"Nothing," Clara mouthed.
"He just looked at you like he'd like to ditch Judith and drag you off by your hair to a cave," Tilly said.
"Hush" Clara blushed scarlet.
"Why are you red? You haven't blushed in years," Tilly grinned.
"It's the reflection off your dress," Clara told her.
"Sure it is. I'll be by the Inn tomorrow morning and we'll talk. Anything makes my hard-hearted cousin blush, I want to know about," Tilly said.
"Shhhh," Clara put a forefinger to her lips. How would she ever explain to Tilly? She could hardly even make sense out of it all to herself. Changing was difficult at best, especially when it was easier to do the things and think the way she'd done for a third of her lifetime.
"Cecil, you may now kiss your bride," the preacher said, bringing Clara back into the moment.
"Whew!" Tilly fanned her face with the back of her hand. "Now that's the way I want my groom to kiss me"
Clara shifted the topic over to Tilly. "Oh, are you getting married?"
"Not this week, but that new preacher out there under the shade tree is almighty handsome."
"You? With a preacher?" Clara almost choked on the words.
"Well, you almost hooked up with one," Tilly reminded her.
"Yes, but I run a legitimate boarding house. You'd have to give up your livelihood and you really like all the excitement," Clara said.
"I do. I really do. Granny Anderson said she hid her livelihood from Grandpa for two years after they were married, so I suppose I could hide it. He's looking this way. Should I smile or pretend I don't see him?"
"If you smile, he's a dead man."
"I thought it was looks that killed, not smiles. You're on your own. I'm going to go find someone to flirt with even if it's the good looking preacher man. Oh, did you hear, our old sheriff has resigned and they've called in a former Texas Ranger? Name is Rayford Sloan. Sounds like some hoity-toity lawyer instead of a lawman. I heard tell he's meaner than a constipated rattlesnake."
"Now that's exactly who you need to set your hat for. A lawman." Sarcasm dripped from Clara's tone.
"Not on your life, honey. They can smell a recipe brewing from a hundred miles away. No, I think I'll flirt with some of Briar's relatives or maybe even Briar himself. Would that make you jealous?" Tilly grinned.
"Why should it?"
"Just wondering,"
"Go flirt with whomsoever you desire." Clara arose, pushed the bench back up under the upright piano and gently leaned on a porch post, a heavy feeling the pit of her stomach. If Tilly flirted, Briar would fall.
Tilly patted her on the shoulder and went off toward the group gathering up around the dancing stage. Clara watched several of the oil men hanging on every word, rushing to get her punch and asking her to dance. There was no shortage of men to fall at her feet. Tilly had never had problems getting a man to pay attention to her. What she did have difficulties with was taking any of them seriously.
"Hello," Briar said.
"Hello" Clara wondered how he'd gotten so close without her seeing him. It was as if the slight breeze had blown him onto the porch.
"Pretty wedding, isn't it?"
"Lovely."
"They're going to finish their first dance together, cut the cake and the food will begin then. Hungry?"
'No"
"Then come take a walk with me. We can eat later. There's enough to last all evening." Briar offered her his arm.
Without hesitation, she looped hers through his and let him lead her wherever he would. Clara didn't look back to see if Tilly was paying attention. She sincerely hoped she wasn't because she didn't want to have to answer a hundred questions about leaving the party with Briar as well as explaining why she was blushing so often as of late.
Briar led her across the yard, through a small copse of pecan trees and to the very place where he'd brought in his first Healdton well. They weren't so far away that they couldn't hear the music and laughter, but the house and the party were completely hidden from view. A pumper stood where the derrick had been, working with very little noise, bringing up oil and sending it to a storage tank not far away. Where there had been men everywhere before, now the machinery worked alone. It looked different without the mud, the crude sprinkling down like black rain, men everywhere, laughing and talking. Grass edged its way closer and closer to the machinery, but the area around the pump was mostly still bare dirt. Clara stepped gingerly to keep from kicking up the dust and ruining the hem of her pale blue dress.
"Why did you bring me here?"
"I don't know. I just wanted to walk with you and this is as far as my property goes in this direction," he said.
"About that kiss last night," she said bluntly.
"What about it? I think at near thirty and over thirty, we are old enough to do whatever we want, don't you?"
"What did it mean to you?"
"It meant that you are a very attractive woman and I wanted to kiss you"
"Do you often kiss women you find attractive?" She asked.
"That's a pretty personal question."
"A kiss is a pretty personal thing."
"It was just a kiss. Sharing an intimate moment. Did you not like it? Was it offensive?" Briar asked.
"No, I did like it very much, Briar. Do you really think I can do anything I want and it's no one's business?" She was amazed at that idea.
"Of course. Good grief, woman. Of all the women in Healdton, you're one to be asking that question? You've been doing exactly what you wanted for the past ten years and to the devil with the whole town. Someone as smart and pretty as you are, the one referred to as the "strange one" That doesn't seem to bother you one bit. So why should a kiss be such a big thing?" he asked.
"Because it got me to thinking that maybe I'm not too old for a family even yet. That and the fact that Judith is my age and she's just now marrying. Maybe the time has come when women aren't old maids at twenty-five and completely over the hill at thirty," she answered.
A tingly sensation crept up Briar's neck and across his face and he had to exercise willpower to keep from scratching it. Was this woman about to propose to him? Would she create a scene if he refused and ruin Judith's wedding?
"Quiet all of a sudden, aren't you?" she said softly.
"I suppose," he agreed.
"How humorous. I'm not asking you for your hand in marriage, Briar Nelson. I'm just saying that I've figured out with your help that I've been living a half-life. I'm even looking at the oil men differently now. Tilly's out there flirting with them, probably dancing with one by now, and I'm going to follow her lead. There is a fellow out there who'll sweep me right off my feet if I'm willing to let him. I think I'm about ready to see what's available."
Briar's heart fell. So she didn't feel the emotional topsy-turvy he had when they'd shared both of those kisses. All he'd done was awaken Sleeping Beauty. He wasn't the prince. He was just a roustabout who'd come to Healdton to sign the Anderson leases and failed. Who'd found a wonderful place to raise a daughter and a town where he felt at home. Where his drifting days had come to an end and he'd actually bought land so he could settle down permanently, and, the most important thing, where he'd found Clara.
"So which of my men are you going to set your cap for?" he snapped.
"All of them," she shot right back at him.
"Then I suppose we'd best get on back to the party so you can narrow that list down"
"That sounds like a good idea." She took two steps forward, wrapped her arms around his neck and planted a kiss right on his lips. Warmth radiated from the core of her being. Her heart soared. That silly humming noise began in her chest. The list had really narrowed down to one oil man, whether she wanted to admit it or not. She might think about the other men, but they'd come up short, she was sure; she had no intention of telling Briar such a thing though.
"Are you planning to kiss all my men like that to see which one you want?" he asked when she reluctantly pul
led away.
"Of course. How could I know which one I want if I don't kiss them?" she murmured.
Rustling and giggling let them know they were about to be joined by other people, so Clara stepped back even though she wished desperately that she could spend the rest of the late summer morning with the sound of an oil well in the background.
Olivia and Danny appeared out of the grove of pecan trees.
"Well, you two old sly ones. We thought we were the only ones sneaking around," Olivia said.
"We're not sneaking," Clara protested. "What are you two doing out here? I figured you'd be dancing until the sun set."
"Had to protect my interests," Olivia giggled and snuggled in close to Danny's side. "Tilly looked crossways at Danny and I knew I'd best get him on out here and kiss on him a spell so he'd forget about the prospects of Carter County's beauty."
"She won't ever be as pretty as you" Danny looked down deeply into Olivia's eyes. "But I'll sure enough let her look at me any old time if it means you're going to kiss me"
"I think that's our cue to leave." Briar took Clara's hand and pulled her along beside him. When they reached the other side of the copse, he kept her hand tightly in his. He'd let all those eligible bachelors on his payroll know that they'd better not line up for Clara Anderson's kisses.
Franny met them at the edge of the yard and scolded Briar for disappearing right when the cake was about to be cut. She shooed them toward the table where Judith and Cecil were already waiting. Pressed in the throng of children, adults and friends, no one noticed that Briar still held onto Clara's hand. No one except Clara, who thought her face would go up in flames at any moment. Tomorrow's gossip vine was going to grow ten feet and from the smile on Tilly's face, Clara would spend half the day listening to her questions.
Judith cut the first piece of cake and fed a bite to Cecil. Then he put a small piece into her mouth. A roar went up from the children, who'd been eyeing the sugary confection all morning and who'd been promised they could have a piece after the bride and groom cut it.
Briar released Clara's hand and disentangled himself from the crowd. He made his way to the newlywed couple and raised a cup of punch. "A toast. May your love last as long as your marriage and may that last until you draw your last breath."
Clara thought she'd swoon for sure. Such a lovely expression. She'd remember it forever because that's what she wanted in her life. A love that would last until she drew her last breath.
Libby ran to Clara and grabbed her hand. "Come on Clara, Judy said we can eat cake now."
Clara looked down at the little dark-haired, blueeyed child dressed in her best Sunday dress of pale pink lace. The hem had a tear in it, but Beulah or Bessie could mend that tomorrow. Libby's shoes were dusty from running and playing with her new-found cousins, but those could be wiped clean before Sunday.
"I don't think I want cake just yet, but we can get in line for you to have a piece. Don't tell the kids, but when that one is gone, I saw another in the kitchen. Not all decorated up pretty but the same recipe with the same sugar icing on the top."
"Is it a secret?" Libby asked.
Clara nodded. "It's our secret."
Libby grinned impishly and tugged at Clara's hand.
From the upstairs bedroom window, a lady looked down at the reception. She pushed back the curtain and watched Briar leave the crowd gathered in front of the table. He said something and held up a cup in a toast. Everyone clapped, especially the children. So many backwoods people in one setting and all kin to Briar or else those dirty oil men who were his friends.
Which one was Libby? She was four on her last birthday, so that narrowed down the prospects a little bit. However, it was impossible with so many children running around to tell which was which. Most of them had dark hair they inherited from the Nelsons and all of them were too far away to tell if their eyes were light blue. Maybe Libby's eyes had changed since she was a month old. Perhaps they'd turned hazel or even green. She hoped not. If she could give her daughter one legacy, she would hope it would be her blue eyes. They would take her farther in life than money.
One child in a lace dress ran across the yard and up to a lady. She slipped her hand in the woman's and even the woman behind the curtain could tell they were well acquainted, perhaps even mother and child since they went to the cake table together. No, that wouldn't be Libby. Not unless Briar had remarried, and the last word she had from mutual friends was that he wasn't even interested in another woman.
Hill music drifted up through the noise and confusion into the open window. She hated that sound. Banjoes. Guitars. A scrub board one of the men played with two spoons and the ever-grating fiddle. Briar used to say that it made the heart glad to listen to hill music. All it did was grate on her nerves. Music should be soft, classical and soothing to the soul, and a violin was made to play softly, not fast and whining.
She watched Briar go to the woman and lead her out to a crude dance floor. He signaled the musicians and they played a slow song, but it was still hill country music. He drew the woman into his arms. It surely wasn't one of his many sisters. The woman gazed up into his eyes too intently for that. So Briar had found someone in this wide spot in the road. How amusing. She pulled a rocking chair over to the window and sat down to wait.
"Thank you. I can't remember the last time I danced," Clara told Briar.
Briar led her off the dance floor and toward the tables laden down with food. "You are quite welcome. Shall we go fill up a plate and eat? I think I've worked up an appetite."
Tilly nudged her on the arm when they passed and Clara shot her a serious look. Tilly winked and went back to her waiting court.
Clara was famished, so she loaded her plate as high as Briar did his. Granny Anderson used to say that women who ate like sparrows at social gatherings might be socially correct, but they dang sure went hungry.
Briar noticed that Clara wasn't a bit bashful. He liked that. It reminded him of his own family. Women from Kentucky didn't mince their food or their words. They were always open and honest. If you didn't want an honest answer, you darn sure didn't ask them a question. And if there was food on the table, they ate.
He led her to a table with a bunch of children at one end. He set his plate down and pulled out a chair for her. They busied themselves with napkins and arranging their plates and glasses of cold lemonade. Clara had a crazy urge to hum along with the purring feeling down deep in her chest.
"Good barbecue," she said.
"Cletus, one of my older brothers, has a way with a barbecue. Pork, Beef, Venison. Don't seem to matter what kind of meat. He has a knack with it. Dad was always working with his recipe. Cletus learned from him. I think they use about a pint of moonshine in the sauce they mop on the spit-turned beef. Tenders up the meat really well"
"Does he share the recipe?"
"I don't think so. Last I heard, Franny had promised to give out her chocolate cake recipe for it and Cletus just laughed. And he loves that chocolate cake as much as he does his children. He asked me to sneak around and watch her stir up her cake so he'd have both recipes. Only thing I could see amongst the slinging of flour and sugar and eggs was a cup of moonshine. I guess they've got the same secret and neither one of them is willing to share"
"That's so funny. Is there one of those chocolate cakes on the dessert table?" Clara looked around.
"Of course. Haven't had a family get-together in the last hundred years in the hills without Franny's mother's chocolate cake. Franny is the only one who got the recipe before Miz Ralley died. It'll be the two-layer cake with thick, dark icing, and there are two more in the kitchen. And she'll save the last piece for Cletus"
"But the recipe would be in the family if they shared"
"That's right, but it won't happen," Briar said. "It's the way the family teases each other. Didn't y' all ever go on with each other?"
"Tilly and I tease sometimes, but not like that," she nodded.
"Guess it's because the
re's so many of us. We're parctically a town of our own in Kentucky. Did you get a taste of the potato salad yet? It's Cletus' wife's recipe. She doesn't share either. It's her specialty."
"Got moonshine in it?"
"Wouldn't know. No one's ever seen the dressing she makes for it, but I wouldn't be a bit surprised. Coralynn has her own still and there's plenty of it for family use of course," he grinned.
"And she'd never sell it, would she?" Clara asked with faked astonishment.
"Yes, she sells it. Cletus or Franny are family and she makes them pay full price for a quart"
"Maybe we ought to make sure she and Tilly get introduced," Clara said.
"Why? Neither of them would tell a thing about their recipes. But I will tell you that Coralynn has her moth er's smoked barrels to store it in. Turns it a pale amber color and gives it a distinct flavor. Wouldn't know what Tilly does to make hers unique, and if I know a good `shiner, no one else will ever know either."
"Don't call her that. She and Coralynn are both simply good businesswomen." Clara put a spoonful of potato salad in her mouth and tried to figure out what was in it so she could tell Dulcie. It was the best she'd ever eaten. She could see celery seed but the rest was so perfectly blended there were no separate flavors.
"I suppose they are that for sure. Coralynn learned to make the recipe back when she was a young girl. Her grandfather taught her," Briar said. "She's the sister-inlaw over there in the purple dress dancing with Cecil."
Clara looked up to see a blond-haired woman with a full bosom and tiny waistline. She and Cecil were dancing a fast reel that fairly well took Clara's breath away just watching them. Thank goodness she and Briar had shared a slow waltz. Being that close to him had rendered her senseless; she couldn't imagine whirling around like Coralynn keeping time with feet that moved so fast they were a blur.
"I'll never remember all their names," Clara finally said.
"It'll take a while. I expect you'll hear about them until you're sick of their names by the time the next week is over. Libby is happy as a lark with so many kinfolks coming to visit and you'll hear about it for weeks. She's been raised mostly by adults. To have all these children running around is like turning her loose in a candy store."
Morning Glory Page 14