His uncle’s ruddy completion turned pallid. Even Diana cued into the fear crossing Neville’s face. “Mama, you need to look after your fiancé. I’m not sure he likes the idea of roughing it. Perhaps this is asking too much of such a highfalutin man.”
Jackie’s brows knitted. “Is that right, Neville? I can’t imagine anyone not loving the good Lord’s creation. It seems heathen not to appreciate the wilderness.”
Andrew leapt at the chance to drive a wedge between the couple, especially if it meant he didn’t have to spend the next two days knee deep in the muck. On the other hand, it also required emasculating himself in the process. “It’s not that we don’t appreciate God’s handiwork, Jackie. We’re just not as hardy as the men are here in the South. From what I’ve seen, your men folk are a breed apart from those in other parts of the world. I’m sure this comes as a shock, but Uncle Neville and I don’t measure up.”
“Speak for yourself, boy.” Neville jerked his fringed shirt in place. “I’ll give it a go. Perhaps I’ll find the rough and tumble life to my liking.”
Jackie clapped her hands. “Oh, Dukie Dear, I do love you so.”
Diana rolled her eyes as she passed around helmets. “Everyone mount up.”
Following his uncle’s example, Andrew climbed on behind his female counterpart. He’d settled on the seat when Diana fired up the machine and they bolted to a start. To counterbalance the sudden lurch forward, Andrew instinctively wrapped his arms around her waist. “Blimey.” Falling off the back might have been preferable to his body’s sudden reaction to so much contact with so many curves. He eased his hold and forced his thoughts elsewhere.
Three of a kind beats a pair. Flush beats a straight. Four of a kind, over a full house…
Ahead, the rutted path sent Jackie and his uncle bobbing about in a manner that would surely put Neville in need of aspirin at the end of the day—or a large gin and tonic. He seemed to be clutching his fiancé as tightly as Andrew had Diana.
Between anticipating the next jarring bump and dodging the occasional low-hanging limb, Andrew had quite enough to keep his mind off Diana’s proximity. Suddenly, the pair in front hit a dip in the path, plummeting them so a good foot of light showed between the vehicle’s seat and Neville’s bottom.
Andrew let out a breath as the duo rocketed up the other side. He wished Diana had taken the lead, since their rear position afforded him the opportunity to brace himself and thus mitigate the blows to his posterior. Offering that suggestion wasn’t possible given the noise of the engine and their helmets. Guilt tore at him despite the necessity of his uncle’s trials.
As their surrounding shifted from a narrow path to wetlands, Andrew’s field of worries narrowed to only the most basic. The dreaded stream lay ahead. Diana drove the all-terrain vehicle into the mud, and he latched on to her, praying to stay astride. Thick mud pelted his helmet and splattered his clothes the whole width of the bog. But truly, beyond the sensation of being nailed by small shot, his imagination made it out to be far worse than actuality. How often in recent memory had he the privilege of holding onto a lovely woman? If it weren’t for their helmets occasionally knocking together, he’d have declared the journey well worth the effort.
On the far side of the bog from hell, Diana pulled alongside her mother. She raised the visor. “How’s everyone doing?”
Jackie gave two thumbs up without looking behind her. “Good to go.”
Perhaps she should have checked with her passenger. Uncle Neville’s hands shook as he tugged his helmet off. “A spot of water wouldn’t be amiss. Or something stronger if that’s available.”
Diana dismounted and moved to the rear of their vehicle. “I brought a little water for the road.” She pulled a canteen from plastic tub strapped to the back and handed it to Neville. “A bottle of whiskey is buried deep in one of the other boxes, so that will have to be your incentive to make it to camp.”
“It will occupy my every thought.” After several sips, Neville handed the canteen back to Diana and replaced his helmet.
Jackie fired up the machine and took off as if a rack of brightly colored dresses waited for her ahead. Thus far, Jackie had doted on her fiancé. While annoying at times, it allayed Andrew’s fears of her intentions. Climbing onto the all-terrain vehicle brought out a more mercenary side to the woman he liked even less than the scatterbrained version he first met at the airport.
“You good to go?” Diana’s query penetrated his thoughts.
“I suppose. In for a penny. In for a pound.”
“They’ll be fine.”
“Is your mother always so single minded?”
“I’m afraid so.” She touched his arm. “Remember, this is the plan. They need to learn these things about each other. To see what we’ve known all along.”
“I know, but I hate seeing him so miserable. He looked positively frightened.”
Diana bit her lip. “That face of his broke my heart a little, but the way forward is better.”
“At least the trail is.”
“True. Let’s mount up. Your uncle’s going to want hot water to clean up and that’s going to take a while.”
Diana hadn’t misled him. The path turned into an open meadow and beyond that, piney woods. Therefore, holding onto her wasn’t a necessity. He did anyway. He gripped her slender waist. A certain rightness settled on him. The scenery wasn’t bad either.
Well before Andrew was ready to let Diana go, they arrived at the much-lauded hunters’ cabin. He’d pictured an Abraham Lincolnesque structure that would threaten to topple down upon them. Instead, he found a well-maintained house made of weathered boards and topped with a metal roof. A simple porch lined the front of two symmetrical boxes connected by a breezeway.
“What do you think of it? The part in the middle is called a dog trot,” Diana explained. “The pen on the left houses a rudimentary kitchen and a lofted bedroom.” She pointed to the opposite side. “This side has the other bedroom and a storage closet.”
“It’s quite nice. Humble but tidy. I can see guests wanting to come here for a getaway holiday.” If it had electricity, running water, and plumbing, he might have found the place charming.
“Thanks. That’s exactly what I was hoping for.”
The joy in her voice caused him to turn in her direction. That smile of hers. His pulse hummed in his veins. A streak of mud decorated her cheek. Instead of marring her beauty, it accentuated her innate glow. Andrew took a step closer. His fingers itched to caress her cheek. If he did, what else would he want? He pointed to the smudge. “A bit of that mud seems to have found its way onto you.”
“Mama always said I attracted dirt like a flower does a bee.” Diana scrubbed it off and headed up the stone steps to the porch. “I better get a fire started so we can get cleaned up.” She called over her shoulder. “Mama, you and Neville unload the four-wheelers. Andrew, you’re with me.”
Before complying with her command, he spared a moment to watch his uncle ease off the back of his seat like a man twice his years. Crossing the dog trot’s warped floorboards, he entered the left side of the house. His eyes quickly adjusted to the low light, giving him a chance to assess the interior. A long, low cabinet ran the length of one wall, with a porcelain sink overlooking a window. A table and chairs took up the opposite wall. Ahead, Diana knelt before the open door of a black stove.
“Mind if I watch?” He took a knee beside her, fixated with the way she stacked small sticks into a tent shape.
“Be my guest.” Using a single match and a twisted piece of newspaper, she set the kindling and pine straw alight.
The acrid scent first filled his nostrils, followed by sharp pine. “How did you manage to do that?” Tendrils of smoke danced up the stovepipe.
She chuckled. “You planning to take up backcountry living?”
“Hardly.” He pointed to the steady flame ready for larger pieces. “It’s nigh unto magic.”
Diana handed him a piece of kindling. “T
his is fatwood. It’s pine that’s absorbed lots of resin, so it starts easily.” She added a couple logs then closed the stove’s door. “Let’s fetch some water, now we’ve got that going.”
“I don’t about this we business. You’re doing all the work.” With a backward glance at the stove, he followed her outside. He’d have tagged along behind her back through the mud pit if it allowed him to keep close. Could have watched her breathe simply for the pleasure of seeing her move. The economy of her motions, the quiet confidence, the joy she took in honest work.
She thrust a bucket at him. “Follow me down to the lake, and I’m warning you, you’re going to get wet.”
Andrew spread his arms to indicate the state of his clothing. “Like that matters at this point.” He called to Neville who was carrying one of the plastic bins from the vehicle to the porch. “Be back shortly, Uncle.”
The man lifted a weary hand. “Don’t worry about me.” He continued unloading the all-terrain vehicles.
But he did. “Will he be alright here?”
Diana looked around. “Most all the animals rest during the heat of the day, if that’s where your mind was going.” She called to Neville. “Did my mother say where she was off to?”
“No, my dear, she did not. Jackie gave me my marching orders and disappeared.”
Andrew glanced around at the campsite. The bins needed unpacking, and they’d all want tea shortly. Where could the woman have gotten off to? He started to give voice to his question when he recalled Diana’s description of the facilities. “I’m sure she’ll turn up soon.”
Diana nudged him. “Gathering water and purifying it is going to be a time-consuming process, so we need to get at it.”
They followed a narrow path wounding its way through a grove of pine trees. As the lake came in view, so did Jackie. Quarter ways around the five-acre oval, the woman sat on the bank, fishing pole in hand. “She’s off playing while she left my uncle to do all the work?”
“No.” Diana cocked an eyebrow. “With any luck, she’ll catch our dinner.”
“And if she doesn’t?”
She scooped up a bucket, passing it to him. “Worry not. Starving isn’t part of the plan. I packed hamburgers in the cooler.”
They made the return trip, with Diana pouring the water into a large cast iron pot on the stove. “At one time, this place had a good well, and my goal is to get it a new pump out here, so my guests can have running water. For the moment, we’ll be kicking it old school.” She pointed to a large plastic barrel by the sink and a canister-tube-spigot contraption. “Well, almost. I’m going to purify the water using these. Otherwise we’d have to boil all our water.”
He peered inside the barrel and calculated how much it would take to get the mud off him and three other people. “I’ll be on water duty.”
She patted his arm. “Look at you being good for more than eye candy.”
Andrew pondered Diana’s remarks on the way down to the lake and back, wondering whether to consider them a compliment or insult. Either way, he’d managed not to say something stupid in return and only splashed half of one bucket down his front, so things were looking up. Eventually, he got steadier, and thanks to Diana’s efficiency the campsite turned into a cozy little home.
On his final trip, Andrew found Neville seated in one of the front porch’s rocking chairs. He changed out of his dirty clothes and cleaned up. “Uncle, you’re looking much improved.”
“Diana fixed me up.” He lifted his feet from a pan of water.
The woman in question stepped onto the porch, passing Neville a beaker. “I made your tea the way I like my men.” She winked. “Strong and sweet.”
Neville took a sip and sighed. “I don’t know when I’ve tasted anything better. Well done and thanks.”
Andrew followed her back inside. “I thought our goal was to make him miserable.”
She cringed. “I know, but the poor thing looked like death warmed over. And so lonely. He kept asking where Jackie was. I couldn’t stand there and watch him suffer.”
Tears pricked his eyes as the urge to take Diana in his arms nearly swallowed him whole. He wanted to chunk the whole scheme into the bin along with his return ticket home. Except—those weren’t the plans. And his uncle’s fiancée was proving quite callous toward him. Not that Andrew believed women should cater to men, but she could have at least shown him where to find a seat before she took off. “You’re too kind.”
She cocked her head. “Does that surprise you?”
“Not in the least.” He took her hand. “But, remember our mission.”
“Don’t worry. I forgot to pack the aspirin, so he’ll be plenty hurting come bedtime.”
“Speaking of which.” He pointed to the loft. “Would you like me to sort things up there and across the way? I’m good with beds.”
Diana blushed.
“I meant I always liked to help Nanny make my little bed, so I can actually cope without adult supervision.”
“Sure, that would be great.” She smiled. “By evening we’ll be as cozy as four ticks on a hound dog.”
Andrew cringed at the visual image. However, later that evening as he raised the last spoonful of Diana’s skillet peach pie to his mouth, he couldn’t help feeling a little like the aforementioned arachnid.
He and Diana had brought the table and chairs onto the dog trot allowing them to enjoy a bit of a breeze with their supper. She’d also set out several kerosene lanterns and candles, which added to ambiance. Earlier, he’d considered warning her against setting such a romantic mood, but both Neville and Jackie were in such foul tempers, it seemed strolling violins wouldn’t get the two love birds back on the same page.
When he’d licked the spoon clean, he returned it to the bowl with a contented sigh. “If it weren’t for every muscle in my body killing me, I’d say I was in heaven. Diana, I’ll be dreaming of your pie for years to come.”
And the woman who made it.
He savored their pudding just as he had the main course, a dish she called a “hobo tinfoil dinner.” Jackie hadn’t succeeded in her attempt to catch their dinner, and the failure put her in a petulant mood. She’d picked at the hamburger and potatoes, and now at her peaches. That was until movement underneath the table startled her. She squealed, giggled, and then leaned over to peck Neville’s cheek.
Diana’s bolted from her seat. “I’ve saved the best for last.” She returned from inside with a bottle and four glasses. “We’ve earned a little indulgence tonight.”
When she’d poured the whiskey and handed him his glass, Andrew saluted Diana. “To hard work and those who do it.”
“To true love,” his uncle countered. “And those who cherish it.” He downed his drink and kissed his fiancée.
Those two were proving more resilient than he expected. “Fancy a stroll, Diana?” The need for a planning strategy outweighed his concern over nocturnal beasts.
She cut an eye at the couple. “Yeah.” Grabbing a small torch, she led them outside. Once they were far enough away from the cabin, she let out a sigh. “I thought we had them for a moment.”
“There’s always tomorrow. We’ll contrive an exercise to exhibit their unsuitability.” Exactly what escaped him, especially as tiny flashing lights caught his attention. “What are those?”
“Fireflies, or here in Mississippi we call them lightning bugs. Want to catch them?”
“Not really.” That was until she danced off into a thicket. He hadn’t known Diana long, but this seemed uncharacteristic from the businesslike woman he’d been working with.
She returned, her hands cupped. “I used to do this with my friends all the time when I was little.” Opening her fingers one at a time, she presented him with five glowing insects. “See. Aren’t they darling?”
One flew off and landed in her hair. Its mates encircled Diana with a sparkling halo. “Positively enchanting.” His breathe caught. The urge to kiss her came on strong. A quick taste of her lips, that’
s all. He leaned in. Only at the last moment did he gather the strength to resist. Protecting the family secret trumped personal desire. “We should get back to Neville and Jackie. God only knows what they’re up to.”
Diana ducked her chin. “Of course. Besides the skeeters are starting to eat me alive.”
Andrew’s heart pounded at the near miss. Somehow, he had to find a way of completing their mission—and keeping his head when it came to Diana.
Unease danced along Diana’s skin. Unease having nothing to do with twilight turning to night. Unease not caused by the stirring of a possum in the tree above or the far away yip of a coyote. All those things were natural, predictable, recognizable. Unlike Andrew, who was muttering something about poker hands when he wasn’t staring back at her, or tripping over the darkening path in a headlong rush back to the cabin.
His peculiar behavior followed them back to the porch where he dropped to his seat across from his uncle and poured himself a large quantity of whiskey. He downed half the glass in a long draw, before plunking it on the table and raking his hands through his hair.
Taking her seat across from him, Diana scrapped and stacked everyone’s dishes. “I’ve already got some hot water going, so it won’t take me long to get these washed up.” What did it matter to her the reason for Andrew “coming over strange” as her grandmother would have called it? She had enough on her hands with her mother and Neville, who were whispering quietly to each other as if Diana and Andrew were invisible. “But I don’t mind admitting right about now a dishwasher would be a divine thing.”
Andrew lowered his glass. A drop of whiskey glistened on his lower lip. “Above indoor plumbing?”
His dark chuckle gave her goose bumps. “Maybe?” Diana tried not to return his smile. What was so amusing about ranking amenities? “Ask me again at midnight when I’m stumbling out back.”
Stop That Wedding Page 6