A Tale of Two, Part 6: Josef

September 12, 1891

It is absolute perfection! The dress she will wear, her smile, her hair, everything about her!

She said yes!

I dreaded meeting her today, dreading rejection. Her mother directed me to the meadow with the yellowish green grass and wilting flowers. Caroline was in the same place I found her last time. Another book, something more worn this time, curled up on a branch of the changing oak. For the longest time I watched her sitting there read.

She is gorgeous. The sun seemed to rest only on her; the wind combed through her hair. A smile played across her face every once and a while as she read.

I stood there, unmoving, afraid I would find it all a dream.

“Josef?” she asked.

At first, I didn’t hear. She repeated my name, her soft voice cutting through the crisp air.

“Yes?” I finally found my voice.

Caroline smiled brightly, as if she had been awaiting this moment. She hid her book as I advanced on the tree.

“I was wondering when you would come,” she said, slipping from the branch into my arms. She let me hold her in my arms briefly, but then moved away as if something were wrong.

“I’m here now,” I said as she slowly walked around the trunk of the oak.

“Yes; you are.”

“Is something the matter?”

“Yes…I mean no…I mean…”

My heart pounded in my chest.  Something was wrong; she was losing confidence. Losing her easy nature.

I followed her around the tree, trying not to let on to my insecurity.

“Nothing is the matter. It’s just…”

“Do I intimidate you?”

“You asked me that last time.”

“Has your answer changed?”

When she finally responded, she said, “I don’t know.”

“Why is that?” I asked more calmly than I felt. Hundreds of emotions bombarded me at once and I barely dared to hope this meant she felt the same.

“I don’t know.”

“Does your heart race when I’m near?” I asked, my hand touching hers.

Caroline jumped away from me, walking off a ways and clutching her hand to her chest. “No,” she said quickly. “Not at all.”

Some part of me longed to tell her how she made me feel, though I knew she would become uncomfortable. More so than she was already. The rest of me wanted to leave it be. To have her answer and be on with life.

I stayed near the tree, though I yearned to hold her again in my arms. “I meant no offense. I was curious to know if it happened to you as well.”

“What do you mean?” Caroline turned to me but kept her distance.

“It seems I suffer from a desiring heart. Anytime I am near you, or think of you, my heart soars and my mind struggles to sound intelligible.”

“Why do you tell me this?” she asked softly, as though each word was an admission.

“Because I want you to know. I want…I want you, and all the joys you bring me. It is…you delight me so, and I want to feel that way always.”

Caroline twisted where she stood, as though thinking and rethinking to run from me. She stopped, facing neither me nor the direction of the homestead. “I don’t know what to say; I never do around you. I feel lost.” Her hands were white from squeezing each other. “No one has ever made me feel this confused; joyous and worried, grateful and untrusting…there are so many emotions and thoughts…I don’t know what to do.” Tears brimmed her cinnamon eyes.

I started toward her, unable to bear the sight of her distressed, but was surprised when she ran to me and cried into my shoulder. She apologized repeatedly. My arms held her close to me; I comforted her, whispering everything was all right.

“I am sorry. I am so sorry. It is all my fault,” she whispered.

“No…it is all mine.” I could not believe I had made her cry! This had not been my intention.

“You must think me ridiculous,” Caroline said, wiping away her tears and stepping out of my arms. “Mother would be disappointed in me…crying in front of a guest. And a gentleman, no less.”

“Then she shall not know. It’s my fault, after all.”

“It isn’t, really, though I suppose there’s no point in arguing.” She laughed, fanning her face with her hands. “I really am sorry. I’ve no idea what came over me.”

“I don’t mind; I quite liked your nearness.”

For a moment, all she did was smile at me. “I quite liked your nearness, as well. Though I must be mad; from tears to joy in moments. I can’t say what will be next.”

“Then we must both be mad.”

She returned my smile, the color evening across her face again.

“I have thought about your proposal.” Her arms crossed under her bosom and her gaze cast downward.

“You have decided it’s too much trouble then.” My eyes turned to my shoes as I kicked a small rock. It had been too much to hope.

“To the contrary;” she stepped towards me, dropping her arms and lifting her wide eyes to my face. “If the offer still stands, I should like to attend with you.”

It is difficult for me to describe the emotions that cascaded through me at her words. All of this joy swelled in my chest; my heart felt as though it had flown to the moon. My stomach all but disappeared somewhere below the earth. If it had not been attached, my head would surely have flown into the air screaming with exultance.

“The offer stands; I would never dream of going with another.”

And that, journal, is how Caroline agreed to be my companion for Father’s ball, making me, officially, the luckiest man in England.

A Tale of Two, Part 4: Caroline

September 10, 1891

Mr. Calloway visited our farm today. I had not been aware he was coming, nor that he had arrived until midday when Father came in from the fields with our guest. I was preparing lunch for Mother, John, Marie, and myself when he unexpectedly returned. Father normally worked the fields from sunrise to sunset, when he could see what he was doing no longer.

“Margaret, Marie, John, Caroline! We have a guest,” he called, shutting the front door with a heavy thud.

I started toward the living room, but shied into the shadows when I saw our guest. Marie bounced before him; John stood there, hands shoved so far in his pockets he might have punched holes in them, and said, “We met him a fair few days ago, Papa. At the market when Caroline took us shopping with her. He lives in town.”

“Yup,” Marie agreed as Mother joined them. “He was really nice to Caroline. He said he hoped to see her again. He kept on smiling at her and made her cheeks turn red. I thought it was funny.”

I listened to them from back in the kitchen, slowly preparing the rest of lunch, adding more to accommodate Father and Mr. Calloway.

“So you have all met?”

“Yes, sir,” John replied as Marie said, “Yup.”

“It is a delight to meet you again, Marie and John.”

I could imagine Marie beaming and John sulking.

“This is my wife, Mrs. Smith.”

“Tis a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“Tis a pleasure to have you with us,” Mother said. “It is not often we have young men come to call.”

“It is not often they visit the countryside,” Mr. Calloway mused.

Mother and Father laughed. I didn’t know what to do. My heart was pounding rapidly in my chest again and my stomach felt as if it were flying and sinking into my feet simultaneously.

Mother excused herself and came into the kitchen. “Is everything ready?”

“The bread and cheese are in the basket, and the soup is just about finished.”

“Very good, Caroline.”

“Will you finish the soup? I have some chores to finish.”

“We have company, dear.”

“I shan’t be long. I promise.” I slipped off my apron and hurried outside the back way before she could object or grant permission. I had completed my chores at dawn, as Father demanded, but a part of me wanted to be away for a while. Away from Mr. Calloway.

Part of our fields Father kept as pasture for our few heads of livestock. Flowers were long gone from sight, but the pasture grass was still green. I made my way to the tree on the other side. I sang to myself as I climbed into the lower branches and pulled my book from an unused hollow. I am not sure how long read; to me, it seemed they would only have begun lunch, but my sense of time was almost as good as my haggling technique.

“How does one find themselves in a tree with a book? Particularly a lady?”

I nearly fell from my perch. My hand flew to the locket at my throat so as to stop my heart from bursting forth.

He laughed goodheartedly. “I am dreadfully sorry. I did not mean to startle you.”

“Well, you did, Mr. Calloway, very much so. And I do not understand your humor,” I said rather sourly.

“Do not be mad, dear Caroline.”

I was utterly confused. Why would he refer to me in such a way? Gentlemen did not show such favor to a farmer’s daughter.

“What would you like?” I asked, very much glad I was in the tree.

“Three things if you do not mind my asking.”

“I am indebted to you. I have no choice.”

“If you prefer to view it that way. First, I would like it very much if you came down from there.”

Reluctantly, I slid my book back into its burrow. Mr. Calloway held out his arms and I slid off the branch into them.

“Very well then, Mr. Calloway. What is your second demand?” I asked, stepping away from him and straightening my skirts.

“Secondly, I would like you to call me Josef.”

“It is highly irregular—”

“Please?”

I breathed deeply, wishing he could have demanded something that would not get me into trouble. “Very well…Josef. And your third demand?”

“Would you honor me by attending a certain party at my side?”

“Such a decision is not up to me. You must speak with my father.”

“I already have. He gives you permission to go. But I would like to know if you want to go.”

I was taken aback. Did I want to go? “I would have to consider it. But even if I decided to go, I would not have anything grand enough to wear.”

“I shall see to that. As for an answer, the party is in three days’ time. I shall return for a reply in two. Is that time enough?”

“More than enough.”

“I should hope you decide to attend.”

“I am very much flattered at your invitation…Josef.”

“Now is that not better than Mr. Calloway.”

I giggled. It did feel better, more relaxed than Mr. Calloway. But I was not ready for him to know that. “I should head back. They will wonder where I have gone.”

“They already know, Caroline. How do you think I found you?”

“Of course, I should have known.”

“Your mother suggested I start here, at your hide-away. Do I intimidate you?”

“No,” I said aloud as my mind screamed, “Yes!”

“That is good. I should hate to think someone is afraid of me.”

Not afraid, I thought, unsure of what is going on inside myself when I am near you. “No one could fear you,” I whispered, looking at my hands folded neatly before me.

“Is that so?”

“I believe so.”

He smiled. “May I walk you home?”

“If you would like.”

“I would, very much so.”

I smiled, controlling the emotions bubbling inside me. We did not speak as we walked. He was hesitant; I felt him looking at me every now and then and saw him open his mouth as if to say something. At the house, he promised to return soon. I am not sure if this excited or frightened me. My emotions confuse me greatly.

Mother beckons me to help with sewing Marie’s birthday dress. I can hardly believe she is nearly six years old! My how time flies.

A Tale of Two, Part 1: Caroline

September 1, 1891

Mother has given this journal to me to record my thoughts in this critical period before I am fully a woman. I love no man, nor have met any for whom I truly care, so I do not see how this will happen anytime soon.

“One must not be so pessimistic,” Mother says. She does not know what it is like to be a woman of seventeen and longing for a companion. How could she? She was married at fifteen to Father.

I suppose I should introduce myself. My name is Caroline Smith. I am the oldest of three children in our family. Father is a farmer, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. Mother is a homemaker, occasionally working as a seamstress when money is scarce. We are not wealthy people, but we survive.

Lately Mother has been working for a seamstress in London so we can save money to move to America. All her friends have already left for the new world. I fear she is ashamed because she has not the money to go. She may also be ashamed that I still am unwed. But if I were not here, who would there be to care for John and Marie? Father is always busy in the fields. He has not a moment to spare. And with Mother always out to work, I am the only one left. Of course, if John ever decided to grow up, he might be a reasonable candidate for the job. That is if Father did not recruit him to the fields first.

John is a boy of thirteen. He is old enough to work, by Father’s standards, but is too busy drawing and writing to notice much else. I must give him credit for keeping Marie busy while I clean the house. She loves to watch him draw his crazy imagination onto paper.

Marie is only five, but she is an intelligent beauty. Her eyes glow whenever John takes out his charcoal. Mother says she needs to learn stitching soon, but with everyone so busy, I doubt she will.

Father has threatened several times to make them pay for their charcoal and paper; Marie takes a piece of John’s stash and tries to mimic him. I think it is fascinating. Her sketches never come out quite like John’s, but both are beautifully made.

Truly, if I had the choice, I would never marry. Anyone my parents choose would haul me into the city. I am terrified of the city. It is so different from the countryside of my childhood.

Marie and John beckon me to begin supper, so I must leave you for now.