The Marriage Bed (32 page)

She buttoned the top button of her dress and looked anywhere but in his eyes. "Tuesday? I thought you couldn't wait.

"I can't," he said, feeling the strain in his loins and knowing that if he wanted her, he could have her back in his bed tonight. But it was a bed from another lifetime, and he wanted her to have her own, hers and his, a brand-new start. And if things worked out the way he thought they might . . . Well, this just wasn't the time to be ruled by his pants, or even his heart. That could wait a few days. "I've got to get ready for you," he said, lifting her chin with his forefinger. "I've got to make it perfect."

They rose from the porch and stood awkwardly just feet from each other.

"Tuesday?" she asked again, squinting up at him and biting that luscious bottom lip. Damned if she wasn't just as randy as he was!

"If it doesn't rain," he added, praying that the hot dry weather would hold and the paint would dry fast enough for him to bed her before he burst.

What he wouldn't give to sweep her in his arms and take her inside and make love to her until neither of them could move a muscle. But were his needs any more important than her pride? He'd nearly killed that pride once, when he'd been so obsessed with his needs. He wouldn't do it again. One look at her kitchen and she'd know he was the one buying all her damn pies.

"If it doesn't rain?" He silently cheered the disappointment and confusion on her face. Heck! She wanted him now!

But he had to see to a few little details if everything was going to be as perfect as he hoped. One little trip to town, a word or two with Makeridge, and even Remy Sacotte, hard as he was to please, might be happy.

"I've got some things I've gotta take care of," he said.

"Things?"

"You don't have to know every blessed thing, Livvy-love," he said, touching the tip of her nose. "Leave a man his secret machinations, will you?"

Reluctantly she gave him more of a shrug than a nod.

"Just think," he said, trying to placate her. "In less than a week you'll be right back where you belong and life will be perfect."

"What's wrong with now?" she asked shyly, kicking at the dirt with her booted toe.

"Can't wait?" he teased. "Maybe this'll hold you." He took her up against him, his arms cupping her round bottom and raising her to her toes. Just the briefest touch of her against his manhood and he was hard with longing. His ragged sigh brushed her lips and he attempted a chaste kiss, but his mouth was having none of it. His lips pressed against hers until he managed to ease them apart and slide his tongue into the warmth of her mouth. His tongue danced with hers until kissing was not enough, and he maneuvered her toward the fence post, hoping to lean her against it and roam her body with his hands.

One eye on where they were headed, he saw something moving in the distance.
Not company
, he thought.
Not now
.

The small arm waved and Spencer couldn't keep the curse from escaping his lips.

Livvy's eyes widened as he reluctantly pushed her away and straightened her dress for her yet another time.

"What's wrong?" she asked, still having trouble getting her breathing under control.

Tuesday? Had he said Tuesday? Maybe if he only gave the bed one coat . . .

He nodded with his head out toward the path that led to Sacotte Farm. He couldn't hide the grimace. The boy couldn't have had worse timing.

"Isn't that Neil?" she asked, waving at the child.

"For Christ's sake, Liv. Don't encourage him." He looked down at his pants and willed the telltale bulge to subside. The tent remained. "I think I'll get going on my errands now," he said as Neil got closer.

"Will you be by later?" she asked him, reminding him of when they were very young and she would stand right by this fence and ask him if he'd be dropping by Sacotte Farm.

"I might," he said, the way he always used to, giving her that crooked smile.

"There's the eclipse at suppertime," she reminded him.

"I know, but there are an awful lot of people over at Sacotte Farm," he said, amazed that while so many things had changed, some things still remained the same. "Maybe you could slip away and . . ." He buried his face in her hair and nipped gently at her ear.

Neil was nearly there and, if anything, the tent in his pants had gone from a tepee to a full longhouse.

"I'll be waiting in the field," he said, patting her bottom and hurrying down the road toward town before Neil could get a good look at his randy old uncle.

"And you," he yelled at the boy over his shoulder, "could learn a little about timing!"

Livvy put her arm around the boy and shook her head in answer to whatever it was Neil was asking.

Neil would see her home. He could leave Livvy safely in the boy's hands.

Chapter Twenty-three

Olivia sat on the porch swing at Sacotte Farm twirling one loose strand of her hair around her finger and wishing away several days of her life. Tuesday. Lord, it couldn't come fast enough.
Everything will be perfect on Tuesday
, he'd said.

As far as Livvy was concerned, perfect had already started with his kiss and the plea for her to stay with him always.
If you wish long enough and hard enough
, her mother used to say,
all dreams come true
. Who'd have thought her mother would be right?

The boys came out of the barn, Neil pushing Philip, who was dragging his feet. They were arguing about something, but when they saw her sitting there, they stopped. Grateful her services as a referee weren't going to be required, she got up and stretched, considering maybe taking a quick bath before supper and the eclipse.

"Ask her," Neil said, shoving Philip forward so that he tripped up the steps and nearly sprawled at his aunt's feet.

"Clinchpoop!" he yelled at his cousin.

"Ask me what?" Livvy said, feeling as if they could ask her for the moon and she could give it to them. And tonight was the night for it, wasn't it, what with the eclipse and all? She bit her bottom lip to keep from crying out with joy. Spencer Williamson, the only man she had ever loved, loved her in return! And maybe it had taken twenty years or so, and maybe they'd both had to walk through the fires of hell to get there, still. . .

"I got some mud on my pants down at the store," Philip said, looking at Neil instead of her. "And Ma'll kill me. Think you could help me get it out?"

"Your ma will kill you?" Livvy asked skeptically. "Seems to me she's been washing your clothes for twelve years and I see you're still in one piece."

"But these are new," Philip said, shooting arrows with his eyes at his cousin.

"Do you have something to do with this?" she asked Neil, fixing him with a stare.

"Me?" Neil asked with a gulp that announced his guilt.

Livvy sighed. Boys, she supposed would be boys, even on heavenly summer nights when the moon would block out the sun and her own face would finally replace Kirsten's in Spencer's eyes. "Go in and take them off and give 'em to me," she said, ruffling Philip's hair. "But hurry now. I've things I want to do."

The boys hurried in and Livvy followed them, then veered off to the kitchen to find an old potato to rub on the mud on Philip's new black pants. Finding Bess busy preparing supper, Livvy was overcome with guilt.

"I should be helping, at the very least," she said.

Bess smiled and pointed to Josie, who was mashing potatoes with a vengeance. "Got a helper," she said.

"You are such a good girl," Livvy told Josie. "You sure have made yourself at home here."

"This is home," Josie said, her pale eyebrows coming down in question. "Isn't it?"

"For now," Livvy agreed, kissing the top of her head. "For now." She grabbed up a slice of the raw potato from the bowl beside Josie.

The kitchen door swung open. "Here," Neil said, thrusting the pants at her and running like a thief from the room.

"You're welcome, I'm sure!" Bess shouted after him, making Livvy laugh. Her eyes narrowed. "Those look like Philip's new pants."

"Mm," Livvy said, examining them for the stain. "Seems like Neil managed to mess them up for him somewheres."

Bess reached for them. "Well, I'll . . ."

"Oh, no," Livvy said, whisking them out of Bess's reach. "You're doing quite enough. I can . . ." She reached down to pick up the paper that had fallen out of Philip's pocket as she spoke.

"What's that?" Bess asked.

"Looks like a telegram," Livvy said, flattening the paper.
Signed, Spencer Williamson
, caught her eye. "It's from Spencer," she said, trying to make out the light pencil writing of what appeared to be a draft of a telegram from Spencer to Julian.

It was dated and timed late that afternoon, and sent to San Francisco. Livvy found the chair with the backs of her calves and sat down slowly. She read the message once, sure she was misunderstanding it somehow, and then read it again.

Sacotte Farm to be sold on Tuesday. Children will be sent on train at 11:00 a.m. Will arrive San Francisco 2:00 Friday.
There was no way to put the words together to mean anything else.

"Olivia? What is it?" Bess had stopped wrapping the slices of ham around the endives sprinkled with Gruyere and slathered with cream, and was staring at her.

"Fool me once, shame on you," Livvy whispered, dazed. "Fool me twice, shame on me."

"What, honey?" Bess asked, corning to pull out a chair by Livvy's side.

"I told him that Louisa was having trouble living with the boys . . ."

"So?"

"What did he say?" she asked herself, her mind racing, her gaze darting around the room. "What did he say?
She won't have to do that much longer
? Was that it? Or was that what he said about Neil?''

"Livvy, honey, you're gonna break that chair, grasping the seat like that. Look at your knuckles!"

"I'll break the chair, all right," she said, rising and glaring at Bess because she was the handiest target. "I'll break the damn chair over his stupid skull." She needed to throw something, anything. She needed to pound a wall, or break a window.

"Spencer?"

She whirled on Bess, shaking the slice of potato in her face. "Don't you ever, ever, say that name to me again, you hear me?"

"Livvy, what in the world?" Bess said. "Get a hold of yourself. I don't know what the telegram says, but Spencer loves you and . . ."

Livvy put her hands over her ears and ran from the room, Bess on her heels.

"Tell Louisa to get in the kitchen and see to the baby," Bess shouted at Neil as they raced past him.

"Is Uncle Spencer coming over to watch the eclipse?" Neil shouted after them.

Bess shook her head.
Uncle Spencer coming over
? Livvy laughed, maybe hysterically, all out of control. "I don't think so," Bess said, and Livvy laughed harder as she ran down the steps.

"
Meet me in the field
, he said. Tuesday he wanted me back. God, I am a fool."

''Slow down, Livvy. I can hardly breathe." Bess was gasping behind her.

"I'd rather be a fool than a liar," she said, kicking a tuft of grass clear out of the earth. "And I'd rather spend the rest of my life with no man than with one plying me with pretty words when all he wants is clean balbriggans and a place to ease his needs."

"You go on, Liv," Bess called out from several yards back. "Get it out of your system."

"I would have lain with him tonight, in the grass, I know I would."

"Should I get Remy?" Bess yelled.

"A man? What in hell would I want a man for?"

"Olivia! You watch your tongue! You're not so old that—"

"Oh, yes I am. I am the oldest damn woman you've ever met. I'm old and I'm done and I've half a mind to take Julian up on his offer."

"I'm getting Remy."

"I will not be made childless twice!" She reached around her neck and ripped from it the locket she had returned to her neck only that very day, the chain breaking easily with the force of her tug.

"Oh Liv, don't," Bess whined as Liv cocked her arm back and let the necklace go as far as she could throw. "Liv!"

"Remember when the children first came?" she asked Bess. "How Neil called Spencer Uncle Die?"

"Don't say it, Liv," Bess warned.

"Oh, I don't wish him dead. It's too late for that. He is dead. He died along with Kirsten and the children. I was just too stupid to see it. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid." She punctuated each accusation with a smack to her forehead with the heel of her hand.

Somewhere in the vicinity of where Livvy had thrown the locket, Bess was rooting in the grass like a warthog. "Come, sweetie, help me look," she said gently. "You'll be sorry later."

"No," Livvy said. "I've been sorry and I'm sick of it. I'll never be sorry again. I gave him that power, and I'm taking it back."

Bess sighed and stood up, arching her back to get out the kinks. "I don't see it. It'll be easier in the bright sunshine tomorrow."

"Forget it, Bess," Livvy said, heading back toward the house. "It's over. My new life starts tomorrow and no one's gonna stop it."

"It'll look different in the morning, honey. You'll see."

She looked over her shoulder in the direction of Spencer's land. He was never, never going to hurt her again. "I don't doubt it for a minute," she agreed with Bess.

"Hey," Philip yelled as he reached the top of the stairs a step or two in front of Neil. "What do you think you're doing?"

Neil tried to peer around Philip's legs, but couldn't tell what was going wrong now. He didn't like the way his aunts had gone running from the house. He had a real bad feeling that things might not be going quite the way he had planned.

"I wasn't doing anything," Louisa answered, slamming a door.

"You were in my room," Philip bellowed. "You're not allowed in my room."

"Says who?" Louisa said, pretending that Philip didn't scare her.

"I says," Philip answered, reaching Louisa before she could escape back into her own room and grabbing her by the arm. "And it's my house."

"Yeah, I know," Louisa said more softly than Neil would have expected. "So?"

"So you can't go in my room. I've got things,
private
things." He looked at Neil as if Neil could do something to help him. If he hadn't "borrowed" that book by Dr. Naphreys, he wouldn't have to worry about Neil's sister nosing around in his room.

"Yeah," she said, smiling at him. "I saw them all."

"I'm telling," he yelled, turning to go down the steps.

"Go ahead," Louisa yelled after him. "And I'll tell what you've got."

The front door slammed and Philip lowered his voice. "Tell and I'll tell everyone at school you've started your monthly."

Louisa turned three shades of red, and Neil supposed that his cheeks, too, must have pinkened. But what was going on between Louisa and Philip paled when Aunt Liv stomped up the steps like she was going to war.

She stared at the three of them, her hands on her hips, her chest rising and falling like she'd run a mile.

"Where's Josie? Who's watching her?"

"She's in the kitchen, I guess," Louisa said with a shrug.

"You guess?" his aunt screamed, her voice cracking. "You guess?"

Louisa backed away slightly, shrinking from her aunt's rage, and they all exchanged glances as Aunt Liv turned and went running down the stairs calling to Josie to reassure herself that the baby was all right.

"I can't believe you just left her," Philip said.

"Oh, like you've ever watched a three-year-old," Louisa complained.

Neil hardly paid attention to their bickering. His aunt wasn't reacting quite the way he had planned. And how was she going to beg Spencer to take her back if he wasn't even coming over to watch the eclipse? A sick feeling swirled in his stomach and crawled up his torso toward his head. He didn't think he could feel so cold in July.

"You'll be sorry," Louisa said, "talking to me like that."

"It's starting," Uncle Remy shouted into the house. "Get your back porches out here now."

"You're not supposed to look at the sun," Thom-Tom said, strolling out of Louisa and Josie's room fanning himself with a composition book.

"Oh, my God!" Louisa shouted, blanching and grabbing after Thom-Tom and the book like a circus juggler.

Philip caught her skirts and she couldn't make any progress except to scream as if she were being attacked by banshees.

"You stop that this minute," Aunt Bess yelled from the foot of the stairs. "Supper's on the table. Get down here and wash up."

"You coming?" Uncle Remy yelled, banging on the screen door with his fist.

"No, they ain't coming," Aunt Bess yelled back.

"But they're missing it."

"I don't care," Bess said, beginning to climb the stairs, threateningly. "What in blazes . . .?"

"Give it to me," Louisa demanded of Thom-Tom, who flipped her the book and then ran past everyone and down the stairs passing his mother and patting her gently on her shoulder.

"They're such babies," he said to his mother and then yelled toward the door, "I'm coming, Pa."

"I hate you all," Louisa said, pulling her dress from Philip's clutches and stalking off to her room.

"Downstairs, young lady," Aunt Bess said. "Now. And you too, boys."

When everyone had been served, Uncle Remy instructed them to take their plates outside. "We'll sit on the porch and watch this miracle of nature."

"You want a miracle?" Aunt Bess shouted at Uncle Remy. "A miracle would be anything good coming out of your stupid plan." Neil expected her to turn and point at him, but she didn't. Apparently he wasn't the only one with a stupid plan.

"And until it works out for your sister, don't plan on any favors from me, if you know what I mean!"

Neil thought he did, especially from the shocked look on Uncle Remy's face.

Just as they were on their way out of the kitchen, each of them carrying their plates and grumbling at each other, Henry came through the front door. Anyone would have thought that he had been there for all the fighting, what with the life-just-smacked-me-between-the-eyeballs look on his face.

"Where the heck have you been?" Uncle Remy shouted.

Aunt Bess balanced the plate she was carrying in one hand and bashed the back of Uncle Remy's head at his words.

"Don't you use that language in my house," she yelled.

Uncle Remy glared at her and stepped deliberately through the open doorway onto the porch. "Where the heck have you been?" he said again, daring Aunt Bess to claim the porch was still in her house.

Henry looked down at his shoes as if he were gathering his courage, then took a deep breath and looked his father in the eye. "I'm marrying Jenny on Sunday," he said. "And we'll be moving in with her folks."

There was total silence, and then Uncle Remy said, "The hell you are," and Aunt Bess just gasped and covered her mouth.