The Wrong Brother's Bride (5 page)

She prodded it with her finger, mouth in a tight line. “Do you miss him?”

August swallowed around the lump in his throat. “Every day.”

“You were close as boys. I always wondered what drove you apart.” She raised the cheese and took a bite, but the action was mechanical. She was doing it because he’d asked her.

He couldn’t tell her the real reason. Not the fight they’d had about how Jeremiah was spending too much time with her. As boys, they’d planned to get away from Wilson, leave their worthless father behind and go wherever the wind blew them. When he’d learned about the logging opportunities in the bootheel, he thought he’d found the solution. It had seemed better than staying here where everyone ridiculed them for being no better than bastards. Jeremiah had ruined that when he’d fallen in love with Loyal. And to make matters worse, August thought about her night and day. How many times over the years had he felt the urge to punch his brother each time he caught them sneaking kisses?

“It’s a private matter.” It wasn’t a good excuse, but it was the best he had for now.

Loyal blinked. “I can’t say I’m surprised. He was as closemouthed as you on the subject.” She set the cheese aside again. “I tried, August. I’m not hungry. There’s butter to churn and I should do it before supper.”

He wasn’t getting anywhere with her. He didn’t know how to make her smile, or tell her he’d always loved her. There were chores to do around the farm before he could think about bringing a preacher out. He was at risk of losing her before then.

“Be careful. Don’t catch your hair in the crank.” He meant the words to sound teasing, but they sounded almost patronizing.

She gave him a dark look. “People cut themselves on accident all the time. And since my hair is up, it’s unlikely to get caught.”

An apology tangled his tongue. “I’ll clean up here. See you this evening.”

“August?” Her eyes were dry, although there was a wobble in her voice. “Do you want to marry me?”

Yes
. He almost blurted it out without thinking. “I said I would.”

“But do you want to? Or do you feel it’s your duty?” She tilted her head and he felt as though she could see the feelings he was hiding.

“It’s not a hardship.” She was pretty and her laughter made the world brighter. Suddenly he realized she’d put off agreeing to marry his brother until she found out she was carrying his child. “If someone else was asking, would you marry him?”

She looked around the room, her face softening. “I love this house. I remember when he built it and I feel as though I know every board and nail. I always wanted to belong here. I accepted your offer. Wouldn’t matter if some exotic prince showed up and professed his undying love. He couldn’t give me this farm.”

August ducked his head, hiding a smile. That was Loyal, forever talking about fairy tales and the books she’d read. She’d always carried a novel, never a manual about crops or animal husbandry, or anything related to farming. But he wasn’t a prince by any stretch and the world never failed to remind him.

“He could give it to you, if the price was right.”

She looked stricken. “Don’t you dare tell me you’d sell this farm. This was Jeremiah’s dream.”

“I just meant—never mind. You were supposing about princes and I was going along with it.” His sense of humor was about as wet as last year’s corn husks. He kept forgetting she wasn’t used to it. “I won’t sell the farm.”

Not if she loved it as much as she claimed.

“Good, because if I have to climb on the mower or plant every kernel of corn myself, I’ll see it done. I want to live here until I’m too old to get off the porch without help.” She lifted her chin in a stubborn way that made August smile.

“Guess I know how much work I have ahead of me, then. Enough to last the rest of my life.” He pushed his chair away from the table. “Go on with the churning. I’ll see you come suppertime.”

All the work would be worth it if someday she understood he’d done it for her.

4

Loyal glanced out the kitchen window at the two men sipping lemonade under an oak tree. A peaceful scene on a late spring day. One that marked the aftermath of her sudden wedding. August looked at ease in the company of the preacher, Irwin Bowman. If exchanging vows had taken a toll on him, it didn’t show. His legs stretched out before him and he raised his glass. He looked…satisfied.

Irwin said something and August nodded. Shade dappled the men, although she easily made out the cut of August’s cheekbones, his square jaw, and the lump in his nose that told of his rowdy youth. Wide shoulders used to carrying burdens, a slender torso that tapered down to lean hips and long legs. He was more rugged than Jeremiah, but it suited him. Dressed in a red-checkered shirt and brown trousers, he’d have looked out of place in the suit coat and string tie like his brother had planned to wear.

Irwin’s wife Maud put her hand on Loyal’s shoulder. “You didn’t have to do it, you know. I saw your father a few days ago. Your decisions have taken a toll on him.”

“I never wanted a common-law marriage. If I ever intend to look Papa in the eye again without being ashamed, it was necessary.” Loyal hadn’t seen her father in weeks, though she’d been his constant companion since Mama died almost four years ago. It was hard to think about him and know he didn’t have any help around the house. She swept a damp curl off her cheek, picked up a dishtowel and removed a pan of cornbread from the oven. It joined the fried chicken and the vegetable assortment on the kitchen table. She ignored the concerned furrows on her friend’s brow. Inside the house, the temperature was high and she looked forward to sitting under the shady oak. “That’s all I was waiting on. Let’s go out.”

Maud lifted the chicken platter. “August doesn’t look very happy for a man who has everything he wants.”

Loyal frowned. “I don’t understand.”

“You don’t know?” Maud’s eyes grew round with excitement. “The reason August left was because he’s in love with you. He fought with Jeremiah about it. In the end, he knew you’d never give him the time of day, so he left.”

Loyal’s heart skipped a beat. Her gaze shot out the window, toward August again. “Who would say such a thing?”

“Jeremiah never came out and said it. From what Irwin gathered by the few clues he dropped, that’s what happened.” Maud looked a little uncertain, but didn’t apologize for the gossip.

She scoffed. “August and I have had our differences. I don’t think him loving me was ever one of them.”

Maud raised her eyebrows. “Look around, Loyal. He has everything a man could possibly want—successful farm, crops, livestock, and now a wife. He must be pleased with his good luck. In your condition, I’m sure it took very little persuasion to convince you to marry him.”

The words made Loyal sick. How could Maud repeat those things? It sounded as though she was suggesting August was glad Jeremiah was dead. “August doesn’t think about it like that.”

Maud shook her head as though condemning Loyal for being naïve about the situation. “How long do you think this will last? August never stuck with one thing for long. He never held a job more than a few weeks because he disagreed with everyone. I’m not sure he’ll last six months here. Farming is hard work and his father never knew what that meant. You said it yourself years ago.”

The air seemed charged with disapproval. Hurt by her friend’s opinion, it took Loyal a moment to recover.

“Jeremiah was better than his father. August is too. Every day this week, he’s gotten up at sunrise. The hayfield is mowed and baled, or didn’t you notice? Thirty bundles to an acre, he said.”

“All sewn by Jeremiah’s hand five years ago.” Maud’s mouth pursed. “He probably thinks it’s a novelty. His first hay cutting. What a lark. By the time the corn is ready to harvest, he’ll regret coming home.”

“If you hate him so much, what are you doing here?” Loyal framed her hips with her hands. She wanted to believe Maud and Irwin had come because they were her friends, except she’d seen August pay Irwin. “I don’t want you telling everyone August is worthless. He’ll do right by me and Jeremiah. Let him prove it.”

Maud clucked her tongue, shook her head and carried the chicken out the door. How many people had heard the rumor of August’s feelings for her over the years? Had Jeremiah really confided in anyone August had left because they’d fought over her? In all the time she’d known August, he’d never once acted the least bit like he thought about her as anything other than a pest.

Loyal heard Irwin speak and Maud reply. Carrying the hot cornbread pan, she stepped onto the stoop. August stared out at the cornfield, or maybe the springhouse. He looked up when she approached. A faint smile graced his mouth.

“Getting along out here?” she asked, knowing full well how he avoided churches and preachers. Not to mention gossips.

“Fair enough. You need help?” He rose before the question was out of his mouth, and settled his glass on the ground by the chair.

“It’s not necessary.” She placed the steaming cornbread on the table.

The smile widened. “It’s no trouble.”

Someone was in a good mood. If she mentioned Maud’s tales, his humor was bound to fade in a hurry. He led the way to the kitchen, leaving their guests outside. She ignored the burn of their eyes as she followed.

“Are you holding up?” August’s smile faded as he rounded the table for the vegetables. “Maud’s a gossip, always was. Irwin will let her get by with it, too.”

She thought about asking him if the rumor Maud told her was true, but dismissed the idea. They hadn’t married for love. There was little point in asking if he had any tender feelings toward her. “I think Irwin instructed her to keep quiet beforehand. She mentioned I might have made a mistake.”

She waited for the tale-tell redness of anger to darken August’s face, but he plucked a green bean from the bowl instead and ate it. She didn’t have the heart to scold him.

After he swallowed, he said, “Some things never change.”

Stunned, although impressed with his calm, she smiled. “Some things do. I thought you’d lose your temper at Maud for offering unwanted advice.”

“People will form their own conclusions. Nothing they say will be pretty.” He took another green bean. “You look nice.”

His gaze seared her and she felt heat rise up her neck and face. She knew Maud liked the sound of her own voice, but for just a moment, Loyal wondered if August had ever found her pretty. If perhaps he’d have tried courting her if Jeremiah hadn’t beaten him to it. Dismissing the notion, she smoothed the front of her calico dress. Her Sunday best, butter yellow with little blue flowers printed on it.

The dress she’d planned to wear when she wed August’s brother.

In the space of a week she’d gone from wearing mourning black to bright colors. She hated the dark colors that symbolized loss, and it didn’t seem appropriate to wear black at her own wedding. She was married and she had to put Jeremiah’s death behind her. Colored clothing was one small step.

“Thank you.” She hesitated. “Can I ask something?”

He picked a piece of bacon from the bowl. “Can’t hurt.”

She swallowed. It
could
hurt. Over the past week, they’d treated each other carefully, avoiding unpleasant subjects. But what good was a marriage if they weren’t honest? “If none of this had happened, would you be working with the lumber crew next year? In five years?”

He chewed the bacon slowly, studying her as though he could see clean through her. “What’s Maud telling you?”

“She said you’re not upset that Jeremiah died. That his death allowed you to take over his life.” She felt shameful saying it out loud.

August’s face turned flinty. “I didn’t need my brother to die so I could have a place of my own. I’m here because I owe him for taking care of me when we were boys.”

“I know. She’s just spreading hateful rumors.” Loyal looked away from his pained gaze. Did he even care about her the tiniest bit? “I didn’t mean to offend you. I’m grateful you’re trying.”

He glared out the window. “I don’t know if I can sit at a table with her.” He faced Loyal. “You think I’d leave this? Walk away after the harvest and let the bank have the farm?”

She hadn’t pictured an angry groom and company that couldn’t keep their tongues from wagging on her wedding day. She regretted inviting Maud. And worse, repeating her words.

“I think you have good intentions.” She hoped it was the truth. “Please don’t take what she says to heart.”

“What about you? She suggested I’ll leave you in trouble one day and I can see the doubt on your face. I didn’t come here planning to get married, but I’m happy with my choice. We can have a good life. Maud’s opinion about it doesn’t matter.”

He was wounded by her questions. In the past, he’d have stormed away, used his fists and his voice to make his displeasure known. His temper seemed less fierce after his time away.

“I need time, August. What we did today is a formality. What I feel in my heart.” She tapped her chest. “This is where the problem is. You’ll forgive me if I’m reminded of a time when you were carefree and didn’t accept responsibility.”

“Then don’t listen to Maud. Listen here.” He rested his fingers over hers above her heart.