Always to Remember

by Lorraine Heath

  "A very deep breath."

  Lucian was halfway across the churchyard before he realized he hadn't breathed at all. He breathed deeply, but his legs still shook as though he walked on unsteady ground. Nearing the Lang family, he yanked off his hat. 'Taffy?"

  She spun around, her gray eyes wide. He figured the South had dressed her men in gray because of Taffy's eyes.

  'Taffy, about that picnic we were planning. I know this real nice spot, but it's too far to walk to so I thought I'd pick you up in the wagon in about an hour."

  A smile lit her face, and Lucian figured the pain her father was about to deal him was going to be worth every blow. "Mr. Lang, you might as well pound your fist into my face now because I aim to call on your daughter."

  "Oh, Pa wouldn't hit you. Would you, Pa?"

  When Taffy touched her father's arm, Lucian thought he could actually see the man's heart melt. "I reckon not."

  Taffy's smile grew, and she squeezed Lucian's hand. "I'll be waitin'."

  Lucian nodded and hoped his smile didn't look as silly as it felt Jamming his hat on his head, he walked backward. He bumped against someone. "Sorry, Robert."

  Quickening his pace, he headed toward the wagon. Clay flicked the reins, and Lucian started running. The twins were laughing and yelling by the time he dove into the back of the wagon.

  "Well?" Clay asked over his shoulder.

  Lucian looked at the blue sky. "I'm gonna spend the day near heaven."

  Meg had not lost her mind.

  Last night while her father guided the wagon home, she'd lain in the back staring at the stars. Somewhere along the rough road, her good sense had tumbled out.

  After her father and Daniel went to sleep, she tiptoed to the kitchen and baked until dawn. Carefully, she packed all but one cake into a wicker basket. The cake was her decoy so her family wouldn't wonder why the warm kitchen smelled of cinnamon, sugar, and butter at dawn.

  She hid the basket in her room. When they returned from church, she feigned a headache, went to her bedroom, climbed out the window, and saddled her horse. Picnic , basket tied precariously behind her, she headed toward the stream where she hoped Clay would again spend the afternoon with his brothers.

  She knew she was courting danger, but the twins' loyalty to Clay had touched her deeply. She dismounted within a copse of trees near the river's edge. She heard no gaiety or laughter. She heard only the birds and the wind whispering through the branches overhead, teasing the leaves. She heard a small splash, the sound of a fish returning to the water before it was ready.

  Clay had left Cedar Grove before he was ready; he'd returned before the people of Cedar Grove were prepared to accept him.

  Silently, she wended through the trees until she saw the river bank clearly. Beyond it, no naked boys rollicked. No grown man fully clothed, soaked to the skin, made threats, then proceeded to carry them out.

  She sighed heavily. If they weren't here, where could they be?

  "Howdy, Miz Warner!"

  Meg jumped, spun around, and pressed her palm against her chest, grateful to find her heart could still pound. "You frightened me," she said to the grinning twin.

  His grin widened. "Yes, ma'am, I could tell. You pert I near looked like a bird tryin' to protect its nest." He glanced around. "You got a nest round here?"

  She planted her hands on her hips. "Which twin are you?"

  He studied the ground for a moment, then peered up at her, suspicion showing clearly in his brown eyes. "Joe."

  "Well, Josh, are you alone out here?"

  "I said I was Joe."

  "And I think you're afraid I'm going to tell how you frightened me so you gave me your brother's name."

  He scrunched up his face. "Are you gonna tell? Clay said we was always to treat ladies kindly, even when they was bothersome. Reckon scarin' you wasn't treatin' you kindly. You gonna tell?"

  "Are you Josh?"

  Slowly, he nodded.

  "Should I tell him?"

  He shook his head. "Nah, I'll tell him. He says we gotta own up to the things we dogood or bad."

  "Well, I don't think it's truly necessary to tell him anything. Is he out here?"

  "Yes, ma'am. We was fishin' down yonder, but the fish ain't bitin' so I come lookin' for some pecans." He withdrew his hand from a pocket to display his finds. "We didn't bring nothin' with us, figurin' we'd have fish for our noonday meal, and my belly done started rumblin'. Clay said it was so loud, it was scarin' the fish away."

  "Actually, I was looking for a place to have a picnic."

  "You can share our spot if you don't mind shelling your own pecans."

  "I sure as heck hope Josh brings back a bunch of pecans," Joe said as he toyed with his fishing line. His stomach growled, and he glanced over at Clay. "They can't hear that"

  "You'd be surprised what they can hear." Lying on his back, his hands folded beneath his head. Clay watched the clouds roll by. Like Josh before he went in search of pecans. Clay had stuck his fishing pole in the muddy bank.

  "I think Josh is right," Joe said. "I don't think Lucian is family, else he woulda invited us along on his picnic with Taffy."

  "Lucian is family. It's just that he didn't want his brothers butting in while he was courting."

  "He's really and truly courting her?"

  "Reckon so."

  "Is he gonna marry her?"

  Clay shrugged.

  Joe stuck his pole into the mud, scooted back, and rolled onto his stomach, his elbows perched so he could rest his chin in his hands. "You ever gonna marry?"

  Clay pointed to a bank of clouds. "Look, there's a buffalo."

  Joe twisted his head and squinted against the sunlight. "I don't see it."

  "Just to the left of that cloud that's a little darker."

  "You reckon Pa's up there carving them clouds?"

  "I wouldn't be a bit surprised. Seems like a good thing to do. Reckon I might do that when the time comes."

  "I bet you'll carve out some fancy clouds."

  Clay smiled. "Yeah, I imagine I will."

  Joe dropped his elbows, pressed his palms flat on the earth, and rested his cheek on his hands. "So are you?"

  "What?"

  "Gonna get married sometime."

  The emptiness engulfed Clay. He respected honesty and was trying to teach the twins to be honest in their dealings with people. He just wished he hadn't taught them to speak quite so much of what was on their minds. "No, I don't reckon I will."

  "On account of you not fightin' in the war?"

  "That's got something to do with it."

  Joe scooted over until his arm knocked against Clay's shoulder. He lifted up on his elbows and looked down on Clay's face, locking his brown eyes onto Clay's. "If you had it to do over, would you fight?"

  "No."

  Joe grinned. "I'm glad." He flopped to his back and looked at the sky.

  Clay rolled over to his side and rose up on an elbow. "Why arc you glad?"

  "On account if you'd do it different now, it'd mean you made the wrong choice the first time. And you didn't."

  Shaking his head, Clay gave his brother a rueful smile. "I think you and Josh think things too old for your age."

  They heard a commotion behind them and glanced over their shoulders.

  "I found somethin' better than pecans!" Josh yelled as he thrashed through the trees. "Miz Warner was lookin' for a place to have a picnic. Told her she could share our spot. And guess what? She said we could call her Miz Meg."

  Clay scrambled to his feet as Meg emerged from the trees. Sweet Lord, but her blue dress did deepen the hue of her eyes. She'd caught her hair on some sort of lacy thing that made her hair look thick and heavy, and he wondered why it didn't break free and tumble down her back.

  She gave Joe one of those rare smiles that needed to be carved for posterity. "Do you mind if I have my picnic here?"

  "No, ma'am," Joe said, with an answering smile that could have blinded her if the sun reflected off it.
>
  Her smile grew smaller as she looked at Clay. "Is it all right with you?"

  He nodded, wishing he hadn't changed out of his church clothes. They weren't fancy, but she saw him in his worn work clothes every day.

  "I brought a quilt," she said.

  "The boys can spread it out for you."

  "Why do we need a quilt?" Josh asked.

  "Because ladies don't sit on the ground," Clay said.

  "We ain't never had a picnic with a lady before," Joe said. "What else do ladies do?"

  That beautiful smile returned to her face. "They bring lots of food."

  Grabbing her hands, the boys pulled her to her horse. Her laughter filtered through the air as Clay yanked their fishing poles out of the mud. His pride wanted to tell her they didn't need her charity, but his love for the twins was greater than his pride. He'd heard all about the desserts that graced the table the day before. The twins had dug into her apple cobbler with such enthusiasm that he'd just sat and watched. He hoped Meg had thought to pack a small piece of cake for them today.

  "Gawd Almighty!"

  Clay swung around and wished he had a heart of stone. Leaning against the tree, he watched the delight in Meg's face as she spread her picnic over the quilt. He didn't know how she'd managed to pack all that food in that small basket, but she'd already set out three cakes and an apple cobbler. The boys' eyes grew as large as the two pies she was now lifting out of the basket.

  Then she brought out fried chicken, and Clay felt the juices flow like a raging river within his mouth.

  She brushed her hands together, then folded them in her lap. "That's it."

  "Gawd Almighty. Can we have a piece of cake first?" Josh asked.

  "That's up to your brother," she said softly.

  Josh turned to Joe. "Can we have a piece of cake first?"

  Laughing, she tapped Josh on the shoulder. "Your older brother."

  "Clay, can we eat a piece of cake first?"

  "I reckon."

  She sat back on her heels and picked up a knife. "I have buttermilk cake, spice cake, and chocolate cake. Which do you want?"

  The boys glanced at each other, then looked at the cakes, then looked at each other. Clay rolled his eyes. They'd be here all day.

  "How about a small piece of each?" Meg suggested.

  "Yes, ma'am!"

  If the woman called those pieces she was cutting small, Clay didn't think he wanted to see what she called big. She handed the plates to the boys, and they were stuffing the cake into their mouths before the thank you's had completely escaped.

  Meg spread a napkin over her skirt. It never would have occurred to Clay to bring a napkin to a picnic. She picked up a plate and, with dainty fingers, plucked a piece of chicken out of the pot and dropped it on her plate. Wiping her fingers on the napkin, she peered over at him. "I made enough for everyone."

  "Come on, Clay," Josh said. "Bet you ain't never had nothin' this good before."

  If he had, it was too long ago to remember. Clay shoved away from the tree, ambled over, and sat on the ground beside the quilt.

  She handed him a plate. "Just help yourself."

  Like the twins, he found the choices too many, the decision as to where to begin impossible to make. He supposed he was too old to begin his meal with a piece of cake so he dug a chicken leg out of the pot and bit into the succulent meat. He chewed it slowly, savoring the flavor. Swallowing, he glanced at her. "How's your hand?"

  Meg rubbed the area just below her thumb. "It's just a little bruised."

  "I've hit my hand enough times to know it can smart. You're lucky he didn't break something."

  "I think it hurt Robert's pride more than it hurt me."

  He grimaced. "If he's like most in his family, I reckon yesterday was hard on him. They're used to doing for themselves."

  Meg wanted to point out that yesterday had probably been hard on Clay as well, or hadn't he noticed?

  He set his plate on the quilt, and she watched his gaze flick over the desserts. She wished she knew which was his favorite so she could just cut him a piece and slap it on his plate.

  "Can I have a piece of your cobbler next?" Josh asked. "It's the best thing I ever ate in my life."

  "Certainly," she said as she spooned out a generous helping.

  "You ever gonna get married again?" Josh asked.

  "It's none of your business," Clay said.

  "How come?" Josh asked.

  "Who do you think I should marry?" she asked, intending to aggravate Clay, but instead regretting the words the moment they slipped past her lips. She knew who the twins admired most, knew they'd think she held the same admiration for him.

  Josh scrunched up his face. "Me and Joe will have to set our minds to thinkin' on that. We'll let you know when we figure it out."

  Clay picked up his plate and walked to the river. He knelt at the bank, and Meg saw his hand glide over the plate as he dipped it in the water. He carried the plate back to the quilt and set it down. "I appreciate the meal. You boys, be sure and clean up when you're done."

  Meg watched him walk away. All this food, and he'd eaten one chicken leg. The man was impossible to understand.

  "Don't pay him no never mind," Joe said. "We was talkin' about him gettin' married before you got here. Reckon it bothered him to be talkin' about it again."

  "Who's he going to marry?" she asked.

  "No one."

  Meg set her plate down. "Eat as much as you want while I'm gone." She rose to her feet and walked away from the picnic area.

  She hoped Clay had walked in a straight line and not wandered off and gotten lost. She had no earthly idea how to follow a trail. She thought the twins could probably help her find him, but she was in the mood for some of Mama Warner's low talking, and she didn't think the twins could talk in a low voice if she gagged them.

  She saw Clay hunkered down in a small clearing, as still as any statue he'd ever sculpted. Quietly, slowly, she walked past the trees until she obtained a clearer view of him. He was leaning over slightly, his elbow resting on his thigh, his hand poised near the ground.

  She saw a bushy tail shoot up through the tall grass, then a squirrel was sitting on its haunches and sniffing. It scampered toward Clay, stopped, studied its surroundings, then scampered again. It came to a quick halt, lifting its gaze to the soft brown eyes of the man, then dropping its gaze to the pecan nestled within his palm.

  The squirrel snatched the pecan and darted away. A slow contented smile eased across Clay's face before he reached into the pocket of his shirt and withdrew another pecan. He slipped the pecan up his hand until it was nestled between his thumb and forefinger, his eyes never leaving the area into which the squirrel had disappeared.

  "Want to give it a try?" he asked. He twisted slightly and gazed at her. He tossed the pecan into the air and caught it without taking his eyes off her.

  Meg strolled into the clearing, knelt in the tall grass, and held out her hand, palm up. "I'm not sure he'll come to me."

  Clay turned his palm so the pecan rolled out of his hand into hers. "Just pretend you're a statue and be quiet. He'll come."

  Leaning over, Meg rested her elbow on her thigh just as Clay had. It occurred to her it might be easier to feed the squirrel than it was to feed Clay.

  "Did Kirk tell you 'Grcensleeves' was my favorite melody?" she asked quietly.

  "He might have mentioned it."

  She peered at him. He stared ahead as though he could will the squirrel to return and take the pecan from her palm. "Do you remember everything he told you about me?"

  "I imagine I forgot a thing or two."

  "I remember very little of what he told me about you. Yet you probably know which of those cakes is my favorite."

  A ghost of a smile appeared on his face as he pulled a stalk of grass out of the ground and slipped it between his lips. He covered his mouth when he worked so she never had an opportunity to study his lips as she did his hands, but she imagined his mout
h could create haunting whispers as tenderly as his hands did.

  "Spice," he said quietly.

  Disbelieving, Meg blinked. "Did he tell you everything about me?"

  His smile broadened as he turned his gaze on her. "He didn't tell me which cake was your favorite, but when you were cutting pieces, you weren't as generous with the spice cake. Figured you wanted to make sure you had a piece left over for yourself."

  Shaking her head, Meg smiled. "You're right. The spice is my favorite, and I am stingy with the pieces."

  "I'd hardly call you stingy. Not with the feast you brought today." He removed the grass from his mouth and tossed it aside. She watched his throat work as though he fought for the words. "I appreciate that you brought the twins a picnic. When I made the plans for yesterday, I didn't consider that they'd do without"

  "It didn't seem to bother them."

  "Well, it bothered me."

  "I don't think there's much you can do about it as long as they stick to your side the way they do."

  "It ought to get better once we harvest the crops, and I finish the monument."

  "Why will it get better then?"

  "Because I'll be moving on."

  Meg felt as though he'd just hit her in the chest with his hammer. "Where will you go?"

  "I don't know, but I figure sitting on top of a mountain by myself would be better than being here." Plowing his hands through his hair, he sighed deeply. "God, I'm so damn lonely."

  Meg's heart lurched. He was lonely, unhappy, and miserable. All the things she'd wished on him, he'd acquired without completing the monument. He hadn't admitted he was a coward, but she was certain he would before he finished carving the names into the base.

  She should feel like dancing. Instead, she had a strong urge to ask him what kind of cake was his favorite.

  He pointed to the center of the clearing. "You need to be quiet now. He's coming."

  Cautiously, Meg slid her gaze forward and watched the squirrel scamper toward her. The squirrel stopped shy of Meg's hand and sat on its haunches.

  "He won't take it," she whispered.

  "Shh. He will."

  She held her breath. Her nose itched. She crinkled her nose and the itching increased.

  The squirrel dropped its front paws and stretched out, sniffing the air around her hand. Then he snatched the pecan from her hand and scurried away.