by Lynda Trent
“I… Ryan, you don’t know about me. Not really. That shack across the pasture? That’s where I grew up. My father worked in a cotton gin until he got his arm crushed in the press. After that, he couldn’t work at all. My mother took in washing and ironing to feed and clothe us. At Thanksgiving and Christmas, we were the ones the church sent charity baskets to! I never owned a new dress or coat until I was almost grown. I’m not who you think I am!” Tears sparkled in her eyes and her voice broke.
Ryan pulled her close and held her against his broad chest. “I already know, love. I’ve known for weeks. It wasn’t easy, but I figured it out from the other things I learned about you. But you haven’t answered my question. Will you marry me?”
Tears spilled down her cheeks, but now they were tears of happiness. “Yes!” she cried out, burrowing deeper into his arms. “Yes, Ryan. I’ll marry you! Today, tomorrow, as soon as we can!”
They held each other close as if they were afraid of being torn apart. The sounds of the woods enveloped them and a breeze rustled the leafy dome high over their heads. The small waterfall sounded silvery beside them.
“I was so stupid,” Clare murmured as her hands clasped behind his muscular back and his familiar clean scent intoxicated her. “For so long I thought it was just the oil well I wanted. I know now that I wanted your love so much more. I didn’t realize it until I had lost you! Oh, Ryan, Ryan, are you sure you love me?”
“Yes. I love you more than anyone I’ve ever known. These weeks without you were hell. You’re everything to me. You’re my life.” He rubbed his cheek against her sun-warmed hair and the delicious curves of her body molded against his. Gently, he put his hand beneath her chin and raised her face to his.
Hesitantly, almost shyly, his lips caressed hers. He felt her breath on his cheek and tasted the sweetness of her kiss. Passionately, possessively he kissed her until she swayed weakly against him.
“God, I’ve wanted you,” he said huskily, devouring her face with his eyes, then pulling her close. “I want to took at you and hold you, all at the same time.”
Happily, she nodded her head against his chest. The feel of his body beneath her hands was like a feast to her starving soul. “I had no hope of ever holding you again. Never kissing you!” She pulled his head down to hers.
“We almost let the most precious thing in life escape us,” he said. “But no more. Nothing will ever come between us again.” He pulled back to gaze wonderingly down at her face. “I love you, Clare.”
Without hesitation, she said the words he had longed to hear. “I love you, Ryan. More than I ever dreamed it is possible to love. Never leave me again.”
“Never,” he whispered. “My darling Clare. I’ll never leave you.”
Clare drew the brush through the dark cloud of her hair and smiled. Basking in Ryan’s love for the last few days had erased the tight lines around her mouth and at the corners of her eyes. Her skin glowed and her eyes were dreamily radiant. A secret smile lifted her lips most of the time now, and her movements were carefree. Loving and being loved had swept away the sad woman her mirror had reflected a week earlier.
Brilliant sunlight streamed through the bedroom window and made the curtains gleam snowy white before dappling her carpet with a pattern of leaves from the trees outside. It was a beautiful day, and the sky outside the window arched high and blue.
No less sunny was the yellow chiffon dress that she wore. The soft folds of the skirt flowed gently about her silken legs, and the scarf sleeves floated caressingly on her smooth arms. Clare had brushed her hair until it flowed in shining waves down to the middle of her back, accentuating her narrow waist. As a finishing touch, she combed one side back and tucked in a rose that was as bright a yellow as her dress.
“Are you nearly ready?” Ryan asked, coming around the corner of the dressing room as he adjusted his tie. On seeing her, he gave a low whistle. “Hi there, beautiful,” he said appreciatively. “Want to marry me?”
Clare laughed. “Don’t you know it’s supposed to be bad luck to see your bride before the wedding?”
“I’ve already seen you,” he grinned. “Remember?”
She blushed happily as she recalled waking in his arms that morning and the tender loving that had followed. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.” Ryan slipped on his suit jacket and gave himself a quick glance in the mirror. “I even wore a tie for you.”
“You look marvelous,” she assured him. “Did you know you’re the most handsome man I’ve ever seen? With or without a tie.”
He put his arms around her and kissed her lovingly. “It’s possible you’re prejudiced. But if we’re going to get to the church on time, you’d better not tempt me. Otherwise, the preacher will have to wait.”
Clare laughed and slipped out of his arms. “Come on.”
The church they had chosen for their wedding was the small one just beyond Clare’s farm. Her parents had been married there and she had been baptized there as a child. Neither wanted a large ceremony, and its size fit their needs perfectly. As a bonus, it was cradled beneath enormous oak trees whose massive branches swept the ground.
As they drove by the farm, Ryan nodded toward Joe Talmidge’s car driving up the lane toward the well site. “I wonder if something’s wrong. I told Joe how to find the church. Maybe we should go see.”
“All right. We’re a few minutes early, anyway, and besides, he’s our best man. He really should be there,” she smiled.
Ryan turned in, driving far enough behind Joe to avoid most of the red dust that clouded behind the car. “I’m really sorry about the well. If we could have gotten more pipe and had more time, I still say it would have paid off. We just couldn’t go deep enough.”
Clare reached out and took his hand. “I’m sorry too. It would be a lie to say I’m not. I’ll miss my house and furniture, not to mention my land. I think I regret that most of all. But we might have decided not to stay here, anyway, and I like your apartment in New Orleans.”
“I think I would have liked to stay here. It’s quiet, but I enjoy that. Someday I want to settle down in one place. When we have our family, I don’t want to move them all over the country. I had too much of that when I was growing up.” He stopped the car and they got out.
Hand in hand, they walked down the well-worn path to the rig. Clare said, “I agree. Maybe we can find another place like this one and settle down there. Just think, Ryan, we can really have a home of our own and children. I feel like Cinderella whenever I think about it. I hope they all look like you.”
“I want half of them to look like their mother,” he replied. “You’re so beautiful, Clare.”
“All brides are beautiful,” she said smugly. But she glowed from his compliment.
“Joe?” Ryan called out to the driller. “Are you lost? The church is down that way.” He pointed back toward the road.
“I know it. Eula told me ten times already. But I forgot to write something in the ledger when I finished my shift last night. Won’t take me but a minute.” Joe looked miserably uncomfortable in his black suit and tight dress shoes. He hurried toward the trailer.
Ryan and Clare stopped at the base of the drilling rig. Only three lengths of pipe remained on the platform. The steady chugging sound of heavy machinery broke the country’s silence.
“Why are they still drilling?” Clare asked. “I expected them to close down.”
“I guess it’s just stubbornness,” he answered. “I’m too bullheaded to quit before I absolutely have to. Maybe I just never quit believing in miracles.”
“I’m glad you’re like that,” Clare said quietly. “I’m like that, too.”
Joe came out of the trailer and went up the steps to the platform where the men were working. He carried on a short conversation with the man in charge of the shift, nodded and started down the steps. As he came, he took out his handkerchief and began to wipe the grit from the handrail off his palm.
Unexpectedly, there
was a low rumble. It was so soft at first that Clare could only feel it through the soles of her feet, then it grew louder, like the roar of a tornado. Yet the sky above them was clear. Suddenly, loud alarm began clanging, splitting the air with urgent shrieks.
Joe froze at the base of the ladder, as did the workers on the platform. Ryan’s jaw dropped in amazement. Clare formed a question, but she had no time to ask it.
“Run!” Ryan yelled. He grabbed her arm and put his arm around her waist to hurry her away from the well. Behind them, men dashed at angles away from the platform.
Almost at once, a gusher ripped through the top of the pipe and roared high into the air. It seemed to go up forever before the black drops reached their peak and began to fall back onto the ground and the people below.
Speechlessly, Clare watched the plume of oil as it drenched her former cow lot and the drillers as they raced back to cap its flow.
“We did it!” Joe shrieked as he ran up to them, his clothes splattered with oil. “It’s a gusher! We were closer than we figured! By damn, we did it!” Grabbing Ryan’s hand, he shook it frantically. ”Eula!” he yelled, running to get his wife from their car. “Come look!”
“Well, I’ll be damned,” Ryan said with an awe-filled voice. “We really did do it!”
He grabbed Clare and swung her around, both of them laughing and talking at once.
“You’re rich, Clare!” he yelled. “That’s the best gusher I’ve ever seen!”
” We’re rich!” she corrected. Over his shoulder, she saw the men bolt the “Christmas tree” to the pipe and tighten the valve to shut off the torrent of oil. “But I’ve been rich since that day you came to me at the creek.”
As the last drops of oil arched above them and rained to the slimy ground, Clare’s and Ryan’s lips met and they kissed, secure in their love and oblivious to the excitement around them.