Chapter 12

Chapter 12

“She is worth far more than rubies…”

Proverbs 31:10

Agatha Tabitha Freegrace sat facing the mirror as Nina finished carefully arranging Agatha’s hair in a low knot at the nape of her neck.
“There,” Nina said, a smile of accomplishment on her face. Agatha looked at herself in the mirror. She was surprised to see how much older she looked and felt. Here she was, in a beautiful new calico dress with lace collar, her blonde hair arranged like that of a young woman, Momma’s locket around her neck and a young man coming at any moment to whisk her away to the church social—she had to admit, she thought Clay would be pretty proud to have her on his arm, and she would be even prouder to arrive at the social with him. Agatha didn’t want to be vain, but as the main character in a Christian romance novel, it wasn’t her fault that she had been written to be a physically flawless character attracted to an idealized male main character, so she reveled in some Godly vanity at the prospects of the night’s activities. Agatha sighed. Oh Clay, how dear he’d become to her heart. Just then, Agatha’s reverie was interrupted by a knock on the door. She heard her father open the door and greet Clay. She looked at Nina and grabbed both of her hands, “Thank you Nina, for everything. I’ll see you at the social!” Both girls had huge smiles on their faces, anticipating the specialness of the night.

“Well, I think Agatha should be just about ready Clay,” Agatha heard her father’s words as she entered the room, a gleaming Proverbs 31 woman.

“I’m right here Papa,” At the sound of Agatha’s voice, Clark looked up. His breath was taken away, and had he been any less manly, he would have fainted at the site of his dear Aggie, blossomed into a woman before his very eyes. Her outer beauty aside, as a good man, he found himself equally, if not more attracted to her inner beauty, which beamed like ten million rubies. Clark was getting closer to surrendering to God every day, but seeing Agatha’s journey made him believe even more in a divine hand guiding their lives. It seemed that God had prepared her for such a time as this, and then brought Clark back to Sunshine Salvation Valley just when he was needed as well. Agatha, her father, and Clark were used to prolonged silences while people worked out their inner thoughts and struggles, so no one was worried that Clark had taken five minutes after Agatha’s entrance to speak.

“I brought these for you Aggie,” Clark’s voice would have quivered if he were any less of a man. He offered her the bouquet of wildflowers he had picked for her earlier that afternoon.

“Why Clay, they’re just lovely. Let me put them in this vase I have on the table.” Agatha took the bouquet, taking a brief moment to drink in the smell of the blossoms, before setting them gently in the vase on the kitchen table. Sometimes, Clark wished Agatha just knew it was him, so she could call him by his real name, and he could drop this disguise and stand before her as her boyhood friend, back at last, her Clarky. However, he didn’t know if he’d ever be able to drop the mask that had enabled him to be with her again, to feel the glow of her warm presence.

Thank you Father, for making Agatha.

Clark had found himself slipping into these half prayers more often. They were almost fully in italics, elevating them over just plain thoughts. Agatha’s beauty was overwhelming to him. Clark realized that another five minutes of silence had passed, and that his inner processing was going to make them late for the social. “Well Aggie, shall we? I’ll have her back before 9:30 Mr. Freegrace,” Clark shook Isaac’s hand, and then offered Aggie his arm as they headed out the door, towards the horse and cart waiting to take them to the social.

“You two have a nice time!” Isaac called after them. “She looks just like her mother.” He said to himself as he watched their silhouettes fading into the early evening.

Agatha felt like a schoolgirl riding next to Clay on the way to the social, at one point he’d reached over to her face, and tucked a loose strand of her blonde hair behind her ear. Again, Agatha felt the sensation that she could only describe using terms for things not even discovered yet—yes, it was electric. They laughed all the way there, enjoying one another’s presence.

When they got to the social, they greeted all the church folk. Everyone looked at the beautiful young couple, enjoying watching them wade in the pools of young love. After helping themselves to some of the ice cream, their attention was turned to the festive dance floor, where Mr.McQuickerson on his fiddle, joined by some of the other town folk, were playing lively tunes for the young people to dance to. The tune seemed to match the music of Agatha’s heart, lilting blissfully, soaring, flitting, and gracefully moving with a life of its own.

“Well Aggie, I would be ever so honored if you would join me on the dance floor,” Clark extended his strong hand.

“Of course,” Agatha said placing her own hand in Clark’s (who she thought was Clay). She gave him her hand with all the trust in the world, not only for him to show her a good time on the dance floor, but to lead them into whatever life held for them. Clark led Agatha onto the dance floor. As the music played into the night, Agatha and Clark whirled and twirled around, as if they were the only ones there. Their peels of laughter rang in the night. Until finally, Mr. McQuickerson announced the last song. He began a slow waltz on his fiddle. Agatha could barely handle her feelings for Clay as he drew her body closer to his, her head falling gently on his broad strong chest.

“I wish tonight would last forever,” he whispered into her ear.

“Mmmhmmm.” It was all Agatha could muster as she enjoyed the feeling of Clay’s strong arms around her. As the fiddle finally stopped, Clark took Agatha’s hand in his and led her to the horse and cart. They spent a silent ride home, hand in hand as both internally processed the night in descriptive but mediocre metaphors and similes (i.e. this was a night like a beautiful rainbow coming out of life’s thunderstorm or she was a delicate gift that he held in his hands, afraid to shatter, etc…). As they pulled up to Agatha’s home, Clark stopped the cart short of the Freegrace door. Agatha turned to him, to see why he had stopped, she found him already looking at her. His hand slowly rose to her porcelain cheek, as if compelled by forces outside of his own control. Agatha looked deep into his dark eyes, so strong, so…loving. Clark did what he had longed to do since he had first saw Agatha in the general store, bedraggled and worn out, a prairie flower trampled by the winds of life. He placed his other hand on her other cheek and pulled her face towards him, placing a tender kiss on her delicate lips. As he released her, their foreheads leaned together, as each soaked in the other’s closeness. They did this for a significantly dramatic amount of time before Agatha broke their romance novel love haze. “Well Papa, will be wonderin’ where I am.” Clark nodded in agreement. He helped her out of the cart, leading her to the door. As Agatha knocked on the door, Clark whispered one last thing into his beloved’s ear, “Aggie, you are beautiful, more beautiful than I have words to describe,” his words rang true, landing warmly in Agatha’s heart. Isaac came to the door, greeting the two of them. Agatha excused herself to go to bed, giving Clay one last glance with her bright eyes, melting him like a stick of butter.

“Well, thanks for letting me take your daughter to the social Mr. Freegrace,” Clark said as he came into the house, heading towards his own cot against the kitchen wall.

“No problem son.” Isaac spoke with respect and love in his voice. “But there’s one thing…I’m just wondering, when you're going to tell her the truth Clark,” Isaac spoke these word’s casually, but they carried the weight of the world. Clark’s mind went blank as Mr. Freegrace's use of his real name sank in. He felt caught; he panicked as he looked for the words to reply. It turned out that Agatha’s blind father had seen more clearly than anyone else in town, and the boy come back from Prodigal, Wyoming a strong man, felt like a scared young boy again.