Kitty Hypothermia-Pet's in the water

Following is a second excerpt from Letters to Aunt Hattie:

 Hattie walked across the cabin floor pulling the broom with her trying to clean. ‘What is the use,’ she thought, ‘it will be dirty again soon anyway. ‘   She stopped next to the fireplace placing her hand atop the mantle to rest for a minute.  The fireplace, made from rough, hand-made red bricks was the focal point of the main cabin area.  Covering the floor in front of the fireplace was a huge, red and tan, hand-braided rug; the rug was old but still in good shape.  On the wall opposite and directly in front of the fireplace was the front door.  When someone visited they could choose to sit in her rocking chair, an armless chair or the double-seat wood frame bench.  The bench was placed to the left of and parallel to the fireplace; whereas, the armless chair spent much of its time these days shoved against the wall to the left of the fireplace.  The rocking chair was Hattie’s favorite because it had been a wedding gift from John.  She walked forward then bracing herself on the arms of the rocker slowly lowered herself onto the seat cushion.  It felt good to sit.  “This chair is old,” she mused and then added, “I’m old too.”  She was only fifteen when she and John were married; she would be fifty-eight next month.  “Where had all the time gone?” she asked not expecting anyone to answer. 

She and John had met at the county fair.  She won a blue ribbon with her apple preserves and he had won her heart.  Hattie knew she wanted to marry him even before they were introduced.  She was placing jars of preserves on the judging table when she’d noticed John standing next to the judge’s table.  He was talking with Joseph Prance the town’s magistrate.  Joseph’s eldest son, Joe was standing behind his father and waved when he saw Hattie looking in their direction.  She waved back.  She and Joe were the same age, had been in grammar school together and most people thought they would marry one day.  Hattie had believed that too at least until this moment.  She had to meet the tall man with the wavy, dark brown hair.  She walked over to the trio and greeted the Prance’s.

“Good Morning Mr. Prance,” turning to look at Joe Hattie added, “morning Joe, how are you today?”

“Good morning, Hattie” Mr. Prance responded.  “I hear I’ll be judging your preserves this year rather than your mother’s.”  It was a statement rather than a question.  Mr. Prance was an honest, fair man and Hattie was confident her jam would win only if it was the best.

“Morning Jen” Joe interjected, “I love your apple-butter and it should win.  I told my dad…”

“I only want to win if my jam really is the best.”

“You can rely on me to be honest Hattie whether I’m presiding over a case or judging jam.”

“Thank you.”  Hattie glanced at the tall man.

“Oh, please forgive my manners” Mr. Prance said, “This is, John Cableson, the son of a former classmate of mine who is visiting from New York.  And John this is Hattie Scott my neighbor’s daughter.”  

“Miss Scott.”

“Mr. Cableson,” Hattie smiled up at him and nodded her head; he nodded and smiled back.  Hattie stood as if frozen by the smile it was wide and welcoming.  She had noticed neither the jealousy that flashed across Joe’s face nor the disapproval that showed on Mr. Prance’s face. 

“I just wanted to say hello.  I must get back to help mother,” Hattie explained before turning and walking back to the table of blue-ribbon hopefuls.  She was thinking of walking in the park by the river and didn’t see Paul and Stuart, Joe’s five year old twin brothers, running toward their father.  Hattie, Paul and Stuart collided and the basket Hattie was carrying slipped off her wrist spilling the contents onto the grass. 

“Boy, boys,” Mr. Prance hollered as he, Joe and John hurried over to help.  “You should watch where you’re going.”

“Are you all right, Miss Scott,” Mr. Cableson expressed concern as he extended his hand to help here up.  His voice was deep but clear; and, his hand was warm and strong unlike Joe’s soft and delicate grasp.  Once on her feet again Hattie and John were standing close, too close for acquaintances.  This time Hattie did notice the look on Joe’s face and stepped back so quickly that she nearly fell again.   Mr. Cableson slid one arm around her waist and with the other grasped her hand to help her steady herself.  She had like standing next to him but liked being in his arms even more.  His embrace was comfortable.  She felt like she belonged there and for a brief moment believed she did.  Hattie knew John would take care of her, keep her safe.  She wasn’t sure just how she was going to make it happen but she knew she and John were meant to be together.  Joe’s gentle tug on her forearm scattered her daydream.

“Hattie,” Joe pulled Hattie toward him, “are you okay?”

‘Yes, Joe,” she tried not to sound annoyed but she was.  Joe didn’t own her, hadn’t even asked her to go steady, so why should he care who she liked.  Matter of fact during their last talk Joe had expressed reservations about getting serious until after he returned from study in England.  He’d asked her to go with him but she’d refused.  Hattie had no interest of traveling to England.  Her friends and family were here.  Hattie brushed a few blades of grass from her skirt.

“Thank you, Mr. Cableson for your help.  I hope you enjoy your stay,” she added after taking back her basket which he had picked up off the ground and replaced the contents.  As Hattie hurried back to her mother she had wondered if Mr. Cableson might like her too.  There was a gleam in his eye when he gave back her basket; although, that could have been amusement over her clumsiness. 

Hattie received her answer the following week when Mr. Cableson called on her.  They sat on the front porch talking about the County Fair and Hattie’s blue ribbon.  She’s served him tea and fresh bread with a jar of her apple butter.  It was the first of many meetings they would have that September.  Joe never stopped by once despite the fact that he had to pass her home on his way home.  Towards the end of September, on a hot afternoon, Hattie returned from the grocer to find John and her parents talking on the front porch.  John had asked for permission to marry her.  She learned later that the conversation hadn’t started well; however, John had convinced him that Hattie would be well cared for because he loved her.  They were married two weeks later; one week after Joe Prance had left for England.