Free Courting Trouble by Deeanne Gist

back, he stomped to the storage room and shoved the enhancer back up on the top shelf.
    ————
    Settling herself onto the piano stool in the parlor, Essie allowed her fingers to move across the keys, playing Beethoven’s ‘‘Fur Elise’’ by heart. Since childhood, Essie had whiled away the hours sitting at the keyboard. And this was the piece she always played when she wanted to indulge a particular fantasy—an idyllic afternoon being romanced by her imaginary beau.
    During the prelude, they picnicked beside Two Bit Creek and fed each other bites of egg salad sandwiches. His lips grazed her finger accidentally. She blushed and pulled her hand away.
    As the interlude began, they swung up onto their horses and raced neck-and-neck around Waller’s Bend, their mounts stretching and straining forward. At the last moment, she bent down, urging the horse forward, and pulled ahead of her cavalier. She hadn’t realized, of course, that he had held his horse back, allowing hers to win.
    The piece moved into a crescendo, and she pulled her mount to a stop. He drew his horse next to hers and brought her hand up to his lips for a kiss.
    A knock at the front door interrupted her musings, but not her music. She softened the notes while her mother answered the door.
    ‘‘Hello, Melvin. Sullivan’s back in his office.’’
    ‘‘Actually, Doreen,’’ he said, ‘‘I was thinking to enjoy this mild weather we’re havin’. Would you mind telling him I’m waiting for him on the porch?’’
    ‘‘Not at all.’’
    Essie moved into the final lines. Her mother and Uncle Melvin had talked during the part of the music where she married the man of her dreams. Now she and her ‘‘husband’’ sat at a dinner table with a horde of their offspring gathered round. He said a prayer of thanksgiving. For their meal. For their children. And for their everlasting love.
    She left her finger on the final key until all sound faded. This past month, Hamilton had played the part of the gallant in her dreams, but tonight he’d been replaced by Mr. Adam Currington.
    The cowboy embodied the very thing dreams were made of. Exceptional looks. Exceptional charm. Exceptional . . . everything. A man like him would love the out-of-doors. Animals. Riding. Fishing. She closed her eyes, reliving their shared intimacy, feeling once more the tingles that had run down her leg this morning.
    Dusk settled in, but she didn’t light a lantern. Instead, she sat still on the piano stool, unmoving in the growing dark. A breeze fanned the curtains along the front wall, bringing with it Papa and Uncle Melvin’s voices from the porch as they discussed the prophecies of Isaiah. The conversation eventually drifted from Scriptures to town happenings. When Adam’s name was mentioned, though, Essie’s senses came to attention.
    ‘‘You know much about him?’’ the sheriff asked.
    ‘‘He told the Club he’d lived in the desert so long he knew all the lizards by their front names and was ready for a change.’’
    Essie smiled. Sounded like something Adam would say.
    ‘‘Well, he sure had all the ladies at the Slap Out in a twitter.’’
    ‘‘I can just imagine,’’ Papa said with a laugh.
    ‘‘Speaking of ladies in a twitter,’’ the sheriff continued, ‘‘how’s things between Crook and our girl?’’
    ‘‘Strangest thing,’’ Papa said. ‘‘Doreen was so sure Essie was making a fool of herself chasing after him up at his store and all—’’
    ‘‘I wouldn’t say she was chasing him, exactly.’’
    ‘‘—but I’ll have you know he approached me after church last Sunday and asked to come speak with me this week.’’
    The creaking of Uncle Melvin’s rocker came to a stop. ‘‘Is he going to make a declaration, do you think?’’
    ‘‘What else could it be?’’
    Essie’s heart galloped.
    ‘‘Think he’s good enough for her?’’ Uncle Melvin asked.
    ‘‘If Essie thinks so, then I don’t see I’ll have much