Leta could see them across the room, like a pack—her date Mr. Butts, the minister she had a back seat dalliance with and the minister’s overly pleasant wife. She was regretting that she agreed to come to the afternoon lecture on flowers, but she was there, and so were they, waiting for her. She walked over to them, and Mr. Butts handed her a glass of lemonade.
"Thank you," she said, wishing it had a large splash of vodka. She downed it like it did, however.
"We've been talking," Mr. Butts said, "and Dorothy was telling me how she loves African violets, too."
"Only I can't keep them alive," she added sadly. "They just die on me."
There was a kind of pleading in her eyes for assistance, and when Leta turned her attention briefly to the minister, he had the same look for, obviously, a very different reason.
"Are you sure you have the right soil?" Leta asked. "Violets require a specific soil mixture."
"Well..." Dot stammered, looking over to her disapproving husband. "...Reverend?"
Leta was startled, and dismayed. Dot called her husband by his title? What kind of place had Mr. Butts brought her to?
"Of course, Dot," the minister said authoritatively, "you must use the proper soil."
Dot looked at him quizzically, and quickly put her chubby hand to her mouth to signal to herself that she had better not respond. Still, Leta understood the signal. The boorish flower specialist had been the one to insist that one soil was as good as any other for a plant.
Some sort of argument was brewing, and she wanted to be out of there before it did. Mr. Butts seemed to sense the same and suggested that they depart to leave the church folk to resume their day of rest. As they thanked their hosts again for the lecture, hospitality and conversation, Leta and Mr. Butts excused themselves. She shook Dot's limp hand once again, and felt sorry for the other woman, not only because her husband was seeking sexual and emotional satisfaction outside of their marriage, but also because she was devoted to him.
"Shall we get a bite to eat?" Mr. Butts asked her when they were back on the sunshine.
While Leta simply wanted to go home, she said yes. She was hungry, and there was something unusually sincere and present in his demeanor. It made her curious, because he could not have any particular pleasure from the last few minutes with the minister and his wife, which had been awkward at best. But there was, looking at her and exuding a warmth she had not felt so far in their acquaintance.
After the server took their order, he asked her about the lecture, and she replied that she hadn't found the minister that knowledgeable about the subject, at least not more knowledgeable than she, and she never considered herself an expert. He agreed, and shared that the presentation was more of a recruitment tool, to draw people into the parish. When she was in the lavatory, they had applied no little pressure in getting him to return for worship.
"I told him that we were already members of other churches, but it didn't stop them," he said. "I was glad when you returned."
"I don't have much patience with that sort of thing," she noted.
She sipped her tea, its warmth flowing into her body and relaxing her. This day wasn't turning out so badly after all.
The next thing she knew, Mr. Butts had pulled his chair closer to hers and took her left hand in his.
"Mrs. Bassett--Leta," he said, looking her right in the eyes. She had never noticed that for such a fair-skinned man he had very dark eyes. She looked right back at him. "I like being with you, even when we're doing something neither of us much likes. And I'd like for us to be together all the time. As man and wife.
"Now, I know that we haven't known each other very long," he continued, but we're neither of us getting any younger, and before too much longer I'm going to be really busy with the harvest. I'd like you to be there with me. So what I'm asking is if you'll marry me."
Leta was more surprised by her own reaction than she was by Arthur's proposal. She realized that she also wanted to marry him, and so she agreed.
The End
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