The Bride Backfire (18 page)

The nerve of the man, to follow her and Willa, hint about secrets involving her family, then refuse to tell her! Opal all but stalked to her family's soddy.
Oh, very well. I am stalking. But it doesn't make him right. There's a difference between a moment's anger and a grudge.

Opal didn't bother to hold grudges. For now, though, the anger had her pumping. It carried her into the soddy, where she noticed Pa and her brothers had apparently already left for the fields. The rapid beating of her heart slowed as she surveyed what had been her home for nineteen years.

Father, how can this be the way my family lives?

Dishes slopped over one another across the table, remnants of old biscuits and older gravy crusting them together. Ashes mounded before the fireplace, a source of the dust disguising her wooden cabinets. A pair of empty pants sprawled in Grandma's rocker, mate to the shirt slumped alongside.

A soft keening surprised Opal when she realized the sound came from her. Guilt kept up its assault, only to be driven away by a pair of strong hands clamping her shoulders, bracing her. She drew in her first real breath since stepping past the threshold, the pungent odors of stale coffee and musty clothing strong enough to fell an ox.

“It's not your fault.” Adam's whisper made itself felt more than heard. “Things change in time.”

“We didn't live like this.” She blinked to clear moisture from her eyes, looking up at the roof of the soddy to keep the tears away. Pages from catalogs she'd so painstakingly collected no longer marched in neat rows across the ceiling. Now, advertisements for shoes sagged beneath the weight of debris. Edges of the pages curled down to catch in the hair of those unfortunate enough to wander close. Dark splotches obliterated drawings of bicycles and fanciful dolls.

“This
is
my fault.”
For leaving.
The accusation hung everywhere she looked. The entire soddy sat as one dank, wordless recrimination.

Adam nudged the empty pants from the rocker and settled her inside it as though she'd be content to stay there.

The sound of one dish hitting another as Willa cleared the table snapped Opal from her grief and into action.
Face it.
She took inventory of what needed to be done.
I can fix it.
Opal headed for the barn, unearthing the large wooden washtub from the corner and rolling the heavy container back toward the house.
Keep working.

“What are you doing?” Adam put himself at risk of being trampled by a runaway washtub, planting his feet in her path.

“Washing.” Opal rolled around him.
No time to waste.

“Stop this.” He moved as though to block her again, so Opal sped up until she had the tub just between the house and the well. “Let me help you.”

“Thank you.” Her easy acceptance took him off guard. She could tell by the way he stayed quiet. “If you start filling the tub, I'll help Willa bring out the dishes. Letting them sit in water for a while will make them easier to scrub.”

By way of response, her husband began lowering the bucket to the well. No words needed when he showed support. The panic that had gripped her since she walked into the soddy and saw what had become of the place after a single week of her absence began to fade. The alarm served its purpose and got her moving, taking control of things the way she always had.

She and Willa heaped dishes and soap shavings into the rising waterline of the washtub, filling it full. With that done, she took rags from the bin she kept tucked away, intent on attacking the dust and grit built up in her absence. If she could finish the dishes and get everything dusted and wiped down, she could do a week's worth of baking. She'd also make the men a dinner they'd be glad to have in their bellies when they went to work again, with the memory and promise of more to come for supper!

Working felt right. Seeing results made it worthwhile. Having Willa and Adam alongside her, giving their time and labor for her family, made the day precious in a way Opal couldn't put words to. She tried anyway. “You didn't have to—”

They didn't let her get any further.

“I wanted to. How else to repay you for your help stuffing mattresses and cleaning out that chicken coop?” Willa halted briefly when she mentioned the mattress but rallied. “I dreaded that then escaped it entirely!”

Adam cleared his throat at the mention of the chicken coop, his eyes going intense in a way that made Opal wonder whether or not he remembered that day as well as she. Whether he remembered that he'd almost kissed her...

She bit back a sigh.

“Opal,” a gruffness caught her attention when he spoke her name. “I'll be back before noon. Don't ring the dinner bell before you see me.”

Where are you going?
She nipped back the question, refusing to be impertinent today of all days. Not when he'd let her see her family. Not when Willa chose now to assert herself.

“Understood?” For the first time, he made it a question. They both knew Adam wasn't offering her a choice, but the acknowledgment made a difference. Somehow.

“Understood.” She watched as he exited the darker confines of the soddy and plunked his hat on before heading off.

Lord, what if Pa finds him on Speck land? Or Elroy? Ben won't do much now that he bears interest in Willa, but he'd bring him to Pa for trespassing.
Possibilities seared her.
With the town apprised of our marriage, Pa would consider the babe to have a name and respectability, and Adam's death would bring me home.

Opal made it halfway out the door, lips open to call Adam back to her side, when something caught her.

“Stop.” Willa gripped her elbow with surprising strength and pulled her back inside. “If you call my brother back because you're afraid, he'll take it as you doubting his ability to take care of himself and you.”

“It's not that I question his manhood ... but men are mortal.”

“Trust in Adam and in God to bring him back this afternoon,” her sister-in-law warned, “or poison another part of your marriage.”

Opal stilled.
Our marriage scarcely survives as things stand. I can't afford to take the chance.
She turned away from the door, toward the cook fire, and started working.

Keep him safe, Jesus. Please. Oh, please.

Adam kept one hand at the pistol on his belt as he made his way through Speck land. He combined a stealthy pace and steady eye to keep away from any sign of Opal's family, not so foolish as to test their tempers so soon.

Soon enough, he passed the fence he'd mended on his wedding night—the fence that led Marla into Speck land and Adam himself into the most muddled marriage Buttonwood would ever see. Back on Grogan land, he usually breathed easier.

Not today.

Not when Opal remained on Speck land, not within quick reach. Her family wouldn't harm her, but Adam didn't like her being so far away. For one thing, the father of her child may return. Where would that leave him?

He walked past the clearing he'd designated for Opal's apiary, giving it wise berth. Adam took note of the twenty hives, placed in neat rows, looking almost as though they'd sat in such an arrangement for years, and acknowledged a sense of satisfaction. Here he saw the beginning, the first outward sign of his and Opal's coming together as a wedded couple ought.

The satisfaction ebbed as he continued on his way. Willa's presence caused both comfort and concern. Comfort to know Opal kept company with someone he trusted. Comfort to know his wife wouldn't run off with some scapegrace under his sister's watch. Comfort to know she would fetch him should anything go wrong. He'd told Willa where to find him. That alleviated some of his concern.

Home.
He arrived in front of one of the few large hills on Grogan land, stopped, and surveyed the site. The mound of earth topped him by about two feet—a good size for a dugout. Adam stepped into the depression he'd begun hollowing out days ago. Every moment he could spare from the farm, he came here. This would be the house where he and Opal lived as man and wife, once they'd overcome the most pressing obstacles before them.

Right now, he struggled with the idea of his sister remaining unguarded on Speck property. Willa, determined to stand alongside her sister-in-law in a show of support Adam couldn't bring himself to undermine, placed herself in the path of danger. In the path of Benjamin Speck's all-too-interested gaze.

And in so doing, pitted them all against a threat he couldn't avoid. His formerly quiet sister made that clear enough. The more he protested, the more she dug in her heels. Shotguns and shouts, Adam could hold his own against. But this gentle defiance resisted all weapons in his arsenal.

The rough outer leather of his work gloves faded into pliable softness as he slid his hands inside and grabbed his tools. Time and earth caved beneath the bite of his spade. Each stroke lessened the tumult in his chest and brought him one shovelful closer to building a future.

He kept a close eye on the progress of the sun across the sky. Adam judged it to be before eight when he began digging—a good time. The frost of the morning thawed, leaving the earth moist and soft. As the temperature rose and shadows shortened, he determined it time to head back to Opal and Willa. He planned to make it long before any of the Speck men—the only reason Adam had been able to leave the women for even those three hours was his certain knowledge that the Speck boys would be out working the fields and surely not beat him back. Well, that and the certainty he'd finish the home by week's end. But the main thing was knowing he'd beat the Specks back.

Which didn't make him any less cautious during his return. Adam kept to whatever scant shadows the prairie provided, be they the occasional cottonwood or large rock. Not even the burbling call of a small creek tempted him to halt his progress. Stooping down with his back to the open made a man an excellent target.

Besides, Adam washed up in the stream running close to the site he'd chosen for his own home before he set out. All the same, by the time he got within smelling distance of the Speck place, his mouth watered and stomach rumbled as though competing for attention. Two cold biscuits at the crack of dawn didn't hold a man used to a full breakfast.

“Smells good.” He let the compliment precede him, so as not to startle the women as he walked in the door. Adam couldn't even pinpoint what all tickled his nose so well, just that there seemed an array of good things to tempt a man.

Foremost among them stood right next to him. His wife rushed away from the cook fire the moment she heard him, barely stopping before running into him. Adam found himself wishing she hadn't put the brakes on in time. Even in the dim interior of the soddy, her eyes sparkled. “You're back.” A smile the likes of which he hadn't seen since before their wedding day lit her whole face. “I'm glad.”

“You are?” Not that he doubted her. It just took him off guard to find his wife so pleased to see him. Her blush tattled that the significance he placed on her greeting embarrassed her.

“You're safe.” Opal didn't give any more explanation than those two words as she turned back to the table and shifted a few dishes to make room for something Willa carried over.

“I see.” And he did.
She worried.
The rumbling in his stomach stopped, despite the wealth of food arrayed before him. The warmth spreading through him left no room for hunger.
Opal cares about me.

“What on earth is going on?” Pa burst through the door first, gun in hand, scant minutes after Opal rang the dinner bell. His sudden stop just inside the house almost made them pile one atop the other as Ben, Elroy, and Pete skidded to a halt right on his heels.

“Good to see you, Pa.” Opal fought back the impulse to rush him with a hug. No sane person rushed a man with a gun—kin or no. Especially when Pa still hadn't shown any signs of forgiving her for her hasty marriage. “Adam thought to let me come over and make you all some dinner as a surprise today.” She gestured to where Adam stood at her side, a polite warning of her husband's presence where no Speck had presumed to enter uninvited before.

“Opal?” Pete's voice came through accompanied by hopeful sniffing. “You cooked for us?”

“You don't surprise a man by trespassing in his home, Grogan.” Pa raised his gun with more specific purpose. “Dangerous habit you've picked up, boy.”

“Pa!” Opal made to step forward and shield Adam, but her husband's hand clamped around her arm and jerked her behind him, next to Willa. “Willa and Adam came in friendship and kindness!”

“Willa?” This from Ben. “Pa, lower that gun and let us inside.” He didn't really wait for his father to agree, instead elbowing his way inside. It didn't seem to matter much to him that Elroy and Pete still loitered on the doorstep, but Opal wasn't about to quibble.

“He trespassed.”

“Opal invited him.” Ben's gaze darted to hers before moving to Willa's. “And her sister-in-law.”

“Opal don't live here anymore.” Pa's words sliced her soul, and she might have sunk to the floor from the pain of it were Adam not in such jeopardy.

“Would you shoot me, Pa?” This time, she found the power to resist Adam's pull and remain at her place by his side. Her heart couldn't give her voice any more strength than a whisper. “You have my love. If you don't want it, you may as well have my blood. It's the only way to stop me from being your daughter.”

“No.” Adam stopped trying to force her behind him and stepped in front of her, putting his chest scant inches from the barrel of her father's rifle.

For a frozen moment, no one moved. Opal saw everything from behind the arms her husband spread to cover her, processed Adam's protection, and waited. Pushing him out of the way might startle Pa into pulling the trigger, so she could do nothing but pray.

Lord, please watch over those I love. Don't let them be hurt or killed for my foolishness. Please.

“No.” The gun lowered. His face pale, Pa stepped forward and reached out a hand. “Opal, you'll always be my daughter.”

A flood of tears broke from her even as Elroy and Pete pushed inside. She squeezed beneath Adam's arm and into her father's embrace for the first time in far too long. “I'm so sorry, Pa.” The words came out broken, but it didn't matter. She knew he understood what she meant.

“Me, too.” Rough words almost swallowed by her hair, but so precious. When he pulled back, with a suspicious gleam in his eyes, Opal felt better than she had in ages.

The part of her heart that pulsed with hurt since her father turned his back on her began to beat with hope once more. She turned to her brothers and embraced each of them, still able to notice the way Ben went to Willa the first possible moment, murmuring as though to ensure she remained unharmed by the dramatics.

“Speck.” Adam extended his hand, and if his gaze seemed a bit wary, none could blame him.

“Grogan.” Pa looked down at the friendship offered, glanced at Opal, and took her husband's hand in a firm shake.

Thank You, Lord. It's a start.

“More than a start, I'd say.” Midge finished sprinkling salt around the edges of the hives and straightened up. “For more than one thing, even.”

“I know.” Opal's excitement came through loud and clear as she hastily filled Midge in on the events of the morning. After all, she didn't have much time before she had to get back to where Willa baked on the Speck homestead. If Midge hadn't brought the suppers by, she wouldn't have left. But surely this had to be God's timing? “Pa and Adam can forge peace between our families at last, and maybe Ben and Willa have a chance at a genuine romance. They're good for each other.”

“So are you and Adam.” She didn't bother to mask her exasperation. “Why is it you notice all the good in and for everyone except yourself?”

“You know Adam doesn't want to be my husband.” The quiet response contrasted so sharply to her friend's earlier happiness, Opal's feelings for Adam must run deep. “Even now he'd annul the marriage should he learn the truth.”

“Don't be so sure. He put himself in front of you, shielded his body with yours.” She got no reaction. “A man who doesn't care for his wife doesn't offer up his life in exchange for hers without a second thought, Opal!”
Same as you did for him when your Pa aimed the gun at Adam. But I won't point that out just yet.

“Without thought is exactly right. His sense of honor won't let him see anyone else hurt. I'd make a huge mistake if I thought anything more about it.”

“If someone aimed a shotgun at Ben, do you think Adam would step in front of it?”

“Most likely not.” Opal's answer came slowly. Reluctantly. Wonderingly. As though Midge got through. Then, “But Adam made a vow to protect me, so that's that.”

“What are these?”
Time to change tactics.
Logic couldn't sway the heart, and Midge didn't bother with losing battles. She pointed to the whitewashed boxes they'd tumbrel sledged over to the apiary.

“Supers.” She picked up one of them. “We affix one to each of the hives so that the extra bees have space in the spring.” She demonstrated how to set it up, and the two of them worked in silence for a little while.

Midge did it intentionally, knowing that working with the bees gave Opal time to clear her thoughts and, more importantly, lower her guard.

“Why are there extra bees in the spring?” She asked only once each hive boasted a super.

“Some die in the winter, but in the spring the honey supply becomes so low, the queen lays up to hundreds of eggs a day so they'll have enough workers to replenish the food stock. They need places to go.” They retreated to the stand of three scant cottonwoods nearby, where they always relaxed and talked.

“Then they die?” Sounded like bees used other bees just like people used other people. Midge frowned.

“No. When the hive supply is restored, another queen bee hatches, and the current queen bee flies away. About half the bees follow her and find a new home and start a different hive. It happens in May, usually.” Opal clasped her hands around her knees. “You watch for bees to be unable to get inside and hover around outside the hive, especially in the evenings. Then you come early in the morning and try to catch them. I've ordered ten new hives.”

“How do you get the bees to choose your hive?”

“You'll see when the swarming starts.” Her friend grinned. “For now, I think it's time for you to be teaching me some lessons.”

“You did beautifully at church—maneuvering for that kiss...” Midge raised her brows. “I'm glad I caught on to the ploy.”

“So did Adam.”

“Really?” Midge stopped plucking at the grass at her side. “How do you know?”

“He told me—it's what he whispered right before he kissed me.” If her cheeks got any redder, it might be permanent.

“And he still did it.
Three
times.” She tapped her fingers together. “Excellent.”

“He did it to play along.”

“The first time, maybe. Here, you're flushed.” Midge passed her friend the canteen of water they'd brought. “The second time would persuade the most stalwart doubters. But the third time, my friend, the third time Adam kissed you because he wanted to.”

Glugging greeted her proclamation as Opal all but emptied the canteen in great gulps. When her friend finished, she had to take a minute to gulp in about the same amount of air. At least her flush faded to a dull rose, and determination defended any vulnerability in her gaze. “So what's the next step in seducing my husband?”

“Obviously, he needs to kiss you again.” Midge figured she'd need to start out slow with Opal. Her friend may be a farm girl, but her innocence wasn't just physical. “The next time, without an audience.”

“Then there's no pretext.” Shoulders slumped, her friend exuded hopelessness. “How can I convince him to kiss me without any reason?”

“You
are
the reason, Opal.” Shaking the woman would do no good. “You convince him to kiss you because he
wants
to kiss you again. Just like that third time on Sunday.”

“Oh.” Opal fiddled with the pocket on her apron. “How do I convince him to kiss me the first two times to get him to the third time, then? I can't very well ask everyone to kindly leave after the second try!”

“Stop being silly!” This time, Midge bumped her friend's arm with hers ... and none too gently, either. “He wanted to kiss you in front of the chicken coop, too. And kissing you after the wedding was his idea. You don't have to inspire an attraction; your husband already fights one. You just have to convince him to stop fighting it!”

“Half the battle's done?”

“The half that can't be taken for granted is over. Now comes the march to victory.”

“Sounds promising.” The slumping stopped. “How do I march?”

“Easily enough.” Midge sprang to her feet and gestured for Opal to follow her. “The first step to master has to do with walking....”