WILD OATS (26 page)

"I'm going to marry her, Titus," he said firmly. "And she's been trying everything under the sun to convince me that she's not fit to be my wife."

He looked down at Cora with a shake of his head.”If I don't miss my guess," he said, reaching down to take Cora's chin between his fingers and raise it up so he could look into her eyes. "Taking a new lover—my friend Titus here—was supposed to make me realize that you could never be a faithful wife to me."

His eyes as wide as saucers, Titus Penny continued to stare at the couple before him.

Jedwin turned his attention back to the man. "It just goes to show you how little my Cora knows about men," Jedwin said to him. He turned back to Cora, grinning.

"You throw another fellow into the fray," he told her, "and it just makes a man more detennined than ever to have you for his own."

He turned his attention back to Titus. "Isn't that right?"

Titus cleared his throat and nodded nervously. "You have nothing whatsoever to be jealous about," he assured Jedwin hurriedly. “I am a very married man and nothing, absolutely nothing, has ever happened between Mrs. Briggs and myself."

Jedwin's grin was victorious. "I know," he said. "You love Fanny." Turning to the woman beside him, his grin widened. "And Cora loves me and she's going to marry me one of these days."

"I wish you both well," Titus told them as he moved hastily toward the back door.

"I hope to see you at the wedding," Jedwin said with apparent unconcern.

"Well, I'm not sure—"

Jedwin's smile would have melted butter. "Of course you will be there," he said evenly. "Fanny will never hear about any of your petty triflings with my Cora. And I certainly won't be mentioning your visit here tonight, so there is no reason why we can't all be friends."

Titus opened his mouth to speak and then changed his mind and swallowed. With a polite doff of his hat, he said, "Ma'am, I look forward to that happy day and would be very pleased to attend the ceremony."

Cora was about to assure him that that was unnecessary, but Jedwin continued. "And the rest of your lovely family will be in attendance also, I hope?"

"Why, yes, yes, of-course."

"Good, good." Jedwin was nodding at him in approval.

Titus had his hand on the doorknob with great hopes of scurrying out of harm's way. Jedwin, however, had one more blow to deliver.

"Oh, and Titus," he said.

The other man turned back to face him, worriedly.

"I know that your wife will be more than willing to welcome my new bride into the community."

Chapter Twenty

Cora stared at Titus Penny's departing back as he retreated down the snow-covered road before she turned to the man beside her. "I can't believe that you told him that we are going to be married."

Jedwin shrugged. "I can't believe that you told him to come here tonight."

Flushing, Cora turned back to the stove. "This corn bread is not going to be fit to eat," she said. "Half cooked, then allowed to cool, and then cooked again."

"Don't try to distract me, Cora," Jedwin said. "It's pretty low to be willing to sleep with another man in order to get away from me."

Cora didn't answer. She couldn't face him.

"I wouldn't have," she said finally. "Not after—"

"Not after this afternoon," he finished for her.

She nodded.

"I know that," he said. "You have promised yourself to me and I haven't a worry that you would be unfaithful." He leaned up against the cold side of the stove and looked closely at her.

"But I would like to know what happened to your
rules,
Cora," he said.

She looked up at him, mute.

"Remember?" he said. "The framework of civilization, the protection of society, the preservation of morals. The rules you are so intent on not breaking. Those don't apply to Titus?"

"Of course they do," she said, feeling oddly out of control.

"But you didn't care if he committed adultery, ruined his life, hurt his pregnant wife and child?" he said.

"Of course I care," she insisted, turning to him angrily. "But I care about other things, too."

"What other things?"

"I care about you."

Jedwin nodded. "I know that you do. You were going to sacrifice yourself, Titus, Fanny, even little Maybelle because of me."

"I didn't think about them," she admitted remorsefully. "I have nothing at all against them, but I didn't think about them at all."

"Of course you did," Jedwin said. "You've never done a thoughtless cruelty in all your life."

Frustrated, he grabbed her arm and pulled her away from her continued attempts to finish cooking dinner. "You knew that there Would be pain and anguish and hurt. But you were willing to let it happen."

Cora stared at him, guilt lining her features. She had no defense against the truth.

"Why were you willing to let it happen?" he asked. "You were willing to ruin my life and yours and theirs for this foolish sense of obedience you cling to."

"I wasn't going to ruin
your
life," she insisted.

"It would have been ruined, Cora," he answered evenly. "If I believed you capable of such treachery, if I thought you left me for another man, my life would have been ruined. I wouldn't want to live. I'm not sure I would be able to do so."

Cora shook her head, trying desperately not to believe him.

"Why would you have done such a thing?" he asked. "I know you are sensitive to other people's pain. Why did you plan to do that?"

She turned her head to look at him. Her face was lined with misery. "I don't know," she said.

"You do know."

"No."

"Tell me, Cora. You've already said it upstairs, let me hear it in the kitchen without my lips upon you."

"Because . . . because I love you," she said.

Jedwin nodded. “And love is more important than the rules, isn't it, Cora?"

She was silent for a moment considering the words as if for the first time.

"Isn't it?"

"Yes!" she said, then, "No!" She shook her head. "I don't know!"

He reached for her then. Gently enfolding her in his arms, he held her close. Her tears nearly unmanned him, but his only chance to really win her, to win her forever, was to fight now and give no quarter.

"I don't know," she sobbed quietly against his shirt.

"Oh Cora," he whispered lovingly against the top of her head. "Don't cry, sweetheart. Of course you don't know," he said. "You can't know. It was a trick question."

She pulled back from him, her eyes bright with tears. "A trick question?"

He nodded. There was no amusement in his eyes, only sincerity. "The rules
can
be more important than love," he said. "And
love
can be more important than the rules."

Pulling her against him once more, he tried to make her understand. "You are right about needing the rules," he said. "We need the Ten Commandments. We need the laws of the land. Without them," he admitted, "we'd just be the most crazed of animals, killing each other for want of a soup bone."

He brought a strong masculine knuckle to her chin and raised her face to look at her. "And the customs of our society are all very important, too."

She nodded only slightly.

Holding her head in his hands, Jedwin gazed down into her eyes. "But sometimes, rules don't help to uplift us, they only restrain us."

"That doesn't mean we can ignore them," she said, her voice hoarse with tears.

"No," he agreed. "We can't ignore them. There has to be a balance."

“A balance?'' Her brown eyes were bright with tears and wide with curiosity.

“A give-and-take, an evenhandedness of judgment, there has to be an apportionment of grace. It's so in nature, it must be so in civilization, too."

"There can be no give-and-take in right and wrong," Cora told him.

"There is leverage of the spirit," he said. "What would Mrs. Millenbutter say?"

"Mrs. Millenbutter?"

"Yes," he answered. "When you throw that Lewis wand in the air, how do you know it will return to your hand?''

"Gravity."

"Yes, gravity," he said. "It's a balance of nature. Up is too high and down is too low. You must find the wand and the wand must find your hand, which is in between the two."

Cora's expression was puzzled.

"And what about walking with that bag of marbles on your head? Is that just a practice of young belles ready for their coming out, or is it a lesson in keeping yourself in perspective?"

"I suppose it's both," Cora admitted.

"Didn't you tell me that Mrs. Millenbutter says that the physical, mental, and the spiritual are equal parts of the same whole? That if one is not developed as well as the others, existence ceases to be in harmony and all aspects of your life will suffer?"

"Well, yes," Cora admitted. "I can see that there must be balance in all that we say and do, but the rules we choose to live by are not open to being bandied about and obeyed as we choose."

"Yes, but in balance," he said. "Divorce
is
an evil to be avoided. A man and wife
should
be committed to their marriage vows and that
should
offer protection and provision for families and children. It is a well-intended rule that I'm sure serves good purpose most of the time," he said. "But, with us, with our love and the balance of our lives it serves no good purpose at all."

"Jedwin, I believe you,'-' Cora said. "I have never felt myself to be some evil sinner. I was blameless in my divorce, but the fact is that I am divorced and society says I must pay a penalty."

He shook his head in disagreement. “You have suffered long enough for the mistake of marrying Luther Briggs. Heaven knows, even the worst of criminals can finally pay his debts to society. I love you and I want to marry you. And I think that your debt to this community, to Miss Maimie, to my mother, to our church, is paid in full."

"But you shouldn't have to pay."

"I won't have to, unless you refuse to marry me," he said.

Her head held high and her back straight, Amelia Sparrow stepped into the foyer through her own front door and quietly closed it behind her. With slow, casual grace, she removed her hat and coat and hung them carefully upon the hall tree. Calmly she walked down the hallway to the family parlor. Stepping inside, she systematically made a thorough perusal of the furnishings of the room. Her survey stopped at a small, delicately hand-painted Bohemian glass vase. Picking it up, Amelia admired the lovely blue and gold flowers so painstakingly reproduced by the artist for only a moment before hurling the pretty piece at the nearest wall.

The sound of shattering glass was as satisfying as releasing a long-held breath. Amelia sighed. With the beginnings of a smile forming on her lips, she snatched up a tiny bisque figurine and hurled it after the vase.

It was with a genuine grin that Amelia reached for a stunning piece of imported majolica. She did not, however, have the opportunity to throw it.

"What the hell is going on here, Mellie!"

Amelia turned to stare at Haywood Puser, who looked very annoyed as he came racing through the door.

Without answering she raised her arm to throw the fancy pottery, but Haywood grabbed her hand and none too gently returned the bric-a-brac to its usual place.

"Stop it, right now," he ordered.

"This is my house, Mr. Puser," Amelia snapped, grateful to have a human target for her anger. "And I will tear it down to dust and splinters if I so choose."

Haywood folded his arms across his chest and surveyed her skeptically. "You go right ahead, Mellie," he told her. "But I'm sure not going to be volunteering to help you pick up the pieces."

With little enthusiasm, Amelia glanced at the mess of shattered glass that littered the floor. The sight of it dampened her pleasure in the sport a good deal.

"Well, at least bring me the broom and dustpan," she told him, not the least bit kindly.

He immediately fetched as he was bid and after hurrying back to her side, proved himself a liar by squatting down beside her to help pick up the largest of the glass pieces.

"Is there any reason for this assault on the crockery?" Haywood asked her. "Or are you just practicing for the skillet throw at the next Fourth of July Picnic?''

Amelia gave him a freezing look. "I have just had tea with Miss Maimie."

Haywood raised an eyebrow."Our Miss Maimie?
Dear
Miss Maimie? The
sainted
Miss Maimie?"

"Oh, do hush!" Amelia sounded extremely vexed.

Haywood allowed his sarcasm to lighten as easily as the furrows disappeared from his brows. “Well, are you going to tell me what happened?" he asked. "Or are you just going to stay in a pout all afternoon?''

"I do not pout!"

Amelia's declaration was made with such conviction that the sight of her sulkily protruding lower lip spurred Haywood to an out-and-out chuckle.

"As you say, Mellie," he answered.

Resisting the urge to throttle him Amelia stood up and began to pace. "They know about James Edwin," she said.

Haywood continued to sweep the broken glass for a moment. "Who knows?"

"Miss Maimie knows!" she answered, slapping her fist impotently against her thigh. “And Fanny Penny and Constance Bruder and probably the whole town! He is telling people," Amelia said. She raised her hands to heaven in disbelief. "He's told Titus Penny that he intends to marry her."

Haywood managed to get the last of the broken glass into the dustpan and covered it protectively with the broom.

"So he's going to marry her," he said. "Isn't that something?"

"It's something, all right," Amelia countered. "It's a nightmare." She paced the length of the room once more in agitation before seating herself in her sewing rocker and covering her face with her hands. "How will I ever hold my head up in this town?"

"Oh, for heaven's sake, Mellie," Haywood said. "It can't be as bad as all that."

"It certainly can be," she insisted. "It's even worse! Miss Maimie told me not to think that it is all my fault, just because my
bad blood
has finally shown itself."

Haywood whistled with appreciation.

“Constance Bruder said that James Edwin may no longer be welcomed in the church."

"That don't seem quite Christian. I have my doubts the reverend would agree with that."

“And Fanny Penny said that this scandal is the most horrible crisis Dead Dog has ever faced."

Haywood laughed out loud.

"How dare you find humor in this!" Amelia's words were almost a screech. "This is the worst thing that has ever happened to me!"

Shaking his head in disapproval, Haywood pointed a finger at her. "Now there you set off on the wrong foot again, Mellie," he said. "This is not the 'worst thing that has ever happened to'
you,
because it ain't happening to you, at all."

"Of course it's happening to me."

"It's happening to Jedwin and Miz Briggs," he told her with firm conviction.

"My son's life is like my own," Amelia declared self-righteously.

"It damn well is not."

"Do not curse at me, Mr. Puser!"

"I will curse at you if I think you need it. And right now, you are sure needing something to shake some sense into you."