Romancing Olive

by Bush, Holly

  Mary looked up at Olive. “Goin’ ta be hard work with just us.”

  “We’ll figure something out, Mary. Between the two of us I know we’ll come up with a solution.”

  “Shouldn’t we ask Jacob? I mean he knows all about farming and such,” Mary asked.

  “No, Mary, Mr. Butler is busy with his own problems. We’ll figure ours out on our own.” The girl shrugged and Olive tied her bonnet for church.

  Jacob hitched the wagon and Olive would not look at him. Church was raucous trying to keep all five children quiet and in their seats. Luella Grimm stared openly at Olive and Olive smiled and nodded to the woman in return. Luella turned quickly away, red-faced. Mark coughed and fussed and Olive worried he was feverish, but he settled down as Olive rubbed his back and cooed in his ear. The child never looked directly at Olive but he made a soft gurgling sound when she held him and she imagined he was content in her arms. She touched his face gently and he darted his eyes rhythmically, as if rocking himself to sleep. The brilliant blue eyes closed slowly and Olive tried to concentrate on the last few minutes of the sermon.

  The children were excited, with company coming and the sun shining brilliantly. Olive taught the children a song and they sang and clapped the whole ride. The Steele children, Bess and Jack Jr. were nine and seven years old respectively and had played with Jacob’s children on many occasions. Mary and Olive had started beef stew before church and Olive had bought fresh bread for the dinner.

  When Jack and Beth and the children arrived the noise level increased ten-fold. Olive and Beth decided to feed the children first and then let them run as they were clamoring to then hopefully the adults could eat in peace. Olive taught Mary and Bess hopscotch and the two girls seemed to get along fine. Mary didn’t say much, Olive noticed, but Bess was a quiet child as well and the two of them satisfied themselves, watching the young ones and getting to know one another. When Bess asked her mother if she and Mary could walk to the creek, Beth nodded and Olive was glad. Maybe a friend her own age would help Mary and Bess seemed suited to her. Jack and Jacob had Luke, John and Jack Junior in the barn doing what, the two women didn’t know, but the house was quiet except for Mark’s gurgling.

  “Jacob said you’re staying on in Spencer,” Beth said.

  Olive rocked Mark and looked from the infant to the woman across the table from her. “Yes, I am. I’m going to ask Jack to build me a small house on my brother’s, well, my property.”

  “I’m glad you’re staying Olive. What a big change, though. What brought it on?” Beth asked as she drank her coffee.

  Olive tilted her head. “I think the idea had been creeping up on me actually. Then a letter came from my best friend Theda. I received it the day the sheriff brought my sewing machine and I don’t know if I can really explain it other than it made clear how sheltered and well, dull my life had been.”

  “Dull?” Beth asked. “How could life in a big city be dull? Aren’t there shops and theatres and things to do all the time? I know life on a farm gets pretty boring sometimes.”

  Olive lay Mark down in his crib and looked out the window. “Maybe dull isn’t the right word.” She turned back to Beth and said, “My friend Theda and I lived so rigidly conscious of what others thought that we never did anything out of the ordinary. We attended church functions and I worked at the library but other than that we just waited.”

  Beth tilted her head. “Waited?”

  Olive smiled. “Yes, waited. Waited till an elderly neighbor died so we could send a meal. Waited till our parents aged so we could care for them. Waited for the next correct and dutiful thing to do and we did it and waited again. We would have never dreamed anyone lived his or her life any other way. Especially spinsters.”

  “Were you and Theda waiting for husbands as well?” Beth asked softly.

  Olive turned her head to the shadows cutting across the floor. “When we were young, yes, I suppose. But if anyone did come to call, we found a thousand reasons they were unsuitable.” Olive lifted her head to Beth and continued, “Not the right family or work or called a minute too early or too late. Brought chocolates on the second outing rather than the third. We congratulated ourselves when they stopped calling and now, looking back, I think we were just scared.”

  “Scared of what?” Beth asked.

  Olive laughed. “Of everything. What if we had to move to a new house or city? What if we had to make our lives with another person? All those what if’s.”

  The two women sat quietly together at the table.

  “It must have been scary for you to come out here for John and Mary,” Beth said finally.

  “Theda and I talked for weeks about this trip of mine. And we thought I’d be rescuing little miniatures of myself and James and taking them home to Philadelphia and continue to raise them as I assumed they had been raised so far.”

  “Your brother’s, well, life, must have come as quite a shock,” Beth said.

  “A shock? I still can barely comprehend it. And I’m angry. Angry at James and Sophie. Angry with my father. But most of all angry with myself. I won’t make the same mistakes again. I’ll decide the children’s future and mine from now on.”

  Beth tilted her head. “Why are you angry with your father?”

  Olive told Beth what Mr. Holmes had told her about James’s property. “I think my father knew all along that James was wild. That’s why he bought the property in the first place rather than lending James the money to get started.”

  “So the land is yours?” Beth asked.

  “Yes,” Olive said triumphantly. “Mine to make into a home, in a new town.”

  “Aren’t you scared?”

  “Petrified,” Olive said and chuckled. “But I won’t be waiting for something to happen to someone else. I’ll be making things happen on my own, for me and John and Mary.”

  “Jacob seemed very happy, well as happy as Jacob gets these days, that you were staying in Spencer.”

  “Humph,” Olive said. “He implied I had made untoward advances on the sheriff. I’m sure he’ll be glad to see me go.”

  “What?” Beth said. “I don’t believe it.”

  Olive told Beth of Jacob’s accusations and their conversation the day Olive went to see Mr. Holmes at the bank. She sat back on her chair, eyes downward. “I was terribly hurt that day. I had begun to admire and like Mr. Butler, but I knew then I should hold my regard.”

  Beth smiled. “Olive, don’t you see? Jacob’s jealous.”

  “Really Beth. Mr. Butler has no interest in me. I’m ten years his senior. I’m nothing like his first wife, not attractive.” Beth giggled and covered her mouth. “Really, Beth,” Olive said. “I don’t cook or bake or can or do any of the things that would interest a man in a woman out here on a farm.”

  “I don’t usually talk about these things. Unless of course I’m with Florence, but I know something Jacob may be interested in you for. The same thing men are interested in women for everywhere, city or farm.”

  Olive looked at the woman across the table and asked, “What, what about me could possibly interest a man or make them jealous?” Olive could not believe what was coming out of her mouth, but the subject of Jacob vexed her so greatly, she threw propriety to the wind.

  “Well, he may want to, you know, he might be itchy,” Beth said, eyes wide, lips tight.

  Rarely did Olive misspeak, speak out of turn, or say something she meant to keep private. But on Beth’s last word, her inner thoughts rolled off of her tongue before she could stop them. “I know that’s not true. He flew away from me as if I had two heads.”

  Beth’s head drew back as Olive’s eyes rounded and her face colored. Just then the door opened and Jacob and Jack stepped in.

  “What have you two been gabbing about all day?” Jack asked.

  “Nothing,” Olive said quickly.

  “Where are the children?” Beth asked the men but did not take her eye from Olive’s face.

  “Playing in the haystac
ks. Can we eat?” Jack asked.

  “Jack, really, you shouldn’t ask. It’s not polite,” Beth said.

  “No, no that’s fine,” Olive said and nearly knocked her chair over, trying to get away from the table.

  Beth came to the stove beside her and whispered. “If Jacob is jealous and is sorry he upset you, then I’ll bet any amount of money, he treats you real special and sweet for awhile.”

  Olive stole a look over her shoulder to find the men looking at her sewing machine. “Why do you say that?” she asked.

  Beth sliced bread and whispered under her breath. “’Cause they’re too stupid to know their own feelings and they get mad instead of glad. You watch, Olive.”

  Olive nodded and gave Beth a half smile. The poor girl has no sense of reasoning or deduction, Olive thought. She turned when Jacob walked over to the stove and picked up the Dutch oven.

  “Here, let me get that, Olive,” he said and placed the stew in the center of the table.

  Olive stared at him. “Thank you,” she said.

  Jacob nodded and said the blessing.

  “Did you show Beth the sewing machine, Olive?” Jack asked.

  “Why no, were so busy getting dinner ready, we didn’t have time,” Olive replied.

  “It certainly smells delicious,” Jacob said.

  “It sure does at that, Jacob,” Jack said and lifted his plate for Olive to serve.

  “I want to show you how the machine works, Beth. You would be welcome to use it then,” Olive said as she passed plates.

  Jacob accepted his dish and looked up to Olive. “I’ve been wanting to see myself how it works. Maybe you can show Beth and I after dinner.”

  Olive’s head cocked and the ladle of stew stopped midway to Beth’s plate. She looked at Beth and the woman looked up to Olive’s slack-jawed face. Olive finished serving and seated herself. Jacob certainly was being solicitous. But Beth was surely wrong. Could he be jealous? Olive dismissed the thought and proceeded to eat.

  “Jack, I am interested in having a small house built on James’ property. Mr. Butler said you occasionally do that kind of work. Would you have the time and would you be interested?” Olive asked.

  “Absolutely,” Jack replied. “My planting will be done in a week and I can always use the work. What did you have in mind?”

  Olive’s hands came together at her chin as she smiled and described to Jack Steele, the home she envisioned.

  “Three bedrooms, a sitting room and a kitchen. With a big porch. I can do that. Going to be a bit costly, though, with the price of lumber the way it is,” Jack said.

  “Can you give me an estimate?” Olive asked.

  “Surely,” Jack said. “Let me do a drawing and show you. Then I’ll get some prices from the mill. I’ll be able to be pretty close that way.”

  Olive felt as if doors were opening to her. She had property, someone to build her a house and she would be seeing a drawing to change or add to her dream. She smiled fully at Jack. “Thank you so much.”

  * * *

  Jacob watched the exchange between Olive and Jack. Jacob had never met a woman who made these kinds of decisions on her own. His Margaret didn’t and Beth certainly didn’t. “I’ll look over the plans for you when Jack is done with them,” he said.

  “That’s very kind of you, Mr. Butler. I’m sure though, I’ll be able to decide if the drawing I see is the house I would like,” Olive said.

  “I’m sure you don’t know anything about building houses. You may need some advice.”

  “I may need some advice, you are correct. But if I do, I’ll either research my

  questions or hire an architect.”

  “Now that’s just plain stupid. Where would you do research and what architect would you hire?”

  “You have been kind enough to allow me to stay here, but that does not entitle you to make my decisions.”

  Jacob shook his head. “I’m not trying to make your decisions. I just thought I’d offer help if you need it. Women don’t know much about building is all I’m trying to say.”

  Jack and Beth’s heads swung to and fro from one end of the table to the other as Jacob and Olive argued.

  “Well, Mr. Butler,” Olive said with a thin smile, “if my mind and constitution is too fragile for the construction of my own home, then may hap I’ll ask the sheriff for advice. I’m sure he’d would be happy to help.”

  Jack and Beth sat straight in their seats as Jacob gritted his teeth and slapped his hands on the table. “I never said you weren’t smart enough, Olive and you know it. And leave the sheriff out of this. I know I was wrong and I admitted it.”

  * * *

  Olive was having an honest to goodness argument and it felt wonderful. She didn’t mind her words; just parried back with the only man she ever felt the comfort to do so. Her voice rose to match his.

  “Very wrong, Mr. Butler. To think after all this time that you thought so little of me. I was hurt at first, but I’m just angry now. My father deceived me, my brother was a liar and a cheat and you … you think I’m a loose woman. No wonder Mary doesn’t ever want to get married. Men are . . . are jackasses.”

  “A jackass, you say. I’ve never heard anything stronger than fiddle-dee-dee from you,” Jacob said and stood. He placed his hands on the table and leaned forward, red-faced, “I wasn’t a jackass when we were kissing on the front porch, now was I.”

  Olive’s eyes widened wider than the frame of her glasses but they would not leave Jacob’s face, as he slowly glanced from Jack to Beth. She stood abruptly and turned to Jack.

  “More stew, Mr. Steele?” she asked calmly.

  “Well . . .” Jack said and leaned back in his chair.

  “Take me out for a walk, Jack,” Beth said as she wiped her mouth and stood.

  Jack looked up to Jacob and grinned. “Pretty as a sunset,” he said.

  “Didn’t your wife ask you to take her outside?” Jacob said.

  “Come on, Jack,” Beth said.

  Jack slowly slid out his chair and joined his wife. He turned back to Jacob and smiled. “Don’t worry Jacob, everybody fights. But the making up is usually good.” Jack howled at his own joke and Beth grabbed his arm, dragging him through the open door.

  Jacob dropped into a chair and ran his hand through his hair as Olive cleared dishes from the table.

  “Well, Mr. Butler, you’ve done it now,” she said finally.

  “What have I done?” Jacob asked.

  “Now, Jack and Beth think I meet the sheriff for disreputable purposes and then run home and kiss you on the porch. This is going to be my hometown. I would hope to keep my reputation untarnished.”

  “Oh, Olive, for God’s sakes, they don’t think you met the sheriff for some two-stepping.”

  “Two stepping? Another colorful phrase for me to add to ‘itchy.’” Olive filled the bucket in the sink with wash water. She tilted her head and said, “You’re probably right. Who would ever dream of the Spinster Wilkins’ ‘two stepping’ with anyone.”

  Jacob jumped from his seat and turned her from the sink. “Me, goddamn it. Me. I’ve been thinking of two stepping with you for quite a while.”

  The water trickled slowly over Olive’s hands as Jacob held her arms. His words replayed in her head as their eyes met and would not part. Olive swallowed and looked away.

  “I don’t two-step, Mr. Butler.” She returned to his gaze. “I never have and doubt if I ever will.”

  Jacob released her arms. “I bet you’d dance pretty good if you’d let yourself.”

  “Dancing, Mr. Butler is for married women. Young married women. It happens to be how the human race produces children, if I’m following your metaphors.”

  * * *

  Jacob sat down at the table. Twice in so many days he’d spoken without thinking. His blood was racing, he was mad at Olive, had a hell of a good fight with her and now, damn Jack, anyway, he wanted to kiss her till her legs wobbled like a new born calf. And he told her that
he was thinking of doing more. What is wrong with me? Maybe nothing, Jacob admitted. Because these last few weeks, he had felt more alive than he had in a long while. Fighting with Olive would probably be a highlight if they ever married. He smiled to himself. Screaming, yelling, getting everything off your chest, kind of arguments followed by loving in the middle of the night that makes a man realize how lucky he is to not be alone in this world. He would miss her influence on the children and a clean house, no doubt, but more than that; he would miss her smile and her sass when they disagreed.

  “We started this argument over the house if you remember. I didn’t mean to insult you Olive. I think you’re the smartest person I ever met. Don’t ever think different.”

  Olive dried her hands and sat down at the table. “I don’t really think you’re a jackass. But I have a different view of the world and my life now, Jacob. I am all those two children and myself have to rely on. I’m not the meek mouse, accepting what men tell me, anymore.”

  Jacob laughed. “A meek mouse, Olive? You haven’t been meek for two seconds together since I’ve known you.”

  Olive told Jacob about her meeting at the bank with Mr. Holmes

  She finished her tale and looked up at Jacob. “So do you blame me for getting angry? I find out in one day, my father deceived my mother and I. I own property and have money. I make huge decisions for the children and myself. I’m thrilled with what I’ve decided, frightened as well, and then you accuse me of well, you know.”

  Jacob picked her hand up in his and stroked her palm. He watched his fingers as they moved slowly over her white skin. His inner battle raged and he finally decided to fess up. What the hell, he thought, he already told her he wanted to two-step with her. She was moving to her own house, the temptation would be gone but he was lured in an odd way to be totally honest with Olive. Whether because of her self doubt that he wanted to assuage or because she made him think and feel without grief for the first time in a year and he was in her debt. But either way, she deserved to know she was not the spindly dried up old maid she saw herself as. He looked in to her eyes and she returned his look, seemingly frightened and compelled by the touch of his hand.