Norman had no interest in the oversized brute manhandling him again. Cautious, he parked behind the blackberry bushes across the road and waited, watching through his field glasses.
An hour later, with no speck of movement except the two milk cows swishing their tails in the pasture and pigs rooting in their pen, he moved his car past the curve in the road beyond the produce stand and walked back to the farm.
Winded by the time he got there, he leaned against a big maple tree, catching his breath in the shade. He dug a few pieces of candy from his pocket and popped them in his mouth, sucking on the sour little disks until he felt energized enough to make his way to the front door.
Convinced no one was home, he still went through the effort of knocking, but received no answer.
He ventured around to the back door and let himself inside, taking in the photos of the Yamada family hanging on the walls. The homey smells of bread and something sweet wafted on the breeze blowing in through the open windows. Annoyed that Laroux encroached on the prime property Norman claimed as his, he wanted to stomp through the house breaking everything in sight.
As badly as he wanted to leave a path of destruction, he tamped down the urge and looked through desk drawers and the few piles of papers, hoping to locate the deed.
If he could get it, he could forge the soldier’s signature and take over the farm with no one to question his right to be there. Of course, he’d have to get rid of Laroux, but that didn’t bother Norman.
After an hour of searching and not turning up the deed, he headed outside. On his way through the kitchen, he helped himself to a handful of cookies from the jar on the counter.
Silently, he hunkered down behind some shrubs and ate his cookies, imagining how the farm would look once he removed all the trees, leaving it ugly and bare. The only thing the place would be good for after that was a dump.
He watched a tall, dark-haired woman unlock the door to a big building and walk inside. Curious, he followed, peering around the edge of the doorway as she climbed up a ladder to a long loft. The sound of her shuffling items preceded the loud pop and bang as she dropped flat boxes down below.
Norman sneered as he loitered in the doorway. The pretty-faced soldier boy had a girl there. Not just any girl, but one who stayed behind and worked while he went off to town.
The dames always went for the solid, all-American types, like Laroux. It galled Norman that men with big muscles and no brains were always the ones with a woman or two on their arms.
As he cursed Laroux and every guy like him he’d ever known, Norman made note of the car and farm truck. He spied two cans of gasoline and an assortment of boxes, no doubt filled with supplies he would find useful.
Angry that the soldier had waltzed right in and taken what Norman wanted, he decided to give the girl and that arrogant Laroux a little extra work.
Stealthily sneaking away from the building, he made his way over to the pasture by the barn. It required minimal effort to open the gate and shoo the cows into the garden. He did the same with the pigs, releasing a snort of glee when they made a beeline for the strawberry patch.
High on the success of his endeavors, he picked up a hoe he found leaning against the side of a little building that held an assortment of garden tools. He swung it back and forth in his hand like a scythe as he returned to the building where the girl labored.
Outside the large storage building, he waited in the shadows cast by the open door, sucking on candy and biding his time. The girl went in and out a small side door, carrying the boxes away and returning for more.
Eventually, she cocked her head toward the big door, as though she heard an unusual sound.
It was all Norman could do not to laugh as she scrambled past the assorted boxes and stored furniture, heading his way.
He dashed around the corner and raised the handle of the hoe, holding it like a baseball bat, ready to swing.
When she stepped in front of him, he clonked the back of her head and watched her fall with a satisfying thud.
With the toe of his shoe, he rolled her over and sucked in a gulp of surprise. The last thing he expected to see was a Japanese woman. He thought they’d all been rounded up and contained down by the river in Portland.
Had the mighty Mr. Laroux helped this one escape? Was she his wife or just a lover?
Either way, Norman had no use for a traitor, and that’s exactly what the soldier was... a filthy, stinking, Jap-loving traitor to his country.
Although Norman had no interest or inclination to join the thousands of men fighting in the war, he hated the Japs and Germans. If it wasn’t for them, there wouldn’t be a war. And if there wasn’t a war, there wouldn’t be so many men gone, leaving the women to work. The dames were too tired or too busy to listen to his sales pitches and buy his wares.
Norman thought about laying into the Jap at his feet with the hoe, but decided to bide his time. When he killed her, he wanted to make sure he got the soldier boy, too. With both of them out of the way, it would be a simple matter to take over the farm, sell the timber, and live the luxurious life he’d convinced himself he deserved.
The sound of a car approaching made him toss the hoe in the direction of the toolshed. He grabbed one of the two gas cans by the door and hurried as fast as he could to his car. The full gas can grew heavier with each step. Norman sucked in great gulps of air by the time he made it to the car and set the can in the back. He hustled behind the wheel and took off down the road before anyone saw him.
Chapter Fourteen
Miko awoke to the smell of something burning and the loud noise of clanging metal.
Hastily tossing aside her covers, she ran down the hall and into the kitchen. Rock stood in front of the stove waving his hand in the air, as though to cool it, while smoke rose from a pan of burning eggs.
She grabbed a potholder, lifting the pan from the stove and dumping the eggs into a pail beneath the sink. After setting the pan in the sink and filling it with water, she turned back to Rock, noticing the red tint of his hand.
“Burn yourself?” she asked, taking his big hand in both of hers and studying a rapidly forming blister.
“I grabbed the pan without thinking,” he said, allowing her to lead him over to the sink, where she ran cool water over his hand. The water felt good against his singed skin, but not nearly as nice as the feel of her fingers brushing across his palm.
The braid she’d fashioned in her hair last night had unraveled. Her long hair streamed around her in a midnight mass of silken waves. The sleeveless white gown she wore, trimmed with ribbons and lace, made any number of thoughts, all of them completely inappropriate, float through his mind.
Heat churned in his belly and worked its way out to every extremity as she held his hand beneath the faucet. Struggling to keep a tight grasp on his self-control, he held back a sigh of relief when she turned off the water and carefully dried his hand.
“I have ointment I can put on that burn,” she said, turning toward the hallway.
Rock reached out and stopped her with his other hand. “It’ll be fine, Miko. How’s your head today?”
“It hardly even hurts,” she said, gingerly touching the bump on the back of her head. The swelling had gone down considerably. The ache in her head was barely noticeable, and she felt fine. He’d let her sleep far past the usual time she rose, though. “If you give me a moment to dress, I’ll make breakfast.”
Chagrined, he pointed to a plate on the counter where he’d dumped slices of blackened toast. “I’d refuse, but if you don’t we might starve. I’ve never had to cook for myself.” He shrugged and shot her a boyish look so full of charm, her knees wobbled. “You make it seem so easy. I figured I could at least manage to make toast and eggs.”
She smiled, sidling toward the doorway when she realized she wore only a thin cotton gown and her hair was a mess. Most likely, she had a crease on her cheek from the pillow. It would have been her luck to have him discover she snored when sh
e was overly tired, too. “Clearly, we need to schedule cooking lessons.”
“That sounds like a great project for us to work on this winter.” Rock leaned against the counter, not attempting to hide the fact he admired her appearance. Boldly, his eyes roved from her hair down to her toes and back to her face.
Miko fought back a shiver that had nothing to do with her exposed skin catching the morning breeze and everything to do with the fire burning in Rock’s expressive eyes. Warmth curled through her stomach and wrapped around her heart at his mention of winter. That meant he planned to stay.
“I’ll be right back,” she said, breezing out of the kitchen. She hurried to dress in a pair of old jeans, rolling the hems up nearly to her knees, and a light cotton blouse. Quickly brushing her hair, she secured it in a ponytail then returned to the kitchen.
Rock had disappeared, but she heard him whistling through the open window. The sound made her smile as she washed the pan, dropped in a glob of butter and cracked five eggs onto the sizzling surface.
While the eggs cooked, she browned bread for toast and fried three of the sausages Rock seemed to like so well. She didn’t know where her grandfather had acquired them, but they’d been stored in a cool corner of the basement in a thick crock, layered between coatings of lard.
Rock strode in with a basket of just-picked berries and set it on the counter. He selected the biggest, juiciest berry and held it up to her lips. “Go on,” he encouraged. “Take a bite.”
Even after so many summers of eating strawberries until she thought she might burst, Miko never tired of them. Obediently, she bit into the berry, enjoying the delicious flavor. The tender fruit contained just a hint of warmth, holding onto the early-morning rays of sunshine in each sweet bite.
Rock pulled off the stem and popped the remainder of it in his mouth. Aware of her gaze, he winked at her, then leaned forward, his finger lightly brushing across her bottom lip. “You missed a drop,” he said, sticking his finger in his mouth and making her blush.
“If you can behave yourself, breakfast is ready.” She did her best to ignore the foreign, yet fascinating feelings he stirred in her.
Since Pastor Clark’s visit Sunday evening, Miko had given much thought to the possibility of marrying Rock. Even if they acquired a marriage license and managed to go through the ceremony without her being arrested, she still wasn’t convinced it was the best idea. If they wed, it needed to be in name only, a business arrangement of sorts. That way, if Rock ever wanted out of it, they could have the marriage annulled.
But, oh, how Miko wished Rock would be her husband in every sense of the word. She’d never wanted anything in her life as much as she wanted him, wanted to be loved by him. However, love was a luxury she could ill afford.
The last bite of her breakfast was on her fork, headed toward her mouth, when Rock reached across the table and touched her hand. Unspoken questions lingered between them.
Intently, he studied her face. “Are you sure you feel okay today?”
Exasperated, she sighed. “I’m perfectly fine. Please stop fussing and worrying. It was just a little bump on the head. I had much worse when I was a child.”
He lifted an eyebrow and grinned. “Remind me when I meet Sally to have her tell me all about the adventures you two had in your younger years.”
Miko shook her head. “She’s sworn to secrecy. If she tattles, then I get to tell her husband all the secrets she’d rather he not know.”
Rock laughed and squeezed her hand. “I, um… I think that…” He cleared his throat and started over. “In light of what happened yesterday, it’s best if we wed as soon as possible. I learned there is a three-day waiting period between the time you file for a license and when you can marry. If we file the paperwork today, Pastor Clark would marry us this coming Sunday. We could do it in the afternoon and that would give us a few days to adjust to things before the produce stand opens for business as usual next week.”
Shocked, she gaped at him. “But Rock, I… we…”
“I know this isn’t what you’d necessarily choose to do, Miko, but someone was here yesterday, someone who discovered you are Japanese. I don’t know how long we’ll have before he turns you in, but there’s a good chance if we’re married, the law will leave you alone. Please, Miko? Please marry me?” The pleading, beseeching look on his face would have convinced any woman with blood flowing through her veins to agree.
And Miko wanted to marry him.
Desperately.
However, part of her, a romantic part of her heart, thought marriage should be more than just an arrangement or a business deal. It should be a sacred and treasured commitment entered into only for love.
Several long moments passed as she considered her answer. Practicality won. “Okay.”
Rock stared at her, hopeful and unsure. “Okay, what?”
“I’ll go with you today to file the paperwork and get a license. But if something happens between now and Sunday, if you change your mind, I won’t hold you to it.”
Unable to contain his elation, Rock jumped up and hurried around the table, pulling Miko into his arms. Although no music played on the radio, he danced her around the kitchen, making her laugh.
He stopped only when they both were out of breath. With a quick peck to her cheek, he stepped toward the telephone. “I’ll finish the chores and call one of the boys to come work today. I don’t like the idea of leaving the place unattended with someone lurking around. Can you be ready to go by ten?”
“Yes,” she said, picking up the breakfast dishes. She cleared the table while he spoke with one of the teen boys who worked for them Wednesday through Saturday, asking if he’d like to make a little extra money and come to work that day. From the one-sided conversation, Miko had the idea the boy readily agreed and would soon arrive.
“Don’t forget you’ll need a hat,” Rock said as he sped out the back door to finish the chores without her assistance.
Miko washed the dishes in record time, set the kitchen to rights, then hurried to the bathroom, where she bathed and washed her hair. She sat on the bed in a ray of morning sunshine, combing the long strands until they dried. It took some effort, but she pinned the gleaming black tresses up on her head in a becoming style, leaving a fall of carefully fashioned waves to drape across one side of her face.
Hurriedly searching through the dress clothes she’d hung in the closet a few weeks ago, she selected a black dress she’d worn to a party the previous summer. Black ribbons crisscrossed the sweetheart neckline, giving it a peekaboo style, while a layer of chiffon around the hemline added a bit of flair.
Miko slid her feet into a pair of open-toed black pumps with a T-strap and wide heel. She rummaged through a drawer and came up with a pair of black gloves and a length of black polka-dotted netting.
She heard Rock come in and the sound of water running in the bathroom, mindful he’d soon be ready to leave.
From the back of the closet shelf, she lifted a hatbox and removed a broad-brimmed black straw hat. Artfully adding the netting, she secured it with a few quick stitches of thread and a length of dark blue ribbon.
After settling the hat on her head, she stared in the mirror and poked in a few pins to keep it in place. She tugged on her gloves and picked up a black handbag accented with a floral tapestry pattern on the front.
Ready as she could be for whatever might come that day, she opened the door to the bedroom and strode into the kitchen.
Rock stood at the sink, chugging down a glass of water. He gawked at her and gulped, choked on his drink, and coughed into his hand.
His voice sounded unusually husky when he regained the ability to speak. “Wow, Miko! You look incredible.” He couldn’t recall seeing her dressed in anything beyond the simple clothes she wore on the farm. Except for the summery skirts she wore on Sundays, normally she was attired in trousers and blouses to work on the farm. The outfit she wore exuded elegance and class.
She hid a satisfied sm
ile by pretending to search for something in her handbag. Rather than the suit she expected Rock to wear, he had on his uniform. She’d cleaned and pressed it weeks ago, but the sight of him wearing it made her heart flutter. The trim jacket accented the breadth of his shoulders and chest while outlining the leanness of his waist. The pants were loose and neatly creased, but she envisioned those long, strong legs of his.
“Shall we go?” she asked, moving toward the door.
“I forgot we need to fill out these papers,” he said, motioning to the forms he’d left on the table.
Miko scanned through them and quickly added her information, then held out the pen to Rock. He filled in the appropriate boxes. All that remained was for them to sign the papers at the license office before a witness and everything should be in order.
“Let’s get on the road,” Rock said, taking her elbow in his hand and walking with her outside to her grandfather’s sedan. He helped her into the car then waved a hand at the young man he left working in the vegetable garden.
Miko slipped on a pair of sunglasses and pulled down the brim of the hat so it hid most of her face.
Rock chuckled. “Maybe Army intelligence should recruit you for covert operations. I’m not sure if you look like a movie star or a well-dressed spy.”
She turned her head toward him, but he couldn’t see her eyes to read her expression. “Perhaps they are one and the same,” she suggested with the barest hint of a smile.
A laugh rolled out of him. “I’ll keep that in mind.” Aware of her nervous state, he squeezed her hand. “You might as well sit back and relax. It will take an hour or so to get to the courthouse in Vancouver.”
In need of a distraction from their worry that the day might end with her in jail, he shared stories about leaving home for the first time as a new cadet at West Point.
“I’d barely stepped off the train when a kid named Zane bumped into me. He wore a big cowboy hat and had a western twang that sounded like he ought to perform on the Grand Ole Opry show. From that moment on, we became the best of friends.” Memories flooded through Rock, both good and bad. “The upper-class cadets can make life miserable for the first-year cadets. They call the new cadets plebes and it is common knowledge the only things plebes outrank are the superintendent’s dog and the commander’s cat.”
Garden of Her Heart (Hearts of the War Book 1) Page 16
