That caught her by surprise. “Why?”
“Because, regardless of the pretense of this marriage, we’re going to be man and wife and that should mean something.”
“Sounds like the son of a preacher talking.”
He nodded. “It is. As much as I’ve enjoyed these last few minutes. I do respect you, Loreli, and this is how I choose to show it.”
“And suppose I don’t want to wait?”
“Get washed up,” he said softly.
“Jake—”
“I’ll see you when you’re done.”
And then he was gone.
Loreli wanted to curse, throw something, anything, but in the end she smiled. Lord, what a man.
After washing up, Loreli stepped into clean underwear, put on a fresh camisole and donned a brown shirtwaist and matching skirt. She stuck her bare feet into a pair of soft flat-soled slippers, then, after braiding her hair into a long plait and circling it low on her neck, she looked down at herself to gauge her appearance. Making a note to order a mirror for this room the next time she went into town, Loreli left to search out her family.
She found the girls sitting on the back porch. They were facing each other and playing a hand game that involved the alternate clapping of their hands against each other’s. The exchange of handclaps was done in rhythm with an old slave ditty called “Sangaree,” a song Loreli knew from her own childhood, so she lent her voice to the game.
If I live
Sangaree
Don’t get killed
Sangaree
I’m goin’ back
Sangaree
Jacksonville
Sangaree
Oh Babe
Sangaree
Oh Babe
Sangaree
The song continued and the girls incorporated a few verses that were new to Loreli, but as they clapped their way to the chorus again, Loreli joined in, singing: “Oh, Babe—Sangaree. Oh, Babe—Sangaree.”
When the game ended, Loreli’s smile matched the girls’. She looked around. “Where’s your uncle?”
“He’s out in the cornfield looking at the corn,” Dede answered.
“I see.”
Before Loreli could ponder what he might really be doing out there all alone, Bebe asked, “Are you really going to do our hair today, Loreli?”
Loreli remembered Rebecca’s visit. “Do you want me to?”
“Yes,” Dede said. “My head’s itching.”
“Well, let’s go get some soap and oil and get started.”
Dede was first. Seated on the porch, Loreli spread a towel over the lap of her brown skirt to keep it from being stained. Dede positioned herself between Loreli’s legs, and Loreli went to work. With Bebe looking on, Loreli quickly undid Dede’s slightly cockeyed braids. As the strands untwisted and the long hair came free, a foul smell rose up with such force Loreli quickly drew back. “De, what is that smell? You two tangle with a skunk this morning?”
Bebe said tightly, “No, it’s the oil.”
Loreli bent and smelled the top of Dede’s head. “That’s hair oil smelling like that? What’s your uncle put in it, bear grease?”
“It’s not Uncle. It’s Rebecca.”
“Rebecca?”
“Yes. Uncle tries to do our hair, but he isn’t very good at it,” Bebe explained.
Dede picked up the story. “So Rebecca does it every other Saturday and she puts the oil in it. She says it helps hair grow.”
Grow what? Flies? Loreli thought. “Well, Rebecca doesn’t have to do your hair anymore. You heard your uncle say so.”
Dede turned her face up so she could see Loreli, then asked, “And we won’t have to use her oil?”
“Nope.”
“Good.” A pleased Dede turned back around.
After unbraiding both heads, Loreli and the twins went to the pump.
Loreli let them use bars of her fancy scented soaps to wash away the grime and Rebecca’s grease. Soon they smelled heavenly. The twins took turns having their freshly washed hair oiled and braided by their new mama. When both heads were done, the girls happily patted their new dos and smiled.
Loreli wiped her hands on the towel across her lap, then stood. She couldn’t help but be moved by their smiling, gleaming faces. She’d parted their hair neatly down the front, so as to showcase the twin French braids that ended with brand-new, multicolored ribbons. Both girls had a fairly good grade of hair and just needed someone to teach them how best to care for it. The slop Rebecca called hair oil had done nothing but weigh down their tresses with a thick layer of sticky, stinky grease. Loreli’s oil, made of lemon and orange, bergamot and vanilla had given their hair shine and vitality.
Jake was in the cornfield ostensibly to gauge the health of his crop, but in reality he was trying to will himself back to calm. His blood was still humming from the short heated encounter in his bedroom, and his manhood was thick and throbbing with desire. He wanted more of her; there was no denying that, and therein lay the problem. He wasn’t supposed to be wanting her this way. Remembering the softness of her skin and the way her nipples burned against his hands only heightened the memories and increased his need. She’d warned him early on that finding a woman to replace her wouldn’t be easy and he now understood what she’d meant. Where in the world would he find someone as vibrant, as brave and as outrageous as Loreli? Even though he’d only touched her twice, he knew without a doubt that any woman he did find would have to be as spirited as she seemed in the bedroom, yet he couldn’t imagine a real wife displaying or dispensing such passion.
Jake continued his walk through the chest-high wall of corn, pausing to search through some of the stalks for worms and other pests. The few he found he tossed to the ground and crushed under his boot. If only his wanting of Loreli could be eradicated so easily, he thought. He’d began their relationship by vowing to keep her at arm’s length, comfortable with the knowledge that he wouldn’t be attracted to her. But now, less than a week later, all he could think about was cupping her breasts, kissing them, and hearing her sighs. Things weren’t supposed to work out this way, he groused inwardly; he was supposed to be in control of the situation, not hard as gun metal and twice as hot.
Admittedly Jake was both, and his noble pledge to refrain from all further intimate activity until the wedding night would be kept. Yet after kissing her lips and feeling her warm skin beneath his hands, the wedding suddenly felt years away.
Jake walked back up to the house and found the girls admiring their reflections in an ivory and gold hand-held mirror, which he assumed belonged to Loreli. The change in their appearance made him pause. Gone were the thick unkempt braids that were so tangled near the roots he could barely draw a comb through.
“Do you like our hair, Uncle?” Dede asked excitedly.
He ran his eyes approvingly over their neatly done braids. Their faces were bright and clean. “I sure do. Looking mighty pretty, Miss Dede. You too, Miss Be.”
Bebe grinned and told him, “Loreli said we don’t have to use Rebecca’s old stink oil on our heads anymore.”
He drawled. “Good. It’ll probably cut down on the flies in the house.”
The girls giggled and Loreli looked at him as if she’d never met him before. Reed making jokes!
He must’ve seen her face because he asked her, “What’s wrong?”
“That was funny, Reed.”
“Yes, it was.”
“You have a sense of humor.”
“That so surprising?”
She searched his mustached face. “I’m not sure.”
He eyed her. “You may find me full of surprises before it’s all said and done.”
Loreli cocked her head. “Oh, really?”
He turned to find the girls watching them intently. “Yes?” he asked them.
Both shook their heads. “Nothing.”
“How about you take the mirror back inside and we can unpack my trunks,” Loreli told them.
The gi
rls did as instructed, leaving Jake and Loreli alone on the porch.
“Were you serious about the wedding night?” she asked.
“Yes.”
She turned back and studied him for a moment before admitting, “Never met a man like you before, Jake Reed.”
“Good,” he told her softly.
She chuckled. “Good?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because you’ll remember me.”
Loreli went still. She searched his face. She would remember him, and a jumble of emotions filled her at that moment; emotions she couldn’t name because she’d never experienced them before. Was she falling in love with this man? Lord, she hoped not because there was no future in it. That the question had been raised was disturbing, though. The last thing Loreli needed was to find herself pining after a man determined to replace her as soon as opportunity allowed. No, she wasn’t falling in love with him; she couldn’t allow it.
Jake, still waiting for her response, wondered what she might be thinking. She made her living keeping her face free of expression, and she was doing that now. “What’s the matter?”
Loreli shook herself free. “Nothing. I-I’m going in to help the girls.”
As she went inside, Jake wondered if it was his imagination or had she really retreated. It certainly seemed that way. But what had he said wrong this time? He sighed and went to feed the hogs.
With the help of the twins, Loreli unpacked her many trunks and hatboxes. Most of the items had been stored away since she’d left Chicago with the wagon train just over a month ago. To her dismay, some of her gowns had gotten wet during the trip and were now covered with mold and mildew. They were unsalvageable. Others however, though creased and wrinkled, just needed airing and a good ironing. These she had the girls take outside into the sunshine and drape over the porch rail. While they were outside, she lined up her hats and shoes along the walls of the parlor. The room now resembled a department store back East, Loreli mused.
In the course of the work, the girls tried on everything of hers that they could: hats, gloves, jewelry. They opened up little cosmetic pots and smelled her perfumes. She put tiny spots of rouge on their cheeks and little dabs of scent behind their ears. “You’re both too young for all of this, but we’re just playing,” Loreli told them.
Grins creased their twin brown faces.
Jake came in and his silent looming presence made Loreli and the girls look up. He scanned the clothes set about the room before settling his attention on the lightly painted faces of the girls. “Supper’s almost ready. Go wash your faces and hands.”
Hearing his disapproval, they nodded sadly. “Yes, Uncle.”
After they were gone, Loreli drawled, “You certainly know how to ruin a party.”
“They’re too young to be all painted up.”
“Which is what I told them when I put it on. We were just having a little fun. Goodness, do you have to view everything so seriously?”
Tight-lipped, he looked away.
Loreli told him bluntly, “I won’t have you constantly looking over my shoulder or second-guessing me. Either you let me be the mother I think I can be, or get someone else.”
Jake had already pondered that impossibility.
“You’re going to have to trust me, otherwise this won’t work,” Loreli added.
He met her eyes. “I agree.”
Loreli had been expecting more of a fight. “Why are you surrendering so easily?”
He chuckled. “You’d rather argue?”
“No, not really, but—”
“You made your point. I do have to trust you. Forgive me if I overreacted.”
Loreli asked very seriously, “Who are you, and what have you done with the real Jake Reed?”
He shook his head and grinned. “Uppity woman.”
“The uppitiest you’re ever going to meet.”
“No doubt in my mind about that.”
“Well, since this uppity woman is blessed with a man in her life who can cook, what’s for dinner?”
“You over my knee if you don’t behave yourself.”
She shot him a saucy look, “Really?”
Jake was filled with the urge to kiss that sassy mouth of hers, but he’d made a pledge not to touch her again until their wedding night.
“Having a little trouble with that vow you made?” she tossed out.
He raised an eyebrow. “Oh, now, you read minds too?”
“Yes.”
“Then you know I meant what I said.”
“No one need know you broke your pledge,” Loreli offered.
“I will, so stop tempting me.”
“I like tempting you. Never been around a man with real morals before. Takes some getting used to.”
Their eyes met and held.
He told her solemnly, “I realize I’m not as worldly as some of the men you might have known before. I’m just a Kansas farmer—probably bore you to tears before the year’s out, but I’ll protect you and respect you to the best of my ability.”
Loreli was very moved by his simple declaration. “That’s all a woman can ask of any man, Jake.”
“Then let’s go eat.”
She nodded and they went inside the house.
Chapter 10
When it was time for the girls to go to bed that evening, Loreli found an old pair of cotton stockings amongst her belongings and fashioned them into nightcaps for the girls. The lightweight caps would keep their hair from being mussed while they slept.
The twins beamed upon receiving this new gift. “Aggie sleeps in a stocking cap too,” Bebe said.
Loreli grinned. “Does she?”
Bebe nodded like a horse. “So does her sister, Charlene.”
Jake wondered how something as simple as a stocking cap could bring two little girls such joy. He supposed that was why God made mothers, to take care of things like that. “Okay you two, let’s hear your prayers.”
“Now that Loreli’s living with us, can she hear our prayers too?” Dede asked him.
He looked at Loreli.
Honored by the request, Loreli said, “I’d like that very much.”
The girls were already kneeling beside the bed.
Dede went first. “Dear God: Thank you for my sister, and Uncle, and Loreli. Thank you for Emily’s new kittens. And for Suzie, and Pal and Rabbit…”
Loreli had no idea who these folks were, but kept silent.
“Please say hello to our Mama,” Dede continued. “Tell her we love her and we miss her, and thank her for sending us Loreli. Amen.”
Loreli felt emotion fill her heart and throat.
“Dear God,” Bebe began. “Thank you for my sister, my uncle Jake, and for Loreli. Please bless all the sick animals, and Aggie, and her sister Charlene, and Carrie. Tell Mama we’re being good and that I’m glad she sent us Loreli too. Amen.”
Loreli had never been privy to anything like this, and except for her wagon mate, Belle, it had been a long time since anyone had sent prayers up to heaven on her behalf. She wanted to cry.
The girls were now scooting under the thin blanket, and Jake bent down and kissed them on the forehead. “Good night,” he whispered.
He stepped aside. Loreli bent to bestow her kisses as well. “Good night, pumpkins. Sweet dreams.”
“Good night, Loreli.”
“See you two in the morning,” Jake said.
“Good night, Uncle.”
He blew out the lamp, and he and Loreli tiptoed out, then they stepped onto the porch. The sun was dying in a blaze of vivid reds and oranges.
“Never had anyone pray for me that way before,” Loreli said.
“Children’s prayers are very special.”
“I’m finding that out. Do you listen to their prayers every night?”
Jake nodded. “Didn’t your father listen to your prayers before you went to sleep?”
“No, my daddy lost his religion when my mother died. He said he ne
ver had much use for God after that. I prayed sometimes anyway, even went to church with the sisters a couple of times.”
He wondered if she realized that he could hear the pain in her voice. Did it mean she was dropping her guard? “Well, my father heard our prayers whether we wanted him to or not, but I promised myself that when I grew up I wouldn’t force my children to pray the way my father forced us.”
“Explain,” Loreli prompted.
“He told us what to pray for.”
“I don’t understand.”
Jake sighed.
“The only thing my sister and I were allowed to pray for was the redemption of our souls.”
“I see.”
“He wouldn’t have stood for the girls praying for the animals or their friends. Redemption was all you were supposed to ask for.
“Are you really Catholic?”
Loreli chuckled. “If you can become a Catholic after only six days, I am.” She then explained her short stint with the nuns in New Orleans. “Just wanted to give Rebecca something else to chew on.”
“Well, she took the bait.”
“That she did. How long has her father been a preacher here?”
“Five years or so. He took over after old Reverend Pease died.”
“How many churches does this place have?”
“One.”
“So I should expect some hostility tomorrow?”
“I wouldn’t doubt it.”
“Won’t be anything new for me. Those old biddies can hiss at me as loud as they want, but I will call them out if they start in on the girls.”
Jake smiled at the fight in her tone. “Let’s just wait and see how it goes before you start strapping on weapons.”
“I’m warning you, Jake. I won’t put up with any shenanigans from Rebecca or her friends.”
“I don’t expect you to.”
“Good.”
He eyed her with a mixture of humor and wonder. “Have you been this fearless all of your life?”
A Chance at Love Page 16