The boy was in love. He was being tightlipped about it, to be sure. But there was no mistaking the look. Teaspoon had seen it plenty through the years and, more often than not, that dopey looked graced his own face.
It was spring. The perfect time to fall in love. Though Teaspoon had to admit that there wasn't a bad time to fall in love. Love was the most beautiful thing there was.
Seeing his young charge in such a love struck daze took Teaspoon back across the years to another spring and another young man.
Teaspoon didn't relish thinking exactly how long ago it had been but he remembered straightening his tie in the mirror of his bedroom and smoothing his dark hair back. He was headed off to the box social. There would be dancing and, of course, the auctioning off of lovely boxed meals by the even lovelier ladies of the town.
"Aloysius!" his sister Mae hollered to him. "We're going to be late. Hurry!"
"Hold your horses, Mae," he yelled back. "You know as well as I do that Calvin Washburn ain't going to bid on any basket but yours. He won't even know there's a party going on until he sees you."
He descended the stairs as he spoke and spotted his sister wringing her hands in the kitchen.
"I don't want to keep him waiting, Aloysius."
His sister was a pretty girl. He supposed she always had been but he'd only noticed it in the last year or so. His first instinct had been to scare off any young men that came sniffing around. He figured that's what his dear, departed father would have wanted.
But then he had seen the way her eyes lit when she talked about Calvin. So he had a little talk with Calvin. The young man was just as starry eyed for Mae and his intentions were earnest. From that time, he had considered Calvin nearly family.
It was in Calvin that he had first seen this look of love. Sure, he had thought himself in love more than once as a young man is want to do. But love, real and true love, that was what Calvin had for Mae. It was deep and unending and Calvin put Mae first, with no thought to himself. And he did it happily. Calvin's joy was found in Mae's happiness and always would be. That was love.
Young Aloysius had never known love like that. He had thought that sort of thing existed only in storybooks. Having seen it with his own eyes, however, he now believed in it the same way he believed in the sun rising in the morning and setting in the night. He not only believed in it, he wanted it.
Where once he had dreamed of fortunes of gold or silver, Aloysius Hunter how saw a greater treasure. Love. The most precious thing a human could have. The thing that would make him the richest of men. The love of a woman and his love for her in return. The kind of love that could see a soul through the rockiest of times and heighten life's joys to the very heavens.
Of course all that would have to wait until Mae was properly married off. Aloysius knew every young and eligible lady in town and his heart's desire was not to be found here. Soon Calvin would formally ask her to marry him and it would not be long after that when her name would change. Once she was certain to be cared for, Aloysius would leave to seek his fortune and the life he knew he was destined to live.
Still and all, he looked forward to this little shindig. Just because he wasn't going to find his true love on this evening did not mean he couldn't at least find some company for a while. And he'd get a decent meal out of it as well.
He stood by the front door smirking at Mae as she fussed over getting her hat to sit just so. He bit his tongue to not make a comment about how she had been hurrying him when she was not ready yet. Before their ma had passed, he might've made the comment and chuckled at her frustrated reaction to him. But now that it was just the two of them, he let up on her more. They would still playfully tease one another but it was different. They were not mere children. He had taken on the role of man of the house when their father had died but he hadn't seen the responsibility he had for Mae until Ma was gone from them.
His sister became dearer to him and her moods more important. He owed it to his Ma to be gentle with Mae. Maybe he always had.
Soon enough, she was ready and he took up her basket—which might as well have had Calvin's name on it—and offered his arm to escort her along. He was proud to escort her and proud to hand her off to Calvin when they arrived. He made a special note of showing Calvin the basket so that he would know for certain which to bid on when the time came. It wasn't supposed to be done like that but he would take no chances that Mae's basket would be snatched up by anyone other than her intended.
Once all of the baskets that had been expected were there, things began in earnest. The auction was to take place first so that the men and ladies could get acquainted over the meal and also so that no collusion could take place beforehand.
He sat through the bidding on the baskets with interest in the contents of each basket, waiting for something to strike his fancy. Since he had no designs on any specific young lady, the whole exercise was really about feeding his appetite for food. And then he heard it. Something that made his ears perk up in interest.
He hadn't paid attention to many of the contents of this basket until he heard the words shoo fly pie. Many in the crowd looked bewildered but not him. His dear and lovely mother, God rest her soul, had often made such a treat for the family. It was a particular favorite of his. Mae had contemplated making it on this night but chose instead to cater to Calvin's affinity for applesauce cake.
Several men backed away from the bidding with their confusion over the pie but Aloysius finally began. It took few bids to take the prize from the few men still interested. He handed over his money with his mouth watering for the pie and then went to collect the basket.
His brow furrowed as he approached the young lady holding the basket of food for him. He had never seen her before. This was not a large town and there were no strangers here. He'd furthermore not heard of any new families moving into town.
"Your basket, sir," she said in a tiny voice almost like birds chirping on a dewy summer's morning.
He tipped his hat and appraised her as he took the basket and replied.
"Aloysius Hunter, ma'am. I'm afraid we haven't met before Miss…"
"Briggs," she filled in. "Joanna Briggs. I'm very pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. Hunter."
Her dark brown hair flowed halfway down her back from under her flowered hat and her moss green eyes darted from his as if frightened they might give up their secrets if they lingered too long in any one place.
"I think I'd like it better if you called me Aloysius…or maybe even just Al. And I'd like it a whole awful lot if you'd sit and enjoy the fruits of your labor with me."
She had nodded at him and that was how he had met his Jo. And from that night forward she had been his. Truly his. He didn't understand that then and wouldn't for some time but it was true all the same.
She was the niece of Mr. Ames, the blacksmith. She had come to live with him and his wife when his sister and brother-in-law had perished in a house fire. It was an act of God, for which young Aloysius was extremely grateful, that Jo wasn't home at the time. She had been staying at a friend's house that night and only found out about the tragedy in the morning.
Within the week, he had gone to Mr. Ames and asked permission to court her. It was granted. From then on, there was no Al and no Jo. There was Al and Jo or Jo and Al. Always together, the names mashed together into one word. AlandJo…JoandAl.
They picnicked together, walked hand in hand, lazed on gentle afternoons gazing at the clouds and dreaming of their life together.
Her eyes sparkled as she read him poems while he whittled her small trinkets. Her bright and eager mind eating every detail of every plan he thought of for their life together. One day she held his hand fiercely as they walked along one of their favorite paths.
"Al," she nearly whispered. "Thank you."
He was taken aback by her words.
"What are you thanking me for, Jo?"
"Where I lived before…I had a sweetheart or two," she went on trying to explain. "They were nice enough, I suppose. But I felt nothing for them. And they truly didn't feel for me. They thought I was pretty, maybe. I guess they must have because they treated me like a prize. It was more important to beat the other young men to win me than it was to truly have me. I came here and was so very sad. I wasn't going to prepare a basket that night, you know. Aunt Ellen convinced me. I was still grieving for my parents and the last thing I needed was another young man trying to prove something to other young men."
She paused and stopped walking to turn to face him, still holding his hand tightly in hers.
"When you looked at me, I felt like someone saw me for the first time. Really saw me. Do you remember the first thing you asked me after we got past our names and I agreed to sit and eat with you?"
He shook his head, the evening was a blur to him.
"You asked if shoo fly pie was my favorite too and then asked how I came to know how to make it. I could see there was a story inside you as well. You told me in time how your mother used to make it for you and Mae. But it wasn't your story you were interested in. It was mine. If I didn't fall in love with you that night, it couldn't have been too long after that."
She moved as if to continue their walk but he held her hand tighter, holding her there. Then he took her other hand in his to pull her closer to him. He saw her breath catch and the color rise to her cheeks as she realized what was about to happen.
He was no stranger to the fairer sex and this would not be his first kiss, nor would it be hers. But it would be theirs and that made it as a first. He knew it was the first real kiss for him, the first time he would press his lips to his true love's.
He bowed his head toward her reverently as if in prayer.
"I love you, Joanna," he whispered a mere instant before his lips met hers. His hands moved around her. One gentle at the small of her back and one more firmly at the back of her head. She hesitated only a moment before pressing her lips toward his. He was soaring among the stars and was sure his feet would not touch the ground for at least a week.
If there had been any question before, he knew then that he would give anything for her happiness and her nearness to him. He would kill. He would die. When he looked in her eyes, he saw the look Mae held for Calvin. When he looked in the mirror to shave his own face, he saw the look Calvin held for Mae.
The greatest treasure in all the world and he was filthy rich with it. Love. Love pure and strong and true and for him.
Like a good many of the great love stories, there was an obstacle in the path to their happiness. A villain of sorts. He came in the form of an uncle, a brother to Joanna's father. It had taken him a while to track her down but when he did, he insisted that she would go with him. He even had papers that showed he was to be her guardian.
He had made arrangements for her to marry a man where he lived. Jo believed that it was for the purpose of finalizing a business deal for this uncle. She did not want to go with him. Aloysius suggested they run away but her uncle kept her closely guarded. He told her he would do anything to save her from this fate, to live the rest of his days with her. He even thought to kill her uncle.
In the end, there was only one person who could persuade him to let her go. His lovely Joanna wept and pleaded with him. He said he could not go on in his life knowing she was with another against her will. She reminded him that the only way to stop it was murder.
"I can bear anything, my love, as long as I know you are out there somewhere," she said softly. "To know your dear heart still beats and that maybe, once in a while, you would spare a thought to me, to us, to what we had...I can still find happiness in that."
He wondered at times if he could truly live without her. She was vital to him, like air. Their goodbye was tearful and for a time he became a near recluse, doing only what was absolutely necessary.
Now, years older and, he hoped, wiser, Aloysius "Teaspoon" Hunter understood that a broken heart might seem a grave injury but it was not. He had not died. He had loved again. He had felt that all encompassing love and care for another. He had felt it many times.
Teaspoon smiled to himself. Joanna had lived another twenty years and had two children. Her boy she named Aloysius.
If he told this story to the starry-eyed young man now in his care, the lad would undoubtedly find it a sad tale—perhaps even tragic. Teaspoon knew different.
He had loved Joanna like he could love no other. But when she was gone from him, his heart had healed and he had loved others…each as fiercely and uniquely as he had her. A luckier man would not understand the power and beauty of this lesson. He hadn't at the time either.
But when his second wife died, it was the only comfort he had. He would never love as he had loved her…but he would love again.
Teaspoon shook his head and smiled as he crossed the yard whistling.
"What's got you in such a good mood this morning, Mr. Spoon?" Emma asked with a broad smile.
"A happy memory," was his reply. He thought for a moment and then looked pointedly at Emma. "You wouldn't happen to know how to make a shoo fly pie, would you?"
"I most certainly do."
"I can't recall the last time I had one and I find myself with a sudden hankering."
Emma nodded her agreement with a smile. If Teaspoon was seeing things right, his young rider wasn't the only one wearing the look of love. It looked as though Marshal Cain might just finally have won the lady's heart. It was yet another reason for Teaspoon to whistle a cheery tune as he continued to make his way across the yard.
I really love Teaspoon. I really do...getting in his head is so much fun. It's often such a warm, fuzzy place. When he first told me this story, I was sad but he made sure I understood the hope that was in the tale. He's a very special man.
So...is everyone still with me? I hope so...there is more pie to come. I need to do a little research to write one story and have to get another to gel. But there is more to come. Thanks once again to Beulah for looking this over for me. Your friendship...your very heart is a treasure to me, my dear, dear friend.-J