Richard cleared his throat in a futile attempt to restart his shocked heart. An itch nagged at his scalp as fresh sweat began trickling around his hair follicles. The space inside his top hat was quickly becoming a sauna.
“Well?” Joanne pressed airily, her smiling eyes flittering with false innocence. “I presume you, a gentleman, can hardly do more than politely deny the accusations, but I’m afraid my husband absolutely insisted that it was true.”
“Madam,” Richard began warmly, shifting his hat around to allow the steam to exit at the back of his head, “I assure you it is all news to my ears as well. I shall pay a visit to the preacher myself at once to set the matter straight.” Breathless and straining to maintain his composure, he smiled and gave Joanne a respectful nod, tipping his sweaty hat.
The plump woman smiled wryly, barely concealing her disappointment and disgust. She whirled around, a puff of sickeningly floral odors exploding from her dress as she abandoned the conversation.
Richard watched her go, his gut wrenching nervously as self-consciousness slowly overpowered his mind. He felt dizzy, and all he could see were hundreds of eyes swirling around his periphery, judging him while wagging tongues perpetuated this disgusting, terrible rumor. He would indeed pay the preacher a visit, but first he would continue on to his original destination, a haven of peace, friendship, and excitement.
He took a deep breath, soaking in the dusty morning air. An occasional horse-drawn carriage trotted by while a few shop-hands swept the patios outside their places of employment. Richard turned his attention back to the bakery and let himself feel a tiny ray of warm, romantic hope.
Since the passing of his wife, nobody had been more kind or lovely to him than Deborah. On his worst days she had always greeted him with a smile and a freshly baked muffin. She had listened to him, really listened, when the rest of the world was too terrified to breathe in his presence. She understood him. She knew his pain. She could comprehend the magnitude of his loss.
The little bell over the bakery door sang out to herald his arrival. Expectantly, Richard’s eyes scanned above the counter for Deborah’s beautiful smile. Unexpectedly, he found himself thinking instead of the preacher’s daughter and Joanne’s accusatory inquiry. He was suddenly winded and sweaty again, and he tore off his hat, fumbling the brim. He watched in horror as it soared over the counter.
“Oh my!” Deborah’s voice cried out shrill and startled.
“Pardon,” Richard called bashfully.
Deborah stood from where she had been crouched behind the counter and gazed at him as though he were a stranger, then he watched her eyes narrow before widening slightly. He waited for them to sparkle as they usually did for him, but instead she looked away before glancing down at the hat.
“My apologies,” Richard sighed. “My fingers are as stiff and slick as icicles this morning.” He cracked half a smile.
Deborah bent over and retrieved the hat, extending her arm over the counter to hand it to him. “It’s quite alright,” she said without a hint of warmth or amusement, still staring down at her feet.
Richard recoiled and hesitated. Visiting Deborah first thing in the morning was the highlight of his day. He loved their playful, flirty exchanges and warm, comfortable friendship. He watched her eyes carefully but they would not meet his. Her pupils darted around evasively and her head hung as though ashamed.
He took the hat and brushed off spots of flour. “How are you this morning?” he asked tentatively.
“I’m fine Mr. Harrison,” she said stiffly, sounding more than a little upset. “Will you be having your usual muffin?”
Richard froze, his heart pounding furiously. She glanced at him briefly before her eyes retreated again. His scalp contracted and the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. He felt ill.
“Actually,” he said as casually as he could, “I think it might be better if I skipped the muffin this morning. I have an appointment and I really must be going.”
“Oh,” she gasped, shooting him another brief, unfamiliar look. “Have a delightful morning then,” she stammered.
Richard retreated quickly, the jangling bell sounding hollow and distant as he stumbled back out into the street and pulled on his cold, damp hat. A husband and wife walked along the other side of the road, their heads swiveling to track him, their eyes full of scorn and delight. He felt short of breath, gasping for air while a thick layer of steam built up inside his oppressive clothing. He tugged at his collar and made an attempt at straightening himself out, but no amount of exterior composure could correct for the chaotic disarray that consumed his entire character.
Even still, as all eyes on the street stabbed at him, whittling away his sanity and honor, he couldn’t help but settle on one curious, dreadful thought. And against every ounce of reason and logic in his weathered, worldly mind, some part of him liked the thought despite its unsavory, uncouth nature.
What if the rumor was true?
Not that it was true on his end, he certainly hadn’t given the preacher’s daughter more than a cursory glance in the years since his wife’s passing. Brittany had been far too young to marry in those days. Sure, she had become an attractive woman in the years since, but her betrothal to the governor’s son was widely known and Richard had far too much respect for her honor to even think of calling on her in any capacity.
No, Richard was most certainly not romantically interested in the preacher’s daughter, much less involved with her. He shuddered, pulling in a long breath and holding it as he once again straightened his back and patted down his coat. He would go to the preacher directly to address the rumor and put a stop to it at once. He turned toward the church and marched with determination and resolve, climbing the marble stairs swiftly and ducking through the heavy oak doors with purpose.
Once inside he found the air quiet and abnormally chilly. He removed his hat, the hot sweat underneath nearly boiling in the cold, dark interior of the church. It took his eyes a lengthy moment to adjust to the simple candlelit space with its long, straight lines and dramatic vaulted archways. The rows of empty pews sent a hot pang through his heart as the ghostly memory of his beautiful bride waltzed down the aisle on her father’s arm. The space behind his nose burned as he choked back the stinging urge to cry.
“Richard,” a kind, deep voice echoed softly against the stone walls. The preacher’s gentle footsteps approached reverently and Richard turned to face him.
“Pastor,” Richard said, trying his best to sound agreeable and collected.
“It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you in here. Not since your wife’s wake, I believe.”
A wave of childish guilt washed over him and he smiled shamefully. “Indeed,” he sighed. “It’s been too long.”
“No matter. What brings you to the house of God this beautiful morning?”
“I…” Richard’s mouth hung open but words wouldn’t come.
The preacher waited patiently for a moment, then a long sigh blew out through his nostrils and he pursed his lips contemplatively. Lowering his tone even more than usual, he approached Richard until they were side by side and whispered, “you know, I’ve been meaning to ask you about a horrid little rumor that has been going around.”
Half relieved and otherwise appalled, Richard took a sharp breath and reciprocated the discretion. “What, exactly, have you heard father?”
“Several townsfolk have expressed concern that you fancy my daughter. Some even say you have already engaged in unseemly relations with her.” The preacher’s stern gaze was carried through to Richard’s ears by his smooth, authoritative tone.
Richard could feel every muscle in his body knotting and trying to tremble while he turned to stone in the old man’s stare. “I can assure you, father, that they are just rumors. I haven’t laid eyes on your daughter in years, much less hands.”
The pastor leaned back and regarded Richard silently, measuring the validity and sincerity of his words. Finally, he smiled and patted Richard on the shoulder. “I see,” he said, instantly dispelling their shared tension.
Richard’s shoulders drooped and he let out a relieved sigh, rolling his eyes and shaking his head. “I wish I knew how this absolutely absurd rumor got started!” he blurted, his voice bouncing scandalously off the harsh interior of the church. He winced and shrugged when the pastor glared at him.
“Indeed,” he agreed. “I’m just relieved to hear you say it isn’t true. I can’t begin to tell you how devastating such a thing would be for our family, especially with her wedding on the horizon.”
“Oh,” Richard breathed. “They’ve set a date?”
The pastor grinned. “I’m not supposed to share it yet. I only mean to say that at this stage in her relationship with the mayor’s son she certainly isn’t in any position to have a man such as you clouding her judgement.” He smiled politely and began the wordless process of excusing himself from the conversation.
Richard picked up on the pastor’s intent but hung on his words. A man such as you… Hesitantly, he said, “well I appreciate you bringing the matter up with me personally. I can assure you that your daughter and I have no business together, romantic or otherwise.”
The pastor nodded and turned to leave.
A man such as you? Richard dwelt on the words, staring at the pastor’s black robes as he strode ominously back into the bowels of the stone church. His mind raced and his heart quickened. She is certainly an attractive, remarkable young woman, he caught himself thinking.
He abruptly shook his head, violently attempting to scramble his thoughts and dispel whatever trance he was in. He had been a widower for more than half a decade without giving this particular young lady even half a thought. She’d never crossed his mind as a possible love interest. And yet, this simply impossible rumor had somehow consumed him. Taking a deep breath, he turned on his heel and made for the doors.
Just as he reached the shadowy exit and prepared to shove a door open and burst into the bright morning light, Richard was suddenly yanked off balance and dragged toward the corner. He stumbled and gasped, tripping and bouncing along, towed intently by a fist grasping his lapel.
An airy, dainty voice assaulted his ear, blowing hot, sweat air against the side of his head. “No doubt you’ve heard the rumors,” she hissed deviously.
Richard pulled back and squinted, trying to make out the face of this woman. But even before he saw her, he knew her. The gentle warmth of her body against his, the shallow, desperate puffs of air from her wet lips…
“What if,” she continued, “they weren’t just rumors?” She grasped at his arm with the other hand, her slender fingers gripping him intensely.
“What?” he managed breathlessly, his mind reeling and failing to grasp the situation.
“Richard,” she sighed. “I can’t marry the governor’s son. It’s no secret that I can’t stand him. It boils my father’s blood and vexes my mother, but the truth is that he’s young and stupid. He’s full of himself and drinks too much. You though? You’re kind and reserved, mature and reasonable. I’ve seen you around town, the way you treat people… I need a husband like you, not like that spoiled brat who thinks he’s god’s gift to me.”
Richard took long, deep breaths and stared into Brittany’s shadowy eyes, his heart pounding wildly against his ribs. “You…” he breathed. “You started the rumor.”
He could just see the corners of her soft lips curl into a delighted smile. “I did,” she affirmed proudly. “But I only did so in the hopes that they could become true.” She paused, her eyes dashing around in his, searching him for any sign of reciprocation. “Please,” she begged. “I want to be happy and I believe I can have happiness with you. I’ll be miserable if I have to marry my betrothed. Will you help me?” She paused again, then added breathlessly, “could you love me?”
Richard gasped and held it as time crawled to a stop. He knew that whatever he said next, whatever he did, it would have life-altering ramifications for both of them, for the pastor’s family, for the governor’s family, and even for the town. Scandals, rumors, feuds, subtle aggressions, and generations of insufferable drama could all potentially be traced back to this one decision that stared him in the face.
Brittany waited with bated breath, her wide, bright eyes finally cutting through the shadows and illuminating her rosy cheeks and gently parted velvet lips. She removed her hand from his lapel and placed her hot open palm gingerly on his cheek, holding his face with a lustful longing that quickened his pulse and set his ears on fire.
Haltingly, imperceptibly, Richard’s expression melted and the hint of a smile grew on his lips as Brittany leaned in for a kiss.
This story is based on a prompt from Reedsy Prompts. Specifically, this prompt:
View my contest entry [here].
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