Bittersweet (34 page)

“And Dale tole me no crossin’ our hearts. But we ain’t s’posed to swar ’bout tellin’ truth.”

“You wouldn’t know the truth if it trampled you!” Galen shoved the paddle into the washpot and stepped close to her. “Who sired the babe?”

She compressed her lips into a thin, bloodless line.

His eyes narrowed. “Do you even know who the father is? Is that it? How many—”

She slapped him and wheeled around.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

G
alen grabbed her arm and jerked her back. In one moment he was both livid and relieved. She had no right to strike him, yet the outrage behind her action indicated she hadn’t been with several men.

“I ain’t no tart!”

“Give me his name.”

“Don’t matter who he was. Yore my man now.”

He snorted derisively. “I’ll never be your husband.”

“I got yore name.”

“But you’ll never have my heart or share my bed. Your sins and lies will catch up with you. When they do, I’ll be free of you.” She hadn’t relented when he made demands, so Galen shifted tactics. He slowly turned loose of her and toned down his voice. “Give me his name. I’ll go easier on you. The lawyer in town owes me a favor. He’ll help you.”

She stepped to the side and grabbed the paddle. Inspecting the first item she drew out of the washpot, she sighed. “Ever’thang’s spoilt.”

Hoping she was softening and needed a moment to gather her resolve before she confessed, Galen waited in silence.

“I recollect yore ma sayin’ she dyed her dresses all black. If ’n she still gots some of that dye, we cain darken ever’thang so’s it’s black all over and not spotty. Reckon don’t make no diff ’rence what color none of this stuff is.”

He stayed silent.

“Ain’t niver seen bubbles that was gray and black. Thar’s a powerful lot of ’em, too.”

His patience started fraying. A discussion over laundry didn’t matter. All he wanted was her confession—nothing more, nothing less.

“Reckon the onliest thang this wash water’s good for is them hogs of Dale’s. Soap’ll take care of any worms they might have.”

“Don’t give it to them. Dale takes his partnership seriously. None of us is interfering with the hogs.”

“Ain’t right for me to have a fav’rite, but if ’n I did, lil’ Dale’d be the one. Sommat extry special ’bout that’un.”

“His innocence makes us all love and protect him. He doesn’t understand why folks are treating us differently now.”

“Diff ’rent?”

Was she that oblivious? Galen stared at her. “A man’s word is his bond. By naming me as the father of a child outside holy matrimony, you destroyed my integrity. It’s changed everything.”

“You ain’t meanin’ to tell me all them good Christian folks who spout off ’bout the forgiveness of God are holding this ’gainst you and yore family. What kind of deal is that? God’s s’posed to forgive them, but they take account of other people and condemn ’em?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying. Forgiveness is granted when we confess our wrongdoings. I won’t lie. I won’t say I wronged you in hopes of garnering forgiveness. Your lie gave my family, my church, my friends and neighbors—the very people I depend on for my livelihood—cause to doubt me.”

Galen took a deep breath. Perhaps if he let her know just how bad things were, she’d understand what a mess she’d made of matters. Maybe then she’d relent and confess. “When my da was alive, it took both of us to keep up on all the chores. Then when he got sick and ailed so long, I couldn’t plant as much. Money has always been tight, but in the last months, it’s been strained worse than ever.”

“Then ’tis right fine you havin’ me and Ishy to work ’longside you. We’ll holp you plant thrice as much, and you’ll be livin’ high off the hog in a season or so. That, and the money you get from the Pony—” “The Pony Express is in arrears with what they owe me, too.

I haven’t been paid by them for months now. I can’t count on that money,” Galen gritted. She’d dismissed his concerns without batting an eye. “Every cent we got from eggs and milk—they mattered. Some of my regular customers aren’t buying them from me now.” He added on, “Your lie is costing my family far more than we can afford.”

Telling her those truths wasn’t easy. Da once spoke of how some Christians were so busy being “fruit inspectors” that they didn’t see how they’d stopped producing fruit and become rotten themselves. Several of the upstanding members of the church and community hadn’t given him—their Christian brother—the benefit of the doubt. They’d judged and found him lacking honor. The cost would follow him forever.

Speak the truth, woman. Now that you know the facts, speak the truth
.

She shrugged. “Cain’t do nuthin’ ’bout what other folks say or thank. Gotta jist keep plodding, one foot a-front of t’other.”

“All you have to do is admit you lied. You don’t even have to reveal who the true father is. Just admit I’m not the child’s sire. Then you and your brother could leave and live however you want.”

“Don’t wanna live noplace else.” Skimming off a pile of dark bubbles, she added, “You jist said yore word is your bond. That bein’ so, yore bound to me.” His throat ached with the need to shout at her. Galen almost gave in to the temptation, but something held him back. “You expect me to be honorable, but your lie dishonored me. Everyone I care for—from the woman I love clear down to my baby brother—is forced to bear the cost of the wrongs you’ve done.”

“You give me time. I’ll make it up to ’em.”

He gave her a scorching look. “Impossible.”

“Ruth, did you want to have a table and chairs,” Laney asked as she surveyed the room, “something along the line of a dining set, or were you thinking of something more like a study with wing-back chairs?”

“Both!” Ruth scanned the now-empty tailors’ shop. “I didn’t imagine the Basquez brothers’ shop was this large. Isn’t it wonderful?”

“Yes.” Laney watched Rob Price as he rapped his knuckles on a wall. Ruth had persuaded Laney to look at the promising library space with her and the carpenter first thing Tuesday morning.

“Mrs. McCain, this partition is too flimsy to remain. It served its purpose to form a storeroom, but getting rid of it would free up a lot of space.”

Ruth bobbed her head. “Good. I’m glad. But there’s a bench in there. Can you detach it?”

“I’ll take a look.” Rob rocked from heel to toe and back. “Where were you planning to put the bookshelf?”

“Bookshelf?” Ruth gave him an appalled look.

“You surprised my sister-in-law,” Laney hastily explained. “Ruth is dedicated to making this an outstanding library. She’s acquired a considerable number of books.”

Seemingly unfazed, he said, “I’ll make a book
case
instead. Maybe four feet …” He watched Ruth’s face. “Five—no? Six feet wide.”

“I’ll need at least eight of them. Maybe ten.”

“Ten.”

Oblivious to the shock she’d served the carpenter, Ruth mused, “As the library grows—”

“Mrs. McCain, it’s nice to hear how you want to expand; but you said you wanted to open as soon as possible. I can build bookcases as you need them.”

“Perhaps I should be more flexible.” Ruth tilted her head a little.

Relief flooded Mr. Price’s face. “I’m glad you saw reason.”

“A dozen of them, four feet wide, would permit me to rearrange as I need to.”

Laney took pity on the carpenter. “Mr. Price, perhaps I should have been more specific about how many books Ruth has obtained. Ruth, I’ve lost count.”

“So have I.”

“Two hundred?” Rob sounded incredulous.

“Oh no. No, no, no.” Ruth’s brow puckered. She always did that right before she spoke her mind.

Laney jumped in before Ruth said something she’d regret.

“The number hovered at five thousand before I lost track.”

“Five thousand?!”
He raked his fingers through his hair. “Are there really that many books written?”

“The library is in my dear mother’s memory. You didn’t expect me to skimp, did you?” Ruth didn’t wait for him to answer.

“Of course you didn’t. Now that that’s settled, I’ve decided to have everything made of oak.”

“I’ll have to order the lumber.”

Looking thoroughly disgruntled at that news, Ruth huffed, “That’s going to mean I can’t start bringing the books in by Friday.”

“Friday? No.” Rob shook his head. “No, you won’t. As a matter of fact, it’ll take a few months to get this place ready.”

“Months!” Ruth whipped out her fan and started fluttering it. Josh had once privately confessed he could tell just how upset Ruth was by how fast and furiously she fanned herself. He’d come up with what he called his “three-beat rule,” where whoever was nearest was supposed to swipe Ruth’s fan once she’d managed to smack herself with it three times.

“Ruth,” Laney said as she stole the fan, “it’s better to have everything done perfectly at the outset than to have to shut the library down once your patrons are counting on you.”

“But it only took Toledo one day to double the size of the chicken coop.” Ruth didn’t reveal to Rob that she had recently poisoned all of her feathered pets.

“Bookcases are a far cry from chicken coops,” Rob growled.

Ruth fished up her sleeve for a hankie.

Laney handed hers over. Mr. Price probably thought Ruth was upset over the bookcases—which she was—but Laney knew she had to change the topic. Once Ruth started in eulogizing her pet hens, they’d never get anything done. “I’m sure Mr. Price will work diligently. Mr. Price, Ruth and I discussed having a halfdozen small chairs for children.”

Rob smiled at her. “How charming.”

“You’re too kind.”

“And a little table, too. Over by the children’s books.” Ruth regained her composure. Within moments she’d decided they needed white-painted tin ceiling plates and a librarian’s desk.

The carpenter pointed out details and asked questions. Laney tried to fade into the background, but Ruth and he kept asking her questions.

Ruth waited until Rob went to the other side of the partition, then she waggled her brows and silently mouthed, “He likes you.”

Laney pretended not to understand her and turned to the front of the building. “Have you decided what to do about the window?”

“You sound as if you have some suggestions.” Ruth drew closer. She whispered, “Mr. Price is a good man, Laney.”

“Yes, he is.” Laney glanced down and realized she’d started wringing her hands. Clenching them together tightly, she whispered, “But he reminds me of Josh.”

“That’s quite a compliment.”

“Yes, but …” Laney shuddered. “There’s a difference between how
you
think of Josh and how
I
think of him. You think of him as your man; I think of him as a brother.”

“Oh.” Ruth’s eyes widened and she added, “Ewww!”

“Is something wrong?” Rob popped out from behind the partition. Laney would rather perish than let him know what they’d been discussing.

“There’s an enormous bug here in the corner.”

Laney looked at where Ruth pointed. She didn’t have to pretend to shudder when she saw the cockroach.

Rob approached them. “I’ll get it. Spiders, bugs, snakes, mice—you ladies aren’t supposed to handle such things.” He took a quick look and chuckled. “It’s dead. I’ll sweep it out of here.”

As he did so, Laney whispered, “When we’re done here, I’m going to buy chocolate at the mercantile. You get a piece for getting me out of this.”

Ruth’s eyes twinkled.

When the carpenter returned, he cast a smile at Laney. “If there are any more of those, just call me. I’ll handle them.”

“The window …” Laney knew she was babbling, but she couldn’t help herself. Galen made her feel comfortable and confident. He had a calming way about him. Rob Price, Eddie Lufe, Rick Maltby—they were all fine men. Christian men. Single. But not a one of them made her heart skip a beat.

“The window?” Rob squinted. “Is there a crack or something?

If there is, I can replace it.”

“Nothing’s wrong with it. Other than it’s being filthy. Once it’s cleaned, though, Ruth, we need to take advantage of it.”

“Take advantage? How?”

Glad she’d already thought about some possibilities, Laney blurted out, “Either place the table and chairs here to take advantage of the light, or perhaps display some books there.”