Her Dearly Unintended

by Regina Jennings

  “What would my parents think?”

  “Would they rather we sit up all night in the kitchen together?”

  “Either way, we’re spending the night unchaperoned,” she admitted.

  “Then you might as well be comfortable.”

  “I’d feel better if I knew . . .”

  Josiah stilled. His hearing grew acute, noticing each breath she took. “Knew what, Katie Ellen?”

  The floor creaked, but the bed didn’t move. “Knew what you thought of me. Knew what you were planning. . . .”

  Now his words failed. For the last few years he’d been trying to figure out a way back into her life. If that meant teasing her like he had when they were young, then so be it. He just needed to get close enough that she could see he was sincere. That she could remember the good times they’d had together and consider whether there might be better times ahead. But she wasn’t willing to go back. He’d have to find another way.

  He cleared his throat. “If you’re worried about me telling tales about you when this is over, you just get that thought out of your mind. I know better than that, Katie Ellen. Can’t you admit I’ve done some growing up, too?”

  In vain he waited for an audible answer.

  The bed creaked, then dipped as she curled up away from him. No words of acceptance coming from her tonight. He hadn’t proved himself yet, but he was still trying.

  Chapter Six

  With the gray cloud cover, Katie Ellen wasn’t sure if the sun had hit the horizon or not, but the rooster told her it was morning. She reached for her blanket but it was beneath her instead of covering her. And the same shirt and skirt that she’d worn while getting the calf across the bridge was still on her. In bed.

  She flopped onto her back and bumped against something solid. Her stomach dropped. Something was wrong. Slowly, memories of her parents’ absence, the rainstorm, and the troublesome traveler came back. Morning had come and she’d survived, but where was Silas? Had he torn up anything? Had he stolen anything? Was he gone? And then there was Josiah.

  Josiah. With growing certainty, the identity of the lump beside her became clear. Through the weak light from the window she could make out his profile. His head bowed to his chest, dozing against the headboard.

  How many years had Katie Ellen looked for him down every crooked rabbit trail? How often had she stopped to see if the rustling in the undergrowth would turn out to be the swashbuckling blond boy, ready to take a break from his adventures to see her latest creation? But in later years, they hadn’t enjoyed the same friendship. If she wanted to see him now, she had to dally in a spot waiting to accidentally-on-purpose run into him. And now here he was—so close, so protective. He could’ve left at any time. He could’ve made it down that cliff. He’d been scrambling up and down it since they were losing their milk teeth, but he’d stayed. For her.

  And yet it might have been the biggest mistake of their lives. What if word got out? What would Pa and Ma say? What would Josiah’s family think of her? Just like Josiah to jump into action without considering the consequences.

  Through the years it seemed they shared a special bond. Sure, he irritated her, but no one could get her tickled the way he did. But that was before.

  The kiss was the start of Josiah ignoring her. When his father, Calbert, had asked her ma for help, Katie Ellen had volunteered to take her ma’s place, thinking that Josiah would be happy to see her. Instead he avoided her like she had the ague. For the next year or so he’d stayed away, but recently something had changed. It’d take a fool not to recognize that he was trying to get back in her good graces, and Katie Ellen was no fool. But why now? What was he up to?

  She wanted to move away but feared the awkwardness of the encounter. How did one wake up next to a man? She could sneak out and start her chores. No. She didn’t want to go out alone not knowing what Silas was up to. . . . But could she stand being with Josiah any longer? And did his eyelid just flutter?

  Katie Ellen bounded upright. “You’re awake, aren’t you?”

  Slowly he lifted his head and smiled down at her. “I told you I’d stay up and watch out for you.” Then with no warning he hopped up and took to the window. “Looks like the rain is slowing. Maybe we’ll see the last of Silas today.”

  And the last of Josiah. She scooted to the edge of the bed. The frame creaked as she slid her feet to the floor. She picked up her hairbrush from the nightstand. “I need to get ready for the day,” she said.

  “I could use a spit and polish, too.” He scrubbed on his bristly face. His morning whiskers shaded his dimples even deeper. “Where do I keep my straight razor?”

  “Do you need to shave? It seems like you’re always stubbly when I see you.”

  “Do you like it?” He dipped his head and waited as if her opinion was so very dear to him.

  Transfixed, her hand rose of its own accord to touch his cheek. . . .

  Katie Ellen snapped to attention. She hid her hands behind her back and clasped them securely.

  “In the room upstairs. That’s where Pa’s razor is.”

  Josiah cleared his throat and stared at her as she began to brush out her hair.

  “What?” She lowered her arms.

  His face had pinked like he’d been sitting too close to the stove. “Your hair is mighty pretty, Katie Ellen. I don’t know that I’ve ever seen it down.”

  Her stomach got all fluttery. She ripped the brush through a tangle. “What nonsense. I never wore it up until a few years ago.”

  “But that was before.” His voice went dark.

  Her hands stilled. “Before?” Their eyes locked. He had a request, a message he was trying to convey to her. She waited for him to voice it, but instead he walked past her, unlocked the door, and strode outside.

  Katie Ellen’s arms dropped to her side. She slammed the door closed and sprawled on the bed. Grabbing a pillow, she clutched it close. What was he doing to her? Why did he make her feel so unsure of herself? So dissatisfied? Every insecurity that’d ever plagued her danced through her mind. She’d make a good housekeeper, no doubt about it. She could cook and manage a farm. She was frugal and tidy. Josiah thought she had pretty hair, and evidently she was handsome enough to make him kiss her once. So what was her glaring defect? What was it about her that made him flee the room rather than tell her what he so obviously wished to express? Katie Ellen was determined. If she could only identify her shortcoming, she’d work night and day to obliterate it.

  Speaking of working night and day, Josiah had moved her rocks again. Getting up, she put them back in the correct place. Just like him to set everything awry and not correct it. What was wrong with him? Turning from the window, she took her brush and continued to smooth her hair.

  Josiah had always been known as a daredevil. Everyone thereabouts had Josiah stories they could tell—how he jumped over a campfire, how he rode Jeremiah Calhoun’s meanest stallion, how he broke open the mountain pass for Doctor Hopkins during the worst blizzard. Josiah wasn’t known for cautiousness. It was just like him to paint himself into a corner, and to Katie Ellen that was a serious character flaw. So maybe this inability to express himself was another flaw? On the other hand, if he was fearless, why had he started hiding from her?

  No answer satisfied her.

  Finishing her preparations, Katie Ellen left the bedroom just in time to see Silas and Josiah going out the door.

  “You finally up?” Silas said. “’Bout time. I have a hankering for some vittles.”

  “Come on,” Josiah said, not even sparing her a glance. “The animals come first.”

  Choking back the multitude of instructions she wanted to impart to him, Katie Ellen headed to the kitchen. Breakfast she could do, and hopefully Josiah would find everything he needed and not leave the place a mess. But if he did, she’d clean it up. See what a help she was?

  Soon the eggs were frying and some bread was sliced. Pulling out a jar of preserves and placing mugs by each plate, she had the t
able ready by the time the men returned.

  Silas dropped into a chair. “Can’t believe a barn that clean and organized wouldn’t have a proper milk pail.”

  Her eyes darted to the corner where the milk pail sat unused that morning. Josiah shrugged as he pushed the water bucket onto the cabinet. Katie Ellen frowned. That’s what she watered the animals with. She wouldn’t be drinking that. Josiah put a hand on her waist. She froze as he pulled her against him and nuzzled his face into her hair. What was he doing?

  “Sorry,” he whispered. “I couldn’t tell him I didn’t know where my own milk pail was.” Goose bumps raised on her arms as his lips brushed against her ear. “And now I have to kiss you to keep this little conversation secret.”

  Her knees had turned to water even before he placed the chaste kiss on her cheek, and then he went to the basin to wash his hands.

  Although she’d just as soon kiss a razorback as continue with this farce, Katie Ellen poured a ladle of milk into each mug and presented the men with their breakfast.

  As soon as grace was over, Silas took one look at the skillet and whistled. “Sunny-side up again? And I thought after that kiss you’uns had reached an understanding.”

  Katie Ellen stared at the eggs. She hadn’t meant to cook them wrong, but she had a lot on her mind. Surely they couldn’t fault her for forgetting this one little thing? Josiah’s head was still bowed. With his mouth twisted to one side, he took the flipper and dropped an egg onto his plate.

  “You’d think after all these years of marriage that I could learn to like them the way she cooks them.” Josiah pushed the edge of his fork through the egg and shuddered as the yolk broke free.

  “Put some pepper on them. They needed it last time.” Silas passed the pepper grinder to Josiah. “How long have you’uns been married, anyway?”

  “Two . . .” Josiah drew out the word, probably waiting to see if she’d contradict him, “ . . . years?”

  “That sounds reasonable,” she said.

  “And no children?” Silas asked.

  Josiah kept his chin tucked. “We haven’t had time.”

  Katie Ellen’s face burned. Forgetting her resolve to avoid the milk, she gulped it down as Silas scratched his cheek. “Haven’t had—”

  Josiah grabbed her hand. “Any other chores you have for us, dear? I’m sure you don’t like us underfoot.”

  Milk rushed up her nose. Lowering the mug, she tugged away from him and covered her face with a kitchen towel. After a couple of coughs and an unladylike snort, she dared face her co-conspirator. “I’ll go with you. Mr. Silas can wait here.”

  Chapter Seven

  This play-acting marriage business was wearing Josiah slick. It’d been hard enough to sit next to her all night, but when morning light came and she woke up more fetching than ever, he’d about lost his mind. He filled his lungs with the crisp morning air. He’d held back for so long. Now he was free to move ahead, but if he wasn’t careful he’d scare her away.

  Careful didn’t come easy for him.

  “I could use your help on the garden.” Katie Ellen lowered her empty plate into the basin. “We might need to put down more straw.”

  Silas stroked his beard, stretching it out straight before catching it just beneath his chin again. “You’uns go ahead. After availing myself of your food, I’m ready to kick up my soles and catch some shut-eye. I think I can trust you two to stay out of trouble.” He grinned at them like he’d made some clever statement. “And while I’m thinking on it, do you smoke?”

  “No.” Josiah pushed away from the table. At least he’d had some bread and preserves to sustain him.

  Silas frowned. “You don’t? Then that’s the missus’s tobacco pipe on the hearth?”

  Katie Ellen’s eyes widened.

  “Oh, a pipe? Sure, that’s my pipe. I thought you were asking if I smoked grapevine.” A weak excuse, but it seemed to pass.

  “You don’t mind if I take a pull on it, do ya?”

  “Help yourself.”

  Katie Ellen made a squeak of protest. Well, if her pa didn’t kill him for staying in the house with his daughter, he sure wouldn’t raise a ruckus over his pipe.

  “Come on, Katie Ellen,” Josiah said. “Let’s tend the garden, then I want to look about getting that bridge fixed.”

  “Anxious to be rid of me?” Silas stood and slid his hands beneath his arms. “I guess I’m ready to move on, too, although I still haven’t figured out what you’uns are up to.”

  Well, maybe the man wasn’t that dangerous, but he sure was irritating. And Josiah was at the end of his endurance. “Let’s go,” he said to Katie Ellen.

  Silently, they left the house, waiting until they were far enough away from their nuisance to be honest with each other.

  “Pa ain’t going to like it that you loaned his pipe.” Katie Ellen straightened the brim of her hat and flipped up the collar on her coat against the drops that were beginning again in earnest.

  “What exactly are we going to tell our folks?”

  “The truth,” she said.

  “The whole truth?”

  She could look clear through a fellow when she was of a mind. “Everything—so ruminate on that before you do something shameful.”

  “I’m not ashamed of anything I’ve done,” he said. “But what if your pa doesn’t believe us? You don’t think he’d want us to get hitched, do you?” He leaned forward, looking for any sign of interest, but Katie Ellen had suddenly gotten very busy looking for something in her coat pocket. Reaching into his own pocket, he pulled out a key. “Well, lookee here.”

  She seized it straight from his hand and unlocked the double doors of the barn. With Josiah’s help, the handcart was full of straw in a heartbeat. They spent more time fussing over who would push the cumbersome contraption than loading it, in fact.

  Sure enough, the straw she’d put down earlier had all but washed away. Her delicate sprouts lay tipped over, their hair-like roots exposed and dripping with rain.

  “You ready to get muddy?” he asked.

  “I’m sufficiently covered.” And to prove it, she lifted an armload of straw and mucked through the rows, scattering straw as she went.

  Mud held no terrors for him, either, and to keep her fancy little leather gloves clean, he’d do the dirty work himself. Taking the spade, he burrowed into the soaked earth and dragged out a canal to direct the water away from the tender plants. Then, starting with those most drenched, he righted the sprouts and covered their exposed roots before arranging more straw over each hill.

  Without any concern for her gloves, Katie Ellen knelt at a row across from him once the handcart had been emptied. The rain pattered against the saturated ground. The leaves on the snap beans trembled with each strike. He looked at his hands and wondered how dirt could smell so clean. Given his choice, he’d stay outside until the river went down. Much more comfortable than inside with Silas. With a guilty look toward the house, he cleared his throat.

  “As soon as we’re done here and know the plants will hold, we’re going down the mountain.”

  She lifted the brim of her hat. “I’m not leaving. He doesn’t trust us, and we don’t trust him. I can’t leave him to riffle through Ma and Pa’s things at will.”

  “If we don’t trust him, then maybe we should hightail it out of here. I know you’ve always imagined me as some sort of hero”—Josiah held up a hand to stop her protest—“don’t deny it. But I don’t know what his game is, so we’d be better served vacating for the time being.”

  She was taking his measure with more interest than a tailor. “May I speak now?”

  “Have at it.”

  She rested her muddy gloves on her equally muddy knees. “I’m sorry you feel obligated to protect me, but I’m obliged to look after our farm. This is my responsibility. I’m not saying that I’m strong enough or brave enough to do this without you, Josiah. I know my limits. But I really have no choice.”

  Even in the drenching rain
, he felt warm and toasty. “You need me?”

  Her brown eyes mirrored back his sincerity. “Yes. I need you.”

  Well, wasn’t that something? Josiah stretched up nice and straight. “I ain’t gonna leave you, but we’ve got to watch out for each other better. My mind would be more at ease if I knew for certain what he was toting around beneath his coat.”

  “Why don’t you ask him?”

  “I can’t do that. ‘Hey, mister, is that a gun you’ve got there? Thought you might want to pull it out and shoot me with it.’ Naw, you never give a man an excuse to draw on you.”

  “Then I’ll ask him.” She stood and scrubbed the mud off her raincoat. “He wouldn’t shoot me cold-blooded. Not after I made him eggs.”

  “Those eggs weren’t nothing special.”

  She thrust her arms straight down at her side. “Well, maybe I’m tired of tiptoeing around, wondering what he’s going to do. Let’s get it over with.”

  Josiah was on his feet in a heartbeat. He grabbed her wrist. “That’s a dangerous attitude, Katherine Eleanor. You got to think this through.”

  “You are telling me to think something through?” In mock shock, she slapped her hand to her forehead, leaving a muddy palm print dripping down her face.

  “Mud on your face?” He shook his head. “Bet that’s like to drive you batty.”

  “Well, it doesn’t,” she claimed, although her eyes twitched. “You think you know me up and down, don’t you?” She bent to collect a handful of mud and slapped it against her cheek. “What do you think of that?”

  “Impressive,” he said, “but getting dirty isn’t solving anything.” He pulled his shirttail out of his pants and offered it to her. “Here. It ain’t dry, but it’s still clean.”

  She didn’t even stop to consider. “I’m just frustrated. Having him here is unsettling. I just want my life back to the way it was.”

  Well, Josiah had other ideas. It was high time her life be changed . . . and that he be a part of it.