The preacher took his place behind the podium at the front of the church. "We'll begin by singing hymn number 104."
They'd sung the first verse and were into the chorus when the back door opened and a man eased into the pew right beside Tilly. He wore freshly-starched trousers with heavy creases in the legs, a black leather vest over a crisp white shirt and a bright, shiny badge pinned on the vest. Clara took stock of the man from the corner of her eye. His angular face sported a few crow's feet around his dark eyes with the heaviest set of lashes she'd ever seen on a man. Full lips that formed the words of the hymn even before he found the right song by checking the number in Tilly's book. Clara noticed that Tilly was blushing beneath the veil on her hat. She couldn't remember the last time she'd seen Tilly turn crimson, but there it was. She couldn't wait to get home and barrage Tilly with questions about why the new lawman had made her blush.
"I'm glad to welcome our new sheriff this morning," the preacher said when the last notes of the hymn settled. "That would be Sheriff Rayford Sloan sitting on the back pew beside the Anderson ladies. Please make him welcome right after services. I've chosen to speak on the evils around us this morning, especially the law breaking and sinful effects of making and selling illegal liquor. As you all know, when Oklahoma entered the union ten years ago, it was with the understanding we'd come into the union as a dry state. So in addition to being an abomination unto our Lord and Savior, it is against the law-"
"Don't that just give you chills and make you want to join the Temperance Ladies," Clara whispered into Tilly's ear.
"Of course it gives me chills," Tilly mouthed and pretended to shiver.
Just when Clara figured they'd be sitting there when eternity dawned, the preacher wound down his sermon and asked Truman to give the benediction while he tiptoed to the doors to greet each member of the congregation as they filed out. Truman must have figured his wiggling children had had all the church they could endure that morning because he barely prayed long enough for the preacher to reach the doors before he uttered a resounding "Amen" Clara heard a cumulative sigh in the whole building, the biggest one coming from Tilly.
"He sure stepped down firm on your toes," Clara said as soon as they were in the car. "Thought you were going to cry, your face turned so red."
"Next week he'll preach on the horrors of a woman living in the same house with a man without a marriage license," Tilly smarted right back.
"Oh, but, honey, I have a chaperone so he won't have to marry me," Clara said.
"The things we do for a child. That Libby is cute enough that I'd risk my reputation and stay with her at night if she asked me so I can't fault you for that. What's Dulcie fixing for lunch? Fried chicken?"
"No, pot roast. She put it on right after breakfast. You staying?"
"Of course. Bessie might need someone to fight in her corner."
"I'm not mad at Bessie."
"Good, but I'll stay anyway. There's nothing at my house but leftover ham and Dulcie makes a right mean pot roast"
Tilly parked and both of them were walking up the path toward the house when Briar pulled his car in behind hers. The minute he opened the door, Libby came running helter skelter, dress tails and curly hair both flying. Her eyes were aglow with excitement and a smile covered her angelic face.
She grabbed Clara's hand and pulled her toward the house. "Guess what? Miss Bessie said we could eat here today. It's the bestest day ever."
Clara looked back over her shoulder to see Briar shrug.
Dulcie's preacher didn't have a burr in his short-alls that morning concerning moonshine, so she'd gotten home early and dinner was ready to dish up and put on the table. Clara asked Olivia to say grace knowing that it would surely be short. Olivia did not disappoint her.
After lunch, Libby yawned and asked for a nap.
Briar looked at Clara.
"Of course, you can take a nap, sweetheart," Clara nodded. "All the ladies at the Morning Glory Inn take a Sunday afternoon nap."
"Where will Daddy sleep?" she asked.
"He can go home for a nap and come back to get you"
"Can he sleep in your room?" Libby asked.
"Where would I sleep, then?" Clara avoided Briar's eyes.
"With me," Libby smiled.
"Sounds like a good plan to me" Tilly finished off a slice of coconut pie. "I'm going home and take a long nap myself."
Thirty minutes later, Clara found herself with a four year old snuggled up against her, snoring so slightly it sounded like a kitten's purr. She couldn't sleep so she entertained herself by staring at Libby and pretending the child was hers, that it was the most normal thing in the world for her to be taking a Sunday afternoon nap with her. Someday when she and Briar had children of their own, she'd cuddle with them, but she'd never leave Libby out of the picture because she might not be the child of her flesh but she certainly was the first one of her heart.
Clara's eyes widened and she lay very still, trying to shake that crazy thought from her head. Sure, he'd kissed her a few times and it made her whole insides quiver. A dark doom settled over her. Briar Nelson wouldn't have Clara Anderson. The woman was odd. The village idiot. A deeper gloom filled Clara's breast at the thought of Briar marrying someone else and some other woman raising Libby. She finally eased out of the bed and sat in a rocking chair, her arms wrapped around her waist as she tried to fight off the chill inside her heart.
Briar couldn't have slept if it had been a matter of life and death. He was in Clara's room, could smell her scent on the pillow case, see her personality in the things scattered about the room. A book of poetry she was reading for the next meeting at the library. A day dress draped over the back of a rocking chair. A picture of a lady on her dresser, another one of the same lady with a dark-haired man, both of them younger and in wedding clothes. Another one when the man and woman were older with a little girl beside them.
He had never had time to sit for a family picture with Lorianne and Libby. Lorianne left when the baby was only a month old. But when he and Clara were married, he'd remedy that matter.
He sat straight up in the bed so fast he got a rush to his head. Great God in heaven, where did that thought come from? Marry Clara? He didn't think so. Even if he admitted aloud that he'd fallen in love with the woman, she'd never say yes to him. He liked the way she fit into his arms. Loved the way she adored Libby. And he enjoyed talking to her about any and everything, but to wed the woman? To tell her he'd fallen in love with her? No, it couldn't be.
Libby awoke with a fresh head of steam, ready to go home, to take Bessie and Clara with her. Clara and Briar were cool toward each other, neither quite sure of how to deal with the emotional upheaval in their hearts. How on earth had it happened anyway? Three months before they couldn't stand each other. Libby kept up a running chatter with Bessie in the backseat on the way to the farm. Briar kept his eyes on the road and Clara looked out the side window. Both of them counted the long hours until bedtime when they could escape each other's company.
Briar carried two suitcases up the stairs. Bessie's, he slipped into a guest room. Clara's went to Judith's old room. He missed Judith. She'd know what to do about this situation with Clara. He could discuss it with her and she'd give some well thought out advice. But she was twenty-four hours gone.
He whispered to the reflection of a bewildered man in the vanity mirror. "Why didn't I realize how much I cared before she left?"
Clara paused outside the door and picked up every word. Tears welled in the corners of her eyes, threatening to streak down her face, but she willed them back. Anger filled her breast. How could she have ever fallen for a man who was still in love with his ex-wife? Talk about a typical triangle. She wiped at her face with the back of her hand and stumbled toward the stairs.
"Clara?" Briar said.
"What?" she snapped.
"Are you crying?"
"Hell's bells, no!"
"Then what is the matter?" he asked.
; "What's the matter? You're totally blind and stupid and ignorant," she snapped at him.
"What brought that on?"
"I told you yesterday. You can't get over Lorianne and now you've proven it. Standing there in that bedroom and saying what you did."
He almost blushed. He certainly hadn't expected her to overhear him talking to himself. "What did I say?"
"That you should have told her how much you cared before she left. Well, only two women have left. I don't expect you were talking about your sister. So that leaves Lorianne, doesn't it?" She wished she'd never humored Libby and agreed to come to his house.
"Why do you care anyway?"
"Because you are ... because I do," she stammered.
"I was talking to one of those women and about another one, neither of which were Lorianne," he explained.
"Now you are talking in riddles."
Libby yelled from the foot of the staircase. "Daddy, Daddy, Miss Bessie and me are going to see the kitties!"
"Okay, Libby. Clara and I will be there soon." He looked down at his lovely daughter, not seeing her mother at all, but a four-year-old child that amazingly looked a lot like Clara with her big blue eyes and dark hair.
"Okaaay." She drew out the word and dashed off to the parlor where she grabbed Bessie by the hand and led her through the foyer and dining room and out the kitchen door.
"I didn't mean to talk in riddles. I had a problem and I realized how often I'd talked to Judith when I couldn't solve something. I was missing her, that's all," he told Clara, who had folded her arms across her chest.
"It's none of my business," she said flatly.
"Probably not," he agreed. "Shall we go see Libby's kitties?" He started down the stairs before Clara.
"Of course" She followed behind him, until she caught the heel of her shoe on the stair pad and tumbled forward.
He'd barely cleared the last step when he heard her gasp. He turned quickly only to see her falling toward him, clutching for anything to break the fall and catching nothing but air. When she got close enough, she wrapped both arms around his neck and pulled him down with her. When it was all said and done, they were both tangled up on the foyer floor. He'd broken her fall and was flat on his back. She was on top of him with skirt tails all askew and her face barely three inches from his.
That's when Inez Potter stuck her head in the front door and yelled, "Yoo hooo, Mr. Nelson, are you home?"
Clara and Briar were frozen in a tableau that would set all of society on its ear. Neither of them could move and the look on Inez's face was nothing short of pure shock. Her eyes came nigh to popping right out of her head. Her mouth was puckered up in a perfect little round circle. She was halfway in the house and halfway still on the porch and couldn't make herself stay in or back out. Like two animals, they were breeding on the foyer floor with his little girl giggling not a hundred feet away on the back porch.
"I just fell down the stairs," Clara explained, breathlessly.
"Sure you did," Inez snapped at her. "We all knew you were crazy as an outhouse rat, Clara Anderson, but we figured you for a decent man, Mr. Nelson."
Briar righted Clara first and then sat up right beside her, his thigh still touching hers. "Don't you talk about Clara like that. She's telling you the truth. She fell down the stairs. Clara, are you hurt?"
"You're going to take up for her?" Inez let herself into the house.
Bessie peeked in from the kitchen. "What's going on here? Inez, I thought I heard your voice."
Inez pointed at Bessie. "Yes, you did. What are you doing here?"
"Not that it's a bit of your business, but I'm here with Clara. The two of us are staying with Libby at night for a while until she gets used to her aunt being gone. And you'd best put that finger away before I break it off. Now tell me what are you doing? Looks like you're ready to bite nails."
"I came to talk to Mr. Nelson about keeping his daughter for him. I don't think a child should be left with Clara," she said.
"Clara loves my child and does fine with her. Not that it's your business." Briar stood and offered Clara a hand to help her.
She wasn't at all surprised to find that just his touch set her heart to humming and her nerves on edge. After all, she was in love with the man.
"Well, if that's the way you feel, I'll be going," Inez huffed.
"Don't let the door hit you in the hind end," Bessie told her.
When she had sped off in her Model T, Bessie turned around to find Clara and Briar looking at opposite walls. "I'm going back out there and play with Libby. You two need to talk seriously. Lock the front door and don't answer it even if God knocks. Get on in the parlor and don't come out until you've spoken your piece."
Briar locked the door. Clara marched into the parlor, sat down on the settee and waited.
He stood in the door, leaning against the door jamb. "You going first or am I?"
"You."
"Okay, I was lying on your bed and suddenly I realized I'd fallen in love with you. I didn't mean to but I did, and that sounds dumb, like I'm a sixteen-year-old boy. I'm divorced, Clara. Even if I did fall in love with you, it doesn't mean anything could happen. You deserve so much more than a divorced man with a child."
"Is that a proposal?"
"No. I can't propose to you because I'm afraid of rejection."
"Well" She sucked in a lungful of air and opened her mouth. Nothing came out. Her mouth was dry. She tried again. Her heart skipped every other beat. "I came to the same conclusion at the same time."
"What? That you deserve more?"
"What about your heart?" Clara asked. "What about mine? Did you say you love me?"
"I did. Surprised the hell out of me, but I do, and I think I knew it a long time ago. Probably that night Percy's widow came to visit."
"I love you, too, Briar, and I think I knew it even before then. I've fought it but can't get you out of my heart. Libby is the icing on the cake. Let me be the judge of what I deserve or don't. And who are you to talk? You're getting the village idiot. If you don't believe me, ask Inez Potter."
Briar crossed the room in a dozen long strides, drew Clara up into an embrace. He kissed her eyelids, her nose, coming finally to her lips where he lingered for several long kisses. He finally drew away slightly to look at her beaming face. "If you ever refer to yourself like that again, we are going to fight"
"I imagine we will many times before we die," she laid her head on his chest.
"Clara Anderson, will you marry me?" he asked. "I don't have a ring and I'm not down on one knee begging, but this is an honest, sincere proposal"
"Yes, I will," Clara said, "but let's don't tell anyone just yet. I need time to let it soak in."
"You be the judge of when it's told and when we set a date. That doesn't matter. What does is that I love you with my whole heart. Did you hear me? My whole heart. There's no one else there. I give you my word that you're the only woman in my life. There is a little girl, but I think we can share her."
"Yes, we can share Libby. And, Briar, I believe you. The past is nothing but ashes for both of us," she said, pulling his head down for another kiss to seal the hope of a bright future.
Clara picked up a new suitcase sitting beside the front door. "I'm going to town now, Dulcie," she called toward the kitchen.
"It's about that time." Dulcie dried her hands on the tail of her starched apron. It had to be nigh on to 10:00.
"If anyone comes askin' about the extra room, there's a contract right here." Clara pulled a single piece of paper from the drawer of the oak credenza and laid it beside fresh roses floating in a crystal bowl. She adjusted her hat just so, pulled on her gloves and checked her reflection one last time in the mirror above the credenza.
"I know. Rent is still thirty dollars a month and that includes the breakfast. Supper is another fifty cents a day." Dulcie wiped her hands on her apron and hugged Clara. "Honey, stay home please. Do you really have to go?"
"What would the p
eople talk about if I didn't? And, Dulcie, don't you go renting that room to just anyone. Another widow woman would be nice."
"Yes, Miss Clara," Dulcie shook her head hard enough that all three chins wobbled, and prayed before she let go of Clara. "Sweet Jesus, can't you do somethin' about this mess. She's not crazy. She's smart and pretty. Does it have to be this way?"
Clara stopped and took one long look at the Morning Glory Inn from the street. There had been two men boarders there in the last ten years. One broke her heart. The other put it back together. She'd miss the place, but it was time to move on to a fuller, better life. She meandered four blocks down Main Street and took her seat on the bench in front of the drug store. She set the suitcase beside her, smoothed the skirt of her simple white lace wedding dress, adjusted her hat and folded her hands in her lap. It was a lovely fall day. No wind. Sunny. One of those rare mornings when she didn't even need a sweater.
"Clara, darlin', how're you today? Nervous?" Tilly sat down beside her cousin on the bench.
"Doin' fine. Not a bit nervous. This is what I want. I'm happier than I've ever been" Clara nodded. "How're you?"
"Been busy. You look beautiful," Tilly told her.
"So do you. You look just like a bridesmaid."
"That I do. Don't see a preacher, though."
Clara laughed. Not a giggle, but a full-fledged laugh that echoed up and down the dusty dirt streets of Healdton, Oklahoma.
"Mornin', Clara and Tilly," Tucker Anderson tipped his hat at his cousins and sat down on the bench with them. "Hot enough for you today?"
"Why, honey, it'd scorch the hair off a frog's tongue. But I'm not complainin'. Winter will be here soon enough. I'm glad for a lovely day," Clara said. "Come and sit with us. I haven't seen you since last week sometime. Beulah and Bessie say that you're still welcome to drop by for supper any time you want"
"Clara, this is so unusual. You sure this is the way you want to do things? You know there's money in your account. You could do this up right. Reception. The whole nine yards. Big thing like Judith had. Come home with me and let's think this through" Tucker took her hand in his.
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