WILD OATS (20 page)

Chapter Fifteen

"That pack of worthless, small-minded hypocrites!" Jedwin was furious.

He was pacing the length of the main room of the Pratt farmhouse. Cora sat watching him from a worn bedtick that she'd retrieved from the bottom of her wardrobe. The two of them had spent the better part of the afternoon carefully selecting the hay and sweet clover to stuff it. Deciding that meeting at Cora's house would be too dangerous, they thought Pratt farm seemed a perfect choice for their secret hideaway.

Jedwin was in no temper to test his handiwork this afternoon. He was like a bulldog with a bone, he just could not seem to let it go.

Cora, now half reclined on the makeshift bed, had her nose buried in Mrs. Millenbutter's book. Her serious concentration went unnoticed by Jedwin, who continued to pace irately. "Reverend Bruder called you a
Jezebel."
He slammed a fist into the flat of his hand angrily.”Luring weak men into sin.'' Fuming, he shook his head threateningly. "I'd like to
lure
that weak man into a dark alley and pound some sense into his brain."

"Don't worry about it," Cora said, looking up casually from her book. "Nothing anyone has to say about me bothers me a whit."

"Well, it bothers me," he declared sharply. "The man impugned your honor!"

Cora looked at the young man curiously and raised an eyebrow. She considered pointing out that as a divorced woman, she no longer had honor.

"That preacher and his silly wife are ignorant, small-minded, and spiteful," he said. "You should hear the things they say about people."

"Everybody gossips," Cora told him. "I'm sure even the saints were guilty of it a time or two."

"Well, these are certainly not saints," he said. "They aren't even kind to their own daughter. The things they say about Tulsa May!"

Cora nodded. "Sometimes we are crudest to those that we love."

Jedwin turned to stare at her, exasperated. "Why are you taking up for them?"

"Because I don't care about them, and I don't want them to ruin our day together."

"Nothing," Jedwin declared adamantly, "could ruin any time that I spend with you!"

Nodding hopefully at his words, Cora was immediately chagrined as he began to pace once more.

She sighed and sat up, laying her book aside. Her heart was full of sadness and longing. She had so wanted their idyll to last a while longer. Cora knew the realities would ultimately intrude. But she'd hoped for more time, just a little more time, giving her enough memories to last her forever.

"How dare those people think to judge you," Jedwin raved. "To judge us, to judge this . . . this happiness that we've found."

Cora closed her eyes. She couldn't allow him to continue to rant. The truth had to be faced. Sadly, she supposed that the troth had to be faced today.

"That's what they are supposed to do," she said calmly.

Jedwin turned to look at her. His expression was full of disbelief. “What?”

“That’s what communities do, Jedwin," she told him. “They judge people who break the rules. We broke the rules."

"Rules?" Jedwin stepped closer to her. "I don't know what you mean."

"You know exactly what I mean," she said.

When he made no further comment, she sat up straighter and resolutely smoothed her hair back into place. Raising her chin with defiance, her words were spoken as coolly as if they were meaningless.

"
I
vowed to keep myself only unto Luther Briggs for as long as we both lived," she said. "And
you
have had lovemaking with me without benefit of wedlock. That's two rules we've broken."

Jedwin raised his hands to heaven and gave her a humorless gin. "Good Lord, Cora, your vows to Luther were over a long time ago," he said. "And what we've shared together"—he dropped down beside her on the bedtick and laid a hand possessively on her knee—"that is nothing that I am ashamed of."

"Maybe you
should
be ashamed," she said, moving her leg away from the warmth of his touch.

"Well, I'm not." He swallowed and then looked at her closely, a tender smile curving slightly at the edge of his lips. "What I've felt with you, Cora . . ." he began. "I guess some
would
call it sin. But it doesn't feel that way to me."

The sincerity of his declaration nearly disarmed Cora. Jedwin was so open, so honest. It would be easy to mislead him, deceive him, enjoy him. But she didn't want to hurt him. She would have to teach him to guard himself against her.

“Of course you don't think that it is sin. Does a thief think that it is wrong to steal?" she asked him. "Doesn't he tell himself that his victims have plenty and they won't miss what he takes?"

"I am no thief, Cora," he said self-righteously. "I didn't steal you from Luther."

"You are deliberately trying to misunderstand. You have talked yourself into believing that what we are doing is right, when we both know that it is wrong."

Jedwin hesitated. He'd attended church since he was still wearing nursery gowns. In his opinion his conscience was in perfect working order, but it didn't call him to question today.

“When I touch you, caress you,'' he said. “When I feel your hands on my body, Cora, I feel nothing but pleasure and joy, not even a prickle of remorse."

"But it is wrong."

Jedwin took her hand into his own and brought it to his lips. There was no jest in him now, only stark, cold fear. "Are you suggesting that we stop meeting each other?" he asked.

Cora looked at him for a long moment. That is what she should be suggesting, she knew. It was a wild folly to have let things go so far with him. But they had gone so far with her, too.

She swallowed the emotion that lodged so stubbornly in her throat. "No," she answered him in a whisper. "I'm not sending you away, Jedwin. I should, but I don't think that I can."

Jedwin felt her uncertainty in the trembling of her hand and the coolness of her flesh. "What are you saying?" he asked.

Cora looked distressed, and he squeezed her hand reassuringly.

"I'm saying, Jedwin, that I want your eyes wide open in this," she said.

He went very still for a moment. Perceiving insult, he released her hands and raised his chin obstinately. "Do you still think me an ignorant boy, Cora?" he asked quietly. "I may lack experience in romance, but I am no stranger to the truths in this world."

"You misunderstand me," she assured him hastily. Cora took his hand back in her own and stared at the strong tan knuckles that clutched her so securely. "It is those
truths of this world
that you must keep in mind. We are
not
lovers, Jedwin, only sinners."

He reeled back slightly as if she had slapped him. "I may be a sinner, Cora," he answered firmly. "But that does not mean that I am not in love with you."

She covered one side of her face with a hand, as if her head ached. "You must not be in love with me. That is why I invited you to my bed, so that you would realize that it is lust you feel and not love."

He took her chin in his hand and raised her face to his. Her eyes were bright, but her expression was calm.

"I don't care why you invited me to your bed," he said. "I am glad to be there. And Cora." He paused, offering her the faintest of smiles. "You may tell me what you believe. You may tell me how you think, what you know. You may tell me the craziest of your dreams." He leaned forward to place a gentle kiss on her lips. "You may not, however, tell me how to feel."

Cora pulled away from him. She rose to her feet and walked to the window. When she opened the shutter, the bright afternoon sun streamed down on her. It lit the shadows of her curves and hollows as if she herself were shining from heaven. Only her shoulders, bent in sorrow, belied the appearance. Jedwin leaned out a hand to grasp the hem of her skirt in his fingers. She turned to him.

“Just say to me, so that I will know for sure, that you know that what we are doing is wrong."

He gazed up into her troubled expression. "Why do you carry on with this?"

"Because it is important!" she snapped, becoming angry now. "I will not have a man who doesn't know the rules."

Releasing his hold on her dress, Jedwin scooted over to sit at her feet. He looked up at her, those intense brown eyes prying into the weary secrets she held locked inside her.

"Rules?" he said. "You're talking about rules again? Whose rules are these, Cora? Are these Reverend Bruder's rules?"

"They are
our
rules!" she said, her tone fiery with annoyance. "Civilization is based on rules, Jedwin. When the rules are broken, people get hurt. I want you to understand that. You must understand that. We have broken the rules and, therefore, people are going to be hurt."

Jedwin gazed at her, his heart in his eyes. "Cora," he said, "I hear what you are saying. I even agree with you mostly. But"—he reached out and took her hand in his own— “civilization is not in danger here. What we are doing, Cora, is beautiful. It is wonderful. Who will that hurt?"

"You," she answered quietly. "Maybe me."

He rose to his knees and drew her into his arms, pressing his face tightly against her abdomen as if the strength of his arms alone could protect her from all the dangers of the universe.

"Oh Cora," he whispered against her neck. "I will try my best never to hurt you."

"I know you will," she answered.

Taking his hand, she gestured for him to rise. Together they walked two short steps to the bedtick. Cora sat down gracefully and raised her arm to him.

"Lie with me, Jedwin," she pleaded. "Lie with me today, while we both still vow not to hurt the other."

Jedwin came down beside her. His touch was so gentle it was almost reverent as they kissed and caressed and dispensed with unneeded clothing. Deliberately they avoided any rush. Slowly, oh so slowly, they tasted of each other as if loitering could make their time stand still.

When Jedwin finally parted her legs she was more than ready. Still they lingered together, making the moment and the movement last as long as near forever. It was with something close to disappointment that the shuddering release flared through her body to ignite his.

Cora's fingers were stiff and cold as she slipped the clothespin onto the edge of the worn, gray length of patched cotton to keep it secured to the line. It was almost cold enough to freeze the wash, but she hoped that the bit of breeze that had picked up in the afternoon would be enough to dry the bedsheets.

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Briggs."

Her mind was so far away that it was no wonder she started at the greeting. Clad in somber black, the Reverend Philemon Bruder stood at the corner of the house.

Cora met his gaze directly. "Afternoon, Preacher. What brings you to this end of town?''

Bruder smiled, not unkindly, and walked toward her, his hands clasped behind his back. His face retained the unnatural pinkness of a fair-fleshed man who spent much of his time in the sunshine. And the wispy remains of his graying red hair and his bright orange moustache contrasted sharply with his complexion. "Just checking on one of my flock," he said.

Cora attached the last clothespin to the line, then turned to face him, hands on hips. "Am I a part of your flock?"

The preacher shrugged. "You once were. I suppose I should count you the lamb that went astray."

Folding her arms across her chest, Cora shook her head.”This 'lamb' didn't go
astray,
she was sent
away."
Cora laughed. "As you well know, were I to show up at Sunday services, half the females of the congregation would keel over in apoplexy."

"Are you sure?"

"Aren't you?"

“Not at all. You have purposely kept yourself separate from your church. God's house is where you are supposed to come to in times of trouble."

Cora stared him dpwn, chin high and uncowed. "I haven't parted ways with God, Reverend, just with the good people of Dead Dog."

The preacher's expression suggested that he wanted to argue further, but Cora was grateful that he let it drop.

"I've come to talk to you about some rumors spreading about you," he said.

"New rumors or the same old ones?"

"Brand-new ones," he said. "And if there is any truth to them at all ... well, I just won't have it."

Cora sighed heavily. The reckoning had come. "Why don't you have a seat, Reverend?" She indicated the empty washbench that sat in the afternoon sunlight. "Let me make us some tea."

The preacher agreed amiably and seated himself while Cora hurried to the kitchen.

As she poked new life into the fire, Cora tried to make a decision about what to do. If the preacher knew about Jedwin, she'd have to stop seeing him. If, however, he only
suspected
that there was a man, perhaps they could continue to get away with their little scandal for a while longer.

Cora prepared the tea service as she berated herself for such thoughts. If she were in her right mind, she should be planning to break it off with Jedwin, not hoping that she could outwit the town and continue.