***
Striding down the darkened streets, Charles Emerson Winchester III actually found himself eager to get back to his quarters.
That wasn't entirely true, he realized. He'd rather sleep on the grass outside the mockingly titled "Officer's Club" than return to the company of the insipid Captains Pierce and Hunnicutt; save for the fact that he'd just barely escaped from the saloon alive.
Voices rung in his head and he gritted his teeth at the pounding headache he'd developed after the bottle of liquor had exploded and landed on his head.
His physical and mental condition bordered on blasphemy, at least it would be considered such in his hometown. But here, in the dark and hot night of Stellian, Georgia, he was alone in his miserable brooding.
Walking along, he felt no danger. The angry man in the bar, Ebenizer, had left to go to another saloon and surely had better things to do than follow around a battered and weary man in the dark. It was an ironic feeling; he was all alone in a strange town full of gun-toting maniacs, and yet he felt nothing but apathy. His near brush with death hadn't left him with any great enlightenment or insight; in fact, the only proof that there had been any conflict at all was a small cut on his forehead and the disgusting smell of liquor that surrounded him like a cloud.
The humiliation. He closed his eyes and felt a groan rise out of his throat. Were he not careful, that groan could easily transform into the shriek of a madman. But, above all, Winchester was a man of self-control, and he simply left it at a frustrated snort and continued walking along, rubbing his eyes.
It wasn't, however, a night for taking your eyes off the road, and before Charles could even acknowledge it, he felt himself collide with another pedestrian coming the opposite way. He opened his eyes in a flash and realized that the person had already passed him.
"Oh, pardon me." he said quietly.
The other party was silent for a moment, standing still behind him. Then, the party spoke.
"That... that voice!"
Charles frowned. That was no sort of apology. "Excuse me?" He asked, never turning to see the person behind him.
"That voice!! I KNOW that voice!!!" The tone was excited, clearly very intent on something.
It was then that Charles realized that he, too, knew the voice of the party he collided with.
He whirled around, thoughts of violence, anger and hatred racing through his mind. At the same time, a figure nearly a foot shorter than he was also whirling around to face him. As the figure twirled, billowing red and white skirts flew in an elegant arc and two neatly gloved hands flew up to the figure's chest, clutching one another.
Charles' eyes narrowed.
The other person's eyes widened.
"YOU!!" Charles roared.
"YOU!!!" The other person squealed.
It was clearly the woman from the bar, Charles reassured himself. Up close, she was even more oddly homely than from a distance. Her hair was, however, rather differently styled than it had previously been; now it was hanging down in her face clumsily, and unless Charles was mistaken, several blatantly obvious seams were present on the underside of the hair. So it was fake!!
"You... cowardly bitty! Do you have any idea what nearly became of me?!" He screamed.
The woman looked at him quizzically, her hands still clutched together. "What do you mean, sir?"
"You simply ran off, leaving that loathsome barbarian and I alone together! I was nearly killed while trying to escape from your inconsequential little spat!"
"Oh, you don't say." The woman said casually.
"'OH, I DON'T SAY'?! Is that all you have to say for yourself?!"
"No, not at all sir. That wasn't at all what I meant to say!" The woman nervously wrung her hands, looking at the ground.
"Young woman, I shall not be led astray by your womanhood. You left me to die and I shall not forget that!"
The girl looked up in surprise, and then suddenly a huge, giddy smile lit up her entire face. Before Charles knew what had happened, she launched herself at him and buried her face in his shirt, sobs racking her body.
"Oh, sir, it was so horrible!! That evil man Ebenizer had plans to dishonor me! I was so afraid, I don't know what came over me when I struck him that way! It was so frightening! I'm so sorry I ran the way I did, but he wouldn't hesitate to kill a lady! You distracted him, and I was going to get help! Honestly!!! He's run afoul of the law ever since we met, and I was always so afraid to leave him! But now, I think I'm finally rid of him! Oh, sir, I'm free, and it's all thanks to you!!!"
Charles tried to step away from the leach-like grasp of the young woman, but to no avail. She sobbed against him and he looked around to make sure no one was watching yet even still more public shaming.
"Shhh!! Be quiet, woman! Shut up! Someone will hear you!! Let go of me!"
The girl tipped her head back and wailed, and then resumed her muffled sobbing. Charles grabbed her arms and forcefully wrenched her back from himself. Bending down so that he was at eye level with the woman, he realized that she'd never been crying at all, and a large cheerful smile still filled her face.
"Get that ridiculous expression off of your face." Charles said bitterly, and she complied, replacing her grin with a raised eyebrow. Charles gave up and dropped her wrists, turning to leave.
"Sir, wait! You can't leave!"
He laughed heartily. "Can't I?"
"No! I mean... you can't leave me all alone! What if Ebenizer comes back for me?"
"Young woman, that is none of my concern!"
"Of course it is!! You defended my honor, and that means I'm in your debt. And surely Ebenizer wouldn't dare touch a big, strong man like you!"
"You'll not win me over with poorly-conceived strokes to my ego, I'm afraid. Good night."
"You'd leave a damsel in distress out in the cold, cruel night with raging alcoholics after her?!?" The girl screamed incredulously. Her voice was a grating sound that made Charles wince in pain.
"Show me a damsel in distress and perhaps we can talk."
"What?! It's me, you big dummy!!"
"You! You are no damsel, my dear. You are a withered raisin with a voice that could kill a horse."
"Well you don't have to be MEAN about it! Here all this time I thought you were brave and heroic!"
"PLEASE, young woman! Your conduct is absolutely deplorable!"
"Huh?!"
"Where are your manners?! A young lady ought to be demure and well-spoken!" Charles exclaimed, hoping that a jab at the girl's pride would extinguish her unbridled affections for the moment so he could escape.
"I'll have you know that my Mammy thinks I'm quite a catch! "
"Your MAMMY must be blind! Now, I bid you a good evening and hope I have the good fortune to never cross paths with you again!" He whirled around lividly and began to stalk off.
"Hey! You're going the wrong way!"
Charles stopped, and turned back to face her, shaking his finger. "Ah, you think you're clever, don't you? Trying to lure me into some sort of seduction, no doubt. Hmm? Well, I must say you certainly are a brazen and cheeky hussy!!"
"Nothing but the best for... say, you never told me your name."
"And it shall stay that way! Good-bye!" He resumed his skulking as, somewhere in the distance, thunder rolled. A bolt of lightning suddenly illuminated the dirty night street and Charles had only taken a few short steps before he felt that irksome girl breathing behind him.
"You meddlesome twit. You're following me." He hissed.
"It's gonna rain! I'm not staying out here all alone in the rain. I'm going home! YOU'RE still going the wrong way!" She shot back.
Charles stopped, as he had done so many times before. "Are you implying that I, Charles Emerson Winchester III, can not tell the difference between north and south?!"
The girl's eyes lit up. "Charles Emerson Winchester III. That sounds so impressive!"
"You shall forget that I ever uttered that name in your presence and stop following me at once!"
"I told you already! I'm not following you! You're going the wrong way! And it's not my fault you have such a pretty name."
"My name is most certainly not 'pretty'."
"Sure it is! Since you've so generously bestowed upon little old me the gracious gift of your identity, allow me to introduce myself."
"Madame, I could care less who you are."
"Magnolia Q. Klinger. Well, Magnolia's not my *real* name, but it fits me rather well, doesn't it?"
"Like a glove." Charles said flippantly. Unfortunately, Magnolia didn't pick up on the sarcasm and beamed.
"Oh, sir, you flatter me! I'm feeling faint!"
"Good, do me a favor and fall down right here. Perhaps THEN..."
"Ha ha! No sir, you aren't so easily rid of Miss Magnolia. That's what they all call me when they're vying for my affections. I've turned down every man in this town at least once. Those southern men can talk a blue streak about sending flutters through the hearts of women, but they cry like babies when you tell them that there will never be anything more than a sweet summer breeze under the magnolia tree branches, a gentle squeeze of his hand and a sip of lemon-- HEY!! WHERE ARE YOU GOING?!?"
Charles had been trotting along for a good 20 seconds before Magnolia noticed that she was speaking to a shadow. He'd made good time and was nearly a block away. When he heard her voice rise, he realized that she was on to him and he grabbed a long stick that had been lying in the grass. Magnolia gathered up her skirts and raced toward him, but he held his ground rather well and held the stick out as a warning.
"Don't come any closer, you malodorous shrew!" He snarled.
"How dare you run away from me while I'm talking?!" Magnolia whined.
"I obviously can't get away from you any other way! You are the sole most infuriating person I've ever encountered! To HELL with my contract! If the entire city is like you, I'd be better off in prison!"
"What contract?! Prison?!"
"At least in prison I can count on regular meals and no racy amazonesses who can't take no for an answer!"
"Why would you go to prison?"
"That is none of your concern! I am going to walk away now, and if you dare follow me, I assure you you will regret it. Do you understand?!"
"But..." Magnolia protested, as lightning struck once again.
A moment later, the very sky seemed to split apart and torrants of rain cascaded to the earth. Charles took this opportunity and marched away, leaving Magnolia with her hands clasped, yet another warning dying on her lips.
Indeed, Charles was going the wrong way. The absolute opposite way, and he suddenly found himself back in front of the Officers' Club, which was now darkened and vacant.
"*My* house is this way." Magnolia said from somewhere behind him. He gritted his teeth and turned around silently, refusing to acknowledge her. He was wet from the sudden downpour and wanted nothing more than to go lie under his bed and stew.
As he passed her now-drenched figure, he refused to meet her eyes or even mutter an "excuse me" as their bodies brushed against each other. She, however, turned around to face his angrily stormy eyes, and suddenly her hand shot upward, blocking his movement and curiously examining his long-forgotten injury.
"How did that happen?" She asked softly, her voice sounding so completely different Charles was momentarily convinced that someone else had said it. But alas, there was nobody there on the sidewalk but himself and Magnolia, whose flowered hat was drooping with the pressure of the falling rain.
"Your... beau. I told you, I was nearly killed!" He exclaimed angrily.
Thunder echoed his sentiments and Magnolia gazed intently at the dried blood. In the dim light and with the rain surrounding her, she was no more comely than before; what with her soaked clothes, ruined hat and black wig that looked like a drowned rat. But something about her eyes was different, and despite the fact that the only physical change was increased pupil size, they seemed to carry a sort of soul in them that hadn't been present before.
Charles' own icy blue eyes had been full of anger and annoyance, but he felt his brow loosening itself despite the anger that still remained inside his chest. The clumsy, irritating person who only a moment ago ran away like a cowardly child had a surprisingly gentle yet sturdy hand, and seemed genuinely concerned.
"I'm sorry." Magnolia said quietly. "It's my fault this happened."
"Well, yes, it is... but I shouldn't judge myself too harshly. It's.. just a small.. erm... injury." He would have ordinarily elaborated on the intense, burning pain that he was in due to the cut, but it didn't seem worth it.
Magnolia's hand lingered on Charles' forehead for a minute longer, and then her hand shot down to her mouth to cover a sneeze.
"Um.. Miss Magnolia.. it is rather late.. and raining. Why don't you just go on home, and we can forget this ugly mess ever took place, hmm?"
Magnolia sniffled and wiped her nose with the back of her glove. "Oh, sir, I've been such a burden on you. I simply won't be able to live with myself until we've made amends somehow!"
"No!" Charles exclaimed, and then laughed nervously. "That is to say.. it's been no burden at all. I shall leave this experience none the worse for wear, and so shall you. Now, I'll be on my way, and you can go home to your... erm.. mammy."
"Well, I suppose you're right, I should get some rest before the picnic to-- OH!!!" Her head snapped upward and a huge grin replaced her somber expression. "THE PICNIC! I completely forgot, what a silly bird! You simply must come to my picnic tomorrow! The whole of Stellian will be there!"
"I.. I'm afraid not." He said with finality in his voice. The comforting smile on his lips was beginning to fade.
"I simply won't stand for a refusal! Oh, how perfect! You can join me at the picnic and I'll tell all the men about the gallant yankee who came to the rescue of poor lil' Miss Magnolia! And my father, who is a rather influential figure in the town government, oh, he'll be so pleased..."
"Now, just a moment!" Charles stammered, but Magnolia had taken to twirling around in the pouring rain, squealing with pleasure.
It was then that the words "Influential figure in the town government" struck Charles, and his eyes widened.
"Did.. did you say influential..."
"It'll be wonderful! Just wonderful! It'll begin at noon sharp, and light dancing and socializing, followed by tea and those magnificent little cakes, and watermelon and an evening soiret, I'll wear my best linen and lace, oh, and how perfect that you should come along now! I was going with Ebenizer as my beau, but that would be just silly now!!"
"How... influential?" Charles inquired loudly, totally disregarding Magnolia's eager rambling.
"How influential? Oh, not very, I'm afraid. He says jump, the whole of Stellian replies, 'how high, grand poobah'..."
"Could this man.. your.. er-hem.. father.. could he nullify a contract?"
"Not a military one." Magnolia said with sullenness in her voice.
"Of COURSE not a military one! A simple civilian employment contract. Could he void it?"
"Hhmmmmm... maybe. It all depends on how many dances you're free for."
"How... many... dances." Charles repeated, his face falling.
"Well, of course! He won't do it for free! But... if you're willing to show Daddy what a gentleman you are and how well you treat his little Magnolia, I think something could be arranged. Otherwise, absolutely not."
"That is blackmail!!"
"I resent that! It most certainly is not! It's just... a shameless bribe."
"I would sooner spend all eternity in the purgatory on earth known as the M*A*S*H 4077th than be indebted to you in such a degrading fashion!" Charles laughed haughtily.
Magnolia scowled. "You're despicable!"
"You are an utter fiend!"
"You're soaking wet!"
"At least my hair is real!"
"What there IS of it!"
"You miserable cretin!"
"You belligerant jackass!"
"Miss Magnolia?"
"What?"
"Were I to attend your little get-together, I would be correct in assuming that because I provided an escape for you and thus, you were first indebted to me, the few gay little dances we er.. enjoy together would be due reciprocation, correct?"
Magnolia blinked. "Sure, I suppose so. But I thought I was a miserable cretin and you'd sooner die..."
Charles laughed lightly, raising his hands up. "A thing of the past. You see, I am truly in a rather desperate position.. and I assure you that this would never ever take place were you not already in my debt. You understand that, correct?" His face turned to stone.
Magnolia nodded, slinking backwards a step.
"Very well then. I shall attend your social function, we shall have a few dances and then you shall talk to your father."
"Meaning what afterwards, exactly?"
"I shall no longer have an obligation to my foolish employer and I will be free to suppress this entire sordid experience and return to Boston!"
"Well, wait a minute. Sometimes dances can lead to more. It wouldn't be... such a stretch to imagine the two of us going biblical."
Charles' jaw dropped and his eyes narrowed. "You tawdry seductress!"
Magnolia's eyes glittered and she frolicked about in the rain, belting out a painfully out of tune rendition of "Yankee Doodle".
"You.. you truly make me sick." Charles growled as she skipped around him.
"Stroke of midnight!" Magnolia exclaimed, hearing a distant clock chime above the rainfall. "A kiss for the lady?"
"No."
"You have to! Stroke of midnight is the witching hour. I'll transform into a horrible witch unless a handsome prince can break the spell before the clock hits twelve dings."
"I shouldn't worry. No one would be able to tell the difference."
Magnolia jutted out her lower lip and crossed her arms. "That isn't funny. Large noses are becoming. That's three strokes!"
"I am not going to kiss you."
"Four!"
"Go home! Isn't it enough that I've agreed to make a complete ass of myself at your ridiculous party?!"
"Five!"
"No? Then I'll leave!"
"Six!"
"Be quiet!"
"Seven!"
"You are deluding yourself!"
"Eight!"
"Shut up!"
"Nine!"
"I am walking away from you."
"Ten!"
"Here I go!"
"Eleven!"
"You are a complete and utter--"
"TWELVE!!" Magnolia screamed, and launched herself at Charles. In one split second, she grabbed onto him and shoved her lips against his.
The clock completed its' chiming, and as the last note fell away into darkness, the rain continued to spill down onto the dark street. Surrounded by the cold night air, the falling rain and the silence of a gloomy night, Charles Emerson Winchester III and Miss Magnolia found no reason to speak again that night. They came away from each other just as suddenly as they'd come together, and Miss Magnolia grinned and walked back down the badly-beaten path as though nothing had happened.
Charles watched her go in silence, his eyes fixed intently on the swishing white skirt with its red trim, the fake black hair that hung unevenly down her back, the drenched hat with its perky silk flowers, and the strange air she carried with her.
Magnolia skipped as soon as she knew she was out of his sight, and she pulled the hat off her head and tossed it like a discus, eagerly watching as it sailed on the wind and landed on the ground several yards away. She pulled the disgustingly wet wig off her head and exposed her real hair; short, thick and black, to the wind and the rain.
Her hair was very short, as was typical for a person of her political and social standing. Because after all, Magnolia Q. Klinger was not at all her father's little Magnolia. Indeed, she'd become that in recent years and with the care she took to maintain her womanly exterior she was laughingly referred to as Magnolia Klinger by everyone in town.
However, the fact that she had been christened Maxwell by her parents and the Magnolia was a leftover personage from the days when Maxwell was desperate to avoid the draft at all costs wasn't something Charles had ever been informed of.
Rather unfortunate.
As "Magnolia" entered the front door, "she" became "he". But despite that, he did have a picnic to prepare for tomorrow. French curls would be lovely for the event, he mused. Absolutely lovely.
***
Striding down the darkened streets, Charles Emerson Winchester III actually found himself eager to get back to his quarters.
That wasn't entirely true, he realized. He'd rather sleep on the grass outside the mockingly titled "Officer's Club" than return to the company of the insipid Captains Pierce and Hunnicutt; save for the fact that he'd just barely escaped from the saloon alive.
Voices rung in his head and he gritted his teeth at the pounding headache he'd developed after the bottle of liquor had exploded and landed on his head.
His physical and mental condition bordered on blasphemy, at least it would be considered such in his hometown. But here, in the dark and hot night of Stellian, Georgia, he was alone in his miserable brooding.
Walking along, he felt no danger. The angry man in the bar, Ebenizer, had left to go to another saloon and surely had better things to do than follow around a battered and weary man in the dark. It was an ironic feeling; he was all alone in a strange town full of gun-toting maniacs, and yet he felt nothing but apathy. His near brush with death hadn't left him with any great enlightenment or insight; in fact, the only proof that there had been any conflict at all was a small cut on his forehead and the disgusting smell of liquor that surrounded him like a cloud.
The humiliation. He closed his eyes and felt a groan rise out of his throat. Were he not careful, that groan could easily transform into the shriek of a madman. But, above all, Winchester was a man of self-control, and he simply left it at a frustrated snort and continued walking along, rubbing his eyes.
It wasn't, however, a night for taking your eyes off the road, and before Charles could even acknowledge it, he felt himself collide with another pedestrian coming the opposite way. He opened his eyes in a flash and realized that the person had already passed him.
"Oh, pardon me." he said quietly.
The other party was silent for a moment, standing still behind him. Then, the party spoke.
"That... that voice!"
Charles frowned. That was no sort of apology. "Excuse me?" He asked, never turning to see the person behind him.
"That voice!! I KNOW that voice!!!" The tone was excited, clearly very intent on something.
It was then that Charles realized that he, too, knew the voice of the party he collided with.
He whirled around, thoughts of violence, anger and hatred racing through his mind. At the same time, a figure nearly a foot shorter than he was also whirling around to face him. As the figure twirled, billowing red and white skirts flew in an elegant arc and two neatly gloved hands flew up to the figure's chest, clutching one another.
Charles' eyes narrowed.
The other person's eyes widened.
"YOU!!" Charles roared.
"YOU!!!" The other person squealed.
It was clearly the woman from the bar, Charles reassured himself. Up close, she was even more oddly homely than from a distance. Her hair was, however, rather differently styled than it had previously been; now it was hanging down in her face clumsily, and unless Charles was mistaken, several blatantly obvious seams were present on the underside of the hair. So it was fake!!
"You... cowardly bitty! Do you have any idea what nearly became of me?!" He screamed.
The woman looked at him quizzically, her hands still clutched together. "What do you mean, sir?"
"You simply ran off, leaving that loathsome barbarian and I alone together! I was nearly killed while trying to escape from your inconsequential little spat!"
"Oh, you don't say." The woman said casually.
"'OH, I DON'T SAY'?! Is that all you have to say for yourself?!"
"No, not at all sir. That wasn't at all what I meant to say!" The woman nervously wrung her hands, looking at the ground.
"Young woman, I shall not be led astray by your womanhood. You left me to die and I shall not forget that!"
The girl looked up in surprise, and then suddenly a huge, giddy smile lit up her entire face. Before Charles knew what had happened, she launched herself at him and buried her face in his shirt, sobs racking her body.
"Oh, sir, it was so horrible!! That evil man Ebenizer had plans to dishonor me! I was so afraid, I don't know what came over me when I struck him that way! It was so frightening! I'm so sorry I ran the way I did, but he wouldn't hesitate to kill a lady! You distracted him, and I was going to get help! Honestly!!! He's run afoul of the law ever since we met, and I was always so afraid to leave him! But now, I think I'm finally rid of him! Oh, sir, I'm free, and it's all thanks to you!!!"
Charles tried to step away from the leach-like grasp of the young woman, but to no avail. She sobbed against him and he looked around to make sure no one was watching yet even still more public shaming.
"Shhh!! Be quiet, woman! Shut up! Someone will hear you!! Let go of me!"
The girl tipped her head back and wailed, and then resumed her muffled sobbing. Charles grabbed her arms and forcefully wrenched her back from himself. Bending down so that he was at eye level with the woman, he realized that she'd never been crying at all, and a large cheerful smile still filled her face.
"Get that ridiculous expression off of your face." Charles said bitterly, and she complied, replacing her grin with a raised eyebrow. Charles gave up and dropped her wrists, turning to leave.
"Sir, wait! You can't leave!"
He laughed heartily. "Can't I?"
"No! I mean... you can't leave me all alone! What if Ebenizer comes back for me?"
"Young woman, that is none of my concern!"
"Of course it is!! You defended my honor, and that means I'm in your debt. And surely Ebenizer wouldn't dare touch a big, strong man like you!"
"You'll not win me over with poorly-conceived strokes to my ego, I'm afraid. Good night."
"You'd leave a damsel in distress out in the cold, cruel night with raging alcoholics after her?!?" The girl screamed incredulously. Her voice was a grating sound that made Charles wince in pain.
"Show me a damsel in distress and perhaps we can talk."
"What?! It's me, you big dummy!!"
"You! You are no damsel, my dear. You are a withered raisin with a voice that could kill a horse."
"Well you don't have to be MEAN about it! Here all this time I thought you were brave and heroic!"
"PLEASE, young woman! Your conduct is absolutely deplorable!"
"Huh?!"
"Where are your manners?! A young lady ought to be demure and well-spoken!" Charles exclaimed, hoping that a jab at the girl's pride would extinguish her unbridled affections for the moment so he could escape.
"I'll have you know that my Mammy thinks I'm quite a catch! "
"Your MAMMY must be blind! Now, I bid you a good evening and hope I have the good fortune to never cross paths with you again!" He whirled around lividly and began to stalk off.
"Hey! You're going the wrong way!"
Charles stopped, and turned back to face her, shaking his finger. "Ah, you think you're clever, don't you? Trying to lure me into some sort of seduction, no doubt. Hmm? Well, I must say you certainly are a brazen and cheeky hussy!!"
"Nothing but the best for... say, you never told me your name."
"And it shall stay that way! Good-bye!" He resumed his skulking as, somewhere in the distance, thunder rolled. A bolt of lightning suddenly illuminated the dirty night street and Charles had only taken a few short steps before he felt that irksome girl breathing behind him.
"You meddlesome twit. You're following me." He hissed.
"It's gonna rain! I'm not staying out here all alone in the rain. I'm going home! YOU'RE still going the wrong way!" She shot back.
Charles stopped, as he had done so many times before. "Are you implying that I, Charles Emerson Winchester III, can not tell the difference between north and south?!"
The girl's eyes lit up. "Charles Emerson Winchester III. That sounds so impressive!"
"You shall forget that I ever uttered that name in your presence and stop following me at once!"
"I told you already! I'm not following you! You're going the wrong way! And it's not my fault you have such a pretty name."
"My name is most certainly not 'pretty'."
"Sure it is! Since you've so generously bestowed upon little old me the gracious gift of your identity, allow me to introduce myself."
"Madame, I could care less who you are."
"Magnolia Q. Klinger. Well, Magnolia's not my *real* name, but it fits me rather well, doesn't it?"
"Like a glove." Charles said flippantly. Unfortunately, Magnolia didn't pick up on the sarcasm and beamed.
"Oh, sir, you flatter me! I'm feeling faint!"
"Good, do me a favor and fall down right here. Perhaps THEN..."
"Ha ha! No sir, you aren't so easily rid of Miss Magnolia. That's what they all call me when they're vying for my affections. I've turned down every man in this town at least once. Those southern men can talk a blue streak about sending flutters through the hearts of women, but they cry like babies when you tell them that there will never be anything more than a sweet summer breeze under the magnolia tree branches, a gentle squeeze of his hand and a sip of lemon-- HEY!! WHERE ARE YOU GOING?!?"
Charles had been trotting along for a good 20 seconds before Magnolia noticed that she was speaking to a shadow. He'd made good time and was nearly a block away. When he heard her voice rise, he realized that she was on to him and he grabbed a long stick that had been lying in the grass. Magnolia gathered up her skirts and raced toward him, but he held his ground rather well and held the stick out as a warning.
"Don't come any closer, you malodorous shrew!" He snarled.
"How dare you run away from me while I'm talking?!" Magnolia whined.
"I obviously can't get away from you any other way! You are the sole most infuriating person I've ever encountered! To HELL with my contract! If the entire city is like you, I'd be better off in prison!"
"What contract?! Prison?!"
"At least in prison I can count on regular meals and no racy amazonesses who can't take no for an answer!"
"Why would you go to prison?"
"That is none of your concern! I am going to walk away now, and if you dare follow me, I assure you you will regret it. Do you understand?!"
"But..." Magnolia protested, as lightning struck once again.
A moment later, the very sky seemed to split apart and torrants of rain cascaded to the earth. Charles took this opportunity and marched away, leaving Magnolia with her hands clasped, yet another warning dying on her lips.
Indeed, Charles was going the wrong way. The absolute opposite way, and he suddenly found himself back in front of the Officers' Club, which was now darkened and vacant.
"*My* house is this way." Magnolia said from somewhere behind him. He gritted his teeth and turned around silently, refusing to acknowledge her. He was wet from the sudden downpour and wanted nothing more than to go lie under his bed and stew.
As he passed her now-drenched figure, he refused to meet her eyes or even mutter an "excuse me" as their bodies brushed against each other. She, however, turned around to face his angrily stormy eyes, and suddenly her hand shot upward, blocking his movement and curiously examining his long-forgotten injury.
"How did that happen?" She asked softly, her voice sounding so completely different Charles was momentarily convinced that someone else had said it. But alas, there was nobody there on the sidewalk but himself and Magnolia, whose flowered hat was drooping with the pressure of the falling rain.
"Your... beau. I told you, I was nearly killed!" He exclaimed angrily.
Thunder echoed his sentiments and Magnolia gazed intently at the dried blood. In the dim light and with the rain surrounding her, she was no more comely than before; what with her soaked clothes, ruined hat and black wig that looked like a drowned rat. But something about her eyes was different, and despite the fact that the only physical change was increased pupil size, they seemed to carry a sort of soul in them that hadn't been present before.
Charles' own icy blue eyes had been full of anger and annoyance, but he felt his brow loosening itself despite the anger that still remained inside his chest. The clumsy, irritating person who only a moment ago ran away like a cowardly child had a surprisingly gentle yet sturdy hand, and seemed genuinely concerned.
"I'm sorry." Magnolia said quietly. "It's my fault this happened."
"Well, yes, it is... but I shouldn't judge myself too harshly. It's.. just a small.. erm... injury." He would have ordinarily elaborated on the intense, burning pain that he was in due to the cut, but it didn't seem worth it.
Magnolia's hand lingered on Charles' forehead for a minute longer, and then her hand shot down to her mouth to cover a sneeze.
"Um.. Miss Magnolia.. it is rather late.. and raining. Why don't you just go on home, and we can forget this ugly mess ever took place, hmm?"
Magnolia sniffled and wiped her nose with the back of her glove. "Oh, sir, I've been such a burden on you. I simply won't be able to live with myself until we've made amends somehow!"
"No!" Charles exclaimed, and then laughed nervously. "That is to say.. it's been no burden at all. I shall leave this experience none the worse for wear, and so shall you. Now, I'll be on my way, and you can go home to your... erm.. mammy."
"Well, I suppose you're right, I should get some rest before the picnic to-- OH!!!" Her head snapped upward and a huge grin replaced her somber expression. "THE PICNIC! I completely forgot, what a silly bird! You simply must come to my picnic tomorrow! The whole of Stellian will be there!"
"I.. I'm afraid not." He said with finality in his voice. The comforting smile on his lips was beginning to fade.
"I simply won't stand for a refusal! Oh, how perfect! You can join me at the picnic and I'll tell all the men about the gallant yankee who came to the rescue of poor lil' Miss Magnolia! And my father, who is a rather influential figure in the town government, oh, he'll be so pleased..."
"Now, just a moment!" Charles stammered, but Magnolia had taken to twirling around in the pouring rain, squealing with pleasure.
It was then that the words "Influential figure in the town government" struck Charles, and his eyes widened.
"Did.. did you say influential..."
"It'll be wonderful! Just wonderful! It'll begin at noon sharp, and light dancing and socializing, followed by tea and those magnificent little cakes, and watermelon and an evening soiret, I'll wear my best linen and lace, oh, and how perfect that you should come along now! I was going with Ebenizer as my beau, but that would be just silly now!!"
"How... influential?" Charles inquired loudly, totally disregarding Magnolia's eager rambling.
"How influential? Oh, not very, I'm afraid. He says jump, the whole of Stellian replies, 'how high, grand poobah'..."
"Could this man.. your.. er-hem.. father.. could he nullify a contract?"
"Not a military one." Magnolia said with sullenness in her voice.
"Of COURSE not a military one! A simple civilian employment contract. Could he void it?"
"Hhmmmmm... maybe. It all depends on how many dances you're free for."
"How... many... dances." Charles repeated, his face falling.
"Well, of course! He won't do it for free! But... if you're willing to show Daddy what a gentleman you are and how well you treat his little Magnolia, I think something could be arranged. Otherwise, absolutely not."
"That is blackmail!!"
"I resent that! It most certainly is not! It's just... a shameless bribe."
"I would sooner spend all eternity in the purgatory on earth known as the M*A*S*H 4077th than be indebted to you in such a degrading fashion!" Charles laughed haughtily.
Magnolia scowled. "You're despicable!"
"You are an utter fiend!"
"You're soaking wet!"
"At least my hair is real!"
"What there IS of it!"
"You miserable cretin!"
"You belligerant jackass!"
"Miss Magnolia?"
"What?"
"Were I to attend your little get-together, I would be correct in assuming that because I provided an escape for you and thus, you were first indebted to me, the few gay little dances we er.. enjoy together would be due reciprocation, correct?"
Magnolia blinked. "Sure, I suppose so. But I thought I was a miserable cretin and you'd sooner die..."
Charles laughed lightly, raising his hands up. "A thing of the past. You see, I am truly in a rather desperate position.. and I assure you that this would never ever take place were you not already in my debt. You understand that, correct?" His face turned to stone.
Magnolia nodded, slinking backwards a step.
"Very well then. I shall attend your social function, we shall have a few dances and then you shall talk to your father."
"Meaning what afterwards, exactly?"
"I shall no longer have an obligation to my foolish employer and I will be free to suppress this entire sordid experience and return to Boston!"
"Well, wait a minute. Sometimes dances can lead to more. It wouldn't be... such a stretch to imagine the two of us going biblical."
Charles' jaw dropped and his eyes narrowed. "You tawdry seductress!"
Magnolia's eyes glittered and she frolicked about in the rain, belting out a painfully out of tune rendition of "Yankee Doodle".
"You.. you truly make me sick." Charles growled as she skipped around him.
"Stroke of midnight!" Magnolia exclaimed, hearing a distant clock chime above the rainfall. "A kiss for the lady?"
"No."
"You have to! Stroke of midnight is the witching hour. I'll transform into a horrible witch unless a handsome prince can break the spell before the clock hits twelve dings."
"I shouldn't worry. No one would be able to tell the difference."
Magnolia jutted out her lower lip and crossed her arms. "That isn't funny. Large noses are becoming. That's three strokes!"
"I am not going to kiss you."
"Four!"
"Go home! Isn't it enough that I've agreed to make a complete ass of myself at your ridiculous party?!"
"Five!"
"No? Then I'll leave!"
"Six!"
"Be quiet!"
"Seven!"
"You are deluding yourself!"
"Eight!"
"Shut up!"
"Nine!"
"I am walking away from you."
"Ten!"
"Here I go!"
"Eleven!"
"You are a complete and utter--"
"TWELVE!!" Magnolia screamed, and launched herself at Charles. In one split second, she grabbed onto him and shoved her lips against his.
The clock completed its' chiming, and as the last note fell away into darkness, the rain continued to spill down onto the dark street. Surrounded by the cold night air, the falling rain and the silence of a gloomy night, Charles Emerson Winchester III and Miss Magnolia found no reason to speak again that night. They came away from each other just as suddenly as they'd come together, and Miss Magnolia grinned and walked back down the badly-beaten path as though nothing had happened.
Charles watched her go in silence, his eyes fixed intently on the swishing white skirt with its red trim, the fake black hair that hung unevenly down her back, the drenched hat with its perky silk flowers, and the strange air she carried with her.
Magnolia skipped as soon as she knew she was out of his sight, and she pulled the hat off her head and tossed it like a discus, eagerly watching as it sailed on the wind and landed on the ground several yards away. She pulled the disgustingly wet wig off her head and exposed her real hair; short, thick and black, to the wind and the rain.
Her hair was very short, as was typical for a person of her political and social standing. Because after all, Magnolia Q. Klinger was not at all her father's little Magnolia. Indeed, she'd become that in recent years and with the care she took to maintain her womanly exterior she was laughingly referred to as Magnolia Klinger by everyone in town.
However, the fact that she had been christened Maxwell by her parents and the Magnolia was a leftover personage from the days when Maxwell was desperate to avoid the draft at all costs wasn't something Charles had ever been informed of.
Rather unfortunate.
As "Magnolia" entered the front door, "she" became "he". But despite that, he did have a picnic to prepare for tomorrow. French curls would be lovely for the event, he mused. Absolutely lovely.
***