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“Wally, what are you suggesting?” Sally asked with mock indignation, even as the smile remained. “Are you saying that I would ask for the afternoon off from farmwork and come all the way into town just so that you could walk me back home?” Sally led Wally around the corner onto Stage Road, which led south the entire two miles to the Darcy farm. “Well, yes.” Wally raised his arm and the parcel to make it the focus of conversation as they trudged up the slow rise of the hill before them. “A new summer dress?” “Yes.” Sally was no longer smiling, but watching a gaggle of boys play stickball in the middle of the street. “After everything that’s happened and what with me looking after my two sisters plus two hired men, I figured I deserved a nice summer dress or two. But I do confess: I did want to get you alone so you and I could have a long, private talk, Wally. It’s about the dress.” “Well, Sally, how can it be about the dress if you haven’t even made the dress?” Wally sported a frown as he lowered his arm once more. “Well, I’ll need to make a few maternity dresses, Wally,” Sally replied with condescension. Wally watched the childrens’ baseball bounce up the hill ahead of them and slowly roll back down into the black leather glove of a waiting youth. “You know, Sally, the kids of this town could really use a baseball diamond. Imagine how many windows get broken by boys playing on the streets—” “Wally,” Sally uttered with pain in her voice. “Well, if it’s a boy, Sally, you heard it right here—or even if it’s a girl, but I’m getting ahead of my time—I’ll be sure that he and his friends get a baseball diamond.” He stopped to turn to his side, smile downward, and reached down to rub the womb eight weeks along. “That I promise you, Misses Bayer.” |