And the opera!
An automobile honked somewhere along the street.
A man yelled for Carol. Or maybe he said Coral. She didn’t have time to wait and look around to figure out where the sound had come from. She hurried past the ice-cream parlor and young Teddy Kent’s glare. For once, the teenager and his friends didn’t toss expletives in her direction.
The honking increased.
Coral reached the intersection. She grimaced.
A wooden board lay on the muddy street across a water-filled pothole.
“This could be a problem,” she muttered under her breath.
She could backtrack and take a different—longer—route to the jeweler, and waste precious time, or she could cross the board. An easy task if she had good equilibrium. And she didn’t. She had no balance, struggled to hear well in crowds, no longer danced with rhythm, and couldn’t tell where sounds originated. Still, all in all, being deaf in one ear was more of an inconvenience than a handicap. Not that she would announce news of her deafness in the Wathena Times or Weekly Republican. The pitying glances she received from her family were enough. She didn’t need everyone in town feeling sorry for her, too.
Someone again yelled for Carol.
The devil wagon honked three times in a row. Likely at the pedestrians crossing the street, darting around the wheeled and horse-drawn traffic.
Coral eyed the muddy road and footprint-covered board. She didn’t have time to lose. She drew upon every ounce of optimism she had. If she walked on her tiptoes, she could keep the hem of her skirt from the mud.
“Coral, stop!”
She jerked her gaze upward. Halfway up the block ahead were Gil and his wife Ann, waving.
“Wait!” they both said in unison.
Coral released a sigh of relief and nodded. Instead of continuing on to her, they stopped to chat with a cluster of teeners that included their brother Richard, and Ann’s nephew, Ronnie.
A hand touched her shoulder then drew back.
Coral turned around. Gasped. Standing this close, she could see the dark circles under Jack’s blue eyes and could smell his leather and soap cologne. His forehead furrowed, wrinkling deep from more than two decades of working in the Kent family orchard. If Inez knew his true character, like Coral did, she may not find his exterior so appealing.
Jack tipped his hat and a lock of ash-blond hair fell across his forehead. “We need to talk.”
Six days of fitful sleep. Of having no focus morning, noon, and night. Of promising God he’d make things right between him and Coral if God would orchestrate an opportunity.
Not once during the last six days had Jack seen Coral anywhere about town. Only when he decided to live with his guilt, here she was. In a flower shop he’d never stepped inside before today. Not but five feet from him. And what had he talked about? Yellow ribbon. If it weren’t for him, she’d be married with a baby or two. It was time he apologized. God help him, he’d do it even if it meant losing every last bit of his pride.
That’s what You want, isn’t it, Lord?
The automobile horn blared again.
Jack glanced over his shoulder at a green Ford Model C, the driver’s face obscured by the afternoon sun’s glare on the windshield. Not recognizing the automobile as belonging to anyone he knew, he narrowed his focus on the pretty redhead. Coral stood before him, clenching her briefcase and looking like she was about to breathe fire. Considering the number of Kent and Davies kin milling about the street and at the nearby carnival, he wasn’t about to risk a skirmish breaking out if things between them became heated.
He grabbed her elbow. “Let’s go somewhere private.”
Coral jerked free of his hold. “If you have anything to say to me, Jack Kent, you can say it here.”
Dozens of pedestrians stopped walking and looked their way.
“Shh,” he cautioned. “No need to draw attention by yelling.”
“I’m not—”
“Coral?” came an out-of-breath voice. “Is it really you?”
Her blue-eyed glare shifted from Jack to his wayward cousin who wore a fancy high-collar black suit and a top hat—clothes more fitting for a bank president than a soon-to-be orchard manager. Coral offered no smile of delight. No jumping into her first love’s arms, kissing him repeatedly and confessing the love she’d kept hidden these last four years. If anything, she looked put out. With Hiram.
The corner of Jack’s mouth twitched. If she was wary of Hiram, then she was shrewder than he’d given her credit for.
Jack nodded toward the Model C parked on the opposite side of the street. “That yours?”
Hiram slapped Jack’s shoulder. “Sure is, coz. She’s a beaut, isn’t she?”
Jack didn’t respond. Or ask where Hiram had secured the funds to purchase the vehicle.
“Ahh, Coral darling.” Hiram took a slow, predatory step toward her. His gaze moved from her face to the curves her blue suit accentuated. “You’ve become even more beautiful. Forgive me for being a fool and not returning home sooner.”
Jack’s brows rose at the word home.
Coral continued to regard Hiram as if he were a stranger offering candy.
Smart girl.
“What are you doing back in Wathena?” she asked.
Hiram cocked his head to the side. “You don’t know?”
She shook her head.
“You, Coral Davies.”
“Me?” she blurted in an unladylike manner.
As Hiram talked to Coral, Jack looked past her, up the sidewalk where her brother Gil was shoving people out of the way. His wife Ann pulled at his arm. Whatever she was saying, they were too far away to hear, yet gaining ground.
Jack slapped Hiram’s shoulder. “We should go.”
Hiram had eyes for no one but Coral. “I’ve spent the last four years agonizing over how things would be different if we would’ve eloped. I would have returned sooner, but I’ve been making plans.”
Coral’s mouth opened, but no words came out.
Jack felt his jaw drop as well. What yarn was his cousin spinning? During that last year at university and whenever he’d returned to visit Hiram, as soon as his cousin noticed a pretty girl, nothing Jack could say would distract him. Never once in the last four years had Hiram asked Jack about Coral.
“What kind of plans?” Jack put in.
“To elope,” Hiram said to Coral as if she’d been the one to ask.
Panic widened Coral’s eyes. “Elope? It’s been years since—”
“Not to me. I’ve never stopped loving you.” Hiram reached for her arm.
For a split second, Jack would have sworn her gaze shifted to him, a silent help me. Jack shoved Hiram to the side as Coral backed onto the wooden board. She wobbled. Jack lunged for her, but she lost her balance and fell backward into the street with an oomph. Mud splattered everywhere; her briefcase and parasol slide from her grip, yet she clung to the bouquet.
Hiram scowled at Jack. “Why did you—”
Gil swung Hiram around; his fist connected with Hiram’s face. Someone shoved Jack from behind. He stumbled forward, tripped over Gil’s boot, and twisted in time not to land on Coral. Instead he hit the ground next to her, mud seeping into his suit. Coral’s other brothers, Dan and Richard, arrived and attacked Hiram. Then, out of the corner of Jack’s eye, he saw Teddy grab a handful of mud.
“Don’t,” he yelled in unison with Coral.
A glob hit Gil in the back.
Gil scooped a handful. “Why, you little—!”
Ann screamed.
Jack shielded Coral as mud flew from all directions.
Chapter 2
He that demands mercy and shows none, ruins the bridge over which he himself is to pass.
THOMAS ADAMS
The next morning
Do you even know why you hate each other?” The calm voice broke the silence in the jail.
From where Jack sat on the cot in the corner of his cell, he looked from Judge
Swayze, dressed in his Sunday finest, to the Kents, then to Coral with her bright red-orange hair a startling contrast to that of her kin. All six cells packed with two or three people. While this wasn’t the first time he’d been in jail after an altercation with a Davies, it was the first time since his university days when he used to run head-first into any battle unconcerned with the consequence. Years of taming his temper and establishing his reputation as an upstanding citizen—as one of the town’s esteemed doctors—ruined in the blink of an eye.
In a mud puddle, to be more precise.
A steeple bell in the distance rang, calling worshippers to service.
Tin coffee mug in hand, Judge Swayze looked over the rims of his spectacles as he walked down the corridor between the two rows of cells. “Well,” he prodded, “you’ve been given the night to think it over. Surely you’ve figured it out.”
Murmurs and shrugs were the only response.
“In all my fifty-two years, I’ve never seen such a bunch of fools.”
“Sir, the reason the feud began doesn’t matter anymore.” Coral’s girlish voice came from behind her brothers Gil and Dan.
Richard sulked in another cell with two cousins. Whit was the Davies brother not involved in the mudslinging. Jack wasn’t surprised. Since the incident at the river four years ago, Whit had kept with his leatherworking business while also helping Mr. Davies manage their orchard. If anyone had the ability to end this feud, it was the oldest Davies son.
Coral pushed her brothers aside and made her way to the cell door, to where Swayze now stood. Her dress was more brown than blue, likely as ruined as his beige suit. Most of her lovely face was covered with dried mud, hair matted. Unlike Jack, she’d slept through the night, he knew because he’d watched her. She’d lain on her right side, using Dan’s coat as a pillow. Never stirred at any sound, which made him more assured of his diagnosis.
“I do think everyone has learned his lesson,” Coral said with a cheerfulness Jack never had until he’d been awake at least an hour. “This won’t happen again.”
Hiram walked to the door of the cell he shared with Jack. “I agree, sir. We’re all changed men.”
A humph came from the district attorney, the Honorable Lew Peters, standing at the entrance to the jail cells.
Judge Swayze sipped his coffee. “You are ever the optimist, Miss Davies, and you…” He scowled at Hiram. “Considering you’ve been away from Wathena these last four years, you no more know those sharing this jail with you than they know you. Besides, a man’s nature never changes, wouldn’t you say, Dr. Kent?”
All eyes, including Coral’s, turned on him.
Jack leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, gaze on the brick floor. He steepled his fingers. Last Sunday the judge had sat in the same service as Jack, and every Kent save for Hiram, and listened to the same sermon on how believers were the temple in which the Spirit of God abided. That could only happen if a man’s sinful nature was removed. Crucified. Changed. Replaced with a new nature, one holy, blameless, and beyond reproach. It’d taken Jack almost seventeen months to finally understand God had forgiven all his sins—past, present, future—and made him a new man in Christ.
A sinner to a saint.
He looked at the judge. “God changes a man.”
“Indeed.” Swayze took a leisurely sip from his tin cup.
Jack would wager the man did it to hide a smile.
Coral’s head tilted as she stared at him. He wanted to say she looked impressed with his answer, but he no more knew her than she knew him. Her faith may be no more real than his had been prior to his uncle’s death.
Swayze cleared his throat.
Coral and Jack looked his way.
His gaze narrowed and shifted about, looking no more pleased than he had the moment he’d first questioned them all yesterday afternoon following their arrest. “Still, I’m neither convinced a lesson has been learned here nor hopeful this won’t happen again. Disturbing the peace is a misdemeanor criminal offense. Anyone charged can face jail time up to ninety days plus fines.”
“Ninety days,” echoed about the room.
“Plus fines,” muttered Jack.
“Your warning is duly noted.” Hiram grinned. He shoved his hands in his trouser pockets with that devil-may-care attitude of his. “Since we’ve all agreed not to press charges against one another for assault and battery, you can let us go.”
Jack shook his head. University hadn’t changed his cousin one bit. Hiram still had that uncanny ability to keep criticism from getting under his skin.
Not a flaw, but not necessarily a virtue, either.
“Not so quickly, Mr. Kent,” the DA put in. “I have the paperwork ready to file charges against you all for creating a public disturbance. Trust me, you will be found guilty. Your families—every last one—are waiting outside to hear what the judge decides. You’re under his mercy at the moment.”
As murmurs and grumbles grew, Jack stared at the dried mud on his hands. Ninety days of no house calls. Mary Zeizer’s twins wouldn’t wait that long to be delivered. He’d promised Mr. McKinney he’d be by the man’s side when his wife passed. While misdemeanor conviction would be a black mark on them all, disqualifying them (especially Jack) in the forum of public opinion, its consequences were far greater and long reaching than likely any Kent or Davies realized.
No one would be in jail if he hadn’t made an attempt to apologize to Coral because he’d thrown her in the river. Because he was to blame for her hearing loss.
Fault—and responsibility—lay at his mud-caked feet. He had to make reparations.
Gil and Dan murmured, nodded, and then broke apart.
“You can’t keep us in here for three months,” Gil argued. “School starts soon for the teeners. The Kents don’t have enough workers, any more than we do, to bring in the harvest without us there to help. That financial loss would be greater than any fines.” He pulled his brother Dan forward. “Dan’s getting married in two months. He can’t miss his wedding.”
Swayze gave him a look of disdain. “You should have considered those things before you participated in a mud fight. Your own wife tried to stop you. Pride—arrogance—stupidity—they all go before a fall. Have the decency, Gil, to stop whining about why you can’t stay in jail. You are in here on your own making.”
Richard Davies’s eyes flashed with anger. “Dr. Kent pushed our sister into the mud,” he shot back. “The Kents started it. We just finished it. I will wear a misdemeanor conviction with pride.”
The other Kent and Davies teeners agreed.
“With pride you say,” began Swayze, brows raised. “You should know there are thousands of state and federal consequences to having a misdemeanor conviction on your record. It affects gun ownership, access to loans, adoption qualifications, university admissions, job applications, and even your ability to join the United States Armed Forces”—he gave Teddy a pointed look—“including the National Guard. What you think is a badge of honor is in reality a silent and continual punishment.” He turned to the exit, and District Attorney Peters stepped out of the way to give him room to pass.
Jack stood.
“Wait!” Coral said before he did.
Swayze stopped a few feet from the threshold. He looked over his shoulder. “Yes, Miss Davies?”
She gripped the bars, her knuckles whitening. “I can’t stay in here.” She sounded panicked. “I—I—I have job responsibilities and plans.”
“I cannot continue to employ you, should you be charged with a misdemeanor.”
Despite the mud splatters on her face, Jack could see her skin paling. “We had an agreement,” she said. “Your trip—shouldn’t you be leaving in a couple hours?”
“I should.” Swayze walked back to Coral’s cell. His hand wrapped around hers. “You have become the closest I have to a child. The feud between your families ruined an anniversary dinner with my wife. Other people are being harmed now because of this inability of bot
h families to let go of a grudge. One day someone is going to be seriously hurt”—for a second, his gaze settled on Jack—“if it hasn’t already happened. I’m sorry, Coral.” He released her hand. “Peters, file the charges.”
“Wait,” Jack said, “isn’t there another solution?”
“Another solution?” Swayze repeated as if it was the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard. He coughed a breath. “Short of a Kent marrying a Davies, I can’t see one.”
Chapter 3
If we could read the secret histories of our enemies, we should find in each man’s life sorrow and suffering enough to disarm all hostility.
HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW
Until death do you part. Do you part. Do you part.
The words resounded as the steam engine chugged, iron wheels turned. With her mud-stained parasol overhead to block the bright sun, Coral watched the noon passenger train pull out of the station. The engine whistled again. Judge and Mrs. Swayze sat secure inside their rented Pullman car on this most pristine summer day. If either looked outside the gold-curtained windows to where she stood, in soiled garments, she didn’t know.
Death do you part.
Just like your mother, you’ve made the Davies name the laughingstock of the town.
Coral’s empty stomach lurched.
She’d rather her father had fled the jail after the wedding in tears like her mother had, wailing at the horrors of it all. No, he had to remind her of the gravitas of her action. He had to ensure she knew she was no longer a Davies. What she’d sacrificed for the family’s benefit mattered not, because she’d married one of them. Gil’s wife, Ann, had been the only family to give Coral and Jack hugs and wish them well.
Tears blurred her view.
Blinking them away, Coral straightened her shoulders, gripped her briefcase in one hand and parasol in the other. She glanced about the depot to spy him talking to a group of local businessmen. They wore smiles as broad as Jack’s. If he was bothered by the mud he still wore, he showed it none. Even after a good cleaning, his Panama hat may never sit level on his head again. Things damaged were nothing, though, compared to lives—and futures—hurt. She shouldn’t have been arrested. She hadn’t been involved in the mud flinging. If she hadn’t panicked when Hiram tried to grab her arm, she wouldn’t have lost her balance. Of course, if she had better equilibrium she wouldn’t have fallen. Jack hadn’t been at fault, either. Yet the two people with the least blame were the ones paying the consequences for the guilty.
The Lassoed by Marriage Romance Collection Page 36