Morning Glory (11 page)

Briar Nelson put the wedding out of his mind as he scrubbed away the grime of the day. It did no good to
dwell on unpleasant things. He chastised himself as he
did. He had no right to think about Clara in any terms
other than admiring her as a lovely, headstrong, opinionated woman.

Clara sliced two healthy chunks of bread from a fresh
loaf Dulcie had made that afternoon and shaved off
enough ham to put a sandwich together. Then she peeled
two apples, cut them into quarters and added them to the
platter. She had just finished pouring a tall glass of tea
when she felt his presence in the room with her.

"You move quietly," she said.

Still wet, his hair was slicked back. He smelled of
soap and wore a pair of dark-colored trousers with a
blue chambray shirt hanging out. He'd never looked
more fetching to Clara.

"Rest of the house appears to be sleeping," he said
softly. "Didn't want to wake anyone up. They might
call in the sheriff to see what happened to Clara
Anderson. This nice lady has evidently crawled into
her body and is posing as her."

Clara frowned at him. "You're skating on thin ice,
Mr. Nelson."

"Yes, ma'am." he sat down and picked up the sandwich. It tasted as good as any steak he'd ever eaten. He
wondered what had turned Clara's attitude from downright surly to nice in one afternoon. What had Tilly said
to her? Or did he owe his good fortune to Olivia?

"When you finish, put the dishes in the sink and
don't make a lot of noise." Clara fidgeted, suddenly
uncomfortable. All she needed was for someone to
come downstairs for a glass of milk and catch her in the
kitchen dressed in her nightgown and robe with Briar
freshly bathed and his shirttail untucked. Talk would
spread faster than a wild oil well fire. By morning the
upright ladies of Healdton would be standing on her
porch ready to brand a big H on her chest. H ... for
harlot.

He nodded. "I'll be glad to do that, and thanks for
supper. I didn't realize how hungry I was."

Before she went two steps there was a gentle knock
on the back door. She stopped dead in her steps, every
known tragedy vying for a place in her mind. Tilly had
gotten caught and someone was coming to ask her to
bail her cousin out of jail. Tucker had had an accident.
It had to be something like that because no one in
Healdton, Oklahoma went calling at ten o'clock at
night.

Briar grinned. "Late visitor? Didn't know you were
that kind of woman, Clara."

"I am not, and you don't know me well enough to
tease me about something like that," she said with an
upward tilt to her chin.

"Want me to answer it and tell the visitor that you're
already in bed?"

"No, I can take care of it."

She crossed the kitchen and opened the door.

"Hello, I saw your light on and-" a woman said
from the dimness of the late night.

Clara drew her robe closer around her bosom. "If
you are looking for a room, I'm booked solid."

"No, I'm looking for Clara Anderson. They told me
down at the hotel that she runs this place. Are you
Clara?"

"Yes, I am. What can I do for you? Would you like to
come inside?"

"Thank you," the woman said and stepped into the
light. A diminutive blond with pale skin, she had brown
eyes and a sprinkling of freckles over her nose. "I'm on
my way home to Austin, Texas, and I wanted to stop
and meet you. I can see why Percy loved you. You are
truly very lovely."

"Who are you?" Clara paled.

Briar stopped chewing and looked up. He should
absent himself and take the remainder of his supper to
his room but Clara looked like she was about to fall in a
heap of pink cotton and the other woman kept rudely
staring as if transfixed. Maybe he'd better stay and catch
Clara when she fainted. The woman mentioned Percy,
the man who'd jilted Clara. Wild horses couldn't have
driven Briar from the kitchen when he finally put two and
two together.

"I am Percy's wife," the woman told her bluntly.
"Would you mind if I sit down?"

Clara's nodded and turned even paler. She motioned toward a chair across the table then pulled out the one
beside Briar and melted into it. "Percy's wife?"

The woman sat down. "Yes, Percy's wife. My name
is Catherine. Percy and I were married for fifteen
years. We have three children. The oldest is fourteen.
The youngest, ten. I met Percy when he came to
preach a revival in Austin. We were married after a
whirlwind courtship and moved to Louisiana where
he had a church. Ten years ago I was expecting our
third child, so I didn't go on the yearly revival rounds
with him through Texas and Oklahoma. When he
came home I knew something was wrong, but it
wasn't until he died a few weeks ago that I finally
understood. In the delirium of the fever he kept calling out for Clara and saying how sorry he was. I
pieced the story together."

"Percy is dead and he was married." Clara couldn't
believe what she was hearing.

"Yes, to both. I wanted to meet you. I've wondered
what happened when he didn't come back here after
he'd offered to marry you. My children and I were with
him when he died over near Durant. A little town
named Achille. Revival rounds. Once a year religiously. He took a fever and was dead in three days. Doctor
didn't know what it was but said he'd seen a couple of
cases like it recently. We were traveling near here and I
wanted to see just who Clara was and if you were still
here. That was the only time I didn't go on rounds with him, so I do honestly think you are the only woman
who... " Her words trailed off.

"I don't know what to say," Clara said.

"I wouldn't either if I was in your shoes. He ended
up telling me the whole story. He'd really thought about
eloping with you and divorcing me, but he was a
preacher and he would have lost his church. Preaching
was all he knew. I'm glad you didn't let it ruin your life.
Your husband here looks very nice."

"Oh, we're not-" Clara blushed and stammered.

Briar put his arm around Clara and hugged her close.
"Thank you. We are very happy. I'm glad you came by
to explain things. Clara has told me about that time in
her life and we've wondered what happened. I held
with the theory that he was killed and no one knew to
inform her. Will you be staying long at the hotel?"

"No, we'll be leaving tomorrow morning at daybreak. My oldest child, a son, is driving for us. We've
decided to relocate to Austin where I still have family.
I just had to see you. Percy was very charismatic. I can
understand why you might have believed him."

"I see." Clara's voice was a hoarse whisper.

Briar's arm tightened around Clara's quivering
shoulders. Was she trembling from anger or despair?

"I'll be going now. I wanted to see you. But there was another reason I came tonight. In Percy's things,
there was this letter. It's got your name on it and your
address. I found it in the back of his suitcase he carried on revival rounds. I didn't open it. Didn't seem fitting, but doesn't seem right for me to destroy it or
keep it either." Catherine laid the letter on the table.
"It's your letter. So I'm going to leave it with you. I'll
be going now. Of course, you didn't know he was married so I can't blame you. Like I said, he was very
charming."

"I'm so sorry. I didn't know," Clara said.

Catherine headed toward the door. "Goodbye,
Clara"

Briar opened the door for her and bid her a good
night and safe trip.

Clara stared dumbly at the letter.

"Why did you let her think you were my husband?"
Clara continued to glare at the letter as if it were a rattlesnake lying on her kitchen table.

"She already thought it. Did you want her to know
that you'd let her husband turn you into a crazy woman
who went to town looking for him for a whole year?
Did you, Clara?" Briar asked.

"No. I just can't imagine Percy dead. He's cheated
me again."

"Of what? A jail sentence? You did plan on shooting
him the minute he showed his face back in Healdton,
didn't you?"

"How did you know?" she gasped.

Briar shrugged.

She got up so abruptly that the chair she'd been sitting in rocked back and forth on three legs until Briar
steadied it. She paced the floor, stopping every few sec onds to look at the letter. What could it possibly say?
Did he beg for forgiveness? Not a snowball's chance in
hell of that. Did it explain the reason he couldn't come
back for her? I have a wife and two kids, a third on the
way. The kisses we shared were truly an abomination
unto the Lord. I can't marry you because that would be
bigamy. I shouldn't have kissed you. The women of the
town wouldn't put a crimson H on her chest-it would
be the infamous scarlet letter A! Thank goodness they
were leaving the first thing tomorrow morning before
anyone knew who they were.

Briar pushed back his chair and put his dishes into
the sink. "Thank you again for supper and for not
throwing me out when I was almost late. See you at
breakfast"

"Don't you dare leave," Clara said.

"It's late. You've got a letter to read and I've got to
work tomorrow"

Clara pointed at the letter. "You're not leaving me
alone in the same room with that"

Briar stifled a yawn. "You are a big girl, Clara. You
can handle whatever it says. I'm going to bed"

"I don't think I can," Clara said. "I've waited ten
years and now all I get is a piece of paper. No satisfaction in that."

The chair grated against the floor when he sat back
down. "Clara, way I see it is like this. He's dead and
that note was written a long time ago. Possibly right
after he left. Maybe even before. He had no option but to never come back. If you didn't kill him, then Tucker
would. Or Tilly with that sawed-off shotgun she keeps
under the seat in her moonshine-running car."

Clara's eyes widened. Everyone thought Tilly was a
moonshiner, but no one would have ever dared voice it
aloud. "Who told you that?"

"I've seen enough `shine cars to know one. Big metal
plate on the front to keep the police from shooting out
the radiator. No back seats so she can haul more of
those fruit jars full of white lightning. Extra heavy
shocks for back roads. I figure she's brewing the stuff
out there either in those two big barns on her property
or right close by and that's why she doesn't want people coming unannounced. I've got my answer now as to
why she and Tucker won't sell the oil rights to their
land. No one is ever going to get them to sign because
they've got a little industry out there far more profitable
than a few dollars an acre"

"But how-?"

"Thought at first Beulah and Bessie were talking
about something a lot worse than making and running
moonshine when they mentioned your grandmother
and them in some business," Briar chuckled.

"You thought-" Clara blushed scarlet.

"For a while, but then I put it all together. Are you
going to read that letter or let it burn a hole in the
kitchen table?"

"He ruined my life, Briar. You can't understand,"
Clara said.

"Yesterday is gone and nothing but a memory.
Maybe a bad one, but there's no way to call it back or
change it. Tomorrow is just the whisper of a hope.
Today is all you got, lady. It produced that letter. Now
what are you going to do about it?"

"He broke my heart," she murmured.

"And you can use that bad experience as a crutch to
hobble around on for the rest of your life, or you can get
over it."

"What gives you the right to give advice?"

"I'd say that letter and you stumbling around feeling
sorry for yourself gave me the right to give you advice.
That and the fact that I just stepped up and let that
woman think we were married so you could save face
in front of her. I could have let her leave thinking you
were crushed and had let that sorry lying preacher drive
you crazy."

Her face turned red. Her blue eyes bulged and her
back stiffened. "Feeling sorry for myself?"

"That's what you're doing, lady. If you want to wallow in self pity, then do so. Just admit that you are
where you want to be. Don't be blaming everyone else
for you being there because you are tough enough to
crawl out of it. Besides, Percy has still got power over
you, even in death, if he can agitate you this much"

"The only power he's got over me is that I wish I'd
been the one to kill him instead of some raging fever,"
she said, raising her voice a notch.

"I'm going to bed. Thank you again for supper, Clara. You'll get over this because you're a strong
woman" He stood up and started toward the door.

She grabbed his arm. "Don't you talk to me like that"

He spun around and came nose to nose with her.
"Grow up, Clara"

"I got over him years ago," she declared.

He didn't answer. Of course, she hadn't gotten over
it and no amount of arguing with the hard-headed
woman would convince him that she had. Someday she
might not have a hollow hole in her heart, but it would
take a while.

"Sure you did." He reached down to remove her hand
and, ignoring every bit of his self-control, he gathered
her to his chest. She snuggled down into his arms comfortably and then pushed back to look up at him.

He tilted her chin back a little more with his fist and
leaned toward those inviting lips, half expecting her to
turn aside or slap his face. She tiptoed and met him
halfway. The first kiss was barely more than two lips
brushing against each other. The second melded heart
and soul. Man and woman. Past and future.

It scared Clara. How could one kiss turn the whole
world upside down?

It terrified Briar. He could not enjoy a kiss like that.
He'd simply refuse to acknowledge the ache down deep
in his heart. Without a word he took his arms from
around her and walked out the kitchen door, leaving her
standing in pure bewilderment in the middle of the floor.