The Heavenly Surrender

by Marcia Lynn McClure

  Unnerved slightly by a sudden odd thrill springing up within her, Genieva corrected him again. “I am not your mule, Mr. McLean. I expect to be treated as your equal and without violence.”

  “Not me mule, ya say. Sounds to me like ya could put me mule’s stubborn streak out like a candle’s flicker,” he grumbled as he snapped the lines, urging the team forward again.

  

  “’Tis a sad, sad story, it is,” Brenna sighed as she helped Genieva to hang Brevan’s freshly washed shirts on the line late that same afternoon. “Innocent she was…to the ways of the world, ya see. But she’s a good girl, and things will be workin’ out for Amy Wilburn eventually. As for the other three ya saw…vindictive as venom, they are. I’ve no doubt in me mind they’re all plain furious at Brevan marryin’ you and not choosin’ one of them…as if he’d even waste his brain a thinkin’ on any of those ugly sows.”

  “Mrs. Fenton seems nice, though,” Genieva remarked. She grinned—unable to avoid being amused by Brenna’s calling the young women in town “ugly sows.”

  “Oh, yes. No doubt she’ll be makin’ sure there’s a bee held in yar honor. She’s a kindly old lady. A bit too much on the gossip, though. She drowns in it like some men do in liquor.”

  Genieva smiled at Brenna’s superb comparison. She knew she would have to take Mrs. Fenton’s words very lightly.

  Both women turned then as they heard the barn door slam shut. As Brevan walked from the barn toward the house, they watched in silence for a moment before Brenna whispered, “He’s not as bad as he wants ya to think, Genieva. Just ya wait and see. He likes ya, he does. He would not have married ya otherwise.”

  “Well, I’m only here to…” Genieva began. But Brenna interrupted her.

  “Me brother is so the handsome lad that it’s frightenin’, it is. And he’s a lot of fun and kindness when he’s not actin’ up. Don’t try tellin’ me ya haven’t already fallen for him, Genieva. For ya’d be lyin’, and heaven’s a watchin’ ya.”

  “Oh, Brenna,” Genieva scolded with a nonchalant toss of her head. She turned and continued to hang up the freshly washed garments from the basket at her feet. “This isn’t like you and Travis.” Pausing, she turned to Brenna. Only in that moment did she realize she had no knowledge of the circumstances under which Travis and Brenna had come together. “How did you and Travis meet and marry?”

  “Oh, me Travis,” Brenna sighed, staring toward the bright blue sky—a wistful smile spreading across her lovely face. “Travis was a cowboy. He was lookin’ for a place to winter last fall, and he asked Brevan if we needed a hand. He’d been to the…to another place nearby…a rancher’s land and been coldly turned away. The weather was fairly fierce last winter, and before he knew it, he found himself on our doorstep the night of the first snow, askin’ Brevan if he could winter out here. Brian had recently married Lita, and Brevan was wonderin’ if he could keep up the place on his own, he was. So he told Travis he could stay the winter. I knew I loved him the moment I laid me eyes on him.” She sighed heavily and smiled at Genieva. Genieva was delighted by the blush that suddenly rose to her sister-in-law’s face. “Brevan came upon us sparkin’ in the barn one day just before Christmas. Oh, he was angry! Shoutin’ and callin’ Travis a rounder and every such name.” She laughed at the memory, and Genieva giggled, captivated by her story and fully able to imagine Brevan’s reaction. “Travis shouted back and told Brevan he loved me and intended that I should be his wife! That was the first I had heard of it, and I thought I must be dreamin’ it all. But we married in February, and here I am.”

  “And she spends far too much of her time tellin’ her stories.” Brenna and Genieva both startled and turned to find Brevan looming before them.

  Brenna quickly punched him square in the stomach and scolded, “Ya scared the life out of me, ya did! Quit yar sneakin’ about, Brevan McLean.”

  Unsettled completely by Brevan’s sudden appearance, Genieva stepped back from him. In the process she caught the heel of her boot in the basket of laundry at her feet. Her arms began to flail as she struggled to keep her balance, and somehow her other foot became entangled as well. Brevan, reaching out and taking hold of the waistband of her skirt, steadied her for a moment. But Genieva watched in horror as Brenna gave Brevan’s shoulder a hard shove from behind, sending the unstable duo tumbling to the ground to land in a heap. The force of Brevan’s unbalanced weight drove the air from Genieva’s lungs as she landed flat on her back in the dirt. As Brevan began to raise himself from his awkward position, Genieva gazed into his face. For a few lingering moments, his eyes captured hers in a curious stare.

  “What kind of trick are ya pullin’, lass?” he muttered. “It was brown yar eyes were a moment ago.”

  “Oh, get yarself off the girl, Brevan. Ya’re crushin’ the life out of her, ya are,” Brenna giggled. “And I’ll tell whatever story I want to tell, I will.” Brevan raised himself. He reached out and took hold of Genieva’s skirt band, pulling her to her feet to stand her before him.

  “I’ll turn ya over me knee and paddle yar bum good, Brenna,” Brevan growled then, turning to his sister.

  “Catch me first,” she taunted as she lifted her skirts and ran off toward her own home.

  Genieva swallowed the large lump in her throat as Brevan’s irate stare turned toward her once again.

  “I come out here to ask ya a question, I did,” he growled.

  “Yes?” Genieva prodded.

  “I’ve forgotten it already. All this nonsense goin’ on has taken it from me completely,” he grumbled.

  “Well…when you remember, just let me know,” she assured him, bending down and righting the upset basket of laundry. Upon feeling Brevan’s hand brushing at the seat of her skirt, however, Genieva straightened instantly. Whirling around, she slapped him soundly across one cheek.

  He instantly took hold of her wrist and bent her arm behind her own back, holding it there firmly as he glared down at her. “I was only tryin’ to help, lass,” he growled through tightly clenched teeth. “Yar bum is covered with dirt.”

  “Well, I thank you to leave that as my concern,” she retorted. “How dare you lay a hand on my…on my…”

  “Bum,” he finished for her. Brevan fought to stifle the grin begging to spread across his face as he held Genieva firmly in his grip. She was all too adorable—dangerously adorable. Especially when her temper was provoked as it was at that particular moment. He marveled again at the sudden change in the color of her eyes, now spitting deep brown in his direction. Only moments before, when he lay on her in a heap on the ground, he could’ve sworn he’d seen the same pretty eyes boast a strangely violet hue.

  He loosened his grip on her as the grin threatening his lips won the battle of his self-control and spread across his handsome face. Genieva snatched her wrist from him and rubbed at it ceremoniously.

  “Thank you,” she spat. “Now, if you don’t mind…I’ve got things to finish.”

  Brevan couldn’t resist—though he tried to—and as Genieva turned from him and toward the clothesline once more, his hand impulsively sprang forth—slapping her firmly on the seat.

  “A good day to ya then, Genieva,” he chuckled as she stood inhaling long, deep breaths in an attempt to calm herself. He knew she would not give him the satisfaction of reacting to his gesture. Still, he was entirely amused as he returned to the barn in order to finish the evening feeding of the stock.

  When Genieva could no longer hear Brevan’s departing footsteps, she turned and looked in the direction in which he had gone. She watched as he entered the barn. She pressed a quivering hand to her bosom in a vain attempt to settle the frantic beating of her heart. Oh, how he upset her! She was horrified at the condition of every part of her body and mind at having been so close to him and having been the object of his singular attention once again. She would have to learn to be less unsettled in his presence—for it would be devastating should she slip somehow and give him any indication of the
existence of the fast and furious attraction to him secreted deep inside herself.

  Chapter Three

  It was a brief matter of two days following Genieva’s trip into town with Brevan that one of Mrs. Fenton’s grandsons rode up to the farmhouse and handed a note to Brevan just after lunch.

  “Help us all! Lilly’s true to her word,” Brevan moaned as he read the note. “Tomorrow. Tomorrow mornin’, Genieva, lass…such torture I wouldn’t wish on me worst enemy.”

  “What?” Genieva inquired, completely baffled. Brevan sighed and handed the note to Genieva.

  “Read it then, lass. Read it, and weep the tears of a tortured woman,” he mumbled with a manner of dramatics Genieva had not yet seen in him. He walked toward the orchard calling cheerily to the boy, “Tell yar dear granny ‘thank ya’ for me, William!” The boy nodded, waved, and rode off.

  Genieva’s curious eyes fell to the paper in her hand. There she read:

  Dearest Mr. and Mrs. McLean,

  I’ve only just arranged a quilting bee in honor of your recent nuptials and am writing to inform you that the ladies of the township, and outlying farms, will be descending upon your home tomorrow morning, bright and early, to create a lovely quilt for you both…as a memento of your marriage. Not to worry, dear Mrs. McLean. We will provide everything that is necessary including a variety of delicious eatables.

  Sincerely,

  Lilly Fenton

  Genieva’s heart sank—depositing itself with a thud into the hollow of her stomach. She dashed after Brevan.

  “Wait, Brevan,” she called to him. He paused and turned to face her. “I don’t want this!” she cried.

  “When Lilly Fenton gets it into her mind that somethin’ must be done, Genieva…there’s no choice left to ya,” Brevan assured her. “The best of it would be to just endure the thing, lass.”

  “But…who will attend? I don’t know anyone. I…”

  “I’ve no doubt that every female within fifteen miles of the town will be there, lass. They’ll all want to burn their stares into yar face awhile. After all, ya’ve married the one man in town who never wanted to marry, ya have,” Brevan explained.

  “But…but I’m no good at these kinds of things, Brevan. I don’t do well with people I don’t know. How long will it take? Will it take long?” she asked.

  Brevan only chuckled. He seemed to look at her with some sort of pity, and it deeply unsettled her. “It’s one day, Genieva. Think of it that way. One day and ya’ll have made it through another challenge.” He smiled—a smile laced with sympathy—and walked toward the barn.

  

  “How long does it take? What goes on?” Genieva asked Brenna as she helped her sister-in-law knead the bread dough on the table before them.

  “Híjole! It takes eternity, Genieva!” Lita confirmed. She looked at Genieva with an expression of compassion. “But you’ll have una hermosa manta…uh…a pretty blanket…a quilt to show when they are finished with you,” she tried to encourage with a smile.

  Genieva sighed, discouraged, as Brenna explained, “It takes the whole day long, it does, Genieva. The ladies, married and not, all come and quilt on the piece ’til it’s finished. They gossip somethin’ awful the long of it…and that can be a good thing, it can. For ya be learnin’ all ya ever need to know about anybody.” Brenna smiled with reassurance, “And besides, Lita and me…we’ll be there with ya, we will. It won’t all be strangers ya’re sittin’ with.”

  Still, sleep was elusive for Genieva that night. She thought back over the past few days. She still could not believe all that had happened. The great change in direction of her destiny was nearly incomprehensible. Almost overnight she had gone from the life she had known in aristocratic Chicago to the life she knew now—that of a woman married to a hard-working, ambitious, and stupendously handsome farmer, with instant relatives, responsibilities, and completely unfamiliar experiences. She was also beginning to understand why it would be greatly advantageous to work herself into a deep fatigue each day. It kept her mind from wandering to romantic daydreams of Brevan McLean. And he was ever so easy to daydream about. Simply watching him talk with Brian and Travis at the end of each day was mesmerizing—the way his jaw clenched tightly when he was irritated or the way his smile brightened his face when he was amused. Realizing that once again her thoughts had wandered to him, Genieva forced herself back into anxious contemplation of the quilting bee.

  

  “There you are, dear!” Mrs. Fenton chimed as she entered the farmhouse the next morning. “Yes…yes…you are as charming as I remember!” the lady giggled, putting a friendly arm about Genieva’s shoulders. “Now let’s get this frame set up before the others get here,” she mused, looking about. “We’ve got to make certain you’ve got some help in keeping that man warm at night, don’t we?” Mrs. Fenton winked at her, and Genieva was eternally grateful for Lita’s intervention at that moment—for Mrs. Fenton’s rather private remark had sent her blushing to fever.

  “We were thinking it might be best to have the bee in the orchard, Mrs. Fenton. The trees will provide shade and it is un área más grande…a larger area,” Lita suggested.

  “Yes. What do ya think, Lilly?” Brenna added.

  “I think that’s a lovely notion, girls!” Mrs. Fenton chirped. “And won’t our dear little bride think of the fragrance of blossoms each time she lays beneath the quilt with…”

  “Yes, yes,” Brenna interrupted. “Now, if you’ll show us to the frame…we’ll have Brian and Travis build it in the orchard, we will.”

  “You’ve lost all the colores from your face, Genieva,” Lita whispered, softly pinching Genieva’s cheeks as Brenna and Mrs. Fenton left the house. “It will be fine. It will be fine,” she assured her, smiling with kindness.

  Genieva looked into the beautiful brown of Lita’s eyes and smiled. “She says such rather shocking things, Lita,” she exclaimed in a whisper. “Doesn’t she realize we only married for convenience?”

  “No. She does not. And…it would go best if you let her believe that all is…that all is…normal between you and Brevan. She is the biggest gossip in the world. Smile your pretty smile, Genieva. The day will go quickly, and then you can share the quilt with Brevan.”

  Genieva’s eyes widened with indignation, and Lita giggled, “I’m sorry, mí amiga. I could not resist it.”

  Genieva sighed and smiled herself. Lita and Brenna were wonderful women. She could not have wished for more perfect friends. It seemed pure miraculous luck that she should find two women as dear as they were so near to her now.

  Half an hour later, Genieva found herself all too well settled next to Mrs. Fenton as nearly ten women worked simultaneously on the quilt. Most of the time there were several different conversations being held by small groups of individuals, but once in a while the entire group would involve each member in the same topic. As Genieva had feared, it wasn’t long before the subject of the poor Amy Wilburn arose.

  “I think it’s just a pity…” one woman said. Genieva was nearly certain this woman’s name was Mary Clawson. She was the blacksmith’s wife—if she remembered correctly. “Poor Amy.” Mrs. Clawson sighed. Nearly everyone else at the frame followed suit.

  “Still…a woman has responsibilities to her own reputation. Her own well-being,” Bertha Baumgardner reminded the group. Bertha was elderly, and impatient. She’d already sworn under her breath once at having to pick out two stitches. “I find it hard to be too sympathetic with her situation.”

  Genieva struggled to hold her tongue—to quiet her own opinion.

  “Perhaps there be more to that story than most of us know,” Brenna interjected. Every needle stopped mid-air as all eyes turned to stare at Brenna. Brenna shrugged and continued to stitch. “Has anyone here actually spoken with the lass since…since her condition was found out?”

  “There’s no need to speak with her, Brenna,” one of the young, unmarried women corrected. “She’s with child and not married. There�
��s nothing more to be said.”

  Genieva drew in a deep breath—stabbed at the fabric beneath her fingers. This was Jenny Evans. Jenny had been the young woman to imply in the store, only days before, that Genieva was incapable as Brevan’s wife. Jenny was an attractive young woman. Genieva could not deny that. Her hair was the color of morning sunshine, yet her eyelashes dark, long, and flattering to her blue eyes. “But then again,” Jenny continued, “we all understand why you might feel inclined to defend her, Brenna.”

  Once again every needle halted—all eyes settling on Genieva.

  Genieva could feel their burning, inquisitive stares but somehow managed to appear calm as she said, “I’m surprised a young lady, appearing to be so well-mannered, would imply such a thing at an event that is supposedly in my honor.” Genieva looked up, meeting Jenny’s resentful glare. “Would anyone here like to tell me why it is that Brevan has been branded the miscreant in this situation?” All eyes dropped to the quilt as every hand began busily stitching. “Come now, ladies,” Genieva coaxed, smiling. “Do you really suppose that were there any truth to this invented rumor…do you really think I would have married the man you all find so easy to slander?”

  “He courted her just before…just before her condition became known,” Jenny answered brazenly.

  “He spurned her just before it! And well ya know it to be true, Jenny Evans!” Brenna growled.

  “That’s right. Brevan never courted Amy Wilburn,” Mrs. Fenton agreed. “It’s because she refuses to name the father that you all look to place the blame on him.”

  “And it’s because all of you unmarried girls resent the young buck passing ya by that ya pin the deed on Brevan McLean,” Mary Clawson added.