Jeanette Alternate Ending

“That’s a nice looking young man.” Her mother’s voice surprised her and she turned quickly and rushed past her mother into the shop. “I wonder if his parents are part of Charleston Society.” Her mother’s words were typical; it was always about wealth and society with her. Either you were well bred or you were commoners. “Probably not,” she advised herself “since he is best man at a merchant’s wedding. I do not remember who Jeanette’s fiancé said he was. Do you remember his name,” her mother asked.
“No mother, I don’t” Allie said quickly, turning to look at a bolt of cloth, examining it as if she were truly interested in it for a frock. His name was not one she would be quick to forget, but she did not want her mother to know that. She pushed
As she looked at herself in the mirror, she thought of Thomas Jackson; she wondered what he thought of her… he must have liked what he saw… Allie thought to herself. His smile lingered in her thoughts until she went downstairs to tea. Her cousin, Eli Gullage, was his usual quirky self. He successfully pushed Thomas from her thoughts with his teasing and lively chatter.
“Allie Mae Maples, when are you ever going to turn sixteen,” he asked, flicking his dark hair over his ear, as if he would hear her answer better by doing so. In all her life, Allie had never met any man who was as meticulous about their looks as her cousin Eli was, nor had she ever known anyone that had such an aversion to bath water as Eli did either; his strong manly odor singed her nose hairs.
“Eli, you know my name is not Allie Mae!” Allie exclaimed heatedly, her green eyes flashing. “It is Alabama Claire Maples and don’t you forget it. I was named after our grandmother Clara you
Eli walked nearer and leaned toward her. “I don’t want a wife, little Allie Mae,” he whispered.
“Really?” Allie asked, surprised that he would say such a thing. “But, why not - I thought all men wanted to marry.” Allie was suddenly full of questions. She had never considered such a thing- she thought everyone wanted to marry.
“Not I,” said Eli, grinning at her enthusiastic questioning.
“What do you want?”
“I want to be a writer, a poet like Lord Tennyson, and several others I admire. I recently read a book of poems titled ‘Leaves of Grass’ by an American named Walt Whitman… the gent published it with his portrait in the book… quite a handsome fellow. His eyes beckon me to follow his lead and tell the world my thoughts…”
“And you cannot be both a writer and a husband?”
“Oh, I suppose I could, but it is not what I want… most women do not interest me.”
“Does anyone else know you want to write- what do they think?”
“Your mother does; she encourages it. Others, like my father, choose to ignore it… Do your mother and father ever discuss things about me?”
“Not that I am aware of,” Allie