The Bride Backfire (7 page)

His choice? Opal listened to Adam defend her and wanted to weep.
What choice did he have, Lord? Marriage to me or death?
She looked at the expressions painting Grogan faces.

Anxiety darkened Willa's pretty eyes. Curiosity, avid and eager, kept young Dave's head swiveling back and forth so he wouldn't miss anything. Pride bent to resignation as Diggory acknowledged his son's decision by reaching for her satchel. Larry's fury came off so palpable, Opal wouldn't look at him.

But it was the defeat lining Lucinda's shoulders as she clutched the doorframe that most closely mirrored Opal's heart. Set apart, reaching for strength wherever she could find it, grasping at any hope this could be made right...

Oh, how I wish it could be so. But how can you make things right, when you're not the person you thought you were?

Opal balled her fist against the sting of her palm—a fading reminder that she'd struck another person in anger. It didn't matter that Diggory Grogan offered the ultimate insult. That he accused her of sleeping with multiple men before marriage, lying about it, and then passing off an unborn child as belonging to the wrong man in order to trap him into an unwanted marriage. Words paled compared to actions. After so many years of telling her father and brothers that physical violence didn't solve anything, she'd lashed out the first time she found herself alone in her anger.

Hypocrite.

The knowledge stung more than her hand ever could. And the more she thought about it, the more she could add to the list of people who'd believed the worst of her.

After all, Diggory wasn't the first. He certainly didn't rank as the most important, and she should have foreseen the assumptions his family would jump to. Especially when Adam thought much the same thing. The only difference was how much a hussy he thought her. Somehow, that didn't make them any less hurtful.

Even her own family now believed she'd betrayed her raising, their good name, and her family loyalty for fleshly weakness.
The look in Pa's eyes when he said I wasn't a Speck anymore ...
Another surge of sadness threatened to overwhelm her.

“Opal.” Adam stood before her, hand extended.

Not knowing what else to do, she took hold and followed him into the Grogan home for the first time. Oh, she'd been on their homestead before for harvesting, threshing, work bees, and the like to exchange a helping hand.

She stilled at the thought.
Threshing. If I hadn't been here for Larry's accident, I wouldn't have fetched the ice. He wouldn't have thought I harbored secret feelings for him and skulked on our land to act on the supposed attraction.
Her stomach heaved as she followed the progression.
If he hadn't crossed the boundary, Pa and my brothers wouldn't have been so up in arms when Adam came looking for his milk cow. If I'd never stepped foot on Grogan land ... If I...

She stopped cold, bringing Adam up short.
Oh Lord. I thought I was saving Adam. But really, this entire mess is my fault!

She lurched away from him for a few steps, turning her back to lose the contents of her stomach in a patch of wild grass. Opal gagged on her realizations until she had nothing left but the hollowness of despair.

“Here.” A man's kerchief appeared before her, a warm hand patting her back as though to comfort her. Adam had stayed. His kindness proved the breaking point.

Despite her resolve not to let the Grogans see her cry, Opal felt tears pour free. She stayed bent over for an extra moment, mopping her face clean, trying to gather her composure.

“Well, Larry, I guess now we know Adam's not been hoodwinked. The gal's pregnant, all right.” Diggory's laughter stiffened her spine, giving her the strength nothing else could have. If he weren't such an abysmal, callous excuse for a man, she would almost have been grateful.

As it was, Opal straightened up, tucked the soiled kerchief in her apron pocket, and summoned a sickly smile. They'd never know she grinned at the irony of how her sickness over the deception was interpreted as proof of its veracity.

“We've put your things in Willa's room,” Adam told her just outside the house, after everyone else had gone inside.

“Willa's room?” She looked up in consternation.
How am I to make an annulment impossible if we sleep separately?

“Willa's room,” he repeated the words with a determined gleam, and Opal knew he'd meant what he said earlier. “Until I can build us a home of our own, I'll stay with Larry in the barn. It's for the best.”

“Don't leave me.” She hated to beg. Hated that she needed him for more than fulfilling her plans. But the thought of being alone in the Grogan household turned her stomach afresh. If nothing else, she counted Adam as her ally.

“When the time is right, we'll have a house.” His gaze held a deeper meaning than the words he spoke so lightly. “A real marriage.”

“When the time is right...” She tested the words, certain he meant when-you-tell-me-the-name- of-the- father-whose-child-you-carry.

“I'm glad we understand each other.”

“Oh, I understand.” She had a husband. Now, what she needed was a plan.

Think, Midge. Think!
She rolled over, snuggled into her quilt, and waited for inspiration to strike. A deep breath to calm her racing thoughts didn't do much. Stretching and wriggling her toes, her never-fail plotting method left her without any brilliant insights either.

This is one of those times when everybody else I know would pray. Maybe I should give it a try?

She wiggled her toes some more.

Maybe not.

After all, praying hadn't helped her parents make it past their bouts with influenza when she was little. Praying hadn't helped her sister survive....

No. Not going to think about that.

Midge stopped wiggling her toes. The point was God either hadn't heard or hadn't cared, because prayer hadn't helped her when she needed it most.

Saul had.

Which was the only idea for helping Opal that she kept coming back to—telling Saul and Clara. Oh, Midge knew Opal's reputation was at risk, but she knew firsthand that her makeshift family wouldn't turn their backs on a woman just because of her circumstances.

They were some of those Christians who actually practiced what they all preached and loved folks for who they were—warts and all. Didn't they keep telling her that the beauty of Jesus was that He gave His grace to everyone who accepted it, even though nobody deserved it?

Well, Midge knew she deserved it less than most. She wasn't worthy like Saul and Clara. And Opal, who'd always been so kind and tried so hard to keep her family from fighting with the Grogans, she deserved better than Midge, too. That was probably why Midge's prayers didn't do much, come to think of it.

She burrowed deeper under the covers.
I saw how Adam looked at Opal that day at the smithy.
She tried to marshal her thoughts, sniff out the facts.
I know he saved her from the fire, and any woman would find that romantic.... She's so pretty, with her bright hair and blue eyes, it's no wonder he stares. And Adam Grogan's a fine-looking man, even if he is older. Real tall, with lots of dark hair and kindness in his face. Haven't I heard Alyssa say so often enough?

She didn't spare a thought for her friend, who had a crush on Adam. All Alyssa need do was crook a finger and half the boys in Buttonwood would come running. The other half, Midge allowed herself a small smile, would do the same for her. But none of them could help Opal if she were in trouble.

Opal and Adam might be a good match, but there's something havey-cavey about the whole thing. Opal's not the type to consort with a man. I thought maybe she'd given in to the man she loved because they were separated by family hostilities, but now I know different.

Midge had seen Opal's expression after Adam's kiss. That wasn't the look of a woman who'd been bussed by a longtime lover. Not by a long shot. There'd been no knowing in her reaction ... just surprise. And enough hesitant excitement to reassure Midge that the marriage still might work.

All hopes aside, though, knowing that Opal wasn't carrying Adam's child changed everything. It didn't take much to figure out that she'd lied. But why? Because she'd wanted to marry him? Things between the two families were wound tighter than ever, so what had Adam been doing on Speck land in the first place if he and Opal weren't seeing each other?

There were too many questions, not enough answers, and one troubling certainty—whatever caused the wedding yesterday would cause a lot more trouble before this was over. And Opal would be the one to pay for it.

Until she knew more, she couldn't tell anyone. But still, Midge had to do
something.

“What?” Adam felt the reverberation from how hard Larry slammed their door through the wall where he hung his hat.

“You heard me, Adam.” His brother circled him. “How could you do it?”

“Opal carrying a child out of wedlock never figured into any of my plans.” He chose his words carefully—as he had all day. As he'd have to for a long while.

“That's not what I meant.”

“You know better than to question why I married her, Larry.” Sinking down onto his bed did nothing to ease the weight from his shoulders. “It had to be done.”
Just not for the reason everyone thinks.

“That's not what I meant either.” Larry shouted this time but must have realized his voice would carry because he lowered it. “Why
her?
”

“It doesn't matter that her last name used to be Speck.” Adam addressed the only other possible cause for Larry's outrage. “Opal's a special woman. God-fearing, kind, smart, pretty—”

“I know that, blast it!”

“Watch your mouth, Lawrence Grogan. There's no cause for cussing.”

“Yes, there is.” A muscle worked in his brother's jaw. “She was
mine,
Adam.”

“No.” Bile seared the back of his throat.
Can Larry be the father of Opal's child? My own
brother
, Lord?

“Yes,” he hissed the word. “She was for me, and you took her. You knew it, and you took her anyway!”

“I didn't know.” Adam pushed his hair back.
Didn't I?
A memory fell into place. The day he'd gone looking for the cow skull and startled Opal, hadn't she called Larry's name before she turned around? “This is why you kept crossing the boundary? To see Opal?”

“You read the note.” Larry loomed over him. “Knew I claimed her.”

“Fool!” On his feet now, Adam looked down on his younger brother by a good two inches. “And if you caught a bullet for your sneaking and started a war? You put us all at risk for an infatuation?”

“And you did any different?” Larry threw back his shoulders. “Don't pretend to be righteous now, Adam.”

Red hazed his vision as the pieces fell into place. Larry, determined to cross Speck lines. Larry, eager to start a fight over any little thing as a pretext to go over there. Larry, adding the damning extra lines to Pa's threat. Larry, so preoccupied with Opal he didn't mend the fence he should have. His brother's selfishness paved every step of the journey leading to this impossible situation.

Dear God, what if Larry is the father? What am I to do then? How is it Your will that I'm wed to this woman?

“How did you do it, Adam?” Larry's hands fisted, the most prominent vein in his forehead springing to life. “How did you get to her?” A heartbeat of silence then, “If you forced her, I'll kill you.”

“I didn't force her.” Even through his anger, Adam could see Larry's sincerity.

“Didn't think so.” He lowered himself onto his bunk. “So what was it? What made her choose
you?
”

The crimson halo around everything eased away at his brother's disconsolate look. Larry hadn't been with Opal.
My brother isn't the father.

For a split second, Adam considered sharing a part of the truth—that between Larry's note and Adam's trespassing in search of the missing milk cow, Opal's interference had saved his life. Just as quickly, he rejected the idea. But how to soothe Larry's pride without making things worse? “I saved her life.”
And now she's saved mine, but we're far from even.
Adam's jaw tightened.
She owes me a name, for starters.

“You used that against her?” Larry's head came up like that of an enraged bull. “Held it up as a debt?” The shove, when it came, didn't surprise Adam. “As though she owed herself to you?”

“No.” Adam hadn't toppled from the push, but he planted his feet. “There's just a bond that's formed when something like that happens.”
Like the way I never forgot how it felt to hold her, even for a few minutes.
“It's not something I can make you understand.”

“You don't have to.” Larry pointed at his scar. “Opal helped save my life. It's part of what lies between us.”

“Part?” A chill crept up the back of his neck.

“Yes.” A fervid gleam entered his brother's eye. “Opal and I were destined to be together.”

“You
were
together?” There was a sharp note to his question, but Adam had to ask.

Larry's bark of laughter did nothing to ease his mind. A long silence stretched between them, Larry obviously turning over his answer in his head. A hint of triumph rimmed his response. “What do you think?”

I'd rather be anywhere but here, Lord.
Opal swallowed back a lump of grief and scooted closer to the edge of the bed, trying not to disturb Willa.

No. That's not true. I want to be home, Father. I want to be in my own bed, listening to the snores of my family. Pete's nasal whistle, Pa's snorts, Elroy's gusty breaths, and Ben's rusty rumble used to keep me awake. Now I can't sleep without them.

The Grogan house was too quiet. Willa, normally a quiet girl, didn't make so much as a peep while she slept. The luxury of having an honest-to-goodness room for just the two of them, not just a corner of the soddy curtained off, only emphasized how alone Opal was.

Only silence filled this home ... and it seemed to be waiting for something. The weight of expectation pressed upon her chest until Opal could barely squeeze out a breath. Stillness screamed for truth, and she had to keep that locked inside. Because the facts would unleash the conflict she'd fought to suppress for so long.

If I tell Adam there's no child, he'll seek that annulment. He never wanted me as his wife.
Strange how a dull pain spread through her at the thought, an odd accompaniment to the fear that followed.
Pa will take umbrage at the insult to me and determine to carry out the sentence he proclaimed against Adam earlier today. Guns will fire before tempers cool. Even if we all make it through the aftermath alive, Pa will never understand, never forgive me for betraying the family and lying to him to save Adam.

Obviously, that wasn't an option. She tapped her fingers against the cornhusk mattress, eking some small comfort from the familiar rustle.
If I get up now, slip away back home, and confess to Pa, he'll be so angry.
A muffled sob escaped her.
That I lied to save Adam—that I'd go so far to marry him. He'd see it as putting myself in
danger. Then he'd go after Adam for agreeing to it. Even if I explained that the note was Larry's, it wouldn't help. The feud would still start up, and I couldn't protect them.

No matter how she looked at it, there was no solution. Her mind churned, her mouth went dry as though to make up for all the moisture her tears spent, and still, not even the temporary solace of sleep offered escape.

The blue-tinged light of early morning seeped around the doorframe to find her still awake. Her lips stuck together, and surely some great desert had emptied itself in her eyes to make them so raw. She angled out of bed—already hanging so close to the edge she would've had nowhere but air to roll—and stumbled to the washstand.

A woven rug covered the floor, the chilled softness of its bumpy texture a familiar tickle to her toes. The splintering snap when the thin layer of ice on the wash water gave way seemed overly loud to Opal, but the cold wetness of it quenched her thirst and rinsed the grit from her eyes.

“Good morning, Opal.” Willa peered over the edge of the blankets.

“Morning, Willa.” She simply couldn't bring herself to call it “good.” “Hope I didn't disturb you last night.”

“Not at all.” Her new sister-in-law swung her legs over the side of the bed. “Though it is strange...”

“Yes, it is.” Opal didn't ask what the other woman referred to. The sudden marriage? Having her here at all? That Adam chose not to sleep with her? With so many options, and none of them flattering, it served no purpose to speculate.

The two women dressed in silence, preparing for the day ahead.

As much as it's possible to prepare.
Opal couldn't quite stifle a sigh at the thought but tried to distract herself by making the bed.

“I wish I could tell you today will be easier.” Willa fluffed her pillow and hugged it to her chest, ruining her efforts.

“Easy is as easy does, my mother used to say.”
Though I've never seen it done.

“Do you think anyone manages to do that?” She cocked her head to the side. “Make everything easy?”

“No.” For the first time in what felt like years, Opal felt the stirrings of a smile. “It wouldn't be fair to the rest of us.”

“True!” Willa's giggle faded all too quickly. “Though—” She paused as she reached the door. “Seems to me there's a lot of things that aren't fair.”

Don't I know it.
The knowledge doused her rising spirits as Opal followed her sister-in-law to the barn, where cows waited. She had to sweet-talk them, take it slow so they'd get used to her, but it wasn't long before she settled into the ages-old rhythm of milking.

With each squirt into the bucket, a regret tugged at Opal's heart.
It isn't fair to my family that I've abandoned them.
The harsh, metallic ring of milk in an empty pail.
Who'll take on my chores?
One insistent, streaming spray after another as she worked faster.
Who'll make sure they're fed enough ... and what they eat is worth eating?
Finally, the stifled splash signaling a full bucket.
Who'll take care of Pa and my brothers now that I'm not there?

After she and Willa toted the fresh milk to the Grogan springhouse, they set about gathering eggs.

“We haven't gotten around to the spring cleaning yet,” Willa said by way of apology for the smell around the coop. “They've only just begun laying again, so we haven't turned them loose in the farmyard yet. But we'll leave the coop open when we leave. Today's good enough.” Willa sidestepped a cock who'd taken exception to their presence. “Watch out for Jackson—he's a flogger.”

“I can't abide a flogging rooster.” Opal kept her distance. “Whenever we came across one, he ended up in a pot.”

“Or a frying pan.” Willa offered one of her shy smiles. “I love fried chicken. But around here, we find use for floggers.”

“What other use can there possibly be for foul-tempered fowl?” Something troubled Opal's memory, but she couldn't quite draw it out. Hadn't she heard the Grogans used chickens—

“To chase cows up a hill when they've got the bloat.” There was a forced lightness to Willa's tone.

“I see.” Opal didn't say another word. Sick cows were a sore topic. Besides, it seemed as though they were headed back to the house.

Lord, help me. I've always liked Willa, but facing another day with the rest of the Grogans—
A thought interrupted her, mid-prayer.
Only it's not a day, is it, Lord? With Adam determined to leave me in the house until I spill my secrets, I'll be facing Lucinda and Larry for weeks, even months....

And suddenly, Opal's stomach couldn't help but give the Grogans more “proof” of her delicate condition.