The Bride Backfire (15 page)

“Kiss her again!” Josiah Reed's voice rose above it all as though on cue. Come to think of it, the man most likely knew exactly what he did, given his history of meddling in relationships. Clara and Saul turned out the better for it, so Opal reckoned she shouldn't complain.

Her thoughts screeched to a halt when Adam's hand moved at her waist, turning her toward him. Her husband didn't waste a word, simply angled his body closer and cupped her cheek with a large, rough palm as he leaned forward.

“I know you did that on purpose.” His undertone floated to her ears as though imagined, but Opal knew Adam had figured out her little game. But he kept playing.

Her breath hitched when his lips brushed against hers. Once, a featherlight whisper. Twice, a silky murmur. A third time, and his mouth captured hers for a second of stolen sweetness before he drew away.

When her breath and brains returned, Opal started scheming. She needed another one of Midge's lessons on how to snare the attentions of her reluctant spouse. By sheer force of will, she didn't press her fingertips to the tingle in her lips.
Because next time, I don't want him to stop.

Adam fought a brief but powerful skirmish with his own unwillingness to release Opal when the guffaw got loud enough to tell him he shouldn't offer any more “proof” of their shared affection.

He'd seen the look in her eyes and known she plotted some mischief, but never anticipated what she had in mind. In one fell swoop, Adam learned two very valuable lessons about his firebrand of a bride. No matter her determination to lead the town by the nose, Opal's acting skills wouldn't fetch much on the market.

Those overblown protests about Midge revealing the “details” of their wedding couldn't be more obvious. Only her blushes—that becoming rosy tinge creeping up her cheeks as she got the reaction she'd sought—saved her from the whole town catching on to the more important discovery of the day.

Opal wants me to kiss her.
The realization rang through him. He planted his boots on the ground and snagged her in his arms. Once he nabbed her, he couldn't resist taunting her with his knowledge that she'd put them in this position on purpose.

But the soft feel of her pressed lightly against him, the warmth of her breath when his lips grazed hers, the elusive hint of honey that hung in the air around her, turned the tables in an instant. Adam snuck a second taste. Then he knew he should let her go—but she swayed into him, and he sampled her sweetness a third time before gathering the fortitude to pull away.

The refreshing breeze that enveloped them when they left the church died away, offering no help to cool the urgent heat racing through his veins. Adam swallowed, trying to make his mouth and mind work as a team again while good-natured friends teased and sour onlookers muttered.

No use. His mind and mouth were hitched in harness to one idea, and wouldn't budge from it. He wanted another kiss.

“Midge Lorraine Collins-Reed!” The hissed whisper offered no advanced warning, as it hit her ears the same moment Clara's hand clamped around her elbow.

Midge might not have minded were it not for a few facts. First, she'd just drawn that selfsame elbow back for a much-needed jab to Pete's ribs when Clara nabbed her. More important, she'd almost forgotten that there'd be a reckoning with Clara once her friend/adoptive mother—although Clara, at only six years older than she, could hardly stand as her true mother—once she discovered the incredible secret Midge had been sitting on all week. Now the skirts of Opal's secret were billowing in the breeze and doing a fine job of exposing what Clara would see as a betrayal of her and Midge's friendship. And last, she hated her middle name.
Lorraine.
Sounded so snotty. Not like her at all.

Midge wrinkled her nose and allowed herself to be dragged a safe—or not-so-safe, depending on how upset Clara turned out to be—distance from where the rest of the town speculated over Opal and Adam's hasty wedding. Raised eyebrows and lowered voices carried theories ranging from star-crossed love to unwanted children, just as she and Opal expected. So long as no one hit on the real reason for the marriage, things would stay manageable.

“I can't believe you kept something this important from me! Did Opal ask you not to say anything?” Clara's large green eyes just about swallowed her face this afternoon, swimming with questions and hurt.

“Pete came to find a witness to the ceremony, and he made me swear not to tell a soul if I wanted to find out what was going on.” Midge didn't have to squash any guilt over heaping the blame on Pete. Not only was it true, he'd escaped that second elbowing. “He said Opal needed me, so I gave my word to keep my mouth shut and went with him and Parson Carter.”

“You could have trusted me.” The protest escaped as though pushed through by a grudge, and her friend showed the grace to look somewhat ashamed of herself for voicing it. “But if you gave your word, I understand.”

“I knew you'd understand, even though you wouldn't like it.” Midge heard a light footfall behind her and knew Aunt Doreen joined them. “
Both
of you.”

“We can waste breath harping on her about why she didn't tell us what happened,” Doreen spoke quietly as she came alongside them, “or we can get to the good parts and just ask what happened!”

“Parson Carter married Opal and Adam, and Pete and I stood as witnesses. I couldn't breathe a word because Pete swore me to secrecy.” Midge kept it simple, matter-of-fact, and honest. Even if something deep inside her didn't lurch like a drunken sailor at the thought of lying to the Reed women, she didn't want to be scrambling to remember what she said. It's why she'd planned for this moment days ago.

“Obviously.” Doreen's keen gaze didn't leave much room to wiggle. “Everyone knows that much. What we want to know is the reason behind the wedding.”

“Love.” Not so much as a blink while she uttered this proclamation. Sure, she knew Doreen and Clara would think she meant that Opal and Adam were in love with one another, but the wedding went on for the love of their families. Opal sacrificed her standing with her family to avoid a feud and save their lives, after all, and far too much rode on making this makeshift marriage a success for Midge to jeopardize it with something as tawdry as specifics.

“Adam all along! Not even two weeks ago I tried to speak with Opal about Brett Burn, and she went pale as a ghost and said something about ignoring a man who chased after her.” Clara practically bounced over the discovery. “Surprised her when she realized I meant the blacksmith. Shocked me she wouldn't tell me who she thought I'd meant but wouldn't say another word about it. Now I know why!”

“Sounds reasonable.”
But you're wrong.
Midge started to wonder how much biting one woman's tongue could take. She contributed nothing more than a few absent nods to the conversation.

Adam wasn't the Grogan Opal wanted to ignore.
Midge sucked in a breath.
I knew I didn't like how Larry looked at her but didn't know he'd made such a pest of himself. And Opal wouldn't tell a soul, for fear of the fighting between their families.

The more she fiddled this strange piece of information into the puzzle of Opal's sudden marriage, the more certain Midge became.
Somehow, this whole mess is Larry's fault!

Lucinda's stomach roiled as she watched her son pull away from Opal's clutches. Adam wore a befuddled expression, as though the hussy addled his brains with nothing more than a smooch.

No.
Terrible fairness compelled her to acknowledge that Opal wielded far more than a simple smooch to snare her son.
A kiss marked the beginning long ago. How long?
The questions skewered her.
Weeks? Months? Seasons? When did that baggage first cast her eye on my boy? When did I fail to see the danger?

She eyed her daughter-in-law's trim middle.
Too trim. Any child far enough along to erase all doubts would begin to show about now.
The back of her throat burned with restrained rage.
Opal lied. She's not carrying Adam's child. He need not have married the scheming whore.

“You must be soooo proud.” Griselda West, overly fancy in her East Sunday costume, sidled up and cooed at Diggory. All that sweetness didn't fool Lucinda one bit.

Sugarcoat a chicken bone and it'd still choke a body, after all. Griselda's avid gaze shone with her true intent. The woman waited for someone to spill even a hint that Adam and Opal weren't a true love match so she could lap up the gossip and spread it across the town.

Choices didn't come easy some days. Champion Adam by making it sound as though he and Opal struck up a forbidden romance, as they spoon-fed to the town, and watch it all come unraveled when her son discovered his wife's lies? Or let it slip that Opal acted no better than she should be, a hoyden with no mother and a godless upbringing, tempting upstanding men into the ways of sin. Adam may seem a fool for succumbing, but most would brush off the lapse with a chuckle at his manly ways—particularly since he'd done the honorable thing and married the chit. This way, when she rousted Opal and got rid of the girl, no one would blame her boy.

“Of course we're proud.” Lucinda tilted her chin upward in a haughty show as the newlyweds walked over. “Adam could charm a bird from a tree, but even we didn't know he could manage to woo a Speck from her family loyalty.”

A strangled cough rasped from Murphy Speck at that comment, making the rest of the Speck men go ruddy in fury.

So unbecoming, with all that red hair.
Lucinda bit back her first smile of the day, pleasantly surprised with the effort it took once she noticed Opal's reaction. It seemed almost as though the crimson flooding her family's faces leeched all the color from her own, as she went ghostly pale.

The moment passed all too quickly as Parson Carter came and fetched them all to sit at a makeshift table for the celebratory “wedding” dinner. The rest of the town would fend for themselves, more or less. In the end, Lucinda perched on the end of a bench, narrowly avoiding being shoved to the ground by Diggory's enthusiastic shoveling of his food. With all eyes on the “happy” couple, nothing she said made much of an impact.

Lucinda relied on Larry to share her sentiments. Her middle son had always been the one most eager to scrap with the Specks, always the most in tune to her moods. Usually, he took his place at her side, but in the hubbub of Parson Carter's arrangements, somehow both her grown sons flanked her family's intruder.

Adam to her left, Larry to her right, Opal lorded it over the town as though some sort of Buttonwood royalty. She and Adam—acting along—bore the only partially convincing smiles at the table. Murphy and Diggory glared daggers at each other. Lucinda didn't think it coincidence that the Carters settled on serving stew. Spoons made for the least amount of damage in a brawl. Dave sent scowls winging toward Pete Speck, who ignored them in favor of doting on that upstart Midge Collins.

Larry's brows almost met in the middle, disapproval radiating from his every move. Any time Adam or Opal spoke to one another, his lips grew thinner. But Lucinda's brief spurt of pride died into a dry throat when she realized his searing glances weren't directed at Opal. Larry aimed all his fury straight at Adam.

A gust of memory blew away Lucinda's anger over the town dinner.
Adam and Larry arguing in the barn. Over Opal.
No matter how hard she swallowed, nausea crept up the back of her throat.
Larry saying he had his eye on her. Adam threatening to deliver his own brother to the Specks if he came near Opal ... I should have known then, but I didn't see Adam's involvement with her.

As though detached from the scene, she watched Larry angle his arm so his elbow pressed against Opal's arm. The girl's uncomfortable avoidance offered no reassurance. Having lured Adam to her side, that trollop encroached on Grogan land but wasn't satisfied. Now she worked her wiles on Larry.

It's so clear what she plans to do—turn brother against brother and destroy us from within. But this time I see what she's up to. And I'll stop it.
Lucinda's knuckles whitened and she felt the metal of her spoon easing from its rigid mold from the pressure under her fingers.
No matter what I have to do.

Folks filed by throughout the meal, and Adam lost track of how many times men clapped him on the shoulder. He kept busy trying to look every male in the area in the eye, hunting for any glint of anger, regret, or relief to mark the man who'd taken advantage of his wife.
The man who could still lay claim to her.
Mrs. Carter's stew didn't set well at the thought.

As though sensing his discomfort, Opal pressed tighter against his side. The wordless reassurance enabled Adam to keep hold of his grin as Dr. Saul Reed approached. Not that he need have worried about Reed—the man wouldn't have noticed half the townspeople were female if he hadn't been medically trained. That's how strong a bond he'd made with his wife, Clara. Adam didn't fix the label of friend to just anyone, but Reed made the cut.

“Grogan.” His friend's grin stretched too wide for show as he hauled his wife and their baby to the table. “You and your new missus proved something I've wondered about for a while.”

“What's that?”

“If Clara hung up her matchmaking bonnet after our marriage or if she kept quietly scheming.” Laughter greeted the pronouncement, as almost everyone knew by now that Clara had taken a wild bargain and tried to marry Saul off to any eligible woman in Buttonwood two years ago before taking him on as her personal, permanent project.

“Clara didn't plot to bring us together.” The supple warmth at his side vanished, replaced by Opal's sudden rigidity as she defended her friend.

“I didn't even know.” Clara almost choked on the admission. Surprise, hurt, concern, and suspicion chased each other across her face.

“I'm sorry.” The stiffness leached from his wife's spine and Adam felt more than saw Opal slump beside him. The posture of defeat.

It demanded action.

He slid his arm around her waist to bolster her up, jostling her just enough so her head leaned toward him, sun-warmed hair spreading across his shoulder as much as her pins would allow. A small sigh escaped her, but Adam didn't take the time to classify it as sad or satisfied.

“A world of truth survives in silence,” Doreen Reed—Clara's aunt and now the wife of Saul Reed's father—intervened. “Kept in quiet and dependent upon discretion.”

Mine does.
Adam resisted the urge to swallow, all too aware that it would give away his discomfort.
Discretion lays the foundation of our marriage, because if the truth we bury is ever unearthed, our families will destroy one another. Survival itself depends on that silence.

“Whoa.” Dave's nine-year-old voice piped up from down the table. “Somebody real impressive must've said that.”

“Thank you.” The older woman's acknowledgment made Clara, Opal, and everyone else smile as they realized Doreen hadn't been quoting anyone at all. Just sharing her own insight.

“That was beautiful.” Willa's voice, seldom heard outside the family, caught everyone's attention.

For the first time, Adam looked beyond Opal to see where the rest of their families had settled. No surprise to see the Specks to the left of the table and the Grogans monopolizing the right half. Midge Collins made a useful placeholder between Dave and Pete on the opposite bench, but otherwise things had gone awry.

Seated in the center of the bench, Opal should have been the connector to her family, easing tension and uniting what had been antagonistic clans. Instead of this natural order, someone jumbled the arrangement in a way guaranteed to provoke tempers.

How did Willa come to sit next to Benjamin Speck?
Adam knew the exact moment Pa and Ma made the same realization. No one blinked. Willa ducked her head under the weight of their stares, obviously regretting drawing any attention to herself.

After Benjamin's ill-advised notice of his sister the previous week—Adam could scarce believe only a week had passed—his effrontery in sitting beside Willa couldn't go unremarked.

“Daughter,” Ma's voice sounded thin, as though she spoke from far away, “how did you come to be so far away?”

“Halfway down the table isn't far.” Midge's comment, reasonable though it seemed, made no impact.

“Leaving family land to settle with Grogans—that's far.” Ben, who Adam noted took care not to let so much as an elbow brush against Willa, kept both his tone and expression even. Nothing to give offense but just enough to show he wouldn't be cowed.

Adam felt Opal go ramrod straight, physically bracing against an emotional blow. His kept his arm wrapped around her, refusing to relinquish his support. Or his claim.

“Just far enough for a fresh start.” He gave his bride a squeeze and a smile to diffuse tension.
Today is the most difficult.
He willed her to remember that.

“Says something when a woman needs a fresh start away from her own family.”

Adam couldn't say whether Opal's squawk came from indignation over Larry's idiocy or as protest over the way his arm tightened around her in his own reaction. He loosened his grip immediately and started to push away from the table. If he had to knock down his brother to keep up the peace, so be it.

“Don't be a ninny, Larry!” Willa's outburst stayed him. She glowered at their troublesome brother, only the way she wrung her hands in her lap identifying his normally shy sister. “Opal and Adam's marriage means a fresh start for all of us, and we don't want needling comments like yours trying to prick pride and draw blood.”

“Well said.” Admiration shone in Ben Speck's gaze. More than enough for everyone at the table to notice it.

Pa's eyebrows drew together. Ma reached out a hand as though to snatch Willa to her side then made poor cover of the gesture by reaching for a roll. A sudden jerk from Dave told Adam his younger brother attempted an unsuccessful kick beneath the table.

The Specks showed signs of displeasure as well. Elroy muttered beneath his breath. Murphy gave a swift, short shake of his head. Young Pete looked as though he sorely wanted to make an unwise comment, but a well-timed poke in the ribs from Midge kept his tongue between his teeth.

In fact, the only person at the entire table who showed no reaction was Willa. Having said her piece, she'd ducked her head back down and resumed staring at her hands, oblivious to Ben's all-too-apparent regard.

Well, at least Willa didn't return Speck's interest. Adam rolled his shoulders in a futile bid to relax. They'd still avoid disaster so long as his sister kept her head.

Wait. No. I didn't see that right.

Opal felt her eyes widen and didn't even bother trying to fix it. She stayed busy keeping her jaw off the ground as her new sister-in-law gave Ben a timid smile.

Until a fingernail dug into her shoulder blade, an unsubtle signal that Clara wanted to make sure she wasn't missing the byplay. Then Opal's wide-eyed wonder turned into a wince. Her friend needn't have worried.
After spending my whole life trying to keep Specks and Grogans apart, I'm more sensitive to their interactions that anyone in all of Buttonwood!

The strong hand resting on her waist clenched into a fist, making her amend her thoughts.
Except, maybe, for Adam.
Opal accepted the possibility that her husband made a good match for her in this area, at least. She slid one of her hands atop his fisted one and gave it a light pat to let him know she understood the implications of Ben and Willa's camaraderie.

Strange how this new threat to the fragile truce between their families didn't shake her nearly so much as it should have. Or, at least, as much as it would have before the events of the past week.

Maybe because there's a much bigger threat looming above us.
She closed her eyes against misgivings over her hasty marriage.
No. I'd rather think it's because God's brought us this far without bloodshed. Surely another Speck and Grogan getting along will ultimately do good. Like me and Adam.

Somehow, her fingers had laced with his, and she breathed more easily as she felt some of the strain ease from his muscles. If she wasn't mistaken, her husband had been about to stand after Larry's foolish comment and take care of matters.
Which, of course, would have made everything worse. Lucinda would blame me for turning her sons against each other.

“Fresh starts are for fools who make mistakes, and there's been enough foolishness to last both our families a lifetime.” Diggory Grogan's statement, if retold by a neutral person with a kind voice, might be mistaken as the equivalent of an olive branch offered to the Specks.

But no one at the table, nor any one of the occupants of Buttonwood clustered around it with ears open and minds racing, would interpret it as anything but malicious. Venom coated Diggory's words as surely as the fury in his gaze refused to be held to one person. It spread from herself to Adam, then Ben and even Willa, infecting them all and poisoning all her efforts to keep their families from outright war.

No!
The bitterness welled up until it threatened to choke her.
Lord, help me. I didn't betray my father's trust and wed a Grogan only to see it all fall apart now!
The bitterness eased enough for her to draw breath. Even as she asked for strength to fight the hatred surrounding her, Opal knew the answer. Hadn't Parson Carter shared it earlier that morning?

“‘The Lord shall fight for you, and ye shall hold your peace....'”
Fighting only made things worse.

“My father-in-law is right.” Opal leaned across the table to pat Diggory's hand, relishing the surprise seeping across his features. “Both Specks and Grogans have wronged one another, made enough mistakes to stop now and never be in danger of committing the blasphemy of claiming perfection.” Clara, Midge, and Doreen laughed, and the rest of the town reluctantly joined in. Opal waited for it to die down before she finished. She kept one hand atop Diggory's, anchoring him to her words even as she held her father's gaze with her own. “I'm glad the parson preached on forgiveness this morning ... so we can leave the past behind and move forward as the neighbors we should always have been.”

“Amen!” Parson Carter hastened to offer his support. “The Lord tells us we've all fallen short.”

The town erupted into murmurs and even outbursts of hearty agreement as folks besieged the table with congratulations, forcing Parson Carter's hopes of a truce into reality. With the entire town not allowing tensions to break free, and a wedding to cement connection between the families, Opal started to wonder if today might truly be the end of the feud that had threatened her loved ones for so long.

“Well done, girlie.” Diggory leaned forward, reluctant appreciation in his gaze as his hand slid from hers. “A worthy move.”

“Yes.” Lucinda's agreement rang bright and loud before the hissed accompaniment. “Just remember, Opal, that some people fall far shorter than others.”