[Troublesome Creek 01] - Troublesome Creek (39 page)

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Authors: Jan Watson

BOOK: [Troublesome Creek 01] - Troublesome Creek
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Will’s heart lurched. He never wanted to think about that time again. That time when his world stopped turning, first from love and then from grief. He should have told her about her mother years ago. He’d have to tell Copper about that and also about his and Grace’s decision to leave here and take the boys to the city for a while until they got their education. What a lot for Copper to take in.
A sigh led to a coughing spell.
No help for it now,
he thought when he could catch his breath again. Pouring tobacco into the bowl of his pipe, he struck a match to it. He for sure wouldn’t be able to sleep now.
He and Grace had finally reached an understanding, and he’d felt a sense of peace for the first time in years. His wife had finally let him into her heart, and he was happy. He knew he’d pay a big price for that, for he’d thought he’d live out his years right here on Troublesome Creek. But it seemed worth it, especially after Daniel’s accident. And really, wasn’t it Grace’s turn? He’d adjust to leaving . . . somehow.
But how in the world would he tell Copper?
 
As Jacob wrestled with God’s angel at the place he christened Peniel, Dr. Simon Corbett wrestled with his conscience this long night through. He feared his own emotion, his longing. He prayed for God’s guidance, and toward daybreak he felt assurance. He believed God walked with him daily, that God directed his path, and he trusted that this time the path led to the woman he would marry.
In the morning he went to Will Brown with his hat in his hand and his heart in his throat. He received Will’s blessing, with a few admonishments, and a commitment of sorts from Laura Grace. They walked alone along the banks of Troublesome Creek. He made his intentions clear to her—probably in haste, but he felt he had no choice. He couldn’t risk losing her.
“Are you talking about courting, Simon?” she asked, getting right to the heart of the matter.
Her directness pleased him. He’d squired his share of lovely ladies, and he detested the games they played. Obviously he’d never have to guess what Laura Grace was thinking. “I spoke to your father. He said it was up to you.”
She turned away from him and busied herself picking the sweet williams that grew wild beside the creek. “Simon, there’s someone else. I can’t make you any promises before I talk to him.”
“Forgive me,” he said. “I don’t mean to be presumptuous, but I can’t leave until I know you will be true to me.”
“True to you, Dr. Corbett?” Copper tucked a sprig of blue flower into the buttonhole of his jacket. “I hardly know you.”
Taking advantage of her nearness, he caught her arms and pulled her into an embrace. They were nearly hidden under the drooping, sighing boughs of a weeping willow. He could barely hear the rush of water in the creek over the thudding of his heart. The feel of her in his arms was enough for him to savor until he returned, though only his promise to her father kept him from kissing her, for he longed to taste her sweetness.
It was Laura Grace who broke the hug, pushing gently against his chest. “You make me swoon. Look how my hand trembles.”
He cupped her chin in his hand. “Does your other fellow make you feel like this?”
 
Copper met Simon’s gaze and saw herself reflected in the passion of his dark eyes. “No,” she answered, tucking her hands under her arms to stop their shaking. “No, he doesn’t. But still I care for him.”
Those eyes of his. They pulled her in as if she no longer had control of her own mind, her own body. Suddenly, without a thought, she stretched up and kissed him right on the mouth. It was just a little peck, really, but she tasted clover and wild strawberries, and starbursts shimmered behind her closed eyes.
Simon wrapped his arms around her and held her tightly. “Oh, my sweetheart,” she heard him murmur against the top of her head.
“Hey, Sissy! Where’re you hiding?” Willy yelled. “I need to tell you something.” It was with some difficulty that she extricated herself from Simon’s embrace just before Willy burst into their leafy hideaway. “Mam says you and Doc have had enough alone time. She says come to the porch an’ have some lemonade an’ chocolate cake.”
Willy paused and when his innocent eyes took them in she wished a sinkhole would open and swallow her up. “Well, hey there, Doc,” he chattered on, obviously unaware of her misdeed. “You look like you’ve been struck by lightning. Daddy says he’s about to eat all that cake by his lonesome. Daniel’s sad ’cause he couldn’t come, but he still has that limp. Will that ever go away, Doc Corbett?”
“Let’s wait until we get to the house to ask questions,” Copper said, glad for Willy’s interruption. She was bewildered by her behavior and at the same time wanted nothing more than to kiss Simon again. “Run ahead and ask Mam to pour the lemonade. We’ll be right behind you.”
As soon as Willy was out of sight, Simon gathered her up again. “What just happened here?” he asked. “You astonish me.”
Copper’s face blazed, and she hid it against his chest. “You aim to make me miserable.” Her voice quivered, and she feared she might burst into tears.
“Oh, dear one, no.”
“I shouldn’t have done that.” The dreaded tears streamed down her face. “You’ll think I’m wanton . . . and what would Mam say?”
“There’s nothing wrong with a kiss between sweethearts,” he said as he gently stroked her cheek.
“But kisses are serious, Simon.” She looked up at him. “Kisses are promises.”
He dropped to one knee and gazed adoringly up. “Then let’s make a promise. Let’s promise to marry when I come back at Christmas.”
“Marry?” she asked, astounded. “What about the courting?”
“Seems we don’t have time for that,” he answered, standing.
“But I need time, Simon. I have to sort all this out. John . . . you. I’m just not sure.”
He fished in his pocket and handed her a clean white handkerchief. “Don’t you see, Laura Grace? God would not have thrown us together in such an unexpected way if He didn’t mean for us to be together always.”
Turning away, she caught a dangling willow frond, stripped its leaves in one quick motion, and dropped them into the slow-moving creek. They twisted and turned in the water and clumped up against the bank for a moment before finally breaking free and meandering away. Her voice broke as she pleaded, “Give me some time.”
“I don’t know if I can.” His hands on her shoulders pulled her around, and his kiss was long and slow and oh so gentle. “I’m breaking the promise I made to your father,” he whispered in her ear, “but you started it.”
The next kiss was hard . . . urgent. She felt as if her very bones were melting as she slumped against him. Roughly, he tangled her hair in his hands and tipped her face up to his own. “You belong to me! Say it. Say it back.”
Copper felt herself give way. “I belong to you, Simon Corbett. . . .” The pledge seemed so true. “I belong to you,” she whispered once again. She averted her eyes from his and begged, “Please leave now. You make me so confused—I can’t think straight with you here.”
“I’m going.” He caressed her face and kissed her gently one last time. “But I’ll be back at Christmas, and that’s all the time I’m giving you.”
CHAPTER 27
 
It was days after Simon left before Copper felt she was her true self again, days before she could think clearly. Finally her head quit swimming, and she felt she could get a hold on her emotions. When he had truly left, when Pard had cantered out of the barnyard for the last time, it was all she could do to keep herself from running down the dusty road after Simon. It was his last words to her father that stopped her. Words that chilled the very marrow in her bones. . . .
 
They had come back from the creek to Mam’s cold lemonade and chocolate cake, Daddy’s handshake for Simon and slow wink to her, Willy’s infernal questions, and Daniel’s puzzled look. It all felt so strange to Copper, as if they were celebrating something that might be her undoing. Simon had stayed for the longest time, past the noon hour and nearly until Molly’s milking.
But before he took his leave, her family had given them a moment alone. He’d brushed her cheek with his lips and whispered, “I love you, my own,” before they all trooped back out to the porch to see him off.
She’d stayed behind as Daddy walked him across the yard, his hand on Simon’s shoulder. But she could hear them clear enough when Simon stopped and said, “I intend to come back for Christmas, and when I do, I’ll ask you for her hand. I mean to marry your daughter, Will.”
“You know, Doc,” Daddy replied, “it’s all up to her. It’s Copper’s choice—not yours.”
“You’ll find it’s meant to be,” Simon answered. “And I promise you this: Laura Grace will be happy in Lexington. I give you my word.”
 
Now, as she stood in the garden scratching at a bunched-up hill of potatoes, those words still chilled her, though the late-summer day was hot and as dry as a moth’s wing. Taking off her bonnet, she leaned against the hoe and fanned herself. Copper was glad to be alone in the weedy patch, thankful that the boys were off at the Pelfreys’ and Mam was busy in the kitchen. She finally had some time to think.
The ground beneath her hoe was cracked and parched. She’d need to carry buckets of water up from the creek. Her bare toes scrunched down into the dry dirt. It took a few good whacks from her hoe to finally find some moisture. Squatting between two hills of potatoes, she reached deep into the hole she’d dug and pulled out a handful of loam. The soil was dark and rich and formed a ball when she clenched it tight, releasing the scent of promise—the promise of life and growth and hope for the morrow.
Just like the Resurrection
, she mused as she let the clump fall from her grasp. Every spring when her garden renewed itself, issuing forth lush and green from dead-looking seed, she was reminded of Jesus’ victory over the tomb. How could she leave this sacred place?
Over and over, she kneaded the damp ball of earth with her foot. Nothing felt better than mud between your toes while you worked the garden. Were there gardens in the city?
Swimmy-headed again, she nearly fell before she made it to the creek and lowered herself onto the bank. Cupping her hand in the water, she splashed her face and neck, then leaned back against the trunk of a sycamore tree. In a rush, Simon’s words came back and made her stomach ache.
Lexington!
He wanted to take her away from Troublesome Creek to live with strangers in a strange place. The thought astonished her. Why wouldn’t he live here?
“Forevermore, Laura Grace,” Mam had said when Copper had broached the subject with her. “That’s not how things are done. Besides, he has a medical practice. Surely you wouldn’t think of taking him away from his patients.”
And she wouldn’t. Of course she wouldn’t. But how could she even think of leaving her home place? Every time she pondered the loss, she got so sad she was physically ill. And as far as she knew, there was no herb, no cure for homesickness.
Feeling a little better after the splash of cold creek water, she rested her eyes for a minute. The only thing that restored her equilibrium was the realization that kept coming back to her: she didn’t have to leave. She didn’t have to. The power was hers. Or it was until she thought of him, of his kiss, of his fingers caressing her cheek, and then she was in turmoil again.

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