Kate was shocked. “You wanted your son to marry for money?”
“There’s a lot of reasons to get married and love doesn’t always have to be one of them. It can come later.”
Kate rubbed a tired hand across her forehead. This conversation was going nowhere, but she’d finally learned why Trudy disliked her.
“I’ve seen my son change since he met you.” Trudy’s eyes narrowed and she looked Kate up and down. “You’re going to destroy him, just like Hannah destroyed Jacob.”
“What? Who’s Hannah?” Kate asked, confused.
“Hannah was Jacob’s second wife and you’re just like her. She didn’t fit in any better than you do.” Trudy wagged a finger at Kate. “Mark my words . . . history is going to repeat itself.”
Kate had had enough. She stood tall and glared at her mother-in-law. “I don’t care if I’m not the woman you wanted for Joe. I love him and I will make my place here, whether you like it or not,” she exclaimed. “This family curse is a bunch of crap and you’re crazy to believe in it.” She spun on her heel, then called over her shoulder. “History will not be repeated. I won’t let it.”
Halfway up the stairs, Kate heard the old music box begin to play. She paused and her teeth clenched as the tune skipped. Grabbing the stair railing, she stomped up the stairs.
I don’t care if the music box is an antique. At the first opportunity, that sucker’s getting fixed, she thought as she tromped into the bedroom.
Chapter 9
After church, Trudy busied herself frying chicken while Kate mashed the potatoes. As she whipped them into creamy mounds, she thought about last night’s conversation. Joe’s financial problems worried her, and what was more worrisome, he hadn’t bothered to share them with her. Trudy was well aware of them, but they’d kept her in the dark. That’s not the type of marriage she wanted.
She stole a glance at Trudy. She’d been colder than usual this morning. Joe had picked up on it and had spent the morning trying to ease the tension by first paying attention to his mother, then to Kate. He’d been back and forth like a tennis ball and Kate felt for him. She wanted to be his partner, but it wasn’t fair to force him to choose. He’d spoken very little about his father. Most of his childhood stories had revolved around Trudy. If she’d paid attention going into this marriage, she would’ve realized how close he and his mother were and would have been better prepared, yet doubted she could have anticipated this.
What a mess. She needed to find a some way to be more to him than just the mother of his children. She wanted to be his partner.
Thoughts were still racing around in her head when Joe slipped up behind her and planted a kiss on her neck. He turned her around and gave her a big smile.
“I’ve been on the phone with David Turner and we’re joining him and his wife, Sandra, for dinner.”
“Oh, wow,” Kate teased. “I get to dress up two nights in a row.”
At the same time, Trudy clapped her hands in delight. “Oh, son, that’s wonderful.”
He ignored his mother and kissed Kate’s forehead. “Have we been keeping you on the farm too much?”
She shook her head. “No, I know work comes first.” Her answer pleased her. There—she’d showed him that she took his work seriously.
Joe reached around her and swiped a scoop of the mashed potatoes. After licking off the spoon, he stepped back. “This is work, too. David Turner is the head of Turner Farms and—”
Kate’s eyes widened. “You’re not thinking of selling, are you?”
“ ’Course not. Farming’s all I know. Turner Farms are pork producers. They lease land and build hog confinements.”
“Like the ones I saw on our way here? The ones I smelled?”
Joe’s gaze darted away. “Not exactly. This one would hold less than twenty-five hundred head.”
“Less than? That sounds like a lot of pigs,” Kate exclaimed.
“But,” he said quickly, “it wouldn’t be near here. We own land over by the Clement place, and that’s the land they’re interested in leasing.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Kate caught Trudy’s sly smile.
“So,” she said, stepping away from the counter and crossing her arms, “we wouldn’t have to put up with the stink, but Rose Clement would? That’s not right, Joe.”
His eyes narrowed and his jaw clenched. “Would it be right to lose this farm?”
“No, that’s not what I meant . . . but everything I’ve read about those confinements . . . They can pollute the water, damage the air quality—”
He stepped toward her. “You grew up in the city. You don’t understand this way of life.”
“Maybe not, but I understand protecting the environment, being responsible—”
“You’re like the rest of those bleeding hearts,” he cut in, his voice growing louder. “I’ll do whatever it takes to keep this farm. And this lease is a good deal. I get my cut off the top and don’t have to worry about the risk. It’ll be a steady income every year.”
“But what about Rose and her neighbors? Will it be a good deal for them?” she argued back.
“You don’t get it—I don’t care about Rose and her neighbors. If they don’t like it, they can move.”
“But, Joe, there has to be another way—”
He grabbed her upper arm and gave it a shake. “There is no other way, and you either—”
“Joe,” Trudy said in a stern voice, cutting him off.
He dropped her arm, but his glare remained constant.
Kate’s attention turned to her mother-in-law, then back to her husband. Tears stung the back of her eyelids and her insides crumpled. Spinning on her heel, she fled to the safety of their bedroom.
She was still there three hours later when Joe entered the bedroom fresh from his shower. Without a word, he strode to their closet and grabbed a dress shirt and pair of pants.
“Joe, I’m—”
“Forget it, Kate. Ma’s going with me.”
The words cut and the tears threatened to start again.
“But—”
He whirled around and stared at her. “I said to forget it. I’ll make up some excuse why you’re not with me. It’s better this way. The last thing I need is you shooting off your mouth and screwing me out of this opportunity.”
“Can’t we talk about this?”
“I’m done trying to explain things to you. I’ll dress downstairs.” He threw his clothes over his arm and headed for the door, then stopped and looked at Kate curled in a ball on their bed. “And while we’re gone, I suggest you think about being the kind of wife I need.”
Fifteen minutes later over the sounds of her crying, Kate heard the sound of the car pulling out of the driveway.
Kate spent the next few hours alternating between anger and hurt. What chance did her marriage have if they couldn’t have a reasonable discussion? How dare he treat her like an idiot? Okay, so maybe she didn’t understand the financial stress her husband faced, but it was no reason to fly into a rage. She hated confrontations and wanted to avoid them. Was this her fault? Should she have kept quiet and trusted him to do the right thing? Perhaps that was what he expected of her?
Thoughts chased around in her mind until she was exhausted. Curling on her side, she had begun to drift off to sleep when the sound of heavy footsteps made her sit up in bed. A moment later, Joe came through the door.
“How did the meeting go?” she asked in a thick voice.
“Fine,” he replied brusquely as he picked up a pair of sweats and a T-shirt and walked back toward the door.
“I’m sleeping on the couch.”
The warmth of the sun on her face woke Kate up the next morning. Memories of yesterday made her heart twist. She’d never seen that side of her husband—withdrawn and hard. She wanted the man who’d courted her so thoughtfully, the one who’d tried to steer an even course between her and her mother-in-law. How could she get him back?
She rolled over onto her back a
nd patted her eyes. Without seeing herself in a mirror, she knew how she looked. Eyes swollen, face puffy, and her hair a tangled mess. Part of her wanted to play the coward and stay in their bedroom, but other than bathroom breaks, she’d been alone in this room for close to twenty-four hours. She had to face her husband and mother-in-law eventually. Might as well do it now. She’d get Joe alone, away from Trudy, and they’d talk. In the middle of the night, she’d come to the conclusion that she’d started the fight yesterday by arguing with him. Today, she’d change her approach. Apologize for questioning his management of the farm, then gently explain how she felt. The kind, sensitive man that she’d fallen in love with would listen as long as she went about it the right way.
She sat up and swung her legs over the edge of the bed and started to stand. Suddenly a sharp cramp doubled her over and she fell back on the bed, clutching her lower abdomen. Kate took a deep breath and the pain eased. Pushing off the bed, she tried to stand again, but another cramp hit her, followed by heaviness in the lower part of her body. She looked down in horror as blood soaked through the bottom half of her nightgown.
“Joe . . . Joe,” she screamed.
When he came into the room, she stared at him helplessly as the life of her baby leaked away.
Kate spent the next three days in a haze of medical terms, being poked and prodded by the doctors, and finally suffering through the surgery to remove the rest of the fetal tissue. How had the life she’d carried gone from being a baby to nothing more than a group of cells? It wasn’t fair, and the pain of her loss squeezed until she couldn’t breathe.
Joe had been wonderful. The angry man she’d faced a few days ago had disappeared, and she had her husband back. In a way, it made it worse. Every time he came near her, the guilt she felt for failing him and losing their child pushed her grief away. She was on a roller coaster of emotion and wished she could get off.
And the neighbors, the women whom she’d met at the barbecue, came to call. Loaded with cakes and casseroles, they tried to comfort her, but if she heard the words “it was meant to be” one more time, she’d flee, screaming from the house. She knew they were trying to be kind, but in their kindness they weren’t allowing her to mourn.
Lost in her thoughts, Kate didn’t notice Trudy standing next to the couch.
“Here,” she said, handing Kate a plate, “you need to eat.”
Kate turned her head toward the window. “I’m not hungry.”
“Eat,” she said, brooking no argument and placing it on Kate’s lap. Instead of returning to the kitchen, she sat down in one of the armchairs and watched Kate with a pensive expression on her face.
“It gets better, you know,” she said abruptly. “You simply need a little time to grieve.” She settled back in the chair and slowly rubbed its arms.
Astonished at her insight, Kate stopped midbite and stared at her.
Trudy leaned forward. “Joe was my fourth baby,” she said with a sigh.
“You had three miscarriages?”
“Yes, I never made it past the second month with the other three.” Her eyes took on a faraway look. “I got so tired of everyone’s sympathy and their platitudes. Each time was worse than the last.”
Kate placed her sandwich back on her plate. “I’m sorry . . . it must’ve been hard for you.”
“Humph,” she said, moving back in the chair. “They wouldn’t leave me alone and let me deal with my loss in my own way. Everyone just kept picking at me . . . I hated it.”
Kate’s heart was broken after one miscarriage. She couldn’t imagine the pain Trudy had suffered after three failed preganancies. The hole in her heart getting bigger with each lost child. The bitterness she must’ve felt.
“How did you live through it?”
She waved Kate’s question away. “You just do. I do think about what might have been once in a while, but then I see my son . . . and—” She rose to her feet unexpectedly. “I need to get the dishes done.”
“Thank you, Trudy.”
“You’re welcome. Rest and don’t worry. If you’re lucky, you’ll be blessed someday with a son like Joe.”
A soft touch on her arm woke Kate from a sound sleep. Opening her eyes, she saw her husband grinning down at her in the moonlight.
Scooting up in bed, she rubbed her tired eyes. “What’s wrong?”
“Shhh,” he replied, placing a finger on her lips. “I’ve got a surprise for you.”
Kate’s brow wrinkled. “Now?”
“Yes, now,” he answered with a chuckle as he tugged her out of bed and handed her a robe. “Come on.”
They snuck down the stairs and through the house like a couple of little kids up past their bedtime. When they reached the kitchen, Joe handed her a dish towel.
“Cover your eyes,” he instructed in a whisper.
“Joe—”
“Hey, don’t spoil it,” he chided.
Reluctantly, Kate held the towel over her eyes and let him lead her out of the house.
“Where are we going?”
“You’ll see.”
“Don’t let me trip and fall,” she warned.
“Never, sweetheart, never,” he responded and placed a warm kiss on her temple.
A quiver shot through her. This could be fun, she thought as the dew-covered grass tickled her bare feet.
Abruptly Joe stopped. “Okay, you can look now.”
Kate dropped the towel and her eyes widened in amazement.
A blanket, circled with lighted candles, lay spread out beneath one of the apple trees. On it sat a bottle of wine, two glasses, and a basket.
“A picnic.” Kate gave a little squeal and threw herself in her husband’s arms. “This is wonderful,” she murmured, then kissed him deeply.
After a few moments, Joe drew away, his eyes dark. “If we keep this up, we’re going to wind up back in the house,” he said with a playful slap to Kate’s bottom.
“Okay,” she said and, after stepping over the candles, settled onto the blanket.
Joe joined her and opened the picnic basket to withdraw a plate of cheese, summer sausage, and grapes. He filled a small plate and handed it to her. “Sorry, I’m not much of a cook, so this was all I could come up with.”
Kate laughed, remembering the disastrous meal she had prepared. “Neither am I.”
“You’ll learn,” he said, opening the wine and pouring a glass for her.
Kate took a sip and let the fruity liquid slide down her throat. “Mmm, this is good.” Her gazed traveled the romantic setting. “This reminds me of the night you proposed.”
Joe poured a glass of wine for himself, then leaned back against the tree. “But that meal was a little fancier.”
“Foie gras, wild rice, Cornish hen—”
“I thought they were just little chickens,” he interrupted with a grin.
“Joe . . . it was wonderful,” she said with a half-smile. “It was one of the most romantic things you’ve ever done for me.”
“We haven’t had much time for romance lately, have we?”
“You’ve been busy.”
“I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”
Kate laid a hand on his knee. “I know.”
He rested the back of his head on the trunk of the tree. “God, I was nervous that night. I was so afraid you’d think the only reason I wanted to marry you was—” He stopped.
“Because of the baby?” she asked, finishing for him.
“Yes.” He picked up her hand and, raising it to his lips, kissed her wrist. “I do love you, you know.”
She nodded. “I love you, too.”
Suddenly feeling shy, Kate looked around the orchard. “I’ve tried to imagine you playing here as a child—climbing trees, snitching apples.” She nibbled on her cheese. “You never say much about your childhood, but I’ve shared everything about mine.”
“Yours was more interesting,” he said with a shrug. “My memories are mostly about working with my father. He had me driving
a tractor as soon as my legs were long enough to reach the pedals.”
“You never say much about him. Why?”
Joe sat forward and drew his knees up to his chest. “He was a hard man,” he said thoughtfully. “I guess maybe that’s why soft words don’t come easy to me. I never heard them much when I was a kid.”
Kate looked at him with surprise. “But your e-mails were always so expressive.”
He gave a rueful laugh. “It’s one thing sitting at a computer, typing out a bunch of words. It’s different when a pretty woman is right next to you, looking at you. Maybe that’s what I should do . . . leave little love notes lying around the house for you to find.” He winked at her. “Just don’t let Ma find them first, okay?”
Remembering his passionate e-mails brought the blood to Kate’s cheeks. Joe might have trouble expressing himself in person, but his messages had been very specific. Some were enough to scorch her eyeballs, she thought with a smile. No, it wouldn’t do for Trudy to read them. Another thought occurred to her and she lost her smile. Though she was reluctant to ruin the moment, she still felt a need to ask the question.
“Do you think we rushed into this?” she asked in a hesitant voice.
“Our marriage?” He leaned forward. “You’re not having regrets, are you?”
“No,” she reassured him, “but it did happen awfully fast. The e-mails, your weekend trips to Des Moines, then the baby.” She pressed her fingertips to her eyelids. “Should we have taken things a little slower?”
Taking her wrists, he pulled her hands away from her face and looked at her intently. “Baby, I was half in love with you before I ever met you.” He gathered her in his arms. “Then the first time I saw you—” He paused. “I didn’t stand a chance. You were pretty, smart, funny . . . I never thought anyone like you could fall for a guy like me.” He drew back. “Being with you makes me a better man.”
Kate looked up at him. “You’re pretty special just as you are.”
“Ahh no, I’m not,” he teased, “I’m just a dumb farmer.”
She arched an eyebrow. “I hardly think that. You have to be intelligent to run a place like this.”
The Widows of Braxton County Page 6