In spite of how hard she worked to block thoughts of being his wife from her mind, she couldn’t help but wonder if being loved by Rock would be as amazing as she imagined.
She was determined never to know. After all, it was in Rock’s best interest that she refused to consummate their marriage. However, acute pain stabbed her heart as she thought of Rock loving another, but it was for the best. Rock Laroux was the finest man she’d ever met. He deserved so much more than being burdened with a wife who would only bring shame and scorn to his door.
Having resolved to ignore her feelings and tamp down her emotions, Miko focused on cooking for the crew Rock had hired to pick the cherries. She wanted to be out in the orchard helping pick the dark, ripe fruit, but they couldn’t risk one of the boys reporting her.
So she stayed in the house and cooked doughnuts for a morning snack, fried chicken for lunch, baked cookies for an afternoon break, and set out drinks she made by blending crushed strawberries and their juice with cold buttermilk.
Rock behaved as though nothing had happened, teasing and joking as he always did when they were together. If she’d hurt him by refusing his amorous advances and tossing his love back in his face, he didn’t show it.
There was nothing she wouldn’t do for him, except allow him to permanently tie his life to hers. She’d asked Pastor Clark in a moment of private conversation about annulling the marriage if it remained in name only. The pastor chuckled and assured her that it was a possibility, but the option most certainly would not apply to her.
Lost in her reflections about what he had meant, she didn’t notice Rock come in for dinner until he placed a quick kiss to her cheek.
“Hiya, sweetheart. What delicious thing have you made for dinner?” he asked, leaning around her to peer at the pan of savory gravy she stirred.
Miko grinned at him over her shoulder, pleased by his playful mood. Although he had kept his hands to himself since Sunday evening, he still kissed her cheek often and frequently brushed against her in passing.
In spite of herself, she enjoyed every bit of his attention, whether it was intentional or not.
“I traded Lucy a flat of strawberries and two gallons of cherries for a beef roast and four packages of ground beef. I made the roast for dinner tonight. With all the cherries you and the boys picked today, I figured you’d be starving.”
“I am starving.” Rock backed toward the doorway leading to the rest of the house. “I think we got the better end of the bargain with Lucy, though. Did you notice the strawberries are all but gone?”
Miko nodded. “I picked the last of what was ripe this morning. Granddad planted three different varieties and they all are everbearing, though. We’ll have more in a few weeks. I noticed the berry plants on the south end of the patch are already getting new blossoms.”
“That’s good to know. I wasn’t sure if we’d have more.” Rock tipped his head in the direction of the oven, where mouthwatering scents emanated from the roasting beef. “If you give me a minute to wash up, I’ll carve the roast.”
“Thank you. I’d appreciate that.” She gave him a parting glance as he disappeared down the hallway. From observing his habits, she knew he’d strip off his shirt on the way to the bathroom. He’d wash his hands and face, hastily run a comb over his short hair, and then grab a clean shirt on his way back to the table. Since the weather had been so warm, he wore sleeveless undershirts to work in, although he did usually put on a cotton dress shirt for dinner.
He returned to the kitchen, fastening the last buttons of a shirt the same color as his bright blue eyes. “Give me the weaponry, wife, and turn me loose on that hunk of cow.”
Miko laughed. She handed him the carving knife and fork after he pulled the roast from the oven and removed the lid from the roaster. He leaned forward and inhaled the aromatic steam as it rose from the meat. “Mmm. That sure does smell good. Even if it makes the kitchen thirty degrees hotter than normal, the suffering is worth it.”
He carved the roast while she spooned mashed potatoes into a bowl, poured the gravy into a boat and set them on the table. Rock carried over the platter of sliced roast and gazed at the feast. Miko had gone to considerable effort to make a nice meal.
“Everything looks wonderful,” he said. “You didn’t need to go to so much trouble.”
“I was stuck in the house, anyway.” She shrugged. “I’ve had time to clean and get caught up on the laundry. This morning I baked enough bread to last for a week.”
“And here I thought you might sit by the radio with your feet up, listening to one of your favorite programs.” He winked at her as he took her hand in his, then offered a brief prayer of thanks for their meal.
Rock opened his eyes and glanced down at the salad plate before him. “I haven’t had stuffed tomatoes for a long time. The ones I’ve eaten were never this pretty.” He dipped his fork into the creamy filling and took a bite. “That’s very good, Miko.” He motioned to the lettuce beneath the tomato, providing a frilly green base. “Is the lettuce from our garden?”
“Yes. I picked a bunch of it this morning and left the rest of it in bundles in the produce stand. The girls you hired seem to do a good job of arranging the produce when they aren’t ogling you or the boys.”
Rock chuckled and tossed a pointed look across the table. “Are you going to tell me you never ogled boys at that age? I recall you telling me there was one handsome boy who caught your eye. What was his name again?” he questioned in jest.
Her gaze narrowed as she smiled indulgently. “His name must have been Arrogant Conceited Blowhard, because that’s what he appears to have grown up to become.”
“Touché.”
Throughout the meal, Rock paid Miko compliments on how good the meal tasted. She watched as he spread a thick layer of cherry jelly she’d made the previous day over his dinner roll. He took a bite and closed his eyes, leaning back in his chair as he chewed. “That is so good, Miko. I’ve never had cherry jelly before.”
“Oh? We always make cherry jelly, and grape, peach, and plum. And there’s strawberry and blackberry jam. Oh, and Grandma always makes apricot, but it’s not my favorite. If you don’t protest, I might skip it this year.”
Rock wiped his mouth on a napkin. “I’ll eat whatever kind you make, but apricot isn’t my favorite either. Strawberry and grape are what my mom most often made. When will you start canning the produce?”
“I’ve done a little already, but the bulk of it is in August and September. It’s far too hot to do it now, and we always like to sell all the fresh fruit we can at the beginning of the season.”
He nodded and added jelly to another roll. “That makes sense. If things go as well tomorrow as they have the past few days, we should finish with the cherries around noon.”
“That’s great, Rock. The peaches and plums look like they’ll be ripe in a few weeks. In the meantime, the vegetables are really starting to produce. If you wanted to have the boys plant more peas where I pulled out the old plants, we could have some later in the season.”
“I’ll have them do that tomorrow afternoon.”
They discussed more garden plans, then Rock returned outside to see to the evening chores while Miko washed the dishes and cleaned the kitchen. When she finished, she went out to milk the cows. It took her half the time it took Rock to complete the chore, with the fingers of his left hand still not functioning properly, and he had enough things to do that evening.
After she strained the milk and rinsed the bucket, she worked in the vegetable garden until it grew too dark to see. She returned to the house and took a shower. Hastily scribbling a note, she let Rock know there were still a few pieces of cake left from the previous evening if he wanted something sweet. Then she made her way up the hill to her empty room in the quiet house.
Although she opened the blinds to encourage more air to blow through her room, unrelenting heat kept her tossing and turning. Sleep eluded her for hours.
Finally, she rose
and ambled outside, walking around the garden, seeking relief. The relief she needed wouldn’t come from a cooling breeze, though.
Images of Rock’s broad shoulders, tanned from the time he’d spent outside in nothing but that thin scrap of white cotton he called an undershirt, raced through her mind. The dark, rich taste of his kisses filled her mouth with excess moisture while an excited fluttering in her belly made her long to have his arms wrapped around her again.
Miko rushed back inside the house and tossed her nightgown aside, pulling on the gown and robe from the peignoir set. Her fingers trembled as she hastily unwound her braid and shook out the long waves of her hair.
Determination and desire fueled her steps as she hurried down the hill in the midnight darkness.
Thousands of stars sparkled overhead, and she paused to admire how much they resembled the twinkling light in Rock’s eyes.
The moon, full and clear, washed the world in silvery hues and lit the way as she crossed the stepping stones behind the barn and strode toward the house. Rather than go straight to the back door, she walked around to the side yard and stood on the other side of the fence that surrounded the house.
No light glowed from inside the house, although she heard the faint notes of a song as the radio played. Rock sometimes listened to it to lull him to sleep. The radio quite often greeted her when she entered the house in the early hours of the morning before he awakened.
Struck by the awareness of what would happen if she walked into the house, she hesitated, staring at his bedroom window with her hand on the latch of the yard’s side gate.
Uncertain and undeniably afraid, not of Rock but of their future, she lingered for several silent moments. Torn between doing what she felt was right and following the pleading of her heart, she wavered at the gate. What if he rejected her? What if he didn’t love her? What if he regretted his offer for her to come to him anytime?
A long, weary sigh rolled past her lips as she spun around and scurried up the hill to her lonely bed.
Rock walked through the darkened kitchen and flipped on the radio. He filled a glass with water and guzzled it, then paced through the house, perturbed by the stifling air.
Heat permeated every corner of the house as if the entire thing rested inside an oven. Even the breeze blowing in the window brought no relief, just sweltering warmth that left him irritable and exhausted, yet unable to sleep.
He marched back toward the kitchen, catching his toe on a chair in the dining room. Hopping the rest of the way on one foot, he muttered words that would have earned him a thorough tongue-lashing from his mother if she were alive.
The linoleum on the kitchen floor, often comfortably cool and pleasing at this time of night, still held the day’s warmth. Annoyed, he jerked open the refrigerator door, fanning it back and forth in an effort to cool his overheated body.
Dressed in nothing but his cotton underwear, he knew part of his problem stemmed from his longing for Miko. When he came in for dinner, he stood at the door and watched her for the length of several heartbeats before he stepped behind her and made his presence known.
A great deal of self-control was required to do nothing more than kiss her cheek and tease her through the delicious meal she prepared. He wanted to pull her into his arms, carry her to his bed and…
He shook his head to chase away the thoughts that would only increase his current condition of misery. Briefly, he considered stuffing his underwear into the freezer section of the refrigerator for a few minutes.
A grin lifted the corners of his mouth as he envisioned Miko opening it in the morning and finding them lodged between a package of ground beef and a tray of ice cubes.
Mindful that nothing in the kitchen would help his agitated state, he made his way back to the bedroom. He stood in front of the window, absorbing every bit of the evening breeze and staring at the full moon shining above the trees.
Movement drew his eye to the far edge of the yard outside his window. Spellbound, he watched as Miko slowly approached the fence. Whatever opalescent lace-trimmed thing she wore skimmed her curves and stoked the fire already searing through his veins. Everything in him shouted for him to run outside and claim her as his.
He wondered if this was what a primitive cavedweller felt as he watched his woman in the moonlight, or perhaps a knight gazing upon his fair lady. The possessive, protective, utterly unreasonable emotions swarming through him had to be the direct result of the depth of his love for Miko. Nothing else could explain the need he felt for her, the painful longing for her to belong only and forever to him.
Hesitant, she stood with one hand on the gate to the side yard, as though she couldn’t make up her mind if she would bravely follow her heart or retreat.
“Come on, Miko. Open the gate, sweetheart.” Rock’s whispers held a hint of desperation.
As though to mock his suffering, Glenn Miller’s “Moonlight Serenade” played on the radio. How appropriate for someone else to sing about two lovers on a June night while Rock silently pleaded for his lover to come to him.
Nerves jangling and muscles taut, he remained at the window, hopeful, waiting. Completely attuned to her every move, he willed her to come to him, to love him.
“Open the gate, Kamiko,” his husky voice encouraged. “Please, open it and come to me.”
Disappointment unlike anything he’d ever experienced sucked the breath right out of him when she turned and ran. His forehead pressed against the glass of the upper window as he watched her pale figure race across the pasture behind the barn and up the path to the house on the hill.
Despondent and weary, Rock sank onto the edge of the bed and held his head in his hands. He knew all along he needed to be patient with her, not push her, but oh, how he wanted her.
Rising to his feet, he considered running after her, following her to the soft bed on the floor of the house her great-grandparents built, but sense prevailed.
To go to her now would only drive her further away. Although he hated it, hated the very thought of it, he had to dredge up enough patience to wait until she was ready to love him as much as he loved her.
Chapter Eighteen
Norman popped a sour candy into his mouth and watched the last of the hired help leave the farm for the day. From past observations, he knew the soldier boy would milk the cows, feed the pigs and chickens, and complete an hour’s worth of chores before going to the house.
He’d seen Laroux’s woman go out to the barn a few minutes ago. She spent a lot of time out there and rarely returned quickly once she went that direction.
Determined to get his hands on the deed, Norman left his car parked across the road and quietly made his way to the house. He crept along the shadows created by the trees in the yard to the back door and let himself inside. The smell of roasting meat mingled with the aroma of chocolate.
His mouth watered at the sight of a frosted cake sitting on the counter. While Norman ate a steady diet of canned goods and candy, that pretty-boy soldier was living the good life.
It wouldn’t be long before Norman put a stop to it for good.
Intent on locating the deed, he made his way to the office at the front of the house. The big desk seemed a likely place to keep important papers. He sat down in the leather chair and opened a drawer, inspecting the contents before feeling beneath it to make sure nothing important was hidden on the backside of the drawer.
After searching through each and every drawer, Norman wondered if the deed was in the house. It could be anywhere on the farm.
Rather than get caught and have to face the soldier, Norman decided he’d leave and come back on a day when Laroux wasn’t home. There were ways to make the woman talk. Ways that Norman would purely enjoy enforcing.
He stepped out of the room and made his way back to the kitchen. Unable to help himself, he lifted a knife and cut a large slice of cake, picking it up on his hand. He took a big bite, relishing the delicious, moist flavor before he ambled down the hall to the ba
ck door.
The moment his hand reached for the knob, the door swung open. The Jap woman stared at him in surprise.
Norman rushed forward, giving her such a hard shove, she tumbled backward off the steps and fell to the grass. He tore around the corner of the house and raced to his car as the woman yelled for Laroux.
Gravel spewed from beneath Norman’s back tires as he gunned the engine and roared down the road.
In the rearview mirror, he saw Laroux run out to the road and shake a fist his direction.
Relieved he escaped without having to deal with the man, Norman finished eating his cake as he drove toward town.
Unconcerned about the soldier following him, Norman slowed his speed and ambled along, plotting how he’d torture the information about the deed out of Laroux’s woman. From the look of terror on her face earlier, he’d enjoy every single moment of making her suffer.
Lost in his thoughts, Norman failed to notice the car speeding behind him until it pulled alongside his car. Laroux glared at him, motioning for him to pull over.
Norman’s foot hit the gas, but the soldier kept up with him. When an oncoming truck would have forced Laroux to drop back, he zoomed ahead and pulled in front of Norman, then slammed on his brakes.
To avoid a crash, Norman whipped his wheel to the right. His car bounced over the ditch running along the side of the road, and spluttered to a stop in a thicket of berry bushes.
Before he could attempt to start the stalled car or climb out to assess the damage, his door swung open and Norman was pulled from the vehicle.
The enraged soldier shoved him against the back of the car, holding the front of his suit and shirt in his clenched fists. Norman’s feet pedaled air as the soldier held him above the ground.
“If you ever set foot on the farm again, even think about setting foot on it, I’ll bury you so deep in the ground not even worms will be able to find you,” Laroux threatened.
Garden of Her Heart (Hearts of the War Book 1) Page 21