Summer's unexpected embrace

The air was heavy with the promise of a scorching season ahead. Global warming they labelled it. Charlotte hadn't made up her mind if she believed in all that. She had to admit that the summers had become hotter as she aged. How she had detested summer as a young girl growing up. " Well, you must suck it up," her mother would order. "That corn is not going to plant itself and you know that I need all hands-on deck."

All around her people were preparing for the hot season. Inflatable pools of all shapes and sizes were scattered on lawns; barbecues were being set up in every yard. Soon the smell of grilled chicken would waft through her kitchen windows. Ah chicken. "She smiled to herself as she unlocked the front door to her southern style home." To think there had been a time she could not stand this period of year. Now at 85 years, her mind wandered, as it often did as she reminisced over how that had changed in the summer of 1965.

At the age of 23, Charlotte had already managed to bring shame upon her family. The reason was that she had failed to catch the attention of the numerous suitors in their tiny village. Numerous had been an overstatement. The village of Saint Avalon had been made up of a population of four hundred. There really had not been many fish in that pond.

"When are you going to tell mother that George proposed to you?" her sister had ceaselessly questioned every night since the proposal. She had been trying with everything in her to forget about that.

"You want her to continue thinking that you bring humiliation to her? You know she thinks that you will die a spinster, right?"

She lightly pulled her sister's hair as she was braiding it, in an attempt to shush her up.

"Lower your tone Agnes, she will hear you. It is absolutely not in my plans to tell her." She finished French braiding her sister's long blonde hair. Charlotte did not like to admit it, but she was jealous of her sister's fair hair. Everywhere they went, people stood to stare. How had it come to be, that while she had been cursed with thick red curly hair that refused to be tamed, her sister had been blessed with the exact opposite? Had it not been for their similar facial features, she would have concluded that they had not been born of the same father. It hadn't escaped her mind that the reason she would die a spinster as her mother said, would be thanks to her hair.

"It is that wretched hair of yours," her mother would spit out. "Everyone knows redheads make terrible wives."

This statement always left her befuddled, because first, who was this everyone her mother went on about? Secondly, a head of fiery wild locks could not be a reason to stay away from a lady, could it? Well obviously not because she had after all managed to catch the attention of George Boudreaux. The one man that no one else wanted. He had probably figured out that they could get together, seeing as no one wanted either of them.

"I would rather grow old surrounded by fifteen cats than be married to George. But enough about this." She got into bed next to her sister and turned off the lamp. You need to concentrate on tomorrow. It is a suitor for you we will be trying to attract. It is to be a grand festival as mother put it. I am already a lost cause," she jokingly finished as she bid her sister goodnight.

24 June, Charlotte dreaded that day with every atom she was made up of. Magical things were said to happen on that night. Her childhood friends, all three of them had found "the one" at the summer celebration. Magical things did indeed take place, just not for her. She had been waiting for five years, ever since her 18th birthday. As a matter of fact, she had stopped waiting. One had to know when to give up with grace and while their dignity was still intact. This would be her first time attending the celebrations since her 19th birthday. She was doing this as a favour to her younger sister who was making her entrance into society.

"She will need a chaperone. I cannot be the one to do it, seeing as I do not want to take away all the attention from her," their mother had proudly stated, highly overestimating herself. It had been decided that Charlotte would have to put her needs aside. This would ensure that Agnes did not bring shame upon the family, as she had done. It was during times like these she felt the hollow ditch her father had left in his life upon his passing two years prior. He had always known what to say to pacify her mother's sharp tongue. How was it that she was the one stuck with red hair; a trait linked to a sharp temper when she had anything but? The universe had played a cruel trick on her. She would do what needed to be done for her sister. Whatever mean remarks people had to say, she could easily ignore those. She had for years.

As Charlotte found out the next evening, it was indeed to be a grand festival just as her mother had described. It turned out that this year was to be the grandest Midsummer eve party their little village had seen. Someone had come up with the bright idea to include the surrounding villages to add more to the merry. Excitement hummed in the night as her sister's eyes widened in surprise.

"Never have I ever seen anything more exquisite!" It gave Charlotte comfort to know that Agnes would have a good time. Exquisite is the exact word she would have used to describe her sister. Already, she had managed to draw the attention of numerous suitors. She was not sure if her sister would find love that night, but it would happen soon. She questioned if she looked a quarter as decent as her sister. Having settled for what she considered her best dress; an ankle length yellow chiffon thing, she felt good. Mother had approved, "it pairs off well with that unruly head of yours." Sometimes she managed to ignore the irritation that her mother's words stirred up. That night was one of the times that she had fortunately succeeded in doing so. She had decided that she was going to be happy for her sister.

Agnes joined the train of young ladies expectantly waiting to be asked for a dance. Charlotte stood with her. It did not take long for this to happen. Her sister squealed with joy as she was led to the makeshift dancefloor. She saw no reason to keep standing with the other girls, because no one was going to ask this old maid for a dance. She felt a bit famished and decided that it was time to try some of the good-looking chicken she had spotted earlier on. Growing up in her mother's household, chicken had been cooked the same way. The dullest way to possibly cook a bird, boiled with a bit of sea salt. One evening, Charlotte had dared to question her mother as to why she cooked it in such "a boring way." She had walked right into that one, for her mother's response had stung her into silence. "Once you get your own household, where you can make your own rules, then you can make your food however you want it. However, I do not see that happening any time ever." Her father had sadly been absent to comfort her. Now faced with all this chicken, prepared in ways she hadn't known existed, she felt like she could eat it all. Her tastebuds danced on her tongue as she took a bite out of some crispy chicken skin.

"If you keep loading up your plate like that, there will be nothing left in five minutes." She looked over to where that comment had come from. Then she looked at her plate. The gentleman was correct. Her plate was full to the brim. Who could blame her? She intended to eat as much as she could, to make up for all those years she had suffered boiled chicken. Then it registered in her mind. This man was teasing her. Looking back at him confirmed it. A mocking smile was plastered on his face.

"Well, if that is what you think, you better start loading up your plate because I do not plan on stopping," she countered as she added a few more pieces.

"Tsk. No man is going to ask you to dance behaving like that." Who even was this strange man, she questioned herself.

"Good thing that isn't what I am here for then," she managed an irritated smile and walked away.

"What if I ask you for a dance, would you deny me?" The tall stranger, as she now noticed, had resorted to following her. Heads started to turn her way. She knew what they were all thinking. She was of the same thought as well; a man was paying her attention. "He is obviously from another village otherwise he wouldn't be talking to her," she picked up from a pair of ladies who watched the scene.

"Sir you do not want to be seen talking to me, trust me." He did not seem to let up. Charlotte walked as fast as her legs would carry her. But this man, with his long sturdy legs easily kept up with her. "Care to explain why that is?"

"As a matter of fact, I do care to explain,just leave me alone." She had meant for that to sound sincere, but there was no way to politely tell someone to go away. Not any she could think of anyway. A big hand circled her arm, "Not until you dance with me will I go away." Panic crept up her face. The music seemed to be fading out. She just knew that everyone was looking at the scene unfolding in front of them. She looked at her plate of chicken, then back to the stranger. Charlotte took one last bite,more to calm her nerves than anything, then she wiped her clammy hands on her dress. She allowed herself to be led on to the dance floor. Everyone seemed to be holding their breath. Or was that just her? The sweet aroma from the maple wood in the bonfire teased her nostrils. How she had always appreciated that smell.It took her back to a time where her father had been her keeper, her best friend. Dancing under the maple trees surrounding their little cottage, standing on her father's feet was her most cherished memory. As she allowed herself to be twirled and swirled around by this man, she tightly hung onto those good feelings from the past. The man had a beautiful smile, and the brightest pair of white teeth she had ever seen. She knew this because he was smiling. At her!She liked his scent. Did she have the right to appreciate the smell of fresh cedar wafting off him?He towered over her; he was easily twenty centimetres taller than her 1.65metres. Fortunately, the band stopped playing, and she could get back to her chicken.She gave a little curtsy and scurried away, ignoring the stupefied gazes aimed towards her. She did not blame them. She herself could not believe that, for the first time in five years someone had asked her to dance. Nevermind that he did not know her or that he was from the next village,she had danced with a tall handsome man. Who smelled like what she imagined a lazy Sunday morning felt like. She would never know. As long as she lived with her mother, there would never be lazy Sunday mornings.

Her plate of chicken was gone from where she had left it." That darned man! Making her way to the buffet, she was deflated to see that there was no more chicken. It was partly her fault. He was following her again,"You know you didn't tell me why-" Charlotte instantly cut him off,anger rising up from her belly. "I told you to leave me alone, now you have cost me my chicken! Do you even understand what a life altering experience it was for me?" He had the audacity to look amused, to look at her like she was crazy. Charlotte knew she was making a scene, but she did not care. She had nothing to risk. Besides maybe her young sister's reputation. She continued her ramble to this stranger, who had cost her the best meal she would probably ever have.

"Why did you not listen to me when i told you to buzz of?" She had also taken to poking him in the chest. Is that how men's chests were built, she wandered to herself. The total opposite of her soft squishy one. She was getting distracted. "Leave me-" He did not give her the chance to finish, for he pulled her into his big arms and crushed his lips onto hers. Once as a little girl, Charlotte had almost been trampled upon by her grandfather's old horse. The fear and panic that had coursed through her veins at the realisation that she may die under the hooves of the great animal had left her paralysed on spot. This had been the total opposite of that terrifying experience. A peace like she had never thought possible descended upon her.In the arms of this stranger, she felt calm,as if this is where she was meant to be. Reality hit her. She was allowing a stranger to kiss her. To steal away her first kiss. She should have probably been grateful to him because with how her life was going, she would died without knowing what it could have been like. That was beside the point. People were watching, they were judging her. By now, a messenger had been sent to her mother. "Charlotte is out there, doing what she does best, soiling your family's name." That is what the message would say. She pushed him away, looked around her in bewilderment. She ran towards home as fast as she could, abandoning Agnes. Lucky for her, mother had not stayed up and she retreated to the haven that was her shared bed. Memories of strong arms and soft lips invaded her dreams all night.

"Wake up Charlotte, there is someone for you at the door." This instantly alerted her from her slumber. "You sure they have the right house?" The morning sun streamed through the curtain.

"I think you are the only Charlotte with wild red hair for miles, so yes. Who is he? He is so handsome, his eyes are dreamy, and he is tall! You danced with him yesterday."

Her stomach somersaulted. A weird sensation. At the same time, she felt a rush of anger bubbling. Putting on her morning gown to appear decent, she hastily made her way to the door.

The sun was already high up in the sky, torturing everything under it at seven in the morning. How she had hated summer. She found Mr. Stranger under the maple tree, making use of the much welcome shade from the sun. He was the perfect picture of cool and handsome. As soon as he spotted her, that amused look from last night found its way onto his face. "I did not think it could get any wilder,your hair" Charlotte automatically smoothed it down. "That will not work, there is no use in trying." He was laughing at her. She should have felt embarrassed, but that wasn't on the list of things coursing through her.

"Mr, why did you kiss me?"

"Archie, and that was only way I knew to stop you from talking."

She took in a deep breath before she continued. The birds had stopped singing. Even they looked on to see how this would play out.

"Archie, in which language do I have to tell you to leave me alone?" That was good, she had not betrayed her anger. She could feel her mother's eyes poking holes through her from behind the window. "You could try in any language you want; it won't work." He had no idea what he was getting himself into.

"I promise you Archie, you do not want to be seen with Saint Avalon's spinster. It will spoil your name."

He folded his hands over his big chest. Goodness, he really was built like a wrestler. "I think I would rather like to be seen with the village's spinster, my name be damned." She knew what this was; the universe playing another trick on her.

"Do not say things you do not mean."

He took one long stride, closing the gap she had carefully put between them.

"Charlotte, I do mean it. Besides, when we get married, you'll move in with me. Noone will know about your spinster situation.

"Five minutes ago, I did not know your name, now you just assume that I will marry you one day. How do you even know my name?"

Was the air getting hotter, or was that all her?

"Charlotte, once I woo you with my charms, you will be asking me to marry you," he said as a rumble of deep laughter came out of him.

"Oh,my Archie, my love, I miss you so much it hurts," Charlotte whispered into the picture of her smiling husband she held onto. "You saved me from growing old surrounded by fifteen cats. Till we meet again soon." A tear landed on the frame, and she quickly wiped it away with her gracefully aged fingers. Charlotte set the picture on her nightstand and a deep sleep enveloped her.