The Heavenly Surrender (6 page)

“
Who is she?” Genieva repeated, irritated.

“She’s a young lass in town who has unfortunately found herself…in the family way. It’s unfortunate because there is no husband to her.”

“Oh. I-I see,” Genieva gulped. It was such a sensitive subject to be discussing with a man, and she suddenly felt very uncomfortable for having asked him about Amy Wilburn.

“And are the new boots tolerable then?” he asked.

“Oh, yes. They’re very comfortable. Thank you for paying for them.” Genieva swallowed hard and mounted her courage. She was not one who enjoyed being left ignorant of certain facts—especially when they concerned her. Therefore she abruptly blurted, “Those other women…the ones who came into the store just before we left…they don’t think I’m capable of keeping you at home, as they put it. Are you a philanderer, Mr. McLean?”

Instantly Brevan pulled the team to a halt. He turned to Genieva—glaring down at her with a furious expression on his handsome face.

“I’m sorry to be so bold, sir…but I would like to know exactly where I stand and what to expect. If I’m to be the object of great ridicule and gossip, I would like to be as prepared as possible and…”

“I should turn ya over me knee and paddle yar bum, I should!” he shouted, and Genieva knew at once she’d been too blunt. “And I see now why ya’re so interested in Amy Wilburn’s story as well! I leave ya alone for two minutes in the store, and ya come out accusin’ me of…of…” He was so angry that his face burned a fierce shade of red—his breathing labored. “The last man to accuse me of bein’ father to Amy Wilburn’s baby is still nursin’ a broken nose! Aye, I tell ya me mother’s spinnin’ in her grave over hearin’ me own wife accusin’ me of…”

“I merely asked a question, Mr. McLean. It was a perfectly legitimate one at that. After all, I’ve no experience with you other than through letters and just these past couple of days. I just wanted to be certain…”

Her words stopped as he reached out and firmly took hold of her chin. With his teeth tightly clenched, he growled down at her, “I’m no slimy snake, Genieva. Me parents raised me to be a good, moral man! I don’t run around after women no matter what the storekeeper’s wife says. Never have I done so, and never will I! And should me manly desires get the better of me, which they won’t, then take comfort in the knowledge that I hold fully to the scripture tellin’ a man to keep only to his wife!” He released her—pushing her chin ever so slightly as he did so.

Genieva cleared her throat and straightened her posture once more. “Very well,” she said. “But in the future, I would ask that you please handle me with a bit less aggression.”

She could feel the seething in him at such a reprimand and actually winced—for she thought his powerful grip would take hold of her once more. Instead, he inhaled deeply, and exhibiting great restraint, barked, “I will
handle
ya in whatever manner I feel is necessary, I will.”

Unnerved slightly by a sudden odd thrill springing up within her, Genieva corrected him again. “I am not your mule, Mr. McLean. I expect to be treated as your equal and without violence.”

“
Not me mule, ya say. Sounds to me like ya could put me mule’s stubborn streak out like a candle’s flicker,” he grumbled as he snapped the lines, urging the team forward again.



“’Tis a sad, sad story, it is,” Brenna sighed as she helped Genieva to hang Brevan’s freshly washed shirts on the line late that same afternoon. “Innocent she was…to the ways of the world, ya see. But she’s a good girl, and things will be workin’ out for Amy Wilburn eventually. As for the other three ya saw…vindictive as venom, they are. I’ve no doubt in me mind they’re all plain furious at Brevan marryin’
you
and not choosin’ one of them…as if he’d even waste his brain a thinkin’ on any of those ugly sows.”

“Mrs. Fenton seems nice, though,” Genieva remarked. She grinned—unable to avoid being amused by Brenna’s calling the young women in town “ugly sows.”

“Oh, yes. No doubt she’ll be makin’ sure there’s a bee held in yar honor. She’s a kindly old lady. A bit too much on the gossip, though. She drowns in it like some men do in liquor.”

Genieva smiled at Brenna’s superb comparison. She knew she would have to take Mrs. Fenton’s words very lightly.

Both women turned then as they heard the barn door slam shut. As Brevan walked from the barn toward the house, they watched in silence for a moment before Brenna whispered, “He’s not as bad as he wants ya to think, Genieva. Just ya wait and see. He likes ya, he does. He would not have married ya otherwise.”

“Well, I’m only here to…” Genieva began. But Brenna interrupted her.

“Me brother is so the handsome lad that it’s frightenin’, it is. And he’s a lot of fun and kindness when he’s not actin’ up. Don’t try tellin’ me ya haven’t already fallen for him, Genieva. For ya’d be lyin’, and heaven’s a watchin’ ya.”

“
Oh, Brenna,” Genieva scolded with a nonchalant toss of her head. She turned and continued to hang up the freshly washed garments from the basket at her feet. “This isn’t like you and Travis.” Pausing, she turned to Brenna. Only in that moment did she realize she had no knowledge of the circumstances under which Travis and Brenna had come together. “How did you and Travis meet and marry?”

“Oh, me Travis,” Brenna sighed, staring toward the bright blue sky—a wistful smile spreading across her lovely face. “Travis was a cowboy. He was lookin’ for a place to winter last fall, and he asked Brevan if we needed a hand. He’d been to the…to another place nearby…a rancher’s land and been coldly turned away. The weather was fairly fierce last winter, and before he knew it, he found himself on our doorstep the night of the first snow, askin’ Brevan if he could winter out here. Brian had recently married Lita, and Brevan was wonderin’ if he could keep up the place on his own, he was. So he told Travis he could stay the winter. I knew I loved him the moment I laid me eyes on him.” She sighed heavily and smiled at Genieva. Genieva was delighted by the blush that suddenly rose to her sister-in-law’s face. “Brevan came upon us sparkin’ in the barn one day just before Christmas. Oh, he was angry! Shoutin’ and callin’ Travis a rounder and every such name.” She laughed at the memory, and Genieva giggled, captivated by her story and fully able to imagine Brevan’s reaction. “Travis shouted back and told Brevan he loved me and intended that I should be his wife! That was the first I had heard of it, and I thought I must be dreamin’ it all. But we married in February, and here I am.”

“And she spends far too much of her time tellin’ her stories.” Brenna and Genieva both startled and turned to find Brevan looming before them.

Brenna quickly punched him square in the stomach and scolded, “Ya scared the life out of me, ya did! Quit yar sneakin’ about, Brevan McLean.”

Unsettled completely by Brevan’s sudden appearance, Genieva stepped back from him. In the process she caught the heel of her boot in the basket of laundry at her feet. Her arms began to flail as she struggled to keep her balance, and somehow her other foot became entangled as well. Brevan, reaching out and taking hold of the waistband of her skirt, steadied her for a moment. But Genieva watched in horror as Brenna gave Brevan’s shoulder a hard shove from behind, sending the unstable duo tumbling to the ground to land in a heap. The force of Brevan’s unbalanced weight drove the air from Genieva’s lungs as she landed flat on her back in the dirt. As Brevan began to raise himself from his awkward position, Genieva gazed into his face. For a few lingering moments, his eyes captured hers in a curious stare.

“What kind of trick are ya pullin’, lass?” he muttered. “It was brown yar eyes were a moment ago.”

“Oh, get yarself off the girl, Brevan. Ya’re crushin’ the life out of her, ya are,” Brenna giggled. “And I’ll tell whatever story I want to tell, I will.” Brevan raised himself. He reached out and took hold of Genieva’s skirt band, pulling her to her feet to stand her before him.

“Well…when you remember, just let me know,” she assured him, bending down and righting the upset basket of laundry. Upon feeling Brevan’s hand brushing at the seat of her skirt, however, Genieva straightened instantly. Whirling around, she slapped him soundly across one cheek.

He instantly took hold of her wrist and bent her arm behind her own back, holding it there firmly as he glared down at her. “I was only tryin’ to help, lass,” he growled through tightly clenched teeth. “Yar bum is covered with dirt.”

“Well, I thank you to leave that as my concern,” she retorted. “How dare you lay a hand on my…on my…”

“Bum,” he finished for her. Brevan fought to stifle the grin begging to spread across his face as he held Genieva firmly in his grip. She was all too adorable—dangerously adorable. Especially when her temper was provoked as it was at that particular moment. He marveled again at the sudden change in the color of her eyes, now spitting deep brown in his direction. Only moments before, when he lay on her in a heap on the ground, he could’ve sworn he’d seen the same pretty eyes boast a strangely violet hue.

He loosened his grip on her as the grin threatening his lips won the battle of his self-control and spread across his handsome face. Genieva snatched her wrist from him and rubbed at it ceremoniously.

“Thank you,” she spat. “Now, if you don’t mind…I’ve got things to finish.”

Brevan couldn’t resist—though he tried to—and as Genieva turned from him and toward the clothesline once more, his hand impulsively sprang forth—slapping her firmly on the seat.

“A good day to ya then, Genieva,” he chuckled as she stood inhaling long, deep breaths in an attempt to calm herself. He knew she would not give him the satisfaction of reacting to his gesture. Still, he was entirely amused as he returned to the barn in order to finish the evening feeding of the stock.

When Genieva could no longer hear Brevan’s departing footsteps, she turned and looked in the direction in which he had gone. She watched as he entered the barn. She pressed a quivering hand to her bosom in a vain attempt to settle the frantic beating of her heart. Oh, how he upset her! She was horrified at the condition of every part of her body and mind at having been so close to him and having been the object of his singular attention once again. She would have to learn to be less unsettled in his presence—for it would be devastating should she slip somehow and give him any indication of the existence of the fast and furious attraction to him secreted deep inside herself.

Chapter
Three

It was a brief matter of two days following Genieva’s trip into town with Brevan that one of Mrs. Fenton’s grandsons rode up to the farmhouse and handed a note to Brevan just after lunch.

“Help us all! Lilly’s true to her word,” Brevan moaned as he read the note. “Tomorrow. Tomorrow mornin’, Genieva, lass…such torture I wouldn’t wish on me worst enemy.”

“What?” Genieva inquired, completely baffled. Brevan sighed and handed the note to Genieva.

“Read it then, lass. Read it, and weep the tears of a tortured woman,” he mumbled with a manner of dramatics Genieva had not yet seen in him. He walked toward the orchard calling cheerily to the boy, “Tell yar dear granny ‘thank ya’ for me, William!” The boy nodded, waved, and rode off.

Genieva’s curious eyes fell to the paper in her hand. There she read:

Dearest Mr. and Mrs. McLean,

I’ve only just arranged a quilting bee in honor of your recent nuptials and am writing to inform you that the ladies of the township, and outlying farms, will be descending upon your home tomorrow morning, bright and early, to create a lovely quilt for you both…as a memento of your marriage. Not to worry, dear Mrs. McLean. We will provide everything that is necessary including a variety of delicious eatables.

Sincerely,

Lilly Fenton

Genieva’s heart sank—depositing itself with a thud into the hollow of her stomach. She dashed after Brevan.

“Wait, Brevan,” she called to him. He paused and turned to face her. “I don’t want this!” she cried.

“When Lilly Fenton gets it into her mind that somethin’ must be done, Genieva…there’s no choice left to ya,” Brevan assured her. “The best of it would be to just endure the thing, lass.”

“But…who will attend? I don’t know anyone. I…”

“I’ve no doubt that every female within fifteen miles of the town will be there, lass. They’ll all want to burn their stares into yar face awhile. After all, ya’ve married the one man in town who never wanted to marry, ya have,” Brevan explained.

“But…but I’m no good at these kinds of things, Brevan. I don’t do well with people I don’t know. How long will it take? Will it take long?” she asked.

Brevan only chuckled. He seemed to look at her with some sort of pity, and it deeply unsettled her. “It’s one day, Genieva. Think of it that way. One day and ya’ll have made it through another challenge.” He smiled—a smile laced with sympathy—and walked toward the barn.



“How long does it take? What goes on?” Genieva asked Brenna as she helped her sister-in-law knead the bread dough on the table before them.

“Híjole! It takes eternity, Genieva!” Lita confirmed. She looked at Genieva with an expression of compassion. “But you’ll have una hermosa manta…uh…a pretty blanket…a quilt to show when they are finished with you,” she tried to encourage with a smile.