Although she’d jumped at his touch earlier, he tried again. Finding her arm, he lightly encircled it. “Once we get through this brush, the moonlight will be plenty.”
Julia tripped a couple of times on the tree roots his feet skimmed over. After one close call, they slowed.
“I need to get a pair of sturdier boots. Something to work in. Maybe a man’s boot.”
Her dainty feet enclosed now by myriad buttons were hard to imagine swallowed in a man’s shoe. “Put it on the list.”
For a while the chirping of crickets, Merlin’s panting, and Julia’s tiny breaths were all he heard until the sound of hundreds of tiny frogs filled the air. He let go of her arm when they stepped onto the small dirt bank. “This is it.” In the daylight, she probably wouldn’t be overjoyed to see the muddy water she was about to bathe in.
A broken twig poked out from her hair, so he flicked it away. A wisp of her hair tickled his wrist. He had to stop touching her.
“How are we going to go about this?” She sounded like she was shivering.
“I figured you could go first, and after my bath, I’d escort you home.” Sounded odd to be calling his dinky place her home. “I’ll head up the bank and find a tree to sit against. Facing the other way, of course. Just make sure you swish around first. Scare off any snakes.” He turned, but her hand grabbed his bicep, fingernails digging into his flesh.
“Snakes?” She tugged at him. “I won’t bathe with snakes.”
He smiled. Definitely a city girl. “They won’t want to bathe with you either. They’ll swim off if you’re there.”
“No. You’re going first. You shoo them away.”
“Fair enough.” He helped her climb the embankment and sat her against a tree. “Merlin, you stay here with Julia.” He slipped down the embankment and quickly bathed—the cool water exactly what he needed. Once he dressed, he’d have to work hard to keep his mind from envisioning what Julia would be doing in a few minutes.
“It’s your turn.” Everett’s wet hair glinted in the moonlight. The round silver orb reflected in the big black circles of his eyes. She turned and caught a glimpse of his bare legs from the knee down, and her face flamed. He held out his hand. “Let me help you down.”
Keeping her gaze off him, she stepped onto the embankment, her heel sinking into mud. How was she going to keep herself clean after she bathed? “I’ll wait until you say you’re at that tree.” Slow-moving ripples glistened on the creek’s surface. “You sure there aren’t any snakes?”
“Shouldn’t be.”
Hardly comforting. She took a deep breath. Evidently, she’d be bathing here until a new tub could be ordered. She’d better get used to it. When Everett called that he had turned away, she dropped her things and undressed, trusting he’d respect her enough not to watch. The slimy mud between her toes as she entered the water made her cringe. Could one really get clean in a mud-bottomed creek?
She walked in far enough to stoop and cover herself in water to her shoulders and quickly scrubbed with the bar of soap. She wasn’t going to share the water with the snakes any longer than necessary. What if she got bit? She had no idea what to do. How much she needed to learn to survive here. It was overwhelming.
As soon as she left the water, Julia realized she had forgotten a towel. The clothing she’d shed near the creek was soaked through. She growled in frustration. Why hadn’t she paid better attention to her things? She had nothing to dry herself with, and she couldn’t ask for Everett’s towel. She couldn’t walk beside him in a thin wet nightgown or don her muddy clothes again either. She’d have to stand and let the night air dry her off. “I’m going to be a little while. Why don’t you go home?” she shouted to him from the bank.
“Not a problem. I can wait.”
“No. Don’t wait. I’ll just head home when I’m done.”
Animals. Were the snakes all he meant when he mentioned animals?
A long silence followed. Surely he would have said good-bye before he started off.
“I won’t do that.”
“Leave Merlin with me. He knows the way.”
“Sorry, but if you got lost, I wouldn’t be able to find you before morning, and I’m not sure Merlin would stay with you. You’re still a stranger.”
His last sentence couldn’t be truer. Well, he’d have to wait. She wrung water from her hair.
“Julia, what’s wrong?”
He evidently wasn’t going to wait in silence. She sighed. “Nothing. I just forgot my towel, so I’m going to have to wait until I air dry.”
“That will take a while in this humid air.”
“Right.”
“Let me bring you my towel.”
She spun in his direction and held her nightgown in front of her. “No! No need. I’ll be dry any second now.” Twigs cracking from his direction caused her to don her nightgown with haste. “Don’t come near me. I’m coming.” After gathering her muddy clothes in a tight bundle, she started toward the tree where she’d sat earlier. “Just you go first. I’ll walk farther behind.”
“As you wish.” His outline showed him waiting, with his hands on his hips.
Merlin whined.
“You can lead now. I see you.” How crazy must she sound to him? But even she could hear the thick panic in her breathy voice. He slowly turned. It didn’t matter what he thought. She couldn’t let him see her in nothing but a simple summer nightdress, clinging to her skin. She’d slept in her clothes the last two nights without meaning to, but what should she wear to bed, two feet away from him? It would soon be too hot to hide under a pile of blankets.
She sniffled. Her thoughts were absurd. She was married, but she felt vulnerable—exposed and weak—like that horrible night she’d learned Theodore was only marrying her for her father’s business. That she was simply a toy for him to play with.
“Are you all right back there?”
He stood motionless several feet before her, and she stopped in the path. Clamping the bridge of her nose, she dammed the flow of tears. “I’m fine.” She wasn’t. Maybe he could protect her from stubbing her toes or being whacked by tree limbs, but he couldn’t fix anything. Nothing could repair her soul.
Falling to her knees twice on the walk home, she remained ten feet behind him until the lamp in the window flickered ahead. “You go in. I’ll wait until you turn off the light.”
When the lamp’s flame disappeared, she climbed onto the porch and dropped her muddy clothes inside the darkened doorway. She felt her way around the table and knelt in front of the tick. Everett’s hands grabbed her shoulders, and she shrieked. “You’re supposed to be on the bed!”
His grip remained firm. Her eyes adjusted enough to see his head shaking. “I won’t allow you to take the floor.”
“But that’s where I intended to sleep now,” she whispered. His nearness did crazy things to her insides. Fear and something strange crippled her breathing.
“Not unless you’re sleeping with me.”
She struggled against his grip. He released her, and she fell against the small stump that served as a bedside table.
“Calm down.” His voice was soothing, not sultry or slick. “I meant I will not, for any reason, let you sleep on the floor.”
She scrambled onto the bed, her heart thumping wildly. The thought of being in his arms made her want to cry, but not simply from fear. Crazily, she wished he’d hold her. But she knew where that would lead, and that definitely was not what she wanted. What she really wanted was someone’s arms she felt comfortable enough to curl up in and sob buckets of tears.
The low rumble of his voice filled the room. “Thank you for making this pillow for me. It’s much nicer than my old ones.”
Of course it was nicer. That thing had enough fluffy white down to tar and feather a gang of thieves. Folding up his thin pillows, she chastised herself. Being upset over a pillow was ridiculous, especially since he was kind enough not to force himself upon her. But she couldn’t stop her shudd
ering breaths. Why had she thought this marriage would work? The only way to escape crying was to fall asleep, so she turned to do so. She focused on a dark knot in the wall and worked to breathe at a slow, steady pace.
When her heavy eyes ceased producing tears, he spoke. “I’m sorry about yesterday, Julia, when you were going to the mercantile. I shouldn’t think so poorly of you to assume you would steal from me.”
A hiccup of a giggle escaped. What a minor thing. “It’s forgiven. Next time, I’ll tell you when I plan to leave.”
———
Everett clasped his hands behind his head against the thick cushioning. He flipped over and plumped the down, then blinked at the dark, blank wall, his eyelids not the least bit heavy.
Julia’s slight snore distracted him. Her very presence distracted him.
When I plan to leave . . .
She only meant for town, but each past bride’s jilting played with his head. Without a physical bond between them, what would hold her here? Was a legal document enough?
A promise wasn’t enough for Patricia Oliver.
Paid traveling expenses weren’t enough for Kathleen Templeton.
His farm wasn’t enough for Helga Scholz.
What would be enough for Julia? All she’d asked for was provision and protection. And he would give that, but through the long Kansas summers and winters, would she be happy with nothing more?
He wouldn’t be happy. The vision of her silhouette in front of the moonlit creek popped up before him. He’d caught a glimpse before he led her home. Her nightgown clung to every curve of her body. No, he wouldn’t be content. He’d be tortured. Years of living in close quarters with a woman would inevitably lead to more accidental visions of things he didn’t want to see if they were to be nothing but companions.
Everett raked a hand through his hair. He sounded like a spoiled child—he’d gotten exactly what he’d asked for, a willing worker, yet wouldn’t be happy unless he got more.
When she’d crawled next to him in the dark, her sweet-smelling hair and soft body had made it difficult for him to let her go. Every bit of him wanted to pull her closer. Much closer.
But his stupid mouth spoke without consulting his brain. Her nearness turned his brain into mush. He hadn’t meant to insinuate sleeping together, but his words gave him a window into her thoughts. The fear, revulsion, and shock on her face as panic overtook her made him wonder if his resolve to win her heart might very well be a delusion.
Chapter 11
Everett crossed to the well, buttoning his shirt. Too hot to be wearing it, but he knew leaving his shirt off would bother Julia. She was always uncomfortable around him; no sense in making her more so.
“Would you mind bringing a bucket of water over here?” She stood behind the garden fence, brushing dirt from her hands.
After taking several long swigs from the dipper lest he die of thirst, he filled a bucket for her, then plopped it over the fence. “Here you are.”
“Could you make sure I need this? At least, I think this area needs more water.” She pointed to a section that caught most of the sun throughout the day. He hadn’t helped her with the garden much these last three weeks, though he should have. He sighed. They were worse than two strangers: they were friendly combatants, neither wanting to get close to the other, yet having to.
Grabbing a clod of baked dirt, she crushed it, the dust falling from her hand onto a few carrot and turnip seedlings wilting on the ground. Did she pull them up on purpose?
He grunted. “I would say so.”
“Do you think one bucket will be enough?” She peeped up at him, streaks of dirt crisscrossed on her forehead. How could dirt make a woman more attractive?
“Depends on the soil. Check it after an hour.” He walked off before she could ask anything more lest he hop the fence and tell her to forget about the garden, the woodpile, the fields, the animals, the whole blessed farm.
But he couldn’t do that. He didn’t have time for anything but his own work.
That was an excuse, and he fooled neither God nor himself.
Everett licked his dry lips and rubbed his sore shoulders. He could use a break, a moment to sit with a glass of cold water on his porch and watch the chickens scratch and pick at each other. But that would have to wait until he finished the woodpile. Yesterday, he’d returned from the fields to find her hacking at logs. She did enough already; he didn’t want her to take on firewood too.
Moving his flapping union suit to the side, he passed under the clothesline. The thought of Julia cleaning his underclothes made him grimace.
Cooking his food, mending his clothes . . . she did too much for him and took as few breaks as he did. He should slow them both down, but he couldn’t spend that much time with her right now. He set another log, his mind focused on nothing but hitting the striking point, and chopped with vehemence. Concentrating on hitting his mark proved difficult with images of Julia cleaning, sewing, and gardening floating in his mind.
He set the next log and whacked it good. Throwing the pieces on the pile, he looked over at her talking to herself in the garden. He thwacked the next log, splitting it in one frustrated motion.
Last Saturday in town, he’d talked to Jonesey, who was ready to quit and head farther west. Just a year ago, Jonesey’s joy had been infectious, but now . . .
If Julia followed in Jonesey’s woman’s footsteps, how would he keep himself from descending into the depression Jonesey found himself in? Especially if he gave in to his feelings? Julia was more than a pretty woman—she was a hard-working, uncomplaining one. She deserved to be more than ignored and forgotten. She wasn’t forgotten, though . . . not when thoughts of her made him forget what row he’d just sown and where he’d left his hoe.
What could he offer her that she deserved? Nothing.
When she realized he was not worthy of her, she’d disappear, just like the rest.
His blow glanced off the wedge, sending wood one way and the blunt edge of the maul into his shin. Words that normally did not pass his lips spilled forth, and he threw his maul on the ground. He sat down hard and squeezed his shin, as if adding more pain to the area would make the stabbing leave more quickly.
He looked over at the garden, but she was no longer there. The little green lines of new seedlings marched in crooked paths on the other side of the white fencing.
Weeks. He’d only offered her weeks of loneliness, yet she’d never mentioned anything about leaving. But then, Jonesey’s wife didn’t leave until half a year passed.
The seedlings that she tended in the garden taunted him, along with the quilt she’d pieced together, now draped on the line next to the work dress she’d sewn from the dark pink material she’d bought her first day there. She appeared past the chicken coop, wearing a serviceable green dress Rachel had helped her alter last week from her stash of fancy clothing. Julia’s persistence indicated she planned to stay, but could he trust her to do so? Could he believe she wouldn’t discard his heart if he gave it to her?
Does it matter, Everett?
He clasped his hurt leg and looked through the puffy clouds racing by. “I give up, I get it. In order to protect myself, I’ve been terrible to a woman who’s done me nothing but good.” Slumped, he stared at the grasses between his knees. How could he begin to live joyfully with her with the precedence of silence he’d started? Going in, lounging with a mug of coffee and talking about the weather sounded unappealing, fake. What would he say? They’d had a handful of conversations since she married him. And all of those about the farm’s needs.
He pushed himself up with the maul’s handle. He needed to feel normal. Get away and take a break. And stop thinking. Stop pining.
In the barn he grabbed the tack he needed to return to Dex and saddled Blaze. He cinched the girth strap. “Let’s ride over to the Stantons, talk farm stuff, and I’ll sneak you carrot cake if Rachel’s got any. How’s that sound, boy?”
The gelding stomped his front foot.
Everett hoisted himself into the saddle and readied to prod his horse when Julia’s silhouette appeared in the barn’s doorway.
“Where’re you going?” Her voice sounded lifeless.
Everett pulled on Blaze’s reins, the gelding’s eagerness barely contained. He wished he had something major that needed attending, but all he really wanted was to chat with Dex, to be in an environment that relaxed instead of strained. He pushed away the sudden thought that all the strain was of his own making.
He couldn’t lie. “I’m heading to the Stantons.”
A basket containing wild flowers hung on her arm. “How long do you think you’ll be?”
“All day, most likely.”
“Does Dex need help with something?”
“No. I just . . . just planned on visiting.”
The pain etched on her face was almost as raw as the blow to his shin. Rachel was as much her friend as Dex was his. He’d not even thought to ask her to come along. He’d only been worried about getting away from thoughts of her, though he knew that was impossible.
Unfeeling. Selfish. More reasons for her to hate him. He could hardly stand himself. “I’m sorry, I should have asked you. No. I should have told you to get ready to go with me. I . . . I forgot.” He slid off the saddle. “Why don’t you get whatever you need for a visit with Rachel, and I’ll hook up the wagon.”
She nodded before exiting the barn.
The horse stamped his disapproval.
“Sorry, Blaze, but I’ve got to hook you up. I’d much rather ride, but there’s no way I can have her in the saddle with me.”
Too close, much too close.
The horse clipped at a good speed, creating a breeze that felt refreshing against her perspiring skin. But Julia wasn’t comfortable, not with a grouchy man sitting beside her. If Everett refused to talk the first time they’d had a break from choring in several weeks, then she’d cram in as much conversation with Rachel as possible today.
A Bride for Keeps Page 12