The Bride Backfire (14 page)

Lord, protect my family. From the Specks.
Adam caught sight of Ma's glower and the bulging vein in Pa's forehead.
And themselves. Don't let any of us do something that lights the tinderbox we stand on.

“Pa?” The quaver in Opal's voice matched the tremor in her hand. The fabric of her sleeve shook.

Green.
The color called forth a memory of her talking to God in the fields of her farm.
“If I had to pick a color to represent hope, I'd pick the pale green of a new blade of grass....”
And she'd worn it today.

What do you hope for, Opal?

The realization that he cared didn't surprise him. He'd wanted her when she was the daughter of his father's sworn enemy. He'd wanted her when she trapped him into marriage. He'd wanted her though she planned to pass off another man's child as his and refused to reveal the identity of the father. Even after she'd stooped so low as to put rocks in his mother's bed to cause petty discomfort, he hadn't even considered washing his hands of Opal.

Shaking her until her teeth rattled, kissing her silly, or sweeping her away so it was just the two of them and nothing else for miles until she spilled her secrets and saw sense—now those, he'd considered. But giving her up now that she'd crashed so completely into his life? Never.

Not while Opal needed him. Not when that child needed him. Whether she wanted to admit it or not, she couldn't do it alone. He'd see through the promise he made to provide for both of them.
For better or worse.

Adam could wait for the “better” part, so long as Opal wasn't hoping to get out of it.

“Grogan.” Murphy Speck didn't even acknowledge his daughter's greeting. The man gave a curt nod and kept walking.

“Opal.” Elroy stopped a few feet away, his tone low and urgent. He looked at Adam and back at his sister. “You all right?”

“Yes, Elroy.” Opal nestled closer against his side as though happy to be there, but her gaze followed her father's retreating figure. “Adam treats me well.”

“Let me know if that changes.” The man narrowed his eyes and followed after Murphy, the two Specks cutting a wide swath through the townspeople who didn't make any pretense at doing anything but gawk.

“Of course he treats her right!” Pa's yell jerked them to a halt. “Don't insult my boy by suggesting otherwise or you'll answer to me!”

“Anytime a woman weds, her family keeps an eye on things.” Ben, the Speck who'd been gone four years and only just returned, seemed to have donned the mantle of peacemaker after Opal's defection. Whatever else he said got lost in the gasps and sudden swell of excitement as everyone heard him.

His wife shrank into him as though seeking protection. Adam looked down to find her staring up at him, eyes wide, offering a hesitant smile. Before he knew it, he could feel himself grinning back. A fresh wave of murmurs swelled around them.

“I'd say we have plenty of eyes on us.” He went ahead and chuckled at the scrutiny, unleashing a townful of titters. But the sweetest sound was the ghost of a giggle as Opal joined in.

Has she laughed once since our wedding?
Adam fought to keep his smile.

“Everyone can congratulate the happy couple after the service,” Parson Carter called from a safe distance—the church steps. “Let's remember where our attention should be.”

Despite the reminder, his flock was slow to straggle into the house of worship that morning. It seemed everyone waited for ... something.

“Ready, honey?” The endearment came easily, though he hadn't planned it. Adam thought how well it suited his beekeeper as he led her past the avid gazes of everyone they knew and to the bench where his family always sat.

Ben and Pete Speck followed closely, a silent show of support stronger than his own family bringing up the rear.

Adam registered this peripherally, instead pouring his focus into meeting the eyes of every man he passed. Every man in town. It should have been easy to find the man who wouldn't meet his gaze or looked too thunderstruck.

Somewhere among this tight-knit community lurked the scoundrel who'd taken advantage of Opal. Did the man even know of his impending fatherhood? Opal hadn't said one way or another, and Adam hadn't asked. He figured it'd be an issue to take up in person. When he made it clear that the reprobate would never come near his wife—or their child—in the future.

Young or old, tall or short, squat or spare, didn't matter. Adam eyed anyone in britches. And to a man, each eyed him back. Some with speculation; others didn't hide amusement. He might even have caught a flash of pity from one misguided soul.

Even Brett Burn, the youngest blacksmith and the man Adam most suspected, showed only good-natured resignation. If there'd been hostility or even envy, his hackles would've gone up. Instead, even the young man who'd shown an interest in Opal joined the town's main reaction. The great majority seemed to be anticipating something.

Probably for the mother of all fights to break out between our families,
Adam guessed.
Truth be told, I'm waiting on that myself.

If the old adage held any truth—that an overabundance of curiosity counted as sin—Opal hoped all the sidelong glances and outright gapes of disbelief aimed her way were paired with a little shame. The weight of all this scrutiny should splinter the Grogan bench into toothpicks long before Parson Carter finished his opening prayer!

It certainly felt heavy on her shoulders. Or maybe that knot came from her working so hard not to crane her neck to see Pa. Outside he'd acted as though looking at her would taint him. Pain wrapped around her midsection so tight she'd not drawn a full breath since then, and she knew seeing Pa send her one of those special smiles he'd always managed whenever she needed one would make the air right again.

But she wouldn't give anyone in town cause to think she pined to go home. No matter it was truth to rival the Gospels the Parson preached from, she wouldn't disgrace Adam that way. Instead, she kept her spine straight and her shoulders tilted as far away from Larry as possible. Somehow her brother-in-law seemed to take up more space than a body had any right to, making her press closer to Adam than even she'd planned on this morning.

His solid warmth at her side sent a physical message of reassurance she craved almost as deeply as she needed the parson's reminder of God's sovereignty.

“This morning, I'd like us to think about something we, as Christians, are freely given and called to extend to others. The greatest gift, but we have trouble accepting it and even more trouble offering it to the people in our lives; forgiveness.” Parson Carter caught the gaze of each parishioner, but it felt to Opal as though he could see the anger staining her soul.

“Forgiving other people is the step most of us admit we struggle with. When someone wrongs us, it's all too easy to sit on our anger and stew about it, when we're supposed to give it to God and show our fellow man the same acceptance God shows us.”

Opal closed her eyes for a moment, refusing to wince at the truth of the message and longing to shut out the realization she needed to forgive Lucinda for the horrible trick she'd played.
Lord, I know I need to. I know I'm supposed to. I know I'm flawed and have no right to judge others because I'm not anywhere near perfect, but at the same time, knowing something and feeling it are very different! I feel she deserves to be exposed for the vicious conniver she is and made to suffer for it. I feel as though she doesn't deserve my forgiveness for what she's done in driving a wedge between me and Adam and keeping me from my family.

Loneliness crashed over Opal afresh as she sat in the wrong pew, away from the comfort of her father and brothers, with no one beside her but a husband who never wanted her. And, thanks to the machinations of his mother, may never want her. She swallowed a sigh and admitted the worst part of her struggle.
Lord, there's a part of me that is so angry I just don't want to forgive her. It makes me sad to think of how she hates me and how her ploy succeeded to the point it almost overwhelms me. I'm afraid if I give up my anger in favor of grace, I'll be swamped in all the things that weigh me down with nothing to give me the strength to fight it.

“Our ability to forgive should come not only from knowing that we don't deserve the grace we've been given but also from our certainty that our Lord is just and it is not for us to seek vengeance or hold grudges. He tells us in Exodus, ‘The Lord shall fight for you, and ye shall hold your peace.'”

Opal's breath escaped in a
whoosh
as the verse hit her like a blow to the ribs. Strength wasn't supposed to come from anger—it came from resting on faith. Another area she'd failed.

But how do I stop fighting when I'm plunked in the midst of the battle?

Midge struggled to keep her expression calm throughout the sermon. She'd read a description of a heroine in a novel once who'd been serene and liked it. Sometimes words carried flavors for the mind, and Midge figured “serene” tasted cool and smooth, like peppermint.

So that's how she kept her face now. Smooth, as though any hint of a scowl or a frown would wrinkle into a thousand cracks and shatter the mask she'd put on that morning. The mask she always put on before church, where she sat still and quiet as though it came natural to not move, and didn't voice the waves of questions and objections pummeling her thoughts as Parson Carter spoke about the goodness of God.

“How can you do it?” she'd asked Nancy one night, while Randy drank away the money her sister earned from cheap men who dared treat unfortunate women as worthless. “How can you smile and go along when you're screaming on the inside?”

“I smile because it doesn't matter and because I'm not screaming on the inside anymore, Midgelet.” Nancy smoothed the hair back from her forehead and tucked her close. “I'm praying.”

Her sister prayed for everyone. Even the men who used her body. Even Randy. Even Midge, when it was all Midge's fault Nancy lost her mill job and ended up in that awful alley in the first place.

Today in church stood Parson Carter, who'd probably never gone hungry a day in his life or seen someone he loved beaten or killed, talking about how God would fight their battles. Problem was the other guys fought dirty, and good people who prayed still died.

So Midge sat tall and straight, screaming silently behind the smile she wore so well.

Lucinda tried to ease some of the stiffness in her neck by turning it first to one side then the next, only to find all of blessed Buttonwood staring at her family's bench! Maybe a few glances darted in the other direction, toward the Speck seats, but Lucinda felt the scrutiny of her neighbors as though pinpricks of fire broke out all over her body. Like a rash.

Of course they stared. Everyone in town knew about the wedding. At least, they knew there'd been one. Parson Carter wouldn't breathe a word about the shotguns that had forced her son into Opal's clutches.

No one will. Adam's honor won't be smirched like that. Oh, people will talk. People always talk. They'll guess there's a child on the way. But the girl will be gone long before she proves them right. Long before she makes Adam known as a fornicator and binds him to her so tightly he'll never escape!

There was time yet, so Lucinda could wait. Hadn't she proven she was good at waiting? Even as young as eleven, when she came to the Grogans, second cousin and poor relation of Diggory's mother, hadn't she laid plans with the expertise of a master mason?

Look at me now. Diggory's wife, just as I planned. Mother of four beautiful children, head of a fine homestead, successful in every way.

Except one.

The Speck gal had more gumption than she'd reckoned on. An entire week's worth of snide remarks, sly jabs, backbreaking work, and deepening aspersions cast on the girl's character hadn't been enough to drive her out.

We'll see how she does after another month.
Rocks in the mattress made for a nice start to show Adam his bride's true colors.
Next time, I'll shade them darker. And keep layering things one on top of the other until her character is so blackened Adam can't stand to look at her!

She curled her fingers around the edge of the bench, welcoming the sharp jab of a splinter poking through her gloves. The minor nuisance fed her irritation over the situation, and she nursed it all through service as she thought up ways to drive the interloper from the ranks of her family. Specks and splinters ruined fine things, but both could be removed with the right technique.

Her thoughts caught her so completely that the closing prayer took her off guard. Service never seemed so short before this morning, but Lucinda offered thanks that the ordeal had almost ended. Whisk the family back to the farm to avoid curious questions, and she'd breathe easier again.

“Before everyone gets up,” Parson Carter's voice snagged her when she would have risen and started to make her escape, “I'd like to invite you to a surprise wedding reception. No sense pretending the whole town didn't notice Opal arrived with Adam Grogan, so I'm happy to announce that I married them in a
very
private ceremony early this week. My wife's cooked up a storm and bought out the Dunstalls' café for their ready-mades. It's time to celebrate the joining of two families who've finally laid aside their differences to come together in love!”

Love?
Lucinda wrestled with the urge to claw at her bonnet ribbons, which suddenly seemed to choke her.
Lies! Lies of the Specks snaked out to snare my son in this sham of a marriage, and now the parson tightens the bind. But the more taut the rope, the greater the snap when it's severed.

Lucinda contented herself with certain knowledge that she'd make the Speck girl snap long before the Grogans gave way. But for now, she'd play the part of reluctant mother-in-law of an enamored groom. Anything to preserve Adam's reputation and keep the family as whole as possible.

Standing, she hid her face behind the brim of her bonnet and plucked the splinter from her palm, dropping it to the floor. One step forward, and it crushed beneath her heel, lending her pastedon smile a measure of sincerity as Lucinda prepared to meet the many well-wishers and scandal-sniffers of Buttonwood.

Forgiveness. A concept Christians chased like a cat batting at dust motes glinting in the morning sun. The tantalizing glimmer made them rear up and lunge, only to have what they sought lose the sparkle on those rare occasions they nabbed it.

Because it can't be earned or even caught and held. God's gifts to us can only be appreciated.
Adam savored the warmth of Opal pressed close to his side throughout the service. He thought of all the times he'd made mistakes or wished petty things on his brother and knew himself to be no better than the woman he now called his wife.

It wasn't his place to judge her actions or even forgive her for them. Forgiveness wasn't something a man could give—it was a blessing to be shared.

Just one of the blessings I'd like to share with Opal. Lord, I believe You gave me this woman as my wife with the intent that I keep her.
I lay down my anger over the paltry trick she played with the mattress. I want to move on with my marriage. Jesus, please work in her heart so she will confide in me the name of the father of her child so that we can begin afresh and without any looming threats to the life we build.

Parson Carter's announcement of an impromptu dinner came as a surprise. If not welcome, it struck Adam as a good opportunity to solidify their marriage in the eyes of the town and show everyone he didn't regret his choice of wife. When they all stood, it seemed only natural to slide his hand across her back and steer her through the throng of people crowding the aisle.

Opal showed no inclination to stop and clog the narrow passageway to chat. The small church, filled with townspeople for the morning and shut against the chill of the spring morning, began to grow stuffy. Some soul impervious to the curiosity plaguing the rest of Buttonwood had the good sense to throw open the door, sending a welcome breeze through the structure.

Everyone else seemed determined to be the first to reach him and Opal, pepper them with questions, and roast them on the flames of speculation until their lives could be picked apart.

Expressions of disappointment and thwarted determination painted the faces around them as he swept his wife past and toward the open door offering freedom.

They broke through into the fresh air almost at the same time, and for one moment Opal's gaze found his and they shared a smile at their small victory. That smile settled the matter in his mind as they hurried to the open grassy area where they couldn't be hemmed in again. Past mistakes would stay behind them, and they would continue as they were now. United.

He skimmed his hand to her waist and tucked her to his side as the crowd behind them caught up. Her soft gasp at the unexpected closeness made him want to catch her eye again, but he found his view blocked by her bonnet as she focused on a gaggle of women babbling their well wishes to her. Something inside him stretched restlessly as the townspeople kept Opal's attention from him, but the warmth of her waist through the cotton layers of her clothing beneath his palm kept him reasonable.

“Never thought I'd see the day.” Old Josiah Reed, owner of the town store, clapped him on the shoulder. “Grogan married a Speck. Took a lot of guts to nab her from her family like that ... and a lot of determination.”

“She's worth even more than that.” Adam didn't have to think about his answer before he spoke.
No lie there.
His comment sparked a round of giggles and elbow jabs among the folks clustered around.

“Thank you.” With her head tilted back, Opal's bonnet didn't block her pretty face from his view any longer. Genuine gratitude shone in her eyes before she turned to another one of the women. Brim blocked her from him again.

“Snuck in and beat us all.” Brett Burn's good-natured acknowledgment confirmed Adam's impression that he hadn't been the man to play Opal false. Some tension eased from his shoulders as he discarded that threat.

“Snuck is right.” A grumble sounded from a tight group bunched off to the side of the jubilant crowd.

Adam's eyes narrowed as he surveyed the men and distinguished two distinct knots of fulminating family. The Speck men eyed the Grogan men, with less distance between them than ever before with no bloodshed.

The comment sounded like one that should, by rights, have come from Murphy Speck or even one of Opal's brothers.
Why, then, did that sound like Larry?
Adam shook off the notion. Not even Larry would try to cause problems today.

“Adam is no sneak.” Opal's declaration took him off guard—almost as much as the hand she slid behind him to curl around his waist. If a woman could bristle like a porcupine, he got the feeling that's what she'd be doing. It was etched in the straight line of her back, the way the awful brim of that bonnet quivered in outrage. “Our wedding may have been hasty and private due to the tensions between our families, but I'm proud to call this man my husband.”

“I gathered the bouquet myself.” Midge Collins pushed through the crowd to stand alongside them, dragging Pete Speck in her wake. “Pete and I stood as witnesses, and it's been a positive drain to keep it to ourselves all week!”

“Was it romantic?” A sharp-eyed matron, whose name Adam couldn't recall as she was newer to the town, poked her long nose right in.

“A secret wedding in a spring clearing.” Midge waxed poetic to a rapt audience, and Adam had the good sense to let her weave her spell. “I'm sure Parson Carter would tell you it was one of the most memorable ceremonies he's ever performed.”

All eyes shifted to the pastor, whose enthusiastic nod sent heads bobbing back to focus on Midge. Adam figured it was time he joined into the spirit of things. He reached up and quickly tugged free the small bow in Opal's bonnet strings with his free hand.

“She wore this same dress, knowing it's one of my favorite colors.” He grasped the back of her bonnet and tugged, sliding it from her hair and sending wisps dancing along the breeze around her face. “And no bonnet so I could see her face as we spoke our vows.”

A flurry of wistful sighs greeted the gesture, but Adam only cared that his restlessness faded when he could see Opal's face again.

Her eyes widened when the covering slipped from her hair, but the surprise changed to mischief in a twinkle. His bride opened her mouth, and Adam knew he was in trouble.

From the moment they escaped the church into the fresh air and Adam gave her that conspiratorial grin, Opal knew today would mark a new beginning for them. Hope blunted the rage she felt toward Lucinda, who she couldn't profess to have completely forgiven yet, and even muffled the cry in her heart from the way Pa still wouldn't look at her.

The armor of God protected her and held her up, allowing her to accept the greetings and exclamations of her neighbors and friends without arrows of guilt piercing her too deeply. She even kept in mind Midge's advice to make the most of today's opportunity to demonstrate affection.

More importantly, Adam outdid her. Oh, he'd sucked in a breath the first time she'd scooted over and pressed against his side in a bid to avoid Larry's remarkable ability to intrude on her space, but afterward Adam hadn't protested the proximity one bit. Better still, he must have sensed how she dreaded getting trapped between the church benches, caught up in stifling interrogations before she made it outside.

When the weight of his hand settled on the small of her back, the pressure of his palm firmly encouraging her to surge toward the freedom of that open door, she'd felt grounded for the first time since she'd seen him surrounded by her family's shotguns. If a smile could stretch through eternity, Opal would've kept the moment he'd grinned at her as though she were his partner in truth, not pretense.

A mistake, because then she would have missed his arm sliding around her waist, nestling her against his side in the crook of his arm as they greeted Buttonwood as man and wife. She never would have seen the gleam in his gaze when he slid off her bonnet, looking as though he'd uncovered a treasure. And she would have lost her chance to make up for the kiss she'd missed by the chicken coop.

Heat rose from her neck to her ears, and Opal knew that for once her bemoaned tendency to turn red over anything would serve her well. After all, how better to convince the townspeople she was a blushing bride than to blush?

“Midge!” Opal made sure her whisper carried over the bunch of people. “Adam! No one need know any other particular part of the ceremony. Stop discussing the details. Those are”—she met Midge's eyes and nodded meaningfully—“
private.
”

Immediately the swarm buzzed, demanding more information, just as Opal depended they would. All the attention increased the heat flushing her cheeks, making her blush brighter.

“She's blushing!” Several people noticed and speculated as to why.

“C'mon, Midge,” Alyssa, the sixteen-year-old town belle, implored. “Tell us what's making Opal turn ruby red!”

“Nothing to make her turn red,” her friend protested. Obviously, Midge caught on to Opal's scheme to mention the wedding day kiss, and now whipped the people into an expert froth of nosiness. “Only what's natural for a new bride and groom...”

Avid stares heated Opal's blush to boiling, and she began to regret her impetuous course of action. Her boldness fled, her downcast gaze no longer a role to play but a way to avoid meeting her husband's eyes.

“They kissed.” Her youngest brother's voice rang with impatience and even a little disgust as Pete sidestepped a sharp elbow from Midge. “No big secret there. Happens at most weddings.” His blunt words and obvious disdain did nothing to bring the residents of Buttonwood in line.

Guffaws from the men eddied alongside titters from the women on the afternoon breeze, but a huddle of humanity on the edges of the crowd didn't join the laughter.
Finally, the Specks and Grogans agree on something.
Yet Opal found no joy in the discovery. If all their families shared was rage over this marriage, the tension would escape to consume everyone.