Clara's eyes widened. Everyone thought Tilly was a moonshiner, but no one would have ever dared voice it aloud. "Who told you that?"
"I've seen enough `shine cars to know one. Big metal plate on the front to keep the police from shooting out the radiator. No back seats so she can haul more of those fruit jars full of white lightning. Extra heavy shocks for back roads. I figure she's brewing the stuff out there either in those two big barns on her property or right close by and that's why she doesn't want people coming unannounced. I've got my answer now as to why she and Tucker won't sell the oil rights to their land. No one is ever going to get them to sign because they've got a little industry out there far more profitable than a few dollars an acre"
"But how-?"
"Thought at first Beulah and Bessie were talking about something a lot worse than making and running moonshine when they mentioned your grandmother and them in some business," Briar chuckled.
"You thought-" Clara blushed scarlet.
"For a while, but then I put it all together. Are you going to read that letter or let it burn a hole in the kitchen table?"
"He ruined my life, Briar. You can't understand," Clara said.
"Yesterday is gone and nothing but a memory. Maybe a bad one, but there's no way to call it back or change it. Tomorrow is just the whisper of a hope. Today is all you got, lady. It produced that letter. Now what are you going to do about it?"
"He broke my heart," she murmured.
"And you can use that bad experience as a crutch to hobble around on for the rest of your life, or you can get over it."
"What gives you the right to give advice?"
"I'd say that letter and you stumbling around feeling sorry for yourself gave me the right to give you advice. That and the fact that I just stepped up and let that woman think we were married so you could save face in front of her. I could have let her leave thinking you were crushed and had let that sorry lying preacher drive you crazy."
Her face turned red. Her blue eyes bulged and her back stiffened. "Feeling sorry for myself?"
"That's what you're doing, lady. If you want to wallow in self pity, then do so. Just admit that you are where you want to be. Don't be blaming everyone else for you being there because you are tough enough to crawl out of it. Besides, Percy has still got power over you, even in death, if he can agitate you this much"
"The only power he's got over me is that I wish I'd been the one to kill him instead of some raging fever," she said, raising her voice a notch.
"I'm going to bed. Thank you again for supper, Clara. You'll get over this because you're a strong woman" He stood up and started toward the door.
She grabbed his arm. "Don't you talk to me like that"
He spun around and came nose to nose with her. "Grow up, Clara"
"I got over him years ago," she declared.
He didn't answer. Of course, she hadn't gotten over it and no amount of arguing with the hard-headed woman would convince him that she had. Someday she might not have a hollow hole in her heart, but it would take a while.
"Sure you did." He reached down to remove her hand and, ignoring every bit of his self-control, he gathered her to his chest. She snuggled down into his arms comfortably and then pushed back to look up at him.
He tilted her chin back a little more with his fist and leaned toward those inviting lips, half expecting her to turn aside or slap his face. She tiptoed and met him halfway. The first kiss was barely more than two lips brushing against each other. The second melded heart and soul. Man and woman. Past and future.
It scared Clara. How could one kiss turn the whole world upside down?
It terrified Briar. He could not enjoy a kiss like that. He'd simply refuse to acknowledge the ache down deep in his heart. Without a word he took his arms from around her and walked out the kitchen door, leaving her standing in pure bewilderment in the middle of the floor.
* * *
He figured he'd be asleep the minute his head hit the pillow, but he was dead wrong. He pondered over the sassy woman downstairs facing a multitude of demons. The fact that she was dark-haired and blueeyed didn't help matters a bit, but Briar was one of those men good women shunned. Nice women didn't want the kind of man he was; not when they found out the truth about him. Not even if he was wealthy. He pounded his feather pillow into submission and shut his eyes tightly. That merely removed all distraction so he could concentrate even more fully on Clara. He snapped them open and stared at the shadows on the ceiling created by the shifting clouds across the full moon. Finally he made a painful decision, the only one that would work. By morning he'd be gone and he'd only come back to Healdton when and if Cecil found a way to buy the farm he wanted. Healdton would be a wonderful place to bring his daughter, Libby, and if he didn't have to live right in the house with Clara, then perhaps it wouldn't be so difficult. He'd only see her occasionally on Main Street. Maybe only once or twice a year.
Clara wrapped her arms around her middle, stunned silence surrounding her like a warm shroud. Briar had kissed her and she'd enjoyed it. Of all the men in the entire world why did Briar Nelson-nothing but oil riffraff-have to be the one to kiss her? Emotions she'd buried years ago rose up like cool ice-capped mountains from a dusty desert plain. She touched her lips, still warm from Briar's kiss. Her insides hummed, but not a sound escaped her lips. Still, she could feel the purr as surely as if she held a cat close to her chest.
She tried to settle her heart into a steady rhythm as she picked up the letter. Suddenly it didn't seem as important as it had a few minutes earlier. She held it up to the light. Nothing showed through the slightly yellowed envelope. She heard Briar's bedroom door shut ever so gently. Now she was alone with the difficult past in the form of a letter.
Percy didn't have power over her, she argued with the statement Briar had made.
No, she was the one with the control.
Oh, sure. If you'd been in command, Percy wouldn't have held sway over you all this time, now would he?
"Hush," she hissed and laid the letter on the table.
Her mind went back to when she'd opened the door and found Percy standing on the porch with a worn suitcase in one hand and a Bible in the other. He'd introduced himself as the preacher who was having a tent revival in town and needed a place to rent for a week. The flirting began right there with nothing but a screen door between them. At the end of seven days, she'd thought she was in love. Looking back and being totally honest, she admitted she'd never really loved Percy. He was the way out of Healdton.
Slowly, she reached for a box of matches from the edge of the kitchen stove and lit a candle. She carefully carried it and the letter to the front porch and set it on the table beside the big white rocking chair. She held the letter over the flame. Ashes drifted down onto the porch. When there was only a small corner left to hold, she dropped the remainder and watched it disintegrate.
She went to her bedroom and noticed the suitcase. Tomorrow she would throw the whole thing in the trash without even opening it. She cared less about what was inside it than what was in the letter. Percy could rot in hell. He would never have power over her again. The past was gone. The future only the whisper of a hope, as Briar had said. She'd face the present and that glorious kiss in the morning.
The resolution lasted until she crawled into bed. Lying there, covers wadded up in a tangled mess, gazing at the shifting patterns on the wall made by a few clouds as they slowly crept across the sky, she pondered on her life up until that moment. Could she change horses in the middle of the stream? Did she want to? That was the question that stumped her. When she looked deeply into her heart and soul, Clara Anderson had made herself who she was. Did she really want to alter that person? Better yet, at her age, could she? It would mean she'd have to accept what the oil boom had brought about in Healdton. She'd have to swallow her pride and admit that it was progress. Maybe tomorrow evening she and Briar could sit on the porch and talk about the idea. She fell asleep picturing him in th
e white rocking chair, bent forward slightly as he listened to her trying to sort through mistakes, hopes, fears and plans.
"Mornin', Clara." Tilly sat down beside her cousin on the bench. "What's going on, my cousin?"
"Nothing is going on. I just came to town to pick up a few things and decided to rest a few minutes," Clara said.
"Right, and I'm the queen of England. Briar Nelson's been gone two weeks. You've been in town on this bench every day since then. Did he promise to come back and claim your hand in marriage over at the Carter County courthouse? Folks are beginning to say that you've been jilted again and gone back to your old habits."
Clara smoothed the front of her blue gingham dress. "He did not. He brought in that well and was gone before breakfast the next morning. I didn't want him in my house and was glad to see him gone"
"I believe the first part. Dulcie says that you sent her up to awaken him and he was gone. Lock, stock and barrel. Not a note. Nothing. Just gone. I'd give a whole still run to know what happened the night before he left. Got anything you want to tell me?"
"No, and I'm going to fire Dulcie if she doesn't stop talking," Clara said.
"Oh, settle down. I had to weasel it out of her. She wasn't going to tell a thing, but I kept on until she finally said you hadn't been the same since Briar left. Tell me what happened. Let's go over to the Hotel Ardmore and have lunch. I'll even treat. You can talk while we ride."
Clara stood up and started toward Tilly's automobile parked in front of the pool hall. "Nothing to talk about, but I'd be glad to go to lunch with you. Especially in Ardmore."
Tilly hiked up her skirt tail and hopped into the driver's seat. The new car fairly well purred out of town. It wasn't every day that she'd waste time and gas to go to Ardmore just for lunch. But then Clara was her cousin, the closest thing to a sister she'd ever had and she needed to get out of town to get a new perspective on things.
They rode in silence south down the potholed dirt roads, dust boiling up around the tires like fine red tal cum powder. Tilly waited for Clara to talk. Clara watched the countryside slide past at thirty miles an hour. Hot wind flowed through the windows and Clara didn't even mind the beads of sweat on her forehead and upper lip. Getting out of Healdton for one afternoon was wonderful. Someday, maybe next week or next month, she was going to seriously think about buying a vehicle of her own.
"So are you going to tell me why you're going back to town every morning?" Tilly asked as she turned east toward Ardmore.
"Can't tell what I don't know," Clara answered.
"You are looking thirty right in the eye, girl. If you don't know why you do things, you might really need to start thinking about it."
"You don't have to remind me that I'm an old maid. I like going to town every day. Other people go about their lives and no one says anything to them" Clara looked out the side window.
"What happened that night?" Tilly asked.
"Nothing," Clara answered. "The well came in. I got covered in oil. Washed up at your house. Went home. Then-"
"That's what I'm interested in. The then."
"I made Briar a sandwich because he looked so tired."
Tilly sighed. Getting anything out of Clara was like yanking out a bobcat's teeth. "That's a miracle. You would have been glad a few weeks before to let him starve plumb to death"
"Well, he'd been kind that day even though we disagree on this oil boom business."
"That's all? Because he ate a sandwich with you, now you go back to the bench every day? Does having a late supper with a lady constitute an engagement? Hells bells, Clara, if it does I must be engaged to a dozen or more men."
"That's not all. I was waiting on the porch ready to throw him out of the house if he was one minute late and then suddenly I was offering to make supper for him and mad at myself for doing so. But-"
Tilly waited for five miles, but Clara appeared to be finished.
"So tell me what you talked about while he ate," Tilly finally said.
"The letter," Clara said.
"What letter?"
"The one on the table"
Tilly gasped. "Sweet Jesus, did you lease your third of the farms to his oil wells?"
"No, it wasn't from him. Percy's wife brought it to me.11
Tilly braked hard and pulled the car off on the side of the road. Traffic was light that midday, but she didn't want to be driving when she heard the rest of the story and Clara was going to tell every word of it. Even if Tilly had to pry it out of her mouth.
"Okay, start from the beginning. Briar came home and you offered to make him supper. That alone is a wonder since you hate him so much, and besides, you can't make a sandwich without ruining it."
"I did make a sandwich, and I sliced apples to put on the platter with it," Clara said firmly. "Then Percy's wife knocked on the door about the time I was fretting about someone finding me in the kitchen with that lowlife oil man. And me in my nightgown and robe, with my hair hanging down my back." She went on to tell the whole story up to and including the kiss.
"Then the next morning he didn't come down for breakfast, but I figured he'd just gone on out there to his well site. At supper he didn't come home, but, again, I thought he'd had a busy day doing whatever it is they do when a gusher comes in. I waited on the porch until ten-thirty, thinking that I could get rid of him and hating myself because I didn't want to. I was afraid he was in his room dead by the time morning came along again, so I sent Dulcie up to get him."
"Hey, girl, you might be crazy, but I don't think your kiss or your sandwich would really kill the man" Tilly did not like where the story was going.
"He wasn't there. Everything was gone. I sat down in the rocking chair after everyone left that morning and tried to figure out what happened. That afternoon I went to town and sat on the bench to see if I could conjure up some anger, like I had when Percy didn't come back. Briar didn't promise one thing, so I can't be mad about that. I can't shoot him for kissing me when I really wanted him to. It's just bizarre, Tilly. I liked that kiss. Why would I like a kiss from a man I don't even want in my presence?"
"Because you fell for him. That's not so hard to understand. But, Clara, you are a strong woman. Even though the town didn't understand the thing with Percy, I did. You were just waiting for him to come back to town so you could take care of it permanently. Come on, get your sass back. Be Clara-the most daring one of us three" Tilly pulled back out on the road and continued on toward Ardmore.
"Somehow I always fall for the wrong man. At least this one wasn't married, or maybe he was and that's the reason he took off like a scalded hound" Clara's tone had more determination. "I promise I won't go to the bench anymore."
"Well, thank God; now let's go eat some lunch and top it off with chocolate ice cream"
"And after that some serious shopping," Clara said. "We shouldn't waste a trip all the way to Ardmore on nothing more than food. Dulcie could have fixed us that. I want to look for some new shoes and maybe a church dress or two"
"Yes, ma'am. You'll be joining me and Tucker on Sunday then?"
Clara laughed for the first time in weeks. "Yes, I think I will. Better tell the preacher to reinforce the ceiling. It's liable to collapse when I walk in the doors. After all, I haven't set food inside the place in a decade"
* * *
Briar awoke in a house where the only noise was soft rain falling, cooling the heat wave in Titusville, Pennsylvania. He slipped into a pair of dress trousers and a white shirt, padded barefoot downstairs to the kitchen where he put on a pot of coffee. Sitting in his favorite chair in front of the dining room window where the view offered deer, squirrel and birds of various kinds, he stared, unseeing, thinking of another house back in Healdton, Oklahoma.
Dulcie would be arriving about this time. Unlocking the door and going inside to begin breakfast. The smell of coffee, along with bacon and sausage, would be floating out the opened window to the porch where he'd waited every morning for a glorious sunrise.
<
br /> A tall, dark-haired lady planted a kiss on the top of his head and brought him out of his thoughts of Oklahoma back to reality in Pennsylvania. She laid the morning paper on the table beside his chair. "You are up earlier than usual. Did you have trouble sleeping?" "Slept well. Just awoke early."
She set a heavy cast iron skillet on the stove and started opening cabinet doors. "Pancakes? Eggs? Both?"
"Pancakes sound good. Then I'm off to the office. You still coming down town to shop today?"
"Oh, yes." She nodded.
"You'll come by the office to see me then?"
"Sure. If I bring lunch in a basket and the rain stops maybe we can go to the park and eat together with Libby. She's missed you so much, Briar."
"Sounds good to me," he said. Maybe having family near would erase that longing feeling in his heart to see Clara Anderson again. He picked up the paper and opened it, but didn't read a word. He'd known after the kiss he'd shared with Clara that he had to leave. Postponing the departure wouldn't bring anything but more pain. He didn't know how it had affected Clara, but he had an idea and she sure didn't need a man like him to mess up her life again.
A little girl came down the steps and across the foyer floor in a barefoot run. She slung herself into Briar's arms and snuggled down into his arms. "Daddy! Daddy! Can we still have a picnic today even if it's raining?"
"Yes, Libby, we can have a picnic. You're coming to the office, and if it's still raining we'll eat in the conference room. If it's not, we'll go to the park"
She kissed his cheek. "I'm glad you're home, Daddy. I missed you"
"I missed you, too, baby." He hugged her close, inhaling the sweet morning scent of her dark hair.
She pushed back and held his cheeks in her hands. "And you'll never, ever go away and leave me for that long again?"
"No, I promise I won't leave you for a month again, baby"
She drew down her eyes and slapped at his arm. "Don't call me `baby.' I'm four years old"
"Yes, ma'am," he smiled at his daughter.
"Pancakes ! I love pancakes" She hopped out of his lap and ran to the table.
Morning Glory Page 8
