Morning Glory (12 page)

* * *

He figured he'd be asleep the minute his head hit the
pillow, but he was dead wrong. He pondered over the
sassy woman downstairs facing a multitude of
demons. The fact that she was dark-haired and blueeyed didn't help matters a bit, but Briar was one of
those men good women shunned. Nice women didn't
want the kind of man he was; not when they found out
the truth about him. Not even if he was wealthy. He
pounded his feather pillow into submission and shut
his eyes tightly. That merely removed all distraction so
he could concentrate even more fully on Clara. He
snapped them open and stared at the shadows on the
ceiling created by the shifting clouds across the full
moon. Finally he made a painful decision, the only one
that would work. By morning he'd be gone and he'd
only come back to Healdton when and if Cecil found a
way to buy the farm he wanted. Healdton would be a
wonderful place to bring his daughter, Libby, and if he
didn't have to live right in the house with Clara, then
perhaps it wouldn't be so difficult. He'd only see her
occasionally on Main Street. Maybe only once or
twice a year.

Clara wrapped her arms around her middle, stunned
silence surrounding her like a warm shroud. Briar had
kissed her and she'd enjoyed it. Of all the men in the
entire world why did Briar Nelson-nothing but oil
riffraff-have to be the one to kiss her? Emotions
she'd buried years ago rose up like cool ice-capped mountains from a dusty desert plain. She touched her
lips, still warm from Briar's kiss. Her insides
hummed, but not a sound escaped her lips. Still, she
could feel the purr as surely as if she held a cat close
to her chest.

She tried to settle her heart into a steady rhythm as
she picked up the letter. Suddenly it didn't seem as
important as it had a few minutes earlier. She held it up
to the light. Nothing showed through the slightly yellowed envelope. She heard Briar's bedroom door shut
ever so gently. Now she was alone with the difficult
past in the form of a letter.

Percy didn't have power over her, she argued with
the statement Briar had made.

No, she was the one with the control.

Oh, sure. If you'd been in command, Percy wouldn't
have held sway over you all this time, now would he?

"Hush," she hissed and laid the letter on the table.

Her mind went back to when she'd opened the door
and found Percy standing on the porch with a worn
suitcase in one hand and a Bible in the other. He'd
introduced himself as the preacher who was having a
tent revival in town and needed a place to rent for a
week. The flirting began right there with nothing but a
screen door between them. At the end of seven days,
she'd thought she was in love. Looking back and being
totally honest, she admitted she'd never really loved
Percy. He was the way out of Healdton.

Slowly, she reached for a box of matches from the edge of the kitchen stove and lit a candle. She carefully carried it and the letter to the front porch and set it
on the table beside the big white rocking chair. She held
the letter over the flame. Ashes drifted down onto the
porch. When there was only a small corner left to hold,
she dropped the remainder and watched it disintegrate.

She went to her bedroom and noticed the suitcase.
Tomorrow she would throw the whole thing in the trash
without even opening it. She cared less about what was
inside it than what was in the letter. Percy could rot in
hell. He would never have power over her again. The
past was gone. The future only the whisper of a hope,
as Briar had said. She'd face the present and that glorious kiss in the morning.

The resolution lasted until she crawled into bed.
Lying there, covers wadded up in a tangled mess, gazing at the shifting patterns on the wall made by a few
clouds as they slowly crept across the sky, she pondered
on her life up until that moment. Could she change
horses in the middle of the stream? Did she want to?
That was the question that stumped her. When she
looked deeply into her heart and soul, Clara Anderson
had made herself who she was. Did she really want to
alter that person? Better yet, at her age, could she? It
would mean she'd have to accept what the oil boom had
brought about in Healdton. She'd have to swallow her
pride and admit that it was progress. Maybe tomorrow
evening she and Briar could sit on the porch and talk about the idea. She fell asleep picturing him in the
white rocking chair, bent forward slightly as he listened
to her trying to sort through mistakes, hopes, fears and
plans.

"Mornin', Clara." Tilly sat down beside her cousin
on the bench. "What's going on, my cousin?"

"Nothing is going on. I just came to town to pick up
a few things and decided to rest a few minutes," Clara
said.

"Right, and I'm the queen of England. Briar
Nelson's been gone two weeks. You've been in town on
this bench every day since then. Did he promise to
come back and claim your hand in marriage over at the
Carter County courthouse? Folks are beginning to say
that you've been jilted again and gone back to your old
habits."

Clara smoothed the front of her blue gingham dress.
"He did not. He brought in that well and was gone before breakfast the next morning. I didn't want him in
my house and was glad to see him gone"

"I believe the first part. Dulcie says that you sent her
up to awaken him and he was gone. Lock, stock and
barrel. Not a note. Nothing. Just gone. I'd give a whole
still run to know what happened the night before he left.
Got anything you want to tell me?"

"No, and I'm going to fire Dulcie if she doesn't stop
talking," Clara said.

"Oh, settle down. I had to weasel it out of her. She
wasn't going to tell a thing, but I kept on until she finally said you hadn't been the same since Briar left. Tell
me what happened. Let's go over to the Hotel Ardmore
and have lunch. I'll even treat. You can talk while we
ride."

Clara stood up and started toward Tilly's automobile
parked in front of the pool hall. "Nothing to talk about,
but I'd be glad to go to lunch with you. Especially in
Ardmore."

Tilly hiked up her skirt tail and hopped into the driver's seat. The new car fairly well purred out of town.
It wasn't every day that she'd waste time and gas to go
to Ardmore just for lunch. But then Clara was her
cousin, the closest thing to a sister she'd ever had and
she needed to get out of town to get a new perspective
on things.

They rode in silence south down the potholed dirt
roads, dust boiling up around the tires like fine red tal cum powder. Tilly waited for Clara to talk. Clara
watched the countryside slide past at thirty miles an
hour. Hot wind flowed through the windows and Clara
didn't even mind the beads of sweat on her forehead
and upper lip. Getting out of Healdton for one afternoon was wonderful. Someday, maybe next week or
next month, she was going to seriously think about
buying a vehicle of her own.

"So are you going to tell me why you're going back
to town every morning?" Tilly asked as she turned east
toward Ardmore.

"Can't tell what I don't know," Clara answered.

"You are looking thirty right in the eye, girl. If you
don't know why you do things, you might really need
to start thinking about it."

"You don't have to remind me that I'm an old maid.
I like going to town every day. Other people go about
their lives and no one says anything to them" Clara
looked out the side window.

"What happened that night?" Tilly asked.

"Nothing," Clara answered. "The well came in. I got
covered in oil. Washed up at your house. Went home.
Then-"

"That's what I'm interested in. The then."

"I made Briar a sandwich because he looked so tired."

Tilly sighed. Getting anything out of Clara was like
yanking out a bobcat's teeth. "That's a miracle. You
would have been glad a few weeks before to let him
starve plumb to death"

"Well, he'd been kind that day even though we disagree on this oil boom business."

"That's all? Because he ate a sandwich with you,
now you go back to the bench every day? Does having
a late supper with a lady constitute an engagement?
Hells bells, Clara, if it does I must be engaged to a
dozen or more men."

"That's not all. I was waiting on the porch ready to
throw him out of the house if he was one minute late
and then suddenly I was offering to make supper for
him and mad at myself for doing so. But-"

Tilly waited for five miles, but Clara appeared to be
finished.

"So tell me what you talked about while he ate," Tilly
finally said.

"The letter," Clara said.

"What letter?"

"The one on the table"

Tilly gasped. "Sweet Jesus, did you lease your third
of the farms to his oil wells?"

"No, it wasn't from him. Percy's wife brought it to
me.11

Tilly braked hard and pulled the car off on the side
of the road. Traffic was light that midday, but she didn't
want to be driving when she heard the rest of the story
and Clara was going to tell every word of it. Even if
Tilly had to pry it out of her mouth.

"Okay, start from the beginning. Briar came home
and you offered to make him supper. That alone is a wonder since you hate him so much, and besides, you
can't make a sandwich without ruining it."

"I did make a sandwich, and I sliced apples to put on
the platter with it," Clara said firmly. "Then Percy's
wife knocked on the door about the time I was fretting
about someone finding me in the kitchen with that lowlife oil man. And me in my nightgown and robe, with
my hair hanging down my back." She went on to tell
the whole story up to and including the kiss.

"Then the next morning he didn't come down for
breakfast, but I figured he'd just gone on out there to his
well site. At supper he didn't come home, but, again, I
thought he'd had a busy day doing whatever it is they
do when a gusher comes in. I waited on the porch until
ten-thirty, thinking that I could get rid of him and hating myself because I didn't want to. I was afraid he was
in his room dead by the time morning came along
again, so I sent Dulcie up to get him."

"Hey, girl, you might be crazy, but I don't think your
kiss or your sandwich would really kill the man" Tilly
did not like where the story was going.

"He wasn't there. Everything was gone. I sat down in
the rocking chair after everyone left that morning and
tried to figure out what happened. That afternoon I
went to town and sat on the bench to see if I could conjure up some anger, like I had when Percy didn't come
back. Briar didn't promise one thing, so I can't be mad
about that. I can't shoot him for kissing me when I really wanted him to. It's just bizarre, Tilly. I liked that kiss. Why would I like a kiss from a man I don't even want
in my presence?"

"Because you fell for him. That's not so hard to
understand. But, Clara, you are a strong woman. Even
though the town didn't understand the thing with Percy,
I did. You were just waiting for him to come back to
town so you could take care of it permanently. Come
on, get your sass back. Be Clara-the most daring one
of us three" Tilly pulled back out on the road and continued on toward Ardmore.

"Somehow I always fall for the wrong man. At least
this one wasn't married, or maybe he was and that's the
reason he took off like a scalded hound" Clara's tone
had more determination. "I promise I won't go to the
bench anymore."

"Well, thank God; now let's go eat some lunch and
top it off with chocolate ice cream"

"And after that some serious shopping," Clara said.
"We shouldn't waste a trip all the way to Ardmore on
nothing more than food. Dulcie could have fixed us
that. I want to look for some new shoes and maybe a
church dress or two"

"Yes, ma'am. You'll be joining me and Tucker on
Sunday then?"

Clara laughed for the first time in weeks. "Yes, I
think I will. Better tell the preacher to reinforce the ceiling. It's liable to collapse when I walk in the doors.
After all, I haven't set food inside the place in a decade"

* * *

Briar awoke in a house where the only noise was soft
rain falling, cooling the heat wave in Titusville,
Pennsylvania. He slipped into a pair of dress trousers
and a white shirt, padded barefoot downstairs to the
kitchen where he put on a pot of coffee. Sitting in his
favorite chair in front of the dining room window
where the view offered deer, squirrel and birds of various kinds, he stared, unseeing, thinking of another
house back in Healdton, Oklahoma.

Dulcie would be arriving about this time. Unlocking
the door and going inside to begin breakfast. The smell
of coffee, along with bacon and sausage, would be
floating out the opened window to the porch where he'd
waited every morning for a glorious sunrise.

A tall, dark-haired lady planted a kiss on the top of
his head and brought him out of his thoughts of
Oklahoma back to reality in Pennsylvania. She laid the
morning paper on the table beside his chair. "You are
up earlier than usual. Did you have trouble sleeping?"
"Slept well. Just awoke early."