WILD OATS (24 page)

There must be a simple, certain way to get a man out of your life, she thought. Men were always leaving women. Half the songs written said as much. What did those women do to send those men away? Suddenly, as if the answer had been swimming around in her head, a tune came to her lips.

"Jaimie had sworn that he loved her.

'Til he'd found out that she was untrue.

Now he's happily wed to another.

And thinks of her never, would you?''

Cora stopped the careful dusting of the garden to contemplate the words. "Til he found out that she was untrue." That was it. That was the secret. No man, not even a man who claimed to love, would stay by a woman who had betrayed him.

Could she make him believe that she
had
betrayed him? It wouldn't be easy. He might look for a scheme, a plot to outwit him. A strange frightening feeling came over her. She swallowed nervously and set the shovel point down in the dirt, her arms no longer strong enough to hold it upright. If she truly wanted to send Jedwin away, she must do more than try to make him
think
she betrayed him.

She must betray him.

The image of Titus Penny came immediately to her mind. She could see him again sitting at his desk. His smile leering and suggestive. That stringy brown hair and that annoyingly overwaxed moustache did not spark desire in her breast. "That big old bed of mine down on the corner can get mighty cold of a night," he'd said so smugly.

Cora ran a glove-covered hand through her hair, only to discover it was trembling too much to straighten her errant locks.

"I can't do it," she whispered aloud.

It was the only way, the only sure way to let Jedwin go. The words of the song haunted her. 'Now he's happily wed to another, and thinks of her never, would you?'

That's what Cora wanted for him. Happily wed to Tulsa May Bruder and thinking of her never, ever. No lingering tender longings that would cheat his wife. No tempting daydreams of what might have been or what could be again.

Could she do it? Could she betray Jedwin with Titus Penny? She swallowed nausea in the back of her throat. She had learned a long time ago that she could do whatever she had to.

Cora raised her chin and spoke the words aloud, determinedly, defiantly. "You've had two men already. One more shouldn't make much difference."

Chapter Eighteen

"Could I speak with you in the family parlor, please?"

Jedwin looked up from the basin where he was washing up to see his mother in the mirror behind him. Her question was spoken in such a way as to suggest a command rather than a request.

It was as good a time as any, Jedwin decided as he wiped his face with a towel and retrieved his shirt from the back of a chair. He wanted to talk to her, too.

Following her downstairs, he could feel the tension in the air. His mother was angry. He regretted that. He'd hoped that he could explain the new directions he'd decided for his life without much fuss from her. He was, however, ready to take on her arguments whatever they might be.

They stepped into the parlor. Amelia walked to the center of the room before turning to look at him.

"Why don't you sit, Mama," Jedwin said politely.

Her eyes were as hard as flint. "No thank you, James Edwin, I believe I choose to stand."

"Very well," he answered, moving over to the fireplace where he could at least lean on the mantel. It was the height of bad manners for a gentleman to sit while a lady stood, and Jedwin was not willing to give his mother that advantage. "I have been wanting to speak with you."

"Oh, you have?" Amelia clasped her hands together, and raised her chin purposefully. "Well, I've wanted to speak with you also. But you are away from the house so much these days, I hardly know your comings and goings."

"You've been busy yourself," Jedwin pointed out. "With the epidemic scare and running to and from Low Town, you've certainly kept on the move."

"I was out doing my Christian duty," she said with cool self-righteousness. "I know my duty and I do it without complaint."

Did she? Jedwin wondered, but kept his doubts to himself.

"And while I was busy ministering to the sick," his mother said, "how exactly were you occupying yourself?"

“I've been working at the farm. I managed to get all the oats in the barn and have started some improvements on the place."

Assuming his statement was merely an alibi, Amelia disregarded it. "I'm sure that was a novelty," she said lightly. "Pursuing some useful endeavor."

Jedwin's eyes widened at the insult but chose to ignore it. "I realize that a huge burden was placed on yourself and Haywood. But I would remind you, Mama, that you forbade my help."

Amelia's mood was combative. "Would it have done any good to have you help us?" she asked.

It was a clear cut and the wound of Jedwin's pride was sharp, but he bore it. She spoke the truth. He had had no intention of helping them in the embalming room, even if they had asked. There were things in his life that he could not, would not, do. But, he told himself sternly, there were others that he could. And it was time that he start doing things of which he was capable and stop mourning those he was not.

"I've made some decisions about my life," he said. "I intend to make some changes that will, to some extent, affect you."

Jedwin turned to pace the room, gathering his words with careful prudence. His mother would not be pleased with his decision to farm, but he was sure that he could convince her to accept it as inevitable.

Had he glanced up at her, he would have seen Amelia's dark look. She raised her eyebrows and commented tartly, "I hope your decisions include mending your evil ways."

Jedwin turned to stare at her, his expression masked. "Whatever do you mean, Mama?"

Amelia raised her chin and spoke sternly. "I believe you know exactly what I mean, James Edwin."

Looking at his mother's rigid features, a trickle of apprehension flowed through him. "You will have to speak plainly," he said softly. "I cannot read your mind."

"No you cannot," she agreed shrewishly. "But Lam sure that you know it!" Amelia Sparrow folded her arms across her chest and stared at her son with daggers in her eyes. "I would never have thought," she said, raising her voice to a high decibel, "that after all the Christian principles and social responsibilities that have been taught to you in this house, that I would be forced to speak about a subject so abhorrent to me."

Jedwin stared in silence as his mother gathered her sanctimonious outrage around her like a cloak.

"I cannot in this world believe that a son of mine, a young gentleman with the best advantages and of the highest moral example, would sink to consorting with a female of the worst sort."

Jedwin's eyes narrowed and he felt the anger rising like burning gall in his throat. So she knew. Momentarily he wondered who had told her, but it didn't really matter. He had wanted to wait until he and Cora were wed, but it was not to be. "Cora Briggs is not a 'female of the worst sort,''' he said flatly.

Amelia's eyes sparkled with the fire of fury. "My heavens!" she said with sardonic mockery. "What sort is she then, James Edwin?"

Jedwin held his temper, but only barely. "She is
my
sort, Mama."

“You admit it?'' Amelia nearly spat the words at him before laying a hand on her chest as if she had been stabbed. “Have you no shame?"

Jedwin's brown eyes were as dark as midnight and colder than the worst mid-winter as he scanned his mother. “There is nothing to be ashamed of. You know nothing about Cora, or about what she deserves," he said. "She is a divorcée, Mama, not a murderess."

"The way you defend
Cora,"
Amelia replied, "clearly says that she is more than just a divorcée. She is your mistress!"

Jedwin opened his mouth to reply, but closed it abruptly. He stared at his mother stonily. His silence was condemning.

"You don't deny it," Amelia accused.

"It is none of your concern," Jedwin answered calmly.

"I am your mother!"

“If I were not already aware of that, the fact that you tell me so daily would lead me to that conclusion."

"I've sacrificed my whole life for you."

He shrugged with deliberate unconcern. "You've told me that often enough. But in honesty, what you mean is that you expect me to sacrifice
my
life for you."

Amelia's mouth dropped open in disbelief, stung to the core. Without conscious thought she raised her hand and brought it forcefully across his face. Blood splattered from his broken lip onto his crisp white shirt. Amelia stared at the bright red stain with horror.

Jedwin's hand came up to his bleeding lip. His jaw trembled in anger. He quickly stepped away from her, crossing the room to turn his back on her and gather his temper.

Amelia was silent with disbelief at her own actions. Words of apology sprang to her lips. She choked them back. Tears gathered in her eyes, but she would not relent and allow them to flow. She bit her own lip painfully as she stared at the straight, strong back that was turned against her. He was her son. He had always done what she wished. But this was new, this was different.

She took several long, deep breaths before she attempted to speak. "I am not unaware," she began in quiet, but cupped tones, "that many young men will have occasion to sow some wild oats."

At the sound of the term, so reminiscent of his own words, Jedwin was stung. He turned to his mother.

"It is not 'wild oats,' Mama," he declared forcefully. "I love Cora Briggs. I intend to marry her."

Bringing her hand to her throat in shock, Amelia paled visibly. "You can't mean it?"

Jedwin's gaze held steady. "I do mean it, Mama. So I would suggest that you hold back any scurrilous statements you wish to make concerning my intended."

"Your intended." The words slipped through Amelia's lips with whispered disbelief. "You have asked her to marry you?''

"Yes, I have."

Amelia could only stare at her son. "You don't know what you are doing."

Jedwin bristled. “I know exactly what I am doing, Mama. I am a grown man and do not need you to lead me around like a trained bear."

"How dare you?"

"How dare I? This is me, Mama, James Edwin. You don't have to resort to pretense in front of me, do you? We both know the truth here. Am I the only one who will admit it?"

“I have been a good mother to you—" Amelia began in defense.

"I have not disputed that," Jedwin interrupted. "But you have tried to make me live my life as you saw fit."

"I've tried to lead you to do what's best."

"I should be the one to know what is best for me."

"You are just a boy."

"I am a man."

“Oh yes,'' Amelia scoffed. “Now that you've writhed in sin with some harlot you think you are a man."

"I have
known
I was a man since the day my father died," Jedwin told her evenly. "Do you remember when my father died?"

"Of course I remember!"

"Sometimes I think that you don't. You've conveniently forgotten those first months. You've forgotten how you leaned on me, how you needed me. You've forgotten how frightened and scared and weak you felt facing the world. You've forgotten the floods of tears you shed on my shirtfront"

His voice was cool and his temper was calm. "I have not forgotten. But when you became strong again, I was happy for you. I love you, Mama. I wanted you to be yourself again. So, I've let you play your little games. I've listened to your unending advice. And I've tried to do those things that you've wanted. That is at an end," he said. "I love Cora Briggs and I am going to marry her. If you don't like that, I am sorry, but I will not be changing my mind."

Tears ran down Amelia's cheeks as she shook her head. "She will drag you down," she told him. "No one in this town will ever accept you. How can you ran a business if the community disapproves of your marriage?''

"I don't intend to run a business," Jedwin replied calmly. “I am giving the mortuary to you. It was you who earned it, after all. I'm going to farm. It won't matter what people think of a lowly farmer."

"James Edwin, I beg you. Don't throw your life away. Cora Briggs is not worthy of you. You should have a wife of your own, not another man's leavings. You deserve more than this woman."

Jedwin stared at his mother silently for a moment before an unexpected smile began to twitch at the corner of his mouth. “What an irony,'' he said to her with the lightest of humorless chuckles.

Amelia stared in amazed horror at her son's amusement.

"What can you find to laugh about?" she questioned him in astonishment.

"This is truly the funniest thing," he said, shaking his head and laughing ruefully. "You and Cora are in exact agreement."

The snow fell from the sky in huge flakes the size of twenty-dollar gold pieces. Fortunately, the ground was still warm enough to melt them on contact. For that reason, Cora did not slow her step as she hurried to the Penny Grocery and Dry Goods.

She did not usually walk to town, much preferring the modern haste afforded by her Hawthorne Safety with the duplex drop-frame. Today, however, she didn't ride because she didn't wish to dress in her usual bicycling costume. Wearing her rusty brown walking skirt with her pale peach blouse, she thought she looked her best. And her best was exactly what was required.

She had agonized over her decision until late into the night. In her head she knew that it was the perfect plan and the answer to her problem. Her heart, however, cringed from the terrible finality of it. She had decided at last to let her head rule. It was following her heart that had gotten her into this mess.

Reaching the front of the store, she casually mounted the two block steps. Surreptitiously she glanced through the oval window of the door to see who was inside. She wasn't sure she could face a soul this morning. And she was positive that she couldn't face either Jedwin or his mother.

Luck: was with her. The store was warm, quiet, and empty. A snappy orange fire crackled in the big potbellied stove in the corner and there was no one but Titus in sight.

Quickly straightening her collar and brushing down her skirt, Cora stepped inside.

At the jingle of the bell over the door, Titus looked up. Seeing her, he nodded before glancing guiltily around the store.

"It's pretty cold out there this morning," he commented.

Nodding vaguely, Cora removed her coat and hung it on. one of the hooks in the corner. Her reflection in the small mirror above the hooks startled her. Her color was high, her cheeks bright as cherries. And her eyes glittered with a strange emotion that looked like fear. It was merely the cold, she told herself.

As she walked across the room, Titus motioned to her to follow him into the back. She obeyed without comment. But soon found the crowded back room seemed especially so this morning. Cora attempted to keep her distance from Titus among the boxes and crates. At the same time, she urged herself to approach him and get it over with.

She had thought about the visit, planned what she might say, over and over again. She hadn't thought that it would be easy, but she hadn't imagined how difficult it was going to be.

"I see that you've survived the diphtheria without trouble," Titus said conversationally.