Chapter 5: The Town Gathers

She wore a dark blue winter coat, her figure thin, her face pale. The wind tugged at her hair, streaked with silver, her boots caked in mud.

In the freezing weather, sweat beaded her brow. She must have run the whole way from the end of town, driven by some bitter resolve.

It looked like she had run all the way here. Her breath came in ragged bursts, but she squared her shoulders, determined to see this through.

"This, this marriage—I, I ain't agreeing to this wedding!"

Mother-in-law braced herself against the doorframe, clutching her chest with one hand. Her wedding ring glinted, the stone worn smooth.

She was still out of breath, but couldn’t wait to break off the engagement in public:

"I do not agree to Rachel Smith marrying my son. This engagement is over!"

My mother, known in town for her gentle nature, couldn’t help but darken her face. She straightened, jaw set, the color rising in her cheeks.

"Linda Parker, what do you mean by this?" The question hung in the air, sharp as a frostbitten branch.

Uncle Jeff frowned as well. He stepped forward, voice firm but cautious.

"Linda, breaking off an engagement isn’t a joke."

"You have to make yourself clear."

"Don’t end up making enemies instead of family."

Our house was at the head of the street, the Parkers’ at the end. The whole length of Maple Hollow Avenue might as well have been a stage.

Everyone in town knew the Parker family was coming today to deliver engagement gifts. The news had spread at the Piggly Wiggly, over coffee at Ruth’s Diner, and by noon, it was common knowledge.

Her running all the way here had already drawn a crowd. Neighbors clustered at the fence, some clutching mugs of coffee, others craning their necks for a better view.

Now, the onlookers were packed at the entrance, blocking the yard gate. Kids darted between legs, the air buzzing with anticipation.

The matchmaker hurried forward, grabbing my mother-in-law’s hand and winking desperately at her. Miss Martha, the church’s self-appointed matchmaker, tried to smooth things over with forced smiles. Her perfume—heavy and sweet—hung in the cold air like a dare.

"Aunt Linda, what are you doing?"

"We’ve already completed all the rituals: proposal, exchanging names, choosing a good date."

"The two kids’ birthdays have been matched, and Pastor John from the next town said Rachel is a lucky girl who brings prosperity to her husband."

"Such a good girl—pretty and hardworking—what more could you want?"

"According to town rules, if the man’s side breaks off the engagement, the woman’s family doesn’t have to return the gifts."

She glanced quickly at the two big baskets in the yard. The meaning was clear—this wasn’t just about pride; money was on the line, too.

"These gifts cost you fifteen hundred dollars."