Tariana shot upright when Jamie’s shadow fell across her. “You’re blocking my sun,” she teased while reaching for his hand to help her stand. He pulled, and when her face leveled with his, she grinned. “Oh, Jamie. It’s so good to see you. Two weeks seems a life sentence when locked in my room.”
“Maybe you should try behaving,” he suggested.
“Now where is the fun in that?” she said. That betraying smirk spilled across her face.
“I see your point.” He held up the rods. “Want to fish?”
Her eyes glistened, and she grabbed for his hand. “Yes. Lets. I need to talk. Can I unload on you?”
“Since when do you ask?” he said, “Why don’t you just let it go? There’s no need to rehash the past when you never seem to learn from your mistakes.”
Tariana grabbed his arm. “Jamie? Do you tire of our conversations?”
“Just on certain subjects.”
“Such as?”
He studied her face. How could he tell her how she broke his heart every time she mentioned the brilliant and dazzling Michael? It was as if the chap floated on some heavenly cloud of perfection and he, her secret admirer, was relegated to nothing more than the boy next door. “We could converse about stuff we have in common. Did you know there was a fishing derby coming up?” he added, hoping to change the subject to something on neutral ground.
Tariana frowned. “Of which we both know I will not be a contender. Father would never permit it.”
They trekked toward their river paradise. It was a quieter expanse of water, resulting from when the Willamette Locks had been constructed. Not only had the opening of the locks improved the economy by lowering transportation costs for products, but it encouraged new business ventures, such as building ships to transport the new surge of crops to Astoria or to European vessels.
Jamie drank in the beauty of the day, unable to ignore the brooding distraction penetrating the lines on Tariana’s face. It screamed Michael! It wasn’t that he disliked the man or had any reason to, other than that the love of his life was infatuated with him. Try as he might, the woman did not appear the least bit impressed that he also worked at the docks alongside the men who dared to dream of the big ships and their impact on life in Oregon City. It appeared that both he and Tariana were doomed to walk a self-destructive path, cursed due to Michael Frost’s existence. Tariana’s obsession threatened to strangle the breath from him daily as he clung to the fragile hope of having a future with the woman. For the hundredth time, he wondered if he should give up on his friend ever becoming his wife and move forward. As his mother mercilessly reminded him, he was about to turn twenty, and the eligible girls in town were being scooped up like butterflies in a net.
They settled on a huge, flat rock at the river’s edge, and behind them a meadow loomed, an open space in which to cast a line. “What are you thinking about?” Tariana asked. “Perhaps that might be a suitable topic for discussion while we fish.”
He bit his lip, knowing his thoughts were not open for debate. “Go ahead and tell me your woes. We both know you want to unload on someone. Might as well be me.”
Despite the lack of eagerness in his voice, she began to confess of the episode in the tree, ending with the flowers.
“They want to poison you?” he said, trying to hold back the grin. “Surely your imagination has gotten the better of you this time.”
“No! I heard it straight from Evelyn, who has a ninety-five percent proven rate of being truthful.”
“Well, if that’s the case, I should think you’d be glad to put your musings of Michael to rest. He is obviously not the man your featherbrain has conjured him to be.”
Tariana glanced his way then dropped her eyes in defeat. “You are attacking me with hurtful words today. I fear I might have misjudged my best friend, as well.”
He reached for her hand in sudden panic. That conclusion would never do. “That was not at all my intention. I’m simply trying to make you see logic. I care too much to see you continuously hurt.”
“And I care for you.” Her voice raised in anger. “Why can’t I just settle and love you? It would make everything so much easier.”
As much as he liked the idea, his heart protested. “Because settling is not what love between a man and a woman who plan to share their lives together is all about.”
“Exactly.” She jumped to her feet and brushed off her dress. “The fish aren’t biting, and I need to get back to the house. It’s almost lunch, and I daren’t forget my chores and risk finding myself back in my room for another stint.” She tousled the top of his wavy brown hair. “Besides, you’ve given me an idea. Indirectly, of course. I shan’t lay the blame on you when it all explodes in my face.”
With those parting words, Tariana dropped the pole to the ground, and Jamie watched her stomp off to strategize her next move.
Tariana set the table for six. Frances was upstairs, starving in preparation for the Frost family supper later that evening. It had become a weekly event ever since the couple had shown signs of finalizing the courtship and preparing for their wedding day. Of course, Frances already had the event all planned out in her mind. Putting feet to it would take but a month in her estimation. They’d likely speak their vows before the summer ended, and Tariana would sign up to join the convent the day after. Given his credentials as a Protestant Baptist minister, wouldn’t Father be impressed with his daughter hiding behind the walls of the Roman Catholic Church? The irony of it seemed like a good solution, as she viewed too many loopholes in any strategy that she could imagine to win Michael’s affection for herself.
Ada Gracin interrupted her daughter’s escalating thoughts: “The entire family has been invited to dine with the Frosts at their home after church on Sunday.”
“Michael invited us?” she said in a pitch too high and excitable.
Her mother cast her a warning glance.
“His parents did, and I expect you to be on your best behavior.”
“Yes, Mother.”
“I believe Michael and Frances are announcing an update regarding the coming wedding. I need a date soon, so we can begin to organize the affair. They’ve dragged this courtship out far too long.”
“Only because Frances is fickle, and she couldn’t choose from all the suitors groveling at her feet.”
“Well, Michael has moved to the top of the list, and the others are backing off.” When she heard Tariana’s exasperated sigh, she continued, “And you, young lady, will guard your tongue and speak kindly of your sister. You can be so annoying at times. It will be a wonder if any decent man comes calling when your turn rolls around.”
“You needn’t worry about a man for me. There are none that measure up.”
“And what makes you think you are such a rare catch?”
“I am unique, and I deserve a man who appreciates such qualities.”
“Heaven, help us,” Ada mumbled. “I fear we shall have our first spinster in the family.”
“Better alone than miserable,” Tariana said.
“There is some truth to that. Let’s tackle one romance at a time,” Ada said. She passed Tariana a bowl of mashed potatoes. “Bring these to the table. It’s time to serve.”
Cherise and Samantha talked non-stop about the upcoming July fourth themed celebration at the church. There would be flags, music, food, games, and a parade of sorts, honoring our forefathers – the items on the agenda were endless.
“Do you not care?” Cherise asked.
“I do,” Tariana said in her most enthusiastic voice. “I was listening. Just trying to catch up with all the headway the committee made on the event while I was unavailable. I love parties.”
Cherise patted her sister’s hand. “I know you do, Tariana. A party is exactly what you need to snap you out of the doldrums your recent indiscretion has caused. You must come to town this afternoon – a bunch of girls are meeting up for tea and pastries at the café. Everyone’s been asking after you.”
Tari
ana weighed the alternative – an afternoon at home with her mother – and she nodded her consent. “Thank you. I’d enjoy that. I can see if the old town is still standing.”
“Oh, my,” Samantha said. “A new shop is having its grand opening. There are discounted prices on their entire stock of fashionable dresses. We should shop.” She cast an eye toward her Father. “May we buy something to wear to the July picnic?”
Father laughed. Samantha always seemed to amuse him. “You must have seen that the rich Widow Parks came to bless me with a donation for the family fund. She said my girls needed to be at their finest during these important years when they are finding lifelong partners.”
Mother shrieked. “Neither Samantha nor Cherise are even close to that age. Perhaps you should save the money for the wedding, or allow Tariana a small portion as she prepares her hope chest.”
A hope chest was the farthest thing from Tariana’s mind. It was her understanding that novices could not bring one earthly thing inside the door once they’d entered their period of training and preparation, prior to taking religious vows. They were expected to brush the dirt of the world off their feet and enter their lives of prayer.
Tariana sighed. It all sounded so noble. Could she endure life without fishing, hunting, and running wild and free in the great outdoors? Her life took another bleak turn when the spontaneous consideration of a life of solitude turned sour in her mouth.
Chapter 3
She was pinning up her stubborn strawberry locks when a thought hit her and almost sent the mass tumbling down her back. Sunday had arrived, the appointed day when her dreams – as she knew them – would go up in a puff of smoke, like a sooty residue escaping from a chimney, suffocating those who breathed it in. Her throat released the negative build-up as another plan formed.
A tiny grin spread across her face as she leaned an elbow on the dressing table and tapped her fingers against her cheek. It was imperative she stop the announcement before Michael sentenced himself to years in a tortuous marriage.
Yes – it would work!
She would not surrender this final opportunity to fate. Tariana hurried through the rest of her grooming, grabbed her parasol and bag, and headed for the door. Sunday morning breakfast was never an organized meal – too many obligations and places to be other than sitting around the kitchen table. And Frances was predictable, always the last to come downstairs.
When Tariana arrived in the kitchen, she found her mother and three sisters heading out the door. “I have an early class, and the girls are helping me provide a bit of entertainment in my message. They love dramatizing children’s Bible stories.” Her mother reached for the knob. “Will you be all right?”
“Yes, I’ll come along with Frances later.”
She watched them leave, feeling her pulse thicken. After pouring some oatmeal into a bowl, she added some cold milk and downed the food in record time. Tariana heard her sister stirring upstairs, and she knew Frances would be down shortly. She scooped two large spoonsful of oatmeal into a bowl and poured the cold milk into another. Inside the second dish, she released a couple of drops of vinegar and watched as the white, creamy milk soured before her eyes. She dumped it into the oatmeal when her sister entered the room.
“We’re running late, Frances. I’ll wait for you while you eat, but make it quick.”
“I don’t need food. My tummy is already nervous from the impact this day will have on my life.”
Tariana refrained from commenting on that piece of unwanted news.
“All the more reason. You don’t want the parishioners to be distracted by your grumbling stomach. And you mustn’t pig-out at your future in-laws’ table. You have time to eat now. We’ll walk quickly to town and slip in before Mrs. Jardins cranks up the old organ.”
Frances plunked herself onto a chair, and Tariana placed the bowl, spoon, and hot drink in front of her. “Wash it down with a cup of tea, like a good girl.”
She screwed up her face after the second mouthful. “Something tastes odd. Did you make this or did mother?”
“Mother, I swear.”
Two more bites and she pushed it away. “I’ve had enough.”
Tariana grabbed the bowl, scooped the remainder into the garbage, and rinsed the dish clean. No sense in leaving the evidence for all to see.
“I thought we were in a hurry,” Frances said. “If I survive this day, the wedding will be a cinch.”
Frances marched bravely all the way down Main Street, but Tariana noticed signs of discoloration in her face. When her sister suddenly rushed behind a tree and threw up, the victory trumpet sounded in Tariana’s scheming head. She returned a few moments later.
“I don’t feel well. I had no idea nerves could play such tricks on a person’s wellbeing.” Tears welled in her eyes, and Tariana felt a twinge of guilt. “I can’t go to church, but if I don’t show up for Sunday service, Father will never allow me to dine at Michael’s later.” She erupted into sobs. “Whatever will I do?”
“You must return home immediately. Go to bed and pray for a miracle. If Father reneges regarding your attendance at the family luncheon, I will run home and bring you myself.”
“Oh, would you do that for me, Tariana?”
The pleading in her voice pounded the last nail into Tariana’s shrouded conscience, making her feel like the heel she was, but the thought of having Michael all to herself for the afternoon won over. “Shall I walk you back?”
“No. You go on ahead so Father won’t be upset with you again. I can get home by myself.”
Before she turned to go, Tariana pecked her sister on the cheek; the thought of Judas kissing Jesus’s face just before betraying Him nearly did her in.
Just this one last time, she begged the Lord. I will repent as soon as I know Michael doesn’t secretly care for me, and he truly loves Frances.
The deal did not sit well with Tariana, and she felt equally sure it did not sit well with God either, but the thought of another two weeks in her room kept her heading down her path of deceit.
When they arrived at the Frost home at noon, Tariana watched Michael’s response carefully. His face showed grief at the news of Frances’s sudden illness, but at the same time, he appeared relieved.
Tariana was overjoyed. Could Michael be having second thoughts? Her earlier transgression might have saved him from committing to something he truly did not want.
Her opportunity to speak to him happened quite by accident. She’d become bored with the ladies’ after-dinner chatter and excused herself for a stroll in the garden. She inhaled the fragrance of jasmine, startling when a voice sounded behind her.
“I’m glad to see you love flowers.”
She straightened and faced Michael, who had gone straight to the heart of the matter.
She’d bite. “I do. Especially the ones you sent.”
“I must confess, Frances goaded me into sending them. I wished I’d have thought of the kind gesture myself.”
“So, I have two of you to thank for the poisonous shrub. That makes me feel better.”
“Yeah, well, that part was simply unkind, but I have pleaded to God for forgiveness, and now, I beseech you favor me with yours.”
“I wonder how the Creator could make such a beautiful plant so dangerous to living creatures.”
“He has a reason for all things,” Michael said, “whether we understand or not.”
“Yes. I am reminded daily of how little I truly understand. It seems the more I learn from the Word, the more I discover I don’t know. Every answer poses another question.”
“Quite a scholarly view,” Michael said.
“Do you like brilliant women or frivolous ones who are limited by the confines of their tiny surroundings?”
“I enjoy a good debate with a man – or a woman – when suitable.”
“That’s hardly an answer,” she teased.
She might as well get the question out there while she had the opportunity. “Are you quite se
ttled with the notion of taking Frances as your bride?”
“Are you really asking if she falls in the brilliant category or the superfluous?”
“I could answer for you, but you probably wouldn’t like it,” Tariana said.
“Perhaps you and I see her from a different perspective.”
“Most definitely. You forget that I live with her.” She noted his arched brows and barreled ahead. “As you will shortly, if you choose to marry her.”
“We were to announce our date to the family today,” he said. “Do you suppose she got cold feet?”
Tariana could not lie. “No, she is definitely sick.”
“I suppose the announcement can wait. It won’t change the date.”
It was all for naught. The torment in her soul must have shown, for Michael rested his hand on her arm and said, “Such a sad face, little sister.”
“Sister? Yes, I suppose we will be family.”
“You don’t sound happy about it.”
“I am,” she responded weakly, feeling the sudden need to change the subject. “How is the ship building coming?”
“Actually, Oregon’s biggest need is ship re-building. Most of them were constructed in the fifties and sixties. The first steamboat on the Willamette River and a part of our proud heritage was the Whitcomb.” Michael seemed delighted in the history of ship building. “But many of those early steamboats are showing years of wear and tear. Racing the rivers between the upper valley and Oregon City was, and still is, a dangerous journey. They’re building a vessel from scratch in Canemah, and I must admit that I am a tad jealous. But then, I am reminded that my life and family are here, and there’s a sense of satisfaction in creating the new from the old. It’s nice to know that all parts can be re-used to serve us in future endeavors.”
“I respect men who work with their hands, diving into construction with fiery inspiration. Civilizing our piece of the country profits all, economically, but more so, I should think, providing a sense of personal worth.” She wondered why he was staring at her that way – almost as if in wonder. It boosted her morale but she was pleased to see that his acceptance had not caused her to tread beyond the lines that sadly defined their relationship. For that touch of sanity, she felt grateful. Perhaps there was hope for her soul, after all.
Obsessed in Oregon (Yours Truly: The Lovelorn Book 8) Page 2