The Most Unsuitable Wife

by Caroline Clemmons

  Something to remember. She'd give him something to remember all right. She raised her mouth to his, let him plunder with his tongue. Her tongue did some plundering of its own as she moved her body against him. When their kiss ended, the heat of passion darkened his eyes.

  "When you're sleeping on the hard ground, all alone, you remember that, husband.” Head high, she turned and walked into the dressing room.

  As she washed and dressed, she remembered their conversation the night Drake proposed. He talked about his ranch, yes. But he had talked about her living in town. Never did he mention her at the ranch. She sank onto the velvet chair and held her face in her hands. Dear heavens, he never meant me to live at his ranch.

  It's not a real marriage he wants. He wanted none at all.

  In reaching for freedom, she chained herself to one man. A man who never wanted her, who might never want her as his wife. Oh, but how she wanted him. As a husband, as a partner forever. What should she do?

  Pearl had no idea how long she sat there. She wept until no more tears came then went over and over in her mind the things her husband said about life here. How could he think she would ever prefer living with Lily and Grandpa, socializing with Lily's friends, and dawdling away her days instead of living with her husband in her own home?

  She started when she heard a knock on her door. Belle and Sara entered.

  "Sister, I heard Drake and Storm leave. Belle and I wondered what we're supposed to do today.” The girl kneeled in front of Pearl, her hands on Pearl's arms. "What's the matter?"

  "He intends us to remain here indefinitely.” She shrugged, "We're supposed to go shopping for more clothes today, visit with Lily, and get to know the townspeople. He says we'll be safer here, too."

  "Well, to be honest, I cain't say that makes me unhappy. I sure like this house," Belle said. "This here is the fanciest place I ever saw. I keep worryin' they'll find out who I am and make me leave."

  "Oh, don't worry, Belle. They all seem to love you," Pearl assured her. In fact, Belle seemed the only one of their group Lily truly liked.

  "I like it, too," Sarah's soft voice added, "But I'll go wherever you say.”

  "I know you would, dear.” Grateful for her sister's loyalty, Pearl reassured her, "It looks as if we're here for a while, so you don't have to worry about leaving."

  Belle's smile lit her face. "Still and all, I'm sorry he's upset you. But I 'spect he's right. We'll be safer here with lots of folks to watch for strangers up to mischief.”

  Pearl stood and exchanged her damp handkerchief for a fresh one she slipped into her pocket. Forcing a smile, she said, "Then let's go down and face Lily and Grandpa."

  * * *

  Pearl stifled a yawn and wondered how so many women could spend so much time talking about so little. She forced a smile for her hostess, Emily Potter, wife of the Presbyterian minister.

  The cheerful woman reminded Pearl of a plump banty hen. "Do you play the piano, my dear?” Without waiting for an answer, she plunged ahead. "We lost our church pianist. She and her husband, that's Mr. Barker, left last week for California. It's been such a worry, finding another. Many of our ladies play," she cast a covert glance at Lily, "but not, ahem, not quite well enough for the church services."

  "My cousin plays very well, especially hymns.” Now what possessed her to say that?

  "You don't say?” Relief flooded Mrs. Potter's care-worn features. "Oh, Miss Renfro.” She waved her hand to attract Belle's attention, "Miss Renfro, Mrs. Kincaid tells me you play the piano. Would you happen to be Presbyterian?"

  Panic flickered across Belle's face, but Pearl smiled and nodded.

  Belle smoothed her skirt as if deep in thought before she raised her eyes and spoke. "Well, yes, Ma'am."

  A murmur of approving chatter swept the room. But Lex's mother, Rosilee Tremont, remained silent. She peered over her teacup, her lovely face inscrutable.

  Mrs. Potter hurried to take Belle's hand in hers. "Please play for us now, won't you?"

  Reluctantly, Belle let herself be guided to the piano. "What shall I play?"

  "Just the hymns you know. Ones you like.” Mrs. Potter took a seat near the piano, looking eager as a child.

  Belle's gaze flickered to Pearl's once more before she began playing. Soon she closed her eyes and the music flowed. When she ended, her audience burst into applause.

  Mrs. Potter was the first to speak. "Do say you'll be our new church pianist, Miss Renfro, won't you?"

  Belle looked at Lily, "Oh, you must ask Mrs. Stephens. I'm a guest in her home.”

  All eyes turned to Lily. Looking pleased to be the center of attention, even indirectly, she cooed, "Of course, dear Belle, you must agree. You play so well, it will be lovely to have your music at the church services.”

  "If you're sure it'll be all right, and if the church members agree, I will.”

  Pearl noticed Belle spoke slowly, each word chosen carefully to conceal her background. Apparently, the other women mistook her hesitant speech for shyness. She had watched Belle through the week deliberately mimicking Lily's mannerisms with a great deal of success.

  If only I was as interested in these silly affairs, maybe I could fit in, too.

  "You should give lessons, Miss Renfro," nodded Mayor McGee's wife. "My Millie was just learning when the Barkers moved."

  Lily nodded, "You could give them in our parlor. Have you taught anyone else to play?"

  Belle flushed delicately, "My two younger sisters and a few friends."

  The room buzzed as mothers vied for a lesson time for sons and daughters. Emily Potter rushed to get paper, pen and ink for Belle's lesson records. Pearl smiled to herself. Maybe Sarah would like lessons, too. Maybe she would take them herself. Teaching piano and playing for the church services would give Belle a secure position in the community.

  If only I felt secure. Would that day ever come?

  * * *

  Drake returned to the house four hot, dusty days after his argument with Pearl. He and Storm still wore their trail clothes, slipping in quietly long past dinnertime after a stop at the water trough pump to wash. When they stepped into the kitchen to hunt for food, Polly heard them from her room next to the larder. Drake took in her rumpled gray hair as she belted a faded wrapper against her considerable girth.

  "Polly, there's no need for you to get up. We'll do just fine for ourselves."

  "I don't believe in hard-workin' men skippin' meals. I've saved somethin' back in case you two straggled in."

  Grateful, they waited at the breakfast table until she brought them thick slices of bread, great slabs of ham, cheese, and buttermilk pie.

  "Mmm, thanks, Polly.” Drake wasted no time filling his mouth and stomach. "Better than we've had since we left here."

  Storm swallowed. "Tastes like Pearl's bread."

  "That it is," Polly confessed with a laugh. "Her pie as well."

  Drake's head came up. "What's Pearl doing baking?"

  "Yer askin' the wrong person, Mr. Kincaid. Though Miz Kincaid do be better at bakin' breads and sweets than me, and that's the pure truth."

  He wished he could ignore the prickles running up and down his spine. "Doesn't Aunt Lily mind.”

  Polly sniffed, "It's not me place to question me betters.”

  Storm cleaned his plate and waited for his brother-in-law, nodding with fatigue. Drake finished his pie and stood up. He favored Polly with a kiss on her pudgy cheek.

  She laughed and pushed at his arm. "Get away with ye now."

  Drake said goodnight to Storm at the boy's bedroom. He slipped into the suite he shared with his wife. No sooner had he shut the door and tugged off one boot than he heard Pearl stir.

  "It's me. Storm and I got in a few minutes ago."

  She lit the lamp beside the bed and came around to face him.

  He tugged at the other boot then stripped off his shirt. He figured he better tread mighty soft here. "You been busy?"

  She rolled her eyes. "I've been shop
ping with Lily twice, attended two teas, and been to dinner with the pastor and his wife. Lily's giving a party in a week, and there's a social after church this Sunday."

  "So, I guess you're having a high old time getting acquainted with folks.” He could have sworn he heard her snort, but thought he must be wrong.

  "You've eaten?” She crossed her arms over her chest.

  He didn't know if she was self-conscious or still angry--or both. "Yes, Polly fixed us something. Polly gave us some of your bread and pie."

  When she bit her lip at the mention of her baking, he asked, "How come you were in the kitchen baking?"

  She sat on the bed and raised her chin. "I'm used to having something useful to do with my time. I’ve slipped down each morning to bake before your aunt got up.” She leaned forward, as if confiding something to him. "Did you know she sometimes sleeps until after ten in the morning?"

  "I'm not surprised. What does she think of your baking?"

  He watched the emotions play across Pearl's face, saw the anger flare in her eyes.

  "Today is the first she knew about it. She forbid me to go in the kitchen again. Said I'll only get in cook's way. And she says that ladies don't do me—menial work.” She paused then let him have it. "I'm used to being my own boss in my own home. But this isn't my home. I'm like a broken spoke on a wheel here."

  Why had he thought Pearl would fit in with his spoiled and pampered aunt? Lily's most serious thought was whether her gown was prettier than that of any other woman in the room. He shook his head at his folly.

  What a spot to be in. He wanted to ask Grandpa to keep a firm hand on Lily, but Grandpa would only say "I told you so.” No. He'd have to let this ride a while and hope for the best.

  "How are Sarah and Belle getting on?"

  Pearl looked as if she might cry. "They're doing fine. Belle especially. She's giving piano lessons in the parlor each afternoon. And she's agreed to be the new pianist at the Presbyterian Church."

  He couldn't contain his laugh, thinking of a soiled dove playing for Sunday services and giving piano lessons in his snooty aunt's parlor. He stripped off his pants and drawers.

  "And what's so funny about that?"

  Shaking his head again, he said, "Nothing, honey. I'm just glad Sarah and Belle are fitting in. Glad I'm here with you.” He held her close, burying his face in her glorious honey colored hair. Thank goodness she still smelled of lilacs. "Come let me make you glad, too.”

  * * *

  "That's all for today. You did right nice, Millie." Belle smiled at the mayor's daughter before sorting through the sheets of music the child had brought to her piano lesson. "Practice this one for next week, just like we did it today.” She walked the little girl out.

  When she opened the door, she saw Alexon coming up the steps. "Why, Alexon, how nice to see you. Grandpa and Drake ain't, um, aren't here.” She noticed Millie staring from Alexon to her, her eyes wide in curiosity. "Run along home now, Millie. Tell your mama you did right nice today."

  Alexon smiled at the little girl and watched her skip down the walk. "May I come in?"

  "Well, he… um, heavens yes.” She almost bit her tongue to call back the cuss word. For all that she only worked at Roxie's a few weeks, she picked up some bad habits. "Please. This is your grandpa's home. You have a sight more business being here than me.”

  This man made her so nervous. No matter how she tried to copy Lily's speech, being nervous made it more difficult. Like now. Alexon made her all jittery and happy at the same time.

  "Shall we go into the parlor?” He pointed with the hat he held, indicated she should precede him.

  She walked into the parlor, gliding the way Lily had shown her. She wanted to fit in like Lily. After all Pearl had done for her, and with Lily being so cold to Pearl, guilt plagued Belle.

  "Won't you sit down. Law, there I go again, inviting you to make yourself comfy in your own grandpa's house. Should I tell cook you'd like a dri… um, refreshments?"

  He sat on the sofa, his tan pants pulling taut across his thighs. "You make a lovely hostess, but no. Where are the others?” He patted the seat beside him.

  Lordy, he wanted her there beside him. She sat, arranging her lavender calico skirt carefully the way Lily showed her. "The men are out, but Grandpa will be here soon. Drake and Storm might come in later. Pearl and Sarah are sewing upstairs and your aunt's resting.” She folded her hands in her lap. "Um, shouldn't I get your aunt? Or, maybe get you a drink?"

  "No. I came to see you.” He smiled and tossed his hat on the table beside the sofa. With one swift rake of a hand, he repaired the hat's damage to his auburn hair.

  "Oh.” The world slowed. Time dragged slowly as panic rose in her throat. She heard the clock ticking on the mantel. What should she say? "Um, is something wrong?"

  "No.” His chocolate eyes softened when he smiled. "Belle, I've come to call on you.”

  "To... to call on me? Oh. Call on me.” She heard the squeak in her voice, searched for something to do or say. He couldn't mean call on her. Not courting her. She saw the admiration shining from his eyes, the hopeful smile on his face.

  What should I do? What should I say?

  "Should... should I play the piano for you?"

  "Maybe later.” He nodded at the open doorway to the terrace. "Would you like to walk in the garden?"

  She leapt to her feet. Moving would be better than sitting here, her heart in her throat. "That sounds nice. Yes, let's do that."

  Lex offered his arm and guided her through the door. "How are you getting along in our little town?"

  "It may be little compared to some of those we came through, but compared to Pipers Hollow it's fair sized. In fact, it's just right.”

  "Mama said she saw you at Emily Potter's tea."

  "Yes.” She wondered what Rosilee Tremont thought about her. The woman was polite, friendly sort of, but hard to figure. It was nothing Belle could put her finger on, but she sensed Rosilee Tremont looked too deep. "That was when they asked me to play for the church. Do you go to the Presbyterian Church?"

  "Our family helped build it."

  "Oh. Of course.” Though his last name was Tremont, she knew his mother was a Kincaid by birth. Alexon Tremont had that Kincaid blue blood running thick through his veins. Why was he here with her?

  He took her hand. "I have to go soon. My folks expect me for dinner this evening. Perhaps you'll come with me some day. It's only a short drive in the buggy."

  "Maybe.” What did she say now? "It... it's nice to see you. Thank you for coming by. I'll tell Grandpa and Lily you were here."

  He grabbed her other hand and pulled her around to face him. "Will you go to the social with me Sunday? After church?"

  "Oh, my. What will folks think? What will your parents think?"

  "They'll think I'm lucky to be with the prettiest, sweetest woman there."

  "Alexon. I... I can't."

  She saw the hurt flash in his eyes before he smiled. "Is there someone else you prefer?"

  "Someone else? Law, no. It's just, well, I'm so new here."

  "Ah, you want to protect your reputation?” His smile returned.

  For once she could answer honestly. "No, I want to protect yours. And the people who live in this house. They've all been so nice to me."

  He laughed. "Dear Belle, what did you expect?” Not waiting for an answer, he cautioned, "I won't be discouraged so easily. I'll keep asking you out."

  "Thank you.” More than you know, she thought.

  Chapter Eleven

  The next morning Drake tromped into the house and set a heavy box onto the large desk in Grandpa's study. Grandpa looked up from his newspaper, annoyance at the interruption written on his face. "What's that?"

  "Don't know. Came in on the train. Addressed to me."

  Storm, who had become Drake's constant shadow, said, "Someone tried to hold up the train just this side of Austin."

  Grandpa folded his paper and stood, his interest piqued. "
Well, I'll be damned. Catch 'em?"

  Drake shook his head. "No, two men. Brakemen shot at them. Says he winged both varmints.” He eyed the box speculatively.

  Storm's excited voice finished for his brother-in-law, "But they got clean away. Nobody's found hide nor hair of 'em."

  "Dangdest thing I ever heard of. What's this country coming to when the tap train from Austin gets held up?” Grandpa's attention returned to the letter nailed to the lid of the box. "Well, you gonna open this or not? If not, get the danged thing off my desk."

  Drake pried the envelope loose with his pocket knife, taking care not to tear the paper. As he extracted the letter, a small key slid to the massive desk.

  He scanned the missive's contents. "Well, I'll be damned. It's from the Pipers Hollow Bank. It's Pearl's money."

  Storm looked at the box, as if to gauge how much money would fit inside. "Too big. She don't have that much money. Only has $157.28”

  Drake turned to him, "Would you ask her to come here? She should be the one to open this, not me.”

  The boy tore out of the office and soon reappeared with Pearl and Sarah trailing him.

  Drake pulled his Grandpa's leather desk chair around for Pearl and handed her the letter. She unfolded the paper as she sat, and a frown puckered her brow.

  "They sent it to me because you wrote we'd be wed.” He wondered if his bossy, independent wife knew that—in Texas—a wife's money became her husband's when they wed. "But this is yours. The money’s from Piper's Hollow.” He leaned a hip against the desk and watched as she read the letter.

  Her expression changed from puzzled to incredulous. "But this says there were two accounts. How could that be?” She read further then looked from her sister to her brother. "Granny had a big account in my name. Someone put money in each year for most of my life. Except during the war and a few years after."

  "Maybe your father," Drake suggested.

  She put her hand to her mouth. Her eyes searched Storm's and Sarah's faces. An understanding seemed to pass between them. "Could it be?"

  Grandpa picked up the key and extended it toward her. "Don't you want to see what's in here?"