Chevonne_Bride of Oklahoma

by Leighann Dobbs

  Trey bolted for the stairs and took them two at a time to the second floor. Two paces to the left, he found the room. He raised his fist to pound on the door then stopped, haunted by visions of himself only days earlier frightening Chevonne by pounding on her bedroom door. He suspected those memories would haunt him forever.

  He tapped lightly on the door and asked softly, “Chevonne. Please open up.” He held his breath when he heard shuffling in the room, then the lock clicked and the door opened.

  She looked more beautiful than ever. Her peach dress made her skin glow and her green eyes melted his heart. Those eyes looked up at him quizzically.

  “May I come in?” he asked. He searched her eyes, but did not see any fear to his relief, only surprise and defiance.

  She stepped aside to let him in then closed the door and stood with her back against it, her arms crossed over her chest. “Well?”

  Now that he was here, Trey had no idea what to say. He rubbed his hand over his chin, the stubble making a scratching noise. He could have cleaned up first. Too late now. He stammered, “I ... well ... I was wrong.”

  Chevonne’s left brow ticked up. “Really? About what? About letting me use my brain and have my own business?”

  “Sure, if that’s how you think of it. I don’t care about my project. I just want you back. I don’t care if you were spying on me on your own, or if Phinneas Gulch put you up to it.” Trey stepped forward and took her hands in his. His eyes pleaded with her as he said, “None of that matters, as long as we can be together.”

  “Stealing your ideas? Working with Phinneas Gulch? What are you talking about, Trey?”

  “The patent. You wrote to the Patent Office. Were you working with Phinneas?”

  “Never. He stole ideas from my Gram. I’d never work with that thieving-- what ideas you are talking about exactly? I wanted to patent my own ideas and Gram’s. You know, the ones that you didn’t want me to use because you wanted to keep me in the kitchen cooking.”

  “What are you talking about? I don’t want to keep you in the kitchen, though I do like your cooking.” He flashed his smile, the one that always seemed to make Chevonne soften to him.

  “Isn’t that what you were mad about? You didn’t want me to be an independent, forward-thinking woman.”

  “I love that you’re that kind of woman. I thought you were going to patent my ideas before I could get to it.”

  “You thought I would steal your ideas? What kind of person do you think I am?”

  Trey laughed. “I don’t think you are that kind of person. I thought Phinneas Gulch put you up to it. He’s been known to do that before. So you wrote to the Patent Office to patent your own ideas?”

  “Yes. Mine and my grandmother’s.”

  “You never told me you were working on anything.”

  A twinkle came into Chevonne’s eyes. “Maybe I would have if you weren’t so busy in your room downstairs with your pet goat.”

  Trey laughed again, louder than before. “I shouldn’t have kept what I was doing from you. When I sent away for a mail-order bride, I never dreamed she would be interested in what I was doing. I never dreamed she would be as intelligent as you.”

  “Oh, well ...” Chevonne’s voice trailed off.

  Trey got down on one knee and gently kissed the palms of her hands. “I never really considered that my wife could be a partner in more than the bedroom.” He loved how she blushed deep red at that thought. “Chevonne, I want you to come back to our home to be my real wife, my partner in every room of the house and beyond, if you’ll still have me.”

  * * *

  Chevonne’s heart melted at Trey’s words and the pleading look on his face. Had she really misunderstood the whole argument? It sounded like he really did want a wife with brains and ambition. His eyes were full of emotion, hope, anxiety, uncertainty, the same emotions Chevonne was feeling.

  There was one more emotion that she wanted to show him she was feeling. She leaned down and kissed him. Trey managed to stand up without stopping the kiss. He even managed to improve on his previous kiss, which was asking a lot.

  She wanted to believe they could be partners and have a real marriage, but there was one thing that she knew all partnerships were built on: trust.

  Chevonne gently pulled back and explained herself, “If we’re going to be partners, we can’t keep things from each other.”

  “I agree. I was actually going to tell you everything about my project that very day.” His eyes clouded over. “But then I ran into Sarah in town--“

  She put her hand over his mouth to silence him. The last person she wanted to think of at that moment was Sarah Perkins. “So, are you going to tell me exactly what this idea you thought I was trying to steal is?”

  Trey took Chevonne’s hand from his mouth and turned toward the door. “I’m going to do better than tell you. I’m going to show you.” His face turned worried and he stopped, looking down at her. “It’s not yet perfected. Will you show me the idea you’re working on?”

  Chevonne realized that she’d like nothing better than to share her grandmother’s secrets with Trey. She loved the idea of them working together on it. She glanced around the room where she had piles of lace, bows and material laid out.

  A blush crept into her cheeks. The thought of showing Trey the scanty underwear designs right here in a hotel room caused a rush of unfamiliar feelings. Her gaze stopped on a pair of knickers in his favorite color blue.

  Trey’s gaze followed hers. “Is that your design?” he asked eagerly.

  Chevonne ran over to the bed and stuffed the knickers in between a pile of uncut material and stuffed it all into the lace bag. “It is but it’s not yet perfected either.”

  A look of profound understanding covered his face, an understanding between inventors. “First things first. Let’s get you packed up and back home where you belong.”

  Together, they had her trunks repacked in no time at all. A generous tip to the hotel’s desk clerk ensured that the hotel’s wagon carrying her trunks was right behind their buggy all the way to the ranch.

  Luke was in the porch rocking chair when they stopped before the house. He touched his hat brim and nodded a silent greeting to Chevonne. She beamed back at him, sure she saw a hint of a smile around the edges of his mouth.

  “Your mother and sister took the buggy,” Luke growled.

  “We swapped.” Trey stepped down from the buggy and indicated the wagon that came to a stop behind them. “Chevonne’s trunks--“

  “Got ‘em.” Luke sauntered over to the wagon then called back, “To her room?”

  Chevonne reached out for Trey to lift her down from the buggy. “No, to our room.”

  Trey took her by the waist and lifted her, but he didn’t set her down. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her passionately.

  “About time,” muttered Luke, followed by a gravelly chuckle.

  Excitement bubbled up inside Chevonne as Trey pulled her into the house and down to the study. “I’ll show you now, even if it isn’t ready.” He fished a key out of his pocket and unlocked the door.

  “Wait.” Chevonne cried out. She set down her Gram’s bag and put her hand on his. “You’ll disturb the goat.”

  “Huh? Oh.” Trey laughed. “I had to come up with something to explain the crash.”

  “You, Trey Garner, are a terrible liar. And I love you all the more for it.”

  He bent down and kissed her again. The door swung open and the horrible scent of chemicals hit Chevonne. She saw clearly for the first time the long work tables filled with copper tubing, beakers and test tubes. A small bed was in the corner.

  Chevonne opened all the windows and raised all the shades. “Keep these open at all times. I don’t want you getting sick from these smells.”

  “Yes, Ma’am.”

  She bent over the potbellied stove and looked inside one of the pots on it. A pungent chemical aroma assaulted her nose and she drew back quickly. “What, exact
ly, are you doing in here?”

  * * *

  Trey’s chest swelled with pride as he described his ideas to Chevonne. He took care to show her his exact process, pointing out what each beaker was for and showing her the chemicals he used to try to perfect the adhesive solution.

  “The animal and plant-based glues of today are not reliable. They dry out and won’t hold the less porous materials. They all weaken when damp. What I’m trying to make is a superior glue. Something that will bind any type of material together so strongly that it can’t be pulled apart.”

  “That would have so many uses. Why, I can think of a dozen right off the top of my head,” Chevonne said.

  “Remember at supper the other night when Gary’s boot sole became separated?”

  “That would be a perfect application.” Chevonne’s eyes sparkled with excitement.

  Trey was struck again by her quick mind. Her intelligence made her even more beautiful in his eyes, if that were possible.

  He pointed to a board were the top half of a Mason jar hung, nailed up by its metal top. The bottom half was scattered in smashed pieces on the floor below it. “The problem is, it only holds the two pieces together for a short time. Then it gives out, leaving these stringy fibers behind.”

  “That was the crash we heard the other night?” Chevonne asked, reaching out to touch the thin, rubbery strings that hung down from the jar.

  “Yep.” Trey watched her face grow thoughtful as she pulled on a string, stretching it down, then letting go and watching it snap back up.

  She tapped her index finger on her chin. “Do the strings stay stretchy like this?”

  Trey shrugged. He pulled out a box full of the stringy material. He took one out and stretched it as far as he could, then let go.

  Snap!

  The string stung his hand. “Yep, looks like it does. These are a few months old. But I hardly think they are worth anything. They’re too thin to be of any real use. If I could just perfect the solution, though, we might have something we can sell.”

  “You might have something marketable right now,” Chevonne told him.

  Trey frowned. “The glue doesn’t—“

  “Not the glue,” Chevonne said. “Those rubbery strings.”

  Trey’s frown deepened. “Those aren’t good for anything. They’re too thin to hold anything substantial.”

  “But perfect for something insubstantial, and that’s what I have in mind. I’ll show you.”

  Chevonne grabbed her Gram’s bag from outside the door and dumped its entire contents onto the small bed. “My secrets,” she said.

  She lifted up for Trey to see ladies’ knickers, corsets and a one piece item that looked like some sort of mini corset that only covered the upper portion of the chest. The pieces were loaded with silks and lace, fancier than any ladies’ undergarments Trey had ever seen before, and he’d seen more than his share.

  “I took my grandmother’s initial designs and have been modifying them. But there’s one problem that I think your stretchy string can solve.”

  “What?”

  Chevonne picked up a pair of knickers that Trey noticed were shorter than most knickers. When worn, they would come well above the knee. He liked that idea. Even more, he liked the thought of seeing Chevonne in those knickers. He like it so much that he found it hard to concentrate on what she was saying.

  “The waistline is bulky and I have to add extra material because of the drawstring used to hold them up.” Chevonne illustrated by cinching the drawstring on the waist, causing the material to bunch. “It’s been a big drawback for me because Gram’s idea was to have pieces that were sleek and form-fitting as well as pretty and comfortable.”

  Trey nodded, the whole time picturing how the knickers in Chevonne’s hands would look on her. He shook his head to help him focus on her problem. “So where does my failed experiment come in?”

  “Don’t you see? I can sew that stringy material into the waistband and that’s what can keep them up. No more drawstrings. If we can refine the technique, I think we can make them sleek and comfortable too. We’ll need to test the substance to see that it holds up after lots of washes, though.”

  A pair of knickers in Trey’s favorite blue color lay on the bed. He picked them up to inspect the waist where she’d sewn a channel and threaded the drawstring through. If he could make his stretchy strings long enough, she could use that in the channel or like she said, sew them into the garment somehow. “I think that could work. It’s a great idea.”

  Trey hugged Chevonne in his excitement, lifting her up and twirling her around, her flowery scent flooding his senses. He set her down and kissed her neck.

  “When that patent guy comes, we can show him this. My glue might not be ready, but I have a feeling that this is something that will have widespread use.”

  “I hope so. Gram wanted to revolutionize ladies undergarments, and I’d like to see her dream come true, as a tribute to her. And I think women everywhere will be thankful.”

  “And men, too,” Trey said appreciatively. He nodded toward the blue knickers he’d tossed onto the bed.

  His heart swelled not only with the prospect of bringing a useful idea into the world, but also with the feeling of joy that he’d found a wife who shared his inventive spirit.

  Chevonne’s eyes were dark with emotion as she looked up at him. “Partners?”

  “In every room of the house.” With a devilish grin, Trey took his wife into his arms and kicked the study door shut.

  Chapter 20

  Three weeks later.

  Chevonne put a basket of freshly baked bread on the dining room table and stood back to survey her handiwork. The table was set expertly for six on a table cloth she’d sewn especially for that evening. A low display of wild flowers was in the center of the round table. She could be a homemaker with pride.

  She and Trey had spent the last three weeks filling the house with furniture in between working on their projects together. Jewel-toned rugs covered the floors. Practical but comfortable furniture decorated the rooms. Vases filled with wild flowers were on many of the tables. The house was now a real home just as the couple who lived there was a real married couple.

  Chevonne was now part of a real family, too. When a knock came from the front door, she rushed to open it to welcome her in-laws. They were there for Friday supper, a ritual Chevonne hoped would continue for a long time to come. Finally she could use those White House menus that Mrs. Gillette had so graciously included in her book.

  The guests got comfortable in the sitting room for some conversation, drinks and appetizers before the meal. Trey sat down next to Chevonne on their new sofa. He put his arm around her shoulders and his fingers interlaced with hers, making her feel safe and loved.

  “Thank you for having us over again, dear,” Iona said. “I’m afraid Buck is insisting on a White House supper every Friday evening, so you may be seeing more of us than you might like.”

  “I told Trey just this morning while we were admiring the hills,” Chevonne glanced at Trey and saw him wink in understanding about where that early morning conversation had taken place, “that I would love for this to be a regular event for us. I love having a family to pamper.”

  Iona wiped a tear from her cheek and turned to admire a vase she’d already admired before. She cleared her throat and said, “The place has really come together.”

  “It’s a home now that Chevonne is here,” Trey said.

  “I must say, she’s brought out the best in you, Son,” Buck laughed.

  “I agree.” Trey winked again at Chevonne, causing her to blush in understanding.

  Gary, never one for much small talk, said, “I’m just glad you didn’t get hitched to that awful shrew Sarah Perkins, ‘cause I’d hate to be sitting here having to make small talk with the likes of her.” He looked disconcerted when they all laughed.

  Celia shared her news, “I heard she’s marrying Phinneas Gulch, who’s decided to settle in
Oklahoma City and open a quack medicine shop. Seems he’s got lots of money in the bank.”

  “Really?” Trey looked at Chevonne. “Isn’t that interesting?”

  “Seems like those two are well suited,” Chevonne said dryly, eliciting another round of laughter.

  “So, how are things going with your projects?” Buck asked eagerly.

  After much debate, Chevonne and Trey had decided to always tell the family all about their respective projects. They liked their support and they hated the idea of keeping things from them.

  “The man from the Patent Office was here last week,” Trey said. “It’s not clear that we have anything that we can patent. It’s tricky with designs. Inventions are easier. But we may be able to patent the way we use some of the materials.” He smiled at Chevonne. “Either way, we’re moving ahead, right?”

  Chevonne nodded. “Yes. I’m hoping to get Anna Overholser to wear some of my designs now that she’s wearing two dresses I created for her. And, of course, you two already have some prototypes. Do they fit okay?”

  “I’ll say they do,” Buck blurted out, causing Iona to giggle.

  Trey and Celia exchange an uncomfortable look. Chevonne supposed they didn’t want to think about their father seeing their mother in her undergarments.

  Iona asked excitedly, “If you’re going ahead, you’ll need a name for your business. Have you thought about what to call it?”

  “Well, the whole idea was my Grandmother Victoria’s secret. I’d love it if we could name it after her somehow.” Chevonne snuck a sideways glance at Trey.

  Trey favored her with an indulgent look. “Of course.”

  “Hmm.” Iona pressed her index finger to her lips. “Let me think. Victoria’s Closet. Gram’s Secret. No, none of those sound exactly right. We’ll think of something. Gram’s Closet?”

  “We have plenty of time for that,” Chevonne said. “I’d better check on supper.”

  “What’s the menu tonight?” Buck called eagerly after her.