.  He swayed and moved with the music, with all the gallantry his upbringing had taught him, but silently wished that the musicians would speed up a measure or two.  Finally, he stepped back and turned to the left, and when he turned around, he was face to face with a pink-cheeked Julie.

 

Putting his hand out, he said, "Madame Belsom."

 

As she put her hand up to his, he couldn't help but notice how that small hand seemed to get lost in his, and how hot his palm became at her light touch.  "Mr. German."

 

"That's Zhermon," he said more out of habit than annoyance, as he moved towards her.  "But," he smiled as he looked down, "You could always call me André.  It's easier."

 

Julie looked up at him with a twinkle.  "I think I can manage Jermond," she said perfectly.  "But you may call me Julie if you like."  Andre expertly turned her to the outside of the circle, and she turned back to him again with a smile.

 

André was intrigued and slightly annoyed at the possibility of yet another person in the town knowing French.  Putting his arm around her waist and circling he looked down at her again.  "You speak French?"

 

Julie was having trouble concentrating on the question.  The feel of his arm around her waist, and the melodic tone of his accent caused a flush inside her that seemed to radiate right down to her shoes.  Gaining some composure, she simply said.  "No, but I can imitate most accents.  It's kind of a ... talent of mine."  She looked down at the floor then, feeling rather foolish for not having a better retort.

 

He chuckled as they pulled apart, and as he bowed he silently thanked God she didn't know French.  As she curtsied, and pulled back to turn to the left again both felt disappointment that they had to move on.  They turned to their new partners, but their eyes kept looking back at each other.  When the dance was finally over, they were on opposite sides of the room, and when he tried to find her for the next dance she was gone.  The duties of the hostess had pulled her away from the dancing temporarily.  André continued to dance with some of the less giggly girls he knew, rekindling the hopes of some of their mothers, but his eyes continued to scan the room for Julie.  He never saw that she was doing the same thing.  But others did.

 

At one point, the music changed to a waltz, and again Julie and Clyde began dancing.  As they turned their way across the dance floor, André could stand it no more.  He was dancing with Nancy, who noticed with a giggle that his eyes were always looking elsewhere.  After teasing him that any good Frenchman knows it is impolite to stare at another's partner, she softly suggested that he cut in on the preacher.  At first, André was adamant that he would not, but as the strains of the music built to a crescendo, it seemed to mirror his own struggling emotions.  He thanked her, and moved to the center of the room where Julie and Clyde were dancing.  Julie saw him walking toward her, and attempted to will her beating heart from leaping out of her chest.  Clyde felt the light tap on his shoulder, and turned to see whom he would be handing his partner too.  Grinning, he turned to Julie and lifted her hand to his lips for a moment, before releasing her to her new partner.  He looked at André, and for a split second, saw annoyance cross his face before the affable smile returned.

 

As André took her hand, he bowed low and said her name.  It came out "Jewlee," soft, and musical.  She curtsied to him, saying his name in a whisper, and entered his waiting arms.  The music had slowed during their exchange, but swelled again as they began to waltz.  They swirled around the room, each matching each other's steps perfectly, eyes never leaving each other.  The room seemed to disappear for both of them.  This came as quite a shock to André, who had never before felt quite this drawn to a woman.  They hardly spoke, having lost themselves to the music.  Julie had never lost herself in a dance before, even when she was married to her husband.  The air between them seemed to crackle.  They looked at each other in wonder, knowing that something had started this night; something that neither of them were prepared for.

 

The social continued on into the early hours of the morning.  Every one danced with seemingly endless energy and joy.  Nancy danced with David, and Mary and Ronny seemed to be tireless, as they swirled around the room.  Even Reverend Stanton managed to get in three of the slower dances with the widow Grimsbe before the pains in his limbs began to wear him down.  Clyde danced with many of the mothers and their eligible daughters, and once with Morgan.  It was Julie and André, however, who continued to dance and become more entranced with each other, never noticing that they were fast becoming the center of attention.  Their rapt attention to each other was not lost on Clyde, who stood watching them from a corner of the room, scratching his beard and attempting to ascertain the depth of their relationship.  He tried to look as if he was simply watching all the dancers, but the slight look of disappointment in his eyes was not lost on the widow Grimsbe, who whispered into Stanton's ear.  Stanton looked toward the new Preacher, and after a few struggles to get out of his chair, walked toward the other side of the room.

 

Clyde never noticed the approaching former pastor, and was surprised when he felt a hand gently rest on his shoulder.  He turned from the dancers, and looked at Stanton tentatively.  Stanton looked past him, to the swirling, oblivious pair of dancers, and back to Clyde.  “They are charming together, aren’t they,” he said quietly to him.  "Who would have guessed?"  Clyde, being new to the community had believed the couple to be much longer acquainted.  He broke into a smile, and looked at the wheezing older man with a twinkle in his eye.  Stanton, seeing the interest in the young man’s eyes, smiled back, glad that years at the pulpit had allowed him to hone his gift for reading people, easily forgetting that it had been the widow who had suggested he speak to him.

 

He guided Clyde to an empty couch, and proceeded to tell him about the pair on the dance floor.  Clyde was soon informed of the business holdings of both the dancers, along with the knowledge that a union between the two would not be welcome by many in the town.  "If Jermond and Julie came together and married," Stanton told him, "They would be control most of the Mountain Junction economy."  After hearing this, Clyde looked carefully around the room.  He began to notice expressions.  Many of the men watched the pair of dancers with stony faces, turning back to each other and talking animatedly.  The men like David, who were dancing, watched André out of the corner of their eyes, with pasted smiles at partners who were chattering excitedly about the pairing of the two with romantic glee.  For the mothers in the room, they were busy clucking among themselves over the fact that the unconventional widow had succeeded where they're own daughters had not.  For the daughters, they were watching Clyde with growing interest.  He was so deep in thought that he noticed neither the daughters nor the wide grin of Stanton, who was immensely pleased with himself. 

 

 

Chapter 1 ... André
Chapter 2 ... Julie
Chapter 3 ... Clyde
*Chapter 4 ... The Welcoming Party
Chapter 5 ... Sunrise
Chapter 6 ... Tabletop
Chapter 7 ... The Race
Chapter 8 ... Missed Lunch
Chapter 9 ... Something To Chew On
Chapter 10 .. Back to Business
Chapter 11 .. House Work
Chapter 12 .. Idyllicus Interruptus
Chapter 13 .. House Repair
Chapter 14 .. Day’s End
Chapter 15 .. TBA
Chapter 16 .. TBA
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