A Mid-Summer's Mail-Order Bride (14 page)

“Well, I’m sure ya got somethin’ done.”

Warren was already halfway across the yard, but he turned to face his grandfather. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Ya had to have seen the little buggers comin’ – skunks always give fair warnin’. How come ya didn’t take off sooner?”

“I don’t wish to discuss it,” Warren huffed, then spun on his heel.

“I hope the kiss was worth it!” Grandpa called after him.

Warren stopped and rolled his eyes. Then he sighed, smiled and glanced back over his shoulder at him. “You know … I think it was.”

Fourteen

Three weeks. It took
three entire weeks
for the skunk smell to completely go away.

Bernice thought she might go mad. Mrs. Riley, Summer and Elle went into town several times to fetch things for her wedding, but Bernice’s heart wasn’t into it. How could it be when she hadn’t even seen her intended since … the
incident
? At least she and Warren could pass notes via the Riley women and Warren’s grandfather, but it was hardly the same.

She sighed as she stared at her once-pristine pink gingham dress. Mrs. Riley had hung it out in the barn while working to wash the stink from it, and after repeating the process more times than they could count, the smell was … well, lessened. Unfortunately, the dress now looked old and worn. If she was smart she’d throw it out, but she just couldn’t bear to part with it.

That day, Bernice had decided a nice dose of sunshine would do it good and hung it on the clothesline behind the house. Mrs. Riley had previously kept it separate from the rest of the laundry, for obvious reasons. Bernice stood on a box and plucked it from its hanging spot, took a sniff, winced and went to pin it on the line.

“Still trying to save it?” Elle asked as she put the last of the dry laundry in a basket.

Bernice nodded sadly. “It was … one of the last things my mother gave me.”

“That makes it harder. I hope you can get the odor to come out.”

“It’ll come out, it just takes time. At least
I
don’t smell anymore.”

“How is Warren doing? After all, he got it a lot worse than you did.”

Bernice shrugged. “Fine, according to his letters. He says he’s tired of sleeping in the barn, though.” She frowned. “I know that feeling.”

“Maybe Spencer or Clayton should pay the Johnson farm a visit?”

“That would be nice,” Bernice said as she finished pinning up her dress.

“I’ll talk to Spencer when he gets home. If Warren is … recovered, I’m surprised Old Man Johnson hasn’t come over to let us know.”

“He was here last week, and he said Warren was no longer limping.”

Elle smiled. “Tell you what, if Warren’s doing all right, I’ll have Spencer invite him over for supper.” She put an arm around Bernice. “Then the two of you can pick up where you left off … well, maybe not
right
where you left off ...”

Bernice blushed. “I don’t think I’d mind,” she confessed.

“Save it for after the wedding,” Elle teased, then started to guide them back to the house. At least the story of their interrupted kiss hadn’t left the confines of the Johnson and Riley Farms. Bernice could just imagine the field day someone like Nellie Davis would have with such a juicy tidbit.

Elle was already planning ahead. “Just in case he is able to come, let’s make a pie. You’re getting a lot better at baking. Maybe your skunk encounter is really a blessing in disguise.”

“At least for my baking, though the last pie I baked barely held up.”

“It was fine. Do you want to try making supper tonight? If Warren can come, I’m sure he’ll love that you made it.”

“I just hope I don’t burn anything again,
especially
if Warren comes.” Bernice became nervous at the thought, and found herself wiping her hands on her apron, even though they weren’t sweaty. Yet.

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you don’t. I promise.”

Once in the kitchen, the two women set to work. Before long, Clayton came in for lunch and left again. Mrs. Riley and Summer had gone to town to pick up more fabric samples for Bernice to consider – they wanted to start on her dress as soon as possible. Even Bernice had begun feeling excited at the prospect.

“Girls! Girls!” Mrs. Riley called as she rushed excitedly into the house, then the kitchen.

“What is it?” Elle asked as she turned from the stove.

“I have the most exciting news! Mrs. Quinn’s sister Mary is coming to town and she’s bringing the whole family!”

Elle’s eyes widened. “The Weavers are coming to Nowhere?
All
of them? Oh dear ...”

Bernice glanced between the two. “Who are the Weavers?”

“Betsy Quinn’s sister’s family. The whole lot haven’t been to town together since the Valentine’s dance a couple of years ago. Arlen and his wife Samijo come in now and then for supplies – they’re no trouble at all. But the twins …”

“Oh, I remember the twins!” Elle groaned.

“What’s wrong with them?” Bernice asked.

“Oh, they’re nice enough boys,” Mrs. Riley assured her. “They’re just a little … rambunctious.”

“Rambunctious?” Elle said with a snort. “They’re wild animals!”

“Oh, come now, they’re nothing of the kind!” Mrs. Riley admonished. “And from what I hear from Betsy, they’ve calmed considerably over the last couple of years. Especially after Deputy Turner spent so much time with them. What he does out there, I have no idea, but it seems to have helped.”

“How old are they now?” Elle asked.

“Oh, that’s right!” Mrs. Riley said happily. “That’s part of the news! Mary wants to get together with Betsy and order up mail-order brides for the twins! Isn’t that exciting?”

Elle looked at her skeptically. “Do the
twins
know?”

“Do they know? It’s their idea! Just think – after Bernice’s wedding, we’ll have two more!”

Bernice thought about mentioning that her wedding wasn’t guaranteed yet, but decided to let it go. “Well, I think I can deal with any family that cares to visit, so long as they aren’t skunks!”

The three women laughed at that as Summer came into the kitchen. “What’s so funny?”

“I just gave them the news,” Mrs. Riley said as she took off her hat. “Is Clayton unhitching the horses?”

“Yes. I’m glad we were able to go into town by ourselves. You know how overprotective he can be.”

“I think he’s had good reason to be, don’t you?” Mrs. Riley told her with a grave wink.

“Does he always drive you to town?” Bernice asked.

Summer nodded. “Today was the first time we’ve been allowed to go by ourselves since I’ve been here. There was some trouble around here when Elle and I first arrived, but there hasn’t been any for a long time now. I guess he and Spencer finally figured it was safe enough for us to drive alone.”

“I’ve never driven a wagon,” Bernice confessed.

“Oh, don’t worry,” Summer said. “It’s easy to learn. Warren can teach you.”

Bernice had a sudden vision of being trapped on a speeding wagon pulled by runaway horses, Warren swooping in on a mighty steed and coming to her rescue. She almost sighed at the thought but caught herself. “Elle is going to have Spencer invite Warren to supper tonight. I hope that’s all right with you, Mrs. Riley.”

“Of course, dear! As long as he doesn’t bring anyone else with him,” she said, holding her nose.

“Surely he’s back to normal by now,” Summer said, though she was grimacing.

“I’m sure he is,” said Mrs. Riley. “Now let’s let Bernice have a look at what we’ve brought. After all, if you’re going to get married, we need to get started on your dress right away!”

Bernice flinched at the word
if
. Who knew what Warren was thinking at this point? Had he made up his mind? And if he had, what had he decided? Would she be forced to go home again and start over? She’d tried not to think of that possibility over the last few weeks and instead, using the memory of his kiss to reinforce her hope of becoming the future Mrs. Warren Johnson.

But she still couldn’t be
sure
… not until she heard it from him.

* * *

As it turned out, Warren declined Spencer’s offer to come to supper. Worse, Bernice knew it had nothing to do with the skunks – Spencer reported that Warren seemed, and smelled, fine.

So she still had no assurance he truly wanted to marry her. The man had just had three weeks to think about it, a long time in her book. Too long. And she was right back where she’d started – barely of interest to the man, having to hope and pray for the best. Had the kiss meant nothing to him?

“Darn skunks …”

“What was that?” Summer asked as she picked up her knitting. Finished with the supper dishes, the women had retreated to the parlor to knit and take a second look at the fabric samples Mrs. Riley had brought home.

“Nothing. I just wish …” Bernice tried to perk herself up. “I wish Warren had come over.”

“Of course you do,” Elle said. “I would imagine that you miss him.”

“Miss him?” Bernice said, “No, that’s not it at all.”

“Really?” Summer asked doubtfully. Then she went pale. “Oh dear …”

“Oh no, is it …?” Elle asked.

“Yes,” Summer said through gritted teeth. She quickly got up and darted from the room.

The others watched her go. “Well, at least now she’s sure,” Mrs. Riley commented. “I wish she’d tell Clayton – I don’t know what she’s waiting for!”

“How come the baby doesn’t ail her in the morning?” Bernice asked. “I thought they always ailed their mamas in the morning.”

“Every child is different, dear,” Mrs. Riley explained. “With Clayton, it was morning, but Spencer was a night owl. I felt miserable in the evenings for a few months!”

Bernice made a face. “Oh dear.”

“Now, don’t you worry about that. You won’t suffer the same for awhile yet – you have to get married first!”

“And I never had much of a problem with being sick,” Elle added. “So you never know.”

“Which reminds me!” Mrs. Riley interjected. “You need to decide which of these fabrics you like best.”

Bernice eyed the small pile on a nearby table. “Yes, ma’am.”

Mrs. Riley and Elle looked at her, then glanced at each other. “What’s wrong, dear? You don’t have to sound so sad about it.”

“Mrs. Riley,” Bernice said. “Warren hasn’t made any effort to see me the last three weeks.”

“And with good reason too, I’d say!”

“No, besides that. He didn’t even come yesterday. At this point, I’m not sure he will.”

“Well, why don’t we wait and see? In fact, why don’t we all go into town tomorrow and pick up the fabric together?”

Bernice smiled. “I’m sorry. I just … I don’t want to be disappointed.”

Mrs. Riley leaned forward in her chair, reached over and patted Bernice’s hand. “It’s understandable, dear, after all that’s happened since you’ve been here. But even if Warren has changed his mind, there are plenty of other men. In fact …”

Elle’s eyes widened. “What? What is it? You’ve got that look in your eye!”

Bernice glanced between the two. Mrs. Riley looked positively elated; Elle, horrified. “What?”

“The Weaver men will be in town! Why, you’ll have three more to choose from! If Warren doesn’t come through – and I’m not saying he won’t, dear, but at least you’ll have a backup plan.”

“Ma!” Elle blurted. “You can’t … I mean … Bernice with one of …
them
?!?”

“Oh, she’ll be fine with either of the twins!” Mrs. Riley said with a wave of her hand. “Or with Daniel, for that matter. Perhaps Daniel most of all!

Bernice froze, her heart in her throat. She’d heard enough about the “Weaver clan” to not want to have anything to do with them. The way Spencer and Clayton talked about them the other night at supper made them sound like barbarians – Visigoths taking a break from attacking the Romans. If she married one of them, would she be living in a cave?

“Now back to the fabric, dear,” Mrs. Riley said with a bright smile.

Bernice gulped, but stared at the samples laid out before her on the table. Her eyes gravitated to a pretty white swatch inlaid with tiny daisies. “That one,” she managed.

“Wonderful!” Mrs. Riley exclaimed. “Tomorrow we’ll go to town and get what we need! No matter what happens, dear, you’ll be marrying someone very soon!”

Bernice forced a smile.
Someone …

* * *

Warren carried the ladder to the next tree, leaned it against the trunk, then scrambled up to check the upper branches. He expected a good yield this year and wanted to make sure each and every tree was as healthy as it could be. It was a huge job to inspect them all, but better safe than sorry.

Another farmer, a few miles out of Nowhere on the opposite side of town, had complained to Grandpa that his trees weren’t doing so well, and the news had sent Warren into a flurry of activity to make sure their orchards weren’t suffering the same thing. Disease happened – and when it did, a farmer often couldn’t do much about it.

He spent several more hours peering into the branches before deciding to call it a day. Besides, it was getting dark, so he didn’t have much choice. He supposed he could’ve waited until morning to get this last section done, but he wanted to be done with the task so he could focus on Bernice again.

Bernice … the poor lady was probably wondering why he hadn’t come to supper. But she had to understand that the life of a farmer wasn’t on a set schedule like a banker’s or a shopkeeper’s. It was seven days a week, sunup to sundown even on good days – and when natural disasters threatened, sometimes round-the-clock. He hoped she was up to it.