Page 43 of My Darling Clementine

Clem nodded after him, then turned to the eager faces of the young women. Both Blair girls watched her with hopeful eyes, but Debbie gave a discreet nod in another’s direction. With a smile, Clem turned to the open-mouthed Gabby. “How about you, pretty girl? Will you dance with me?”

The fifteen-year-old turned as red as her hair, but jumped up. “I don’t know how, but I’d love to try.” Her blush darkened. “I stood on my father’s feet once… I think I remember… almost.” She sounded confused.

“Take off your shoes,” said Clem. Ignoring the big toe sticking through an unmended hole, she nodded down at her own black leather shoes. “Okay,” she said, taking one of Gabby’s hands, “put one foot on top of each of mine.” She swung her left arm around the girl’s waist and stepped forward, then back. “Good, that’s good. Put your hand on my shoulder and you’ll feel my arm at your back. That will tell you which direction I’m moving. Like this…” She danced them to the edge of the crowd, keeping out of people’s way while continuing the lesson.

“Now, I’m going to change my step patterns, quick, quick, slow… quick, quick, quick… slow, slow… quick slow quick…”

Gabby zigged instead of zagging, choked up, and hopped off her feet, blushing beet red. Out of the corner of her eye, Clem saw Lucille Blair smirk while Debbie glowered at her.

A patience she seldom felt settled over her as she tugged the embarrassed girl back onto her feet. “Don’t worry, you’re doing very well. Let’s try again.” Her supportive arm tightened around Gabby, lifting some of the girl’s weight and making it easier for her to follow the steps. Without another word, she swept them in and among the dancers. The teen’s feet rested on her own as she taught her the fundamentals.

During their second dance, Gabby no longer watched their feet, secure in the steps and patterns. By the end of the third, she’d begun dancing on her own two feet, smiling with glee at her success.

Clem looked down at Gabby dancing in her arms with the wreath of flowers still in her hair. Not knowing why, she said, “If you ever make it out to California, I want you to look for us in Mokelumne Hill, or ask in Angel’s Creek. Can you remember those names?”

“Mokeyloomie, probably not.” Honest green eyes stared up at Clem as with quick, sure feet Gabby kept up. “But I can remember you and Kizzy are in Angel Creek, Mr. Dennison.” A wide grin spread across her face. “That’s easy, I think you two might really be angels.”

Smiling at the earnest girl, she said, “You can call me Clem, Gabby. We’re not, believe me, but you’re mighty sweet for thinking so. Don’t forget, now; the Dennisons of Angel Creek.” When the dance ended, she led her back to the women’s table, bowed deep, and kissed her work-roughened hand. “Thank you. I enjoyed our dance, Miss Gabby.”

It meant something to her, seeing the girl gain a little self-confidence, but Kizzy’s approving gaze meant more. She pulled out Gabby’s chair for her.

“Uh, me too, Mr. Dennison, uh, Clem.” Adoration lit her bright eyes.

“Would you like another partner?” asked Lucille, ready to volunteer.

“I would, indeed, and I have one in mind,” said Clem, leaning over Kizzy’s shoulder to kiss her cheek. “My charming wife,” she said, “if she’ll come to my arms.”

“With pleasure, sir.” Kizzy jumped up from her seat.

They entered during a waltz, swinging among the other couples. “Tell me, how does a prim and proper minister’s daughter dance so well?” Clem’s hand rested on her waist.

Teasing blue eyes answered hers. “How did a newspaperman’s son,” her eyes lowered as she did not emphasize the word, “learn, then?”

Clem leaned down and whispered in her ear. “Finishing school. Dad sent me away to learn how to be a lady. The dance teacher always let me lead.”

Kizzy whispered back, their cheeks brushing, “I learned at Mrs. Higgleworth’s School of Deportment. My mother sent me away to ride out my first scandal.”

“First?” Clem leaned back to look at her.

Kizzy shrugged her bare shoulders. “You might as well know,” she pulled Clem down to whisper again, “I seduce women.”

Clem let loose a loud guffaw, still leading in perfect step with the music. “How well I know.” Swirling Kizzy around in delight, she snickered. “I seduced a few myself, during my days at the Boston Finishing School for Young Ladies. At least we both know which forks to use.”

“Among other useful talents,” agreed Kizzy with a low chuckle.

Her melodic voice, not to mention innuendo, set Clem’s loins aflame. With a gentle sweeping gesture, she raised her hand from the small of Kizzy’s back to caress the wide expanse of bare shoulder. Trailing along her neck to finger first the pearl necklace, and then earrings, she said, “These are lovely.”

Kizzy shivered under her touch. “They were my grandmother’s. Mama put them in a purse with some money before I left, and told me to keep them in my bloomers.”

Clem couldn’t help snorting. “I like your mother.” Keeping step with the music, she flicked the pretty earring. “They look perfect with my mother’s dress, but I bet they’re even more enchanting when you’re naked.” Clem leaned down and kissed her, something she would never do on any other night in any other place, and whispered against her lips, “It’s nearing midnight, my bride. Are you ready to go upstairs an innocent girl, and lose your virginity?” She dropped her hand to her waist, then even lower, and patted her bottom.

“What are you doing?” Kizzy asked, blushing at her boldness. “Everyone’s watching us.”

“Which is why I’m doing it,” said Clem, closing for another kiss, a more insistent one. When she pulled back, she sent a nod and wink to Mr. and Mrs. Blair, who raised their glasses in salute, then looked at each other with distinct fondness. “We won’t be the only ones retiring early.” Her fingers ran along the tops of Kizzy’s shoulders, tracing tender skin. “After they hear me “take” you, tradition and their prurient interest satisfied, they’ll soon find reasons to slip away.”

“Hear you? Take me? What do you mean?” Kizzy’s large eyes grew enormous when Clem waggled an eyebrow, leering. “They’re going to listen to us… as you… to find out if I’m a…?”

“A tradition out here, it’s taken as definitive proof you’re a virgin, my dear. I’ve been told it happens at all the best wedding nights.” Clem laughed, looking over her shoulder and around the room, meeting indulgent and curious eyes, answering smiles here and there. “True, it’s usually a half-deaf uncle and a widowed aunt who hover outside the bedroom door to proclaim the woman’s loss of innocence, but nothing is too good for my wife. You shall have a crowd of fifty or more as your witnesses.” She held her breath as the idea sank in, watching Kizzy blanch, flush beet red, and then hide her face in Clem’s shoulder.