“I know, Molly. He came in here taking charge like that, playing on your sympathies. Why, Reverend Callicott said he could tell right away that Jarrett was only going to church because he thought it would please you. After you refused to go with me.”
Molly’s temper rose in spite of her best efforts to control it. “I didn’t refuse.” She spit out her words in clipped tones. “You refused to take the children.”
“And that’s another thing, Molly. Can’t you see what Jarrett’s up to? Why, everybody in town can see it. He’s playing up to those children to get your land…and in your bed.”
“Cleatus Farrington!”
“From the talk going around town, sounds like he succeeded! In both!”
Molly suddenly remembered Waldo and Calder, who were whitewashing the back side of the house. She lowered her voice. “He did not!” Her denial felt like the nit-picking it was—a bed was a bed, whether it was made of pine needles or stuffed with feathers. “Even if he had, it wouldn’t be any business of yours.”
“Molly, I’m your betrothed.”
“I never agreed to marry you, Cleatus.”
“Well, you certainly led me to believe those were your intentions. Everybody in town expects us to marry.”
“Because you told them we would. I never agreed to marry you, Cleatus. If you’ll remember, you never agreed to my terms.”
Cleatus twirled his hat. “Your terms. You mean the children?”
“The children.”
“You really think Jarrett’ll keep them around, once he takes over completely.”
“Yes. Yes, I do. He fell in love with the children before he fell in love with me.”
“Love! Lust, is what it is, Molly, but you’re too smitten to realize it.”
She smiled sweetly. “Then we’ll hope I remain smitten the rest of my life.” His aggrieved expression won her over. “Come, Cleatus, let’s sit on the porch and talk like civilized people.” She took his arm, but he jerked away.
“Unless you agree to throw Jubal Jarrett out of the Blake House this very day, we have nothing more to talk about.”
With a deep sigh, Molly shrugged. “I wish you could understand. Marrying me would have been the worst thing that ever happened to you. One day you’ll be glad Jubal came along in time to keep us from making such a terrible mistake. I’m sorry. Truly sorry. You deserve a woman who loves you. The way I love Jubal. I hope you find her.”
Cleatus fumbled with his hat, his cheeks puffed, his brow beaded with perspiration. Once when Molly had questioned him about wearing his waistcoat and jacket in the heat of an East Texas summer, he’d responded that he had a reputation to uphold. She supposed she should be honored—and in a way she was—that Cleatus still wanted to marry her, even though by now her reputation was sure to be an embarrassment to him.
“You still don’t get it,” he fumed. “I didn’t know you were this bullheaded, Molly. Mark my words, you’ll be sorry. Everybody in town can see—”
“Everybody in town! Everybody in town! Don’t you know how sick I am of being nothing but a source of gossip for everybody in town?”
“Then stop giving them cause to talk.”
“Cleatus, be fair. I have a right to live my life the way I choose.”
“Then you should move. You don’t have a right to flaunt your promiscuity in my face.”
Molly cast her eyes heavenward. “I’m not promiscuous, Cleatus. I’m in love. There’s a difference.”
After a long silence, Cleatus clamped his hat back on his head and turned to go. “Don’t expect me for supper.”
“You’re welcome…anytime.”
Turning he studied her. His eyes dimmed with melancholy. “You’ll regret this, Molly. You’ll regret this.”
By the time Rubal returned that evening Molly was in a state. Despondent over Cleatus, angry at the townsfolk, she had spent the afternoon helping Sugar prepare pork roast with sweet potato pie and okra gumbo, for the most part without speaking.
“For a girl who’s just got herself engaged to be married, you’re none too spry about it,” Sugar observed once.
“Life just isn’t fair, is it Sugar?”
“Lordy, no. An’ don’t you go expectin’ it to be. That’s when folks get hit the hardest, when they expect things to always go their way.”
At least Jubal returned. By dark when he and Jeff rode into the side yard, Molly had begun to wonder whether he would. Witlessly to be sure, but she worried, nonetheless. Rubal had left her. Why not Jubal?
Because Jubal loved her. Hadn’t he stuck around long enough to win her love in return, even when she put every obstacle she could find in the way?
Although news always traveled fast in the community of Apple Springs, if the Blake House Saturday night supper table was testimony, this news made the rounds faster than most.
About the only leading citizens who didn’t show up for one of the two seatings were the Callicotts, and the reverend sent word to expect them for Sunday dinner.
The Taylors were there and demanded to know the exact method Rubal had found for paying Travis’s school fees. Rubal responded in tones more civil than Molly would have used, and she considered herself lucky to have him at the table.
Even Iola Young appeared, bringing along a widowed friend and fellow gossip-monger, Mrs. Lenora Fuqua. The questions the sharp-tongued Mrs. Young posed did not rise to the level of politeness, but went straight to the heart of the matter.
“We understand you’ve won Molly away from that nice Cleatus Farrington, Mr. Jarrett.”
“I…uh,” Rubal cleared his throat. “Molly and I announced our engagement to the family at breakfast.”
Iola Young’s eyebrows shot up several notches. “Breakfast?”
“Yes, ma’am, breakfast.”
Molly came to his defense. “The Blake House serves breakfast to all our boarders, Mrs. Young. The public is welcome, too. Sugar prepares quite the best flapjacks you’ve ever tasted. Bring your husband and be our guests some morning.”
Iola Young frowned, obviously unprepared for Molly’s frankness. Molly watched her consider. “I should think I would be required to warn you before—” The woman eyed Rubal, then turned her attention back to Molly, “—before dropping in unannounced.”
“Not at all,” Molly replied through clenched teeth.
Somehow they made it through the meal without coming to blows, even though Molly once had the urge to throw the bowl of sweet potato pie in Iola Young’s face.
She personally escorted the president of the Apple Springs Ladies’ Aid Society to the door after the meal. “So nice of you to come, Mrs. Young. It gives me a chance to thank you for the concern you’ve shown for my brothers and Lindy.”
“Yes, well, we must discuss that, you know.”
“There’s nothing more to discuss. They will be living here at Blake House with Mr. Jarrett and myself.”
“After you marry him?”
“Of course.”
“What about before, my dear?” Iola Young leaned forward, lowering her voice. “You’re setting a bad example for those fertile minds.”
Molly bit back a sharp reply. “We’re being judged unfairly,” she said. “If you and the town would take time to investigate, you’d find our life ordinary…even proper.”
Later that night after the little boys were in bed, Lindy, Jeff, and Travis sat on the porch with Molly and Rubal, putting a damper on the time of day they had come to think of as their own, yet helping to cement the family, nonetheless.
“Would you explain again about the timber, Mr. Jarrett?” Travis asked.
The question startled both Molly and Rubal. Molly recovered first.
“Jubal suggested the measure to me a while back, Travis. We’ll set aside one tract of the land Mama left us, and cut enough timber from it for each semester’s expenses.”
“How do you know there’ll be enough?”
“Cliff Parker is an experienced logger,” Rubal told the boy. “
He promised to come around a few days before he begins cutting to settle things up. Why don’t you sit in on the discussion? If you do a little research before then, he’ll likely be able to answer your questions.”
“What if he can’t?”
“Travis—” Molly began.
Rubal squeezed her shoulder, stopping her words. “There’re other independent loggers in the area, Travis. If you don’t like what Parker has to say, we’ll look for someone else.”
Beside him Molly sighed, exasperated, he knew, by the ongoing situation. Rubal had the sudden desire to take her away, far away…away from meddling townsfolk and belligerent siblings. Away, just the two of them.
Away, where she would never learn that he was the most despicable one of all.
“You plan to cut just a portion at a time?”
“I don’t plan to do anything,” Rubal replied. “I only made the suggestion. You and your sisters and brothers can decide what you want to do, which trees and how much timber to cut at any time.”
“You’ll advise us?”
“Only if you ask.” Rubal shrugged. “Even then, you don’t have to take my advice. Advice is free.”
Travis jumped to his feet, dusted off his rear, and approached the swing. “Master Taylor said he’ll send over the matriculation papers and a list of things I’ll need for school.”
Unable to trust her voice, Molly nodded.
Travis hesitated a moment longer. “Seems like I’m the only one in the family with any reservations, Mr. Jarrett. It’s my ability to practice qualitative thinking. But I don’t guess you or Molly either one deserves the mean things folks are saying about you.”
“Thank you, Travis,” Rubal replied, careful to keep his voice low and steady.
“Let me know when that Parker fellow is coming; I want to meet him.”
“Sure thing.”
“Since we inherited so much property, I should start taking an interest in how it’s run.”
“A wise decision, Travis. That would ease Molly’s load a bit.”
After Travis left to finish reading the last act of Hamlet, Lindy and Jeff stood awkwardly.
Molly didn’t seem to notice. “Wonder what came over Travis?”
“Lindy,” Jeff replied. “If she lit into you the way she lit into Travis this afternoon, you’d jump through hoops, too.”
“He wasn’t exactly jumping through hoops.”
“Close enough,” Rubal responded. “You don’t want him submissive.”
“Yes, I do.”
Rubal squeezed her shoulders playfully. “No, you don’t. You want the men in your family to think for themselves. Right, Jeff?”
“Who, me, I’m just a boarder.”
“Molly,” Lindy called from the steps, “is it all right if Jeff and I walk down to the creek?”
Molly tensed.
Rubal answered. “Don’t be long, you know how tongues wag in this town.”
The two young people skipped down the walk, waiting until they thought they were enveloped by darkness to clasp hands.
Rubal settled into the corner of the swing. Molly held his gaze in the dusky corner, watched him run his tongue around his lips.
“Come here,” he beckoned. “We don’t have all night.”
She scooted across the swing and into his arms. He lifted her so her breasts nested tantalizingly against his chest.
“It’s probably just as well we have the children for chaperons,” she mused. “Else the town gossips would…”
Rubal’s lips shut off her words, angling across her face, devouring her with a passion she had worried a few times today she might have imagined.
But she hadn’t imagined it. Lifting her face, she studied his solemn eyes. His serious eyes.
His teasing eyes. He drew her lips back to his, saying, “Close your eyes, Molly love, and imagine we’re in that big feather bed upstairs.”
She cuddled against him. “What if it isn’t feather?”
He kissed her again, sucking on her bottom lip a minute before responding, “Ah, sweet Molly, I don’t care if it’s stuffed with corn husks or even Spanish moss, long as you’re on top of it…”
His tongue played a flirting game with her lips, skirting the edges, dipping inside, stroking and caressing until she quivered with desire.
“…and I’m on top of you.”
Chapter Fourteen
“Sunday rolls around a mite more regular than I’m used to,” Rubal admitted when he came downstairs the next morning to find Molly dressed for church.
“That’s what everybody in town thinks.”
“What?”
“That you’re not…well, not as regular a churchgoer as you pretend.”
Rubal raised an eyebrow while he poured a cup of coffee.
“They say you have an ulterior motive for going to church with us.”
“You mean other than providing a pillow for Little Sam?”
She smiled. “Cleatus said the reverend thinks—which means everybody in town thinks—that you’re going to church to impress me.”
Setting his cup aside, he took her in his arms, grinning into her upturned face. After a soft kiss on her lips, he asked, “What’d you think, Molly?”
“That they’re probably right.” Rising on tiptoe, she kissed him. “But it doesn’t matter.”
“Well, now that my cover as a fine Christian suitor has been blown, what do we do?”
She laughed. “We go to church and show them how right they were.”
He kissed her, then objected, “Only if you sit beside me. I’m not sitting behind you and Cleatus—or you and anybody else—ever again.”
“And I’m not sitting behind you while I sit with Cleatus—or anyone else—ever again.”
As it turned out Cleatus didn’t meet them on the steps. In fact, they only caught a brief glimpse of him on the far side of the church. But they took up a whole pew themselves, for, miracle of miracles, Travis sat with his family instead of with the Taylors.
“I need to find out what Lindy told him,” Molly whispered to Rubal. “We might have to use it on the others sometime.”
Rubal rolled his eyes heavenward.
Halfway through the service, Little Sam went to sleep, his head on Rubal’s lap, like before. The hymn selections sounded the same to Rubal’s unaccustomed ears. The reverend’s sermon seemed a repeat of the week before and the week before that. Rubal considered them fortunate that the reverend didn’t give a sermon on the evils of carnal lust or some such sin. Or on the commandment that admonished a man not to bear false witness.
False witness. Lies. To Molly.
Molly sat close enough that he could smell her nearness. Close enough that her skirts whispered against his leg. Close enough that twice the bow on her bonnet brushed his cheek when they shared the hymnal.
When he looked around, their eyes met, and she whispered, “It’s feather.”
He could see the want in her eyes, could feel it in his body.
“The mattress,” she added.
As if he needed an interpretation of something his mind hadn’t left since their parting the night before. He turned back to the reverend and spent the rest of the service reminding himself where he was.
Outside, with the midday sun bearing down on them, Rubal escorted Molly down the steps. The little boys tagged along to either side and the older kids went ahead, Lindy dancing and Jeff and Travis following in her wake.
Parishioners nodded here and there, but other than Betty, Cynthia, and Jimmie Sue, no one initiated a conversation with Molly. Rubal didn’t notice it at first, but by the time they reached the outer limits of the churchyard, it had become obvious. The townsfolk had clustered around Cleatus, and intended to ignore Molly. They didn’t need a newspaper to publish their displeasure at the turn of events up at the Blake House. The busybodies in this town were more than capable of spreading the word.
Glances skittered over them like bugs on water, then quickly lit somewhere else. La
dies stood at a distance, their heads bobbing, their tongues wagging.
Rubal tightened his grip on Molly’s elbow. He didn’t trust himself to speak until they were well away from the crowd.
“I don’t know why you want to live in this town.”
“It’s my home.”
“Tell that to those old busybodies.”
“I have as much right to live in Apple Springs as anyone.”
“I’m not questioning that.” He tossed his head in the direction of the church. “They are.”
“They don’t have anything else to do,” Molly excused. “And they mean well, most of them. They like Cleatus, and they’re concerned about the children’s welfare. I understand that.”
“Concerned? They’re not concerned enough to speak to you in the churchyard.”
“They’ll be up the hill for meals, though. And that’s keeping food on the table. Thanks to you.”
“Dang it, Molly, they’re not coming to put food on your table. They’re coming to witness the latest scandal. I still don’t see why you want to live here.”
“My great-grandfather was the first settler on this land. I’m not giving up my rights to live here, just because those people think I’m sleeping with you.”
Contriteness washed over him. He tugged her to a stop. “I should leave.”
Her mouth opened, but no words came out. She stared at him, feeling instantly rejected, helplessly so.
“I don’t mean for good. Just until…until after we’re married.”
She squeezed her eyes against a rush of tears, praying she wouldn’t make a complete fool of herself right here in the middle of the road.
“I wouldn’t stay gone, Molly. I wouldn’t desert you…not again.”
She inhaled deep calming drafts of summer air. “I know. I trust you.” Her eyes sought his. “Please don’t go.”
“Maybe I’ll just sleep in the barn until—”
“No. We’re not giving them the satisfaction of knowing they drove you out of the house—out of a boarding house. Besides they wouldn’t believe it. You’d be giving up your bed for nothing. Didn’t you understand what Iola Young meant last night at supper? These people are going to believe what they want to believe. They want to believe we’re sleeping together.”
Secret Surrender--Jarrett Family Sagas--Book Four Page 23
