Hi all! Sorry it's been such a long time! Sometimes life just gets away from you! I tried something a little different in this chapter where it's a few separate moments all from the same day. I hope all the page breaks don't make it annoying. There are also some historical notes at the end if you're interested. I hope you enjoy!

Chapter 10

"Did you know that Macon is bannin' all celebrations?" Beth asked incredulously, blowing an errant strand of hair out of her face.

"For the whole county?" Patricia asked, rubbing the bar of dark lye laundry soap into the bedsheet she was scrubbing.

"Lucy Palmer's cousin runs the newspaper office there, and she was tellin' me yesterday that the mayor said that they have no cause for frivolity or celebration," Beth replied with a nod.

"It just doesn't seem right," Patricia commented, "I'm not fool enough to think that everything between the two sides will be mended overnight, but not celebratin' Independence Day just feels wrong."

"Daddy says that we have every bit as much right to celebrate at the Yankees," Beth said confidently, "He said that we're celebratin' the spirit of revolution which is particularly Southern."

"Even if we did get licked," Patricia added wryly.

"Well, there is that," Beth admitted, accepting the clean sheet from Patricia and beginning to wring the water out of it from one end.

Doing the washing was one of her least favorite chores. Even though she and Patricia had been doing it together for long enough to have a fool-proof system, it was still the task that annoyed her the most. Every Monday it seemed that there was more laundry than the week before, and it was impossible to finish without getting soaked with sweat and dirty water. At least it was warm out. In the winter, it made her hands so raw and red that she had to use the special balm that Daddy made for the cow's udders.

"Well, I'm glad that the church is still havin'' the picnic," Patricia said finally, "whether Macon County approves or otherwise."

"Think of how much improved the luncheon will be this year!" Beth exclaimed."

Patricia sighed appreciatively, loading the last of the sheets into the graying water.

"Desserts that have real sugar," she said wistfully, "I'll scarcely be able to contain myself."

"And to see fireworks again!" Beth added with excitement.

It had seemed imprudent to set off proper fireworks over the past several years. Even though the fighting hadn't come terribly close to them, the members of the church had all agreed that it was in bad taste to set off anything that might make people nervous. It had been announced in church yesterday, however, that this year's celebration would be every bit as involved as it had in the years before the war. Beth could hardly contain her excitement. She looked to Patricia and, realizing what she'd said a second too late, was dismayed to see the dark look that had rolled over the older woman's face.

Up until he left for the 19th Coweta Infantry Division, Otis had always been the one who was responsible for organizing and lighting the fireworks at the church's Independence Day celebrations. It was something that he planned and looked forward to all year, and he had always done a wonderful job. It hadn't occurred to either woman yet that the reinstatement of the fireworks this year would mean that someone else would have to do it.

"Patricia, how thoughtless of me," Beth said quickly, reaching for her arm, "It just won't be the same without Otis doin' the fireworks."

Patricia made a good show of shooing her hand away and dabbing at the corner of her eyes with the edge of her apron.

"Don't worry, sweetheart," Patricia said, with what passed admirably for nonchalance, "As much as I miss him, he'd hate it if there weren't any just because he can't do them."

"Well whoever's doing them this year certainly won't be as good as wh - " Beth started to say, but was cut off by Jimmy's sudden approach. He bounded up the steps to where the two were positioned in the shade of the back porch.

"Everything alright, sweetheart?" Patricia asked - it was strange for Jimmy to be around the house this time of day. He and Daryl wouldn't normally come in until dinner.

"Right as rain, Mama," Jimmy replied, grinning, "Daryl and I were weedin' on the field out near the road and the postman came by with a letter for Beth."

He pulled a creased envelope from his pants pocket.

"It came from Talbotton," he continued, "so I figured I'd better bring it up."

Beth wiped her hands on her apron and reached for it.

"Dinner's only about an hour out," she said, "You could've waited."

Jimmy met her eyes and widened his smile

"Id've hated to make you wait," he said with a wink and in a tone that was just a touch too friendly.

Beth tried her best to keep her smile even. Ever since the week before when she'd ridden into town with Daryl, it seemed that Jimmy had upped the small amount of flirtation that he always seemed to direct her way. Even though there was certainly no type of romance going on between her and Daryl, it must have rubbed Jimmy the wrong way to see them together.

She covered a sigh just considering about it - she really was going to have to do some serious thinking about how to respond to Jimmy. He was nice, easy-going, the same age as her and would be handsome one day. In spite of all of those things, she just couldn't seem to bring herself to think of him as someone who could be a beau. Even if it was what everyone expected.

"That was mighty kind of you," she said with as much neutrality as possible.

"I'd best get back," he replied, never pulling his eyes away from hers.

"See you shortly," she responded, breaking the eye contact first and turning back to the washbin.

The two women watched Jimmy jog back down the lane, and Patricia had the good grace to wait until he was out of earshot to laugh.

"That boy of mine would try to lasso the moon for you if you asked him," she teased, nudging Beth's side with her elbow.

Beth fought the blush that she knew was rising up around her cheeks.

"He's so kind," Beth responded weakly. She was in a tough spot - since her mother died, Patricia had been exactly the person that Beth would have talked this situation out with, but it felt different with her being Jimmy's mama.

"It's alright, Sug," Patricia said, patting Beth's arm, "I already know he's not the one for you. You just keep lettin' him down easy and he'll get the message eventually."

"Well none of us know exactly how things will turn out-" she started feebly, attempting diplomacy, but Patricia stopped her.

"Women should always marry up in age," Patricia stated matter-of-factly "and even though he's a few months older than you, it takes boys a little longer."

Beth let out a sigh of relief that she hadn't realized she'd been holding. She was so glad that Patricia had managed to put her feelings into words so well. She was also glad that the older woman wouldn't be offended. No matter how much Beth loved Jimmy, she wasn't in love with him - and now suddenly, it was like she knew the difference.

Beth had run up to her room for a fresh apron after dinner - her mama had always insisted on starting the supper preparations with a clean one, and it seemed that the habit had rubbed off on her - when she remembered the letter.

She'd been so preoccupied with sorting out her feelings about Jimmy that she'd completely forgotten the letter from Talbotton that she assumed was from her aunt. She pulled it from her pocket and was pleasantly surprised when she split the seal and it wasn't from Aunt Clara at all.

My Dear Beth,

It was such a pleasure to meet you last week. Cpt. Grimes and I have been patronizing your aunt's store and hearing about her nieces and nephew for years. I greatly enjoyed putting such a lovely face to one of the names that I've heard so much.

I hope this letter finds you well, and that your family's cotton crop is coming along nicely. It's so important that we take every step necessary to restore our great state to its former glory - which brings me to the favor that I've written to ask you. I know that we've only just met, but I felt that we were so friendly that I don't mind asking this of you. Please feel free to tell me if you think it's too much for you.

As I told you the day we met, the Ladies' Aide Society here in Talbotton is trying to organize a benefit ball to raise some money for the medical expenses and families of wounded veterans. We've got a lovely hotel ballroom that would be just the spot here in town, but we're beginning to realize that, in order to get the numbers we want, we'll need to ask for some help. It seems to us that if the Societies of Talbot, Meriwether, and Coweta all came together, we could throw a ball big enough to do some real good.

I know you're a member of the Society in Senoia, so I was wondering if you'd be willing to be the contact person and organizer for all the ladies in Coweta? We'd like for Coweta to be responsible for producing all of the arts and crafts that we'd sell in booths at the ball. Talbot will handle the supper and the musicians, and I've written to a friend in Meriwether about organizing the theme and decorations.

I know it's a big job, and I can certainly contact someone else if you think it'd be too much for you. Please let me know what you think, and either way, I hope that you and your family will be able to attend. We're going to schedule the ball for the end of harvest season, so that it won't be any trouble for people to travel. I look forward to hearing from you soon.

With sincere affection,

Lori Grimes

Beth couldn't stop the smile from creeping onto her face. This was quite a job that Lori Grimes was asking her to do, but she could feel her excitement growing already. She'd been a part of the Ladies' Aide Society since the beginning of the war, but one could only roll bandages and knit socks for so long without feeling like they weren't making any difference. On top of that, the hospitals that cared for the wounded only took married ladies as nurses, because the women there would almost certainly have to see more of an unclothed man than was decent for someone unwed.

But this was a way to really help! Money was something that wounded veterans and their families would desperately need; and if other families were able to turn a profit from their crops this year, then they would certainly be willing to spend a little of it on a benefit ball.

She knew that the Senoia Ladies' Aide would be more than willing to do this, and she could certainly write to the others around the county. Organizing the making of a few extra handcrafts - maybe embroidered handkerchiefs, or crocheted scarves - couldn't be that difficult!

Mind spinning with the possibilities, she hastily pulled a piece of letter paper from her desk and began to scratch out a quick list of ideas. She could hardly wait to talk to everyone about it at supper.

"Daddy, do you remember me telling you that I met the Talbot County Sheriff and his wife when we were there?" Beth asked across the table as the five of them were scraping the last of their bean stew from their bowls that evening.

"Of course, darlin'" he said, wiping his mouth with an appreciative sigh, "You said that the two of you really hit it off."

"We did," Beth confirmed, slipping the letter from Lori and the list that she'd made earlier from her pocket," well enough that she wrote me today. Look."

She passed both pieces of paper across the table to Hershel.

"She wants me to help organize a charity ball to benefit the families of the wounded veterans," she explained to Patricia, Jimmy, and Daryl as Hershel read the contents of the letter.

"That sounds exciting," Patricia chimed, "What all would you be doin'?"

"Well, there would be ladies in three counties contributin'," Beth added, "And Mrs. Grimes - well, Lori - wants me to organize the Societies in Coweta to create crafts to sell at the ball."

Hershel finished reading and set the papers down next to his empty stew bowl.

"She wants to you to bear all the responsibility for the county?" he asked with the raise of a snowy eyebrow.

"Not to make them all," Beth exclaimed, "Just to write the necessary correspondence to get things started and then figure out a way to collect them and get them to Talbotton for the ball."

"What if you don't get enough?" Hershel inquired, "And how do you plan on gettin' them all in the same place?"

"The ball won't be until after the harvest, Daddy," she answered, "There will be plenty of time to advertise it, and I'm sure that they could all be either dropped off or shipped to the army depot in Senoia. We could pick them up on the way to the ball."

She watched with trepidation as Hershel's brow knit deeper together - a sure sign that he was wary of something.

"It's a worthy cause to be sure, Bethy," he said finally, "but I worry about you doin' all the plannin' on your own."

She glanced at the others for solidarity and found that the rest of her supper companions had their eyes on Hershel. For the first time today, her confidence began to wain.

"I've been in the society since the War started," she explained, "and even though I've never been properly in charge of a project like this, I've already got a plan - see, that's the other page I gave you."

Hershel glanced down at her quickly scrawled list from this afternoon, and she wished she'd taken the time to make it neater. It was a good list - advertising, letter writing, delegating duties to some of the other girls that she knew would be willing to help - but it looked scatter-brained to her now.

"I wish you'd let one of the more experienced members take charge of this," Hershel said with a sigh, and Beth felt her heart sink, "but, you've got that same look that your mama used to get when I knew that she was about to get her way."

So he wasn't going to say no! Much as she wanted to do this, she knew that if her daddy hadn't approved she would have had to write Lori back and decline. She brightened immediately and thanked the Lord above for the thousandth time that Hershel Greene was a man who listened before making sweeping decisions for the members of his family.

"I know I can do it," she urged, and then, "and I promise that if I get overwhelmed, I'll ask for help."

Hershel stood up from the table to move into the sitting room and kissed the top of her head. She heard him mutter something about 'her mother's child' as he moved past her and couldn't stop the smile that beamed across her face.

She put the letter and the list in her pocket and headed back into the kitchen to begin washing up from supper. Patricia followed her, asking Jimmy if he would carry in the dishes over her shoulder.

Beth was just wiping the counters down with lemon oil, one of her mama's old tricks to keep the kitchen smelling fresh, when Jimmy came in the back door from emptying out the sink bucket.

"Did you rinse it?" Patricia asked, from where she was placing dishes back on their shelves.

"Yes, ma'am," Jimmy responded, "I filled the bucket in the water table for the mornin' too."

Patricia wiped her hands on her apron and patted Jimmy's cheek on her way to the door.

"I'm goin' out to the wagon, darlin'," she said, loosening her apron strings, "You finish up and then come on out - your mama needs to get home and rest."

"I'll be along in just a minute," he assured her.

Beth finished the last counter, and turned to Jimmy.

"I think we're all done," she said with a happy sigh, "but it sounds like no dominoes for you and Daddy tonight."

"Naw," he agreed, "Laundry day always makes Mama sleepy."

"I understand that," Beth commiserated, rolling her neck to stretch the muscles, "it's just about my least favorite chore."

She started to turn the light off and bid Jimmy a good evening, but he stopped her.

"Beth, wait a second," he said, his voice growing serious, "I wanna talk about somethin,"

Oh dear, she sincerely hoped that Jimmy wasn't going to declare his intentions towards her. She wasn't sure she'd know what to say that wouldn't be rude.

"Is somethin' wrong?" she asked, trying to keep the nerves out of her voice.

"Not really," he said, tucking his thumbs into his pants pockets, "I just, well - I think I agree with Hershel about this whole charity ball situation."

Beth blinked, bewildered. What could Jimmy possibly have to add to a decision about her doing a job for the Ladies' Aide? She watched as he shifted his weight nervously, and then abruptly stopped. It was like he was working up the courage to say something.

"I just don't know if I like the idea of you bein' in charge of it for the entire county." he finally said, in what must have been an attempt to sound firm.

Beth still said nothing, as she tried to stop her confusion from growing into annoyance. Why did this matter to him?

"I'd hate to see you disappointed," he continued, taking a step closer to her, "and I don't know if you c-"

She cut him off now, as she began to understand what he was saying.

"You don't think I can handle it," she said bluntly, and probably a little louder than she intended.

"Now, Beth, that's not what I said," he justified.

He added something to the end of that, but she missed it, because she finally placed the tone that he'd adopted. It was proprietary - like he was a family member trying to forbid her from doing something - and its general air of superiority transformed her annoyance to anger before she even had a chance to think about it.

"I don't want to sound rude," she started, her volume level and tone belying that statement, "but I really don't see how the decisions that I make are any of your concern."

"But-" he started, but she interrupted him again.

"We're good friends, Jimmy, and I've always appreciated that," she continued, "but you're not my father, or my brother, or anything other than my friend."

His face fell a little at that last bit, but she couldn't bring herself to feel too bad about it. Jimmy McCune was not her fiance or her husband, and for him to think that he could just make decisions for her was not acceptable. He looked, for an instant, like he was going to say something else, but then thought better of it.

With a deep sigh, he grabbed his hat from where it sat on the kitchen table.

"Good night, Beth," he said, clearly disappointed.

"Good night," she replied firmly. She knew she'd have to apologize for her her tone tomorrow, but this was a thing that Jimmy had to understand.

As he turned to leave out of the front door where his wagon was parked, Beth jerked off her apron and stormed out of the screen door on the back porch. She started for the railing, hoping to catch a breeze, and almost walked slam into Daryl who was leaning against the post, smoking a cheap, paper cigarette.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she exclaimed, her face growing red at the thought that Daryl had heard that whole outburst.

"S'alright," Daryl grunted, "didn't mean to overhear - I's just trying to see which side of the house had a breeze.

"I expect you couldn't help but overhear," she sighed, finally calming down some, "I shouldn't have raised my voice."

"Mmmm," Daryl replied noncommittally.

Beth fanned herself for a minute with the apron in her hand for a moment, and then decided that she better get back inside or else her daddy would wonder what the matter was. Besides, even though she and Daryl were conversational now, she was positive that her complicated relationship with Jimmy was something that he didn't want to discuss.

"Well, good night, Daryl," she said reaching for the door, "I'll see you for breakfast."

"Mmm-hmm," he agreed, taking a drag off of his cigarette, and then to her surprise, "for the record, I think you'll be fine."

"How so?" she asked.

"With your ball," he elaborated, "you'll get it done."

She couldn't stop a smile at that.

"Thank you, Daryl," she said warmly, "I'm mighty glad you think so."

"Well, I sure as fire wouldn't argue with you," he added dryly, the corner of his mouth turning up in a half-smile.

She returned the smile sheepishly, and continued into the house, not realizing until she was halfway up the stairs, that this was the first time she could remember having heard Daryl be funny on purpose.

Poor Jimmy. He always seemed so desperate to me. Anyhow, now he knows. Also, I considered there being no Bethyl interaction at all in this chapter, but then I just couldn't resist at the end. Also, Daryl humor makes me really happy.

In case you're confused (not from the South or a native English speaker) most old-school Southerners still all 'lunch' 'dinner' and 'dinner' supper.'

Also, I gave the Greenes a relatively modern (for the 1860s anway) kitchen. There's no way they would have had running water at that point, but I did decide to give them one of the old-fashioned dry sinks that you would have to fill and then empty and rinse the basin for. Also, a water table was a low, trough-like thing that was larger than a bucket and saved you from having to make a trip to the well every time you needed a bucket of water. It sat inside your kitchen door and you would fill it once, maybe twice per day. Google them if you're interested - they're kind of pretty!

As always, thank you for reading, and please let me know what you think!