Morning Glory (21 page)

Franny met them at the edge of the yard and scolded
Briar for disappearing right when the cake was about to
be cut. She shooed them toward the table where Judith
and Cecil were already waiting. Pressed in the throng
of children, adults and friends, no one noticed that
Briar still held onto Clara's hand. No one except Clara,
who thought her face would go up in flames at any
moment. Tomorrow's gossip vine was going to grow
ten feet and from the smile on Tilly's face, Clara would
spend half the day listening to her questions.

Judith cut the first piece of cake and fed a bite to
Cecil. Then he put a small piece into her mouth. A roar
went up from the children, who'd been eyeing the sugary confection all morning and who'd been promised
they could have a piece after the bride and groom cut it.

Briar released Clara's hand and disentangled himself
from the crowd. He made his way to the newlywed
couple and raised a cup of punch. "A toast. May your
love last as long as your marriage and may that last
until you draw your last breath."

Clara thought she'd swoon for sure. Such a lovely
expression. She'd remember it forever because that's
what she wanted in her life. A love that would last until
she drew her last breath.

Libby ran to Clara and grabbed her hand. "Come on
Clara, Judy said we can eat cake now."

Clara looked down at the little dark-haired, blueeyed child dressed in her best Sunday dress of pale pink
lace. The hem had a tear in it, but Beulah or Bessie
could mend that tomorrow. Libby's shoes were dusty
from running and playing with her new-found cousins,
but those could be wiped clean before Sunday.

"I don't think I want cake just yet, but we can get in
line for you to have a piece. Don't tell the kids, but
when that one is gone, I saw another in the kitchen. Not
all decorated up pretty but the same recipe with the
same sugar icing on the top."

"Is it a secret?" Libby asked.

Clara nodded. "It's our secret."

Libby grinned impishly and tugged at Clara's hand.

From the upstairs bedroom window, a lady looked
down at the reception. She pushed back the curtain and
watched Briar leave the crowd gathered in front of the table. He said something and held up a cup in a toast.
Everyone clapped, especially the children. So many
backwoods people in one setting and all kin to Briar or
else those dirty oil men who were his friends.

Which one was Libby? She was four on her last
birthday, so that narrowed down the prospects a little
bit. However, it was impossible with so many children
running around to tell which was which. Most of them
had dark hair they inherited from the Nelsons and all of
them were too far away to tell if their eyes were light
blue. Maybe Libby's eyes had changed since she was a
month old. Perhaps they'd turned hazel or even green.
She hoped not. If she could give her daughter one legacy, she would hope it would be her blue eyes. They
would take her farther in life than money.

One child in a lace dress ran across the yard and up
to a lady. She slipped her hand in the woman's and even
the woman behind the curtain could tell they were well
acquainted, perhaps even mother and child since they
went to the cake table together. No, that wouldn't be
Libby. Not unless Briar had remarried, and the last
word she had from mutual friends was that he wasn't
even interested in another woman.

Hill music drifted up through the noise and confusion into the open window. She hated that sound.
Banjoes. Guitars. A scrub board one of the men played
with two spoons and the ever-grating fiddle. Briar used
to say that it made the heart glad to listen to hill music.
All it did was grate on her nerves. Music should be soft, classical and soothing to the soul, and a violin was
made to play softly, not fast and whining.

She watched Briar go to the woman and lead her out
to a crude dance floor. He signaled the musicians and
they played a slow song, but it was still hill country
music. He drew the woman into his arms. It surely
wasn't one of his many sisters. The woman gazed up
into his eyes too intently for that. So Briar had found
someone in this wide spot in the road. How amusing.
She pulled a rocking chair over to the window and sat
down to wait.

"Thank you. I can't remember the last time I
danced," Clara told Briar.

Briar led her off the dance floor and toward the
tables laden down with food. "You are quite welcome.
Shall we go fill up a plate and eat? I think I've worked
up an appetite."

Tilly nudged her on the arm when they passed and
Clara shot her a serious look. Tilly winked and went
back to her waiting court.

Clara was famished, so she loaded her plate as high
as Briar did his. Granny Anderson used to say that
women who ate like sparrows at social gatherings might
be socially correct, but they dang sure went hungry.

Briar noticed that Clara wasn't a bit bashful. He
liked that. It reminded him of his own family. Women
from Kentucky didn't mince their food or their words.
They were always open and honest. If you didn't want an honest answer, you darn sure didn't ask them a question. And if there was food on the table, they ate.

He led her to a table with a bunch of children at one
end. He set his plate down and pulled out a chair for her.
They busied themselves with napkins and arranging
their plates and glasses of cold lemonade. Clara had a
crazy urge to hum along with the purring feeling down
deep in her chest.

"Good barbecue," she said.

"Cletus, one of my older brothers, has a way with a
barbecue. Pork, Beef, Venison. Don't seem to matter
what kind of meat. He has a knack with it. Dad was
always working with his recipe. Cletus learned from
him. I think they use about a pint of moonshine in the
sauce they mop on the spit-turned beef. Tenders up the
meat really well"

"Does he share the recipe?"

"I don't think so. Last I heard, Franny had promised
to give out her chocolate cake recipe for it and Cletus
just laughed. And he loves that chocolate cake as much
as he does his children. He asked me to sneak around
and watch her stir up her cake so he'd have both
recipes. Only thing I could see amongst the slinging of
flour and sugar and eggs was a cup of moonshine. I
guess they've got the same secret and neither one of
them is willing to share"

"That's so funny. Is there one of those chocolate
cakes on the dessert table?" Clara looked around.

"Of course. Haven't had a family get-together in the last hundred years in the hills without Franny's mother's chocolate cake. Franny is the only one who got the
recipe before Miz Ralley died. It'll be the two-layer
cake with thick, dark icing, and there are two more in
the kitchen. And she'll save the last piece for Cletus"

"But the recipe would be in the family if they
shared"

"That's right, but it won't happen," Briar said. "It's
the way the family teases each other. Didn't y' all ever
go on with each other?"

"Tilly and I tease sometimes, but not like that," she
nodded.

"Guess it's because there's so many of us. We're
parctically a town of our own in Kentucky. Did you get
a taste of the potato salad yet? It's Cletus' wife's recipe.
She doesn't share either. It's her specialty."

"Got moonshine in it?"

"Wouldn't know. No one's ever seen the dressing she
makes for it, but I wouldn't be a bit surprised. Coralynn
has her own still and there's plenty of it for family use
of course," he grinned.

"And she'd never sell it, would she?" Clara asked
with faked astonishment.

"Yes, she sells it. Cletus or Franny are family and
she makes them pay full price for a quart"

"Maybe we ought to make sure she and Tilly get
introduced," Clara said.

"Why? Neither of them would tell a thing about their
recipes. But I will tell you that Coralynn has her moth er's smoked barrels to store it in. Turns it a pale amber
color and gives it a distinct flavor. Wouldn't know what
Tilly does to make hers unique, and if I know a good
`shiner, no one else will ever know either."

"Don't call her that. She and Coralynn are both simply good businesswomen." Clara put a spoonful of
potato salad in her mouth and tried to figure out what
was in it so she could tell Dulcie. It was the best she'd
ever eaten. She could see celery seed but the rest was so
perfectly blended there were no separate flavors.

"I suppose they are that for sure. Coralynn learned to
make the recipe back when she was a young girl. Her
grandfather taught her," Briar said. "She's the sister-inlaw over there in the purple dress dancing with Cecil."

Clara looked up to see a blond-haired woman with a
full bosom and tiny waistline. She and Cecil were dancing a fast reel that fairly well took Clara's breath away
just watching them. Thank goodness she and Briar had
shared a slow waltz. Being that close to him had rendered her senseless; she couldn't imagine whirling
around like Coralynn keeping time with feet that
moved so fast they were a blur.

"I'll never remember all their names," Clara finally
said.

"It'll take a while. I expect you'll hear about them
until you're sick of their names by the time the next
week is over. Libby is happy as a lark with so many
kinfolks coming to visit and you'll hear about it for
weeks. She's been raised mostly by adults. To have all these children running around is like turning her loose
in a candy store."

"We wouldn't ever get sick of her or her talking.
Look over there at Beulah and Bessie, both of them
watching her as if she was their own grandchild. She's
just what the inn needed. I'm glad you asked us about a
place for her."

Briar kept eating. Things were working out even better than he'd ever imagined. Moving to Healdton had
been the wisest idea he'd ever had. Libby was getting
so much attention, she'd probably be spoiled rotten by
the end of a year. Judith and Cecil were so happy he
was more than a little jealous. For the first time since
Libby's mother walked out the door, he was drawn to
another woman. Yes, sir, things were surely looking up.

He held those thoughts for exactly thirty seconds
before a forkful of barbecued beef landed on the front
of his white shirt and ran down across the buttons to
stop at the top of his silver belt buckle. He rolled his
eyes and swore under his breath.

Clara looked up and saw the mess on Briar's shirt
and began to giggle. Her hands began to shake in merriment and suddenly the fork she had laden with baked
beans dumped on the front of her dress and slithered
down to the hem before it stopped.

"Guess we'd best go find a washcloth and clean this
mess up," she said.

"I can change shirts. There's soap in the bathroom if
you want to sponge as much of that off as you can."

"Reckon any of your employees or relatives would
he interested in kissing a clumsy woman?" she asked as
she lay her napkin beside a near empty plate.

"Clara, as beautiful as you are, they wouldn't even
see the stains," Briar said honestly, holding out his hand
to her.

"This has been a wonderful day" Clara accepted the
help but dropped his hand quickly. The feelings evoked
when her fingers touched his were enough to set off
sparks.

"I swear you have done a complete turnaround since
that first day you found out I was an oil man" Briar led
the way across the lawn and into the house.

"And I can turn back around just as fast, so don't get
too happy in that shirt," she smarted off.

"I'm fixin' to change it, lady"

"And by the time you do, I may be all up in arms
again about oil riffraff coming to Healdton," she said.

He stood aside and motioned for her to go up the
stairs ahead of him. "Bathroom is at the end of the hall.
It won't take me long to change my shirt. I don't suppose you would want to help me?" He raised a dark
eyebrow rakishly.

"Talk is going to set Healdton, Oklahoma on fire by
nightfall. I'm already a ruined woman coming into the
house with you. All of the guests saw us. Beulah and
Bessie will have a lecture ready. Nellie and Cornelia
will be aghast. So no, sir, I do not want to help you
change your shirt." Clara stopped at the open door.

He grinned and eased around her into his room, but
he didn't shut the door behind him. "Can't blame a man
for asking."

"Hello, Briar," a silky smooth feminine voice said
from a rocking chair next to the window.

Clara stooped dead in her tracks. If she'd had a
choice of going on to the bathroom to clean baked
beans from her dress or dropping dead, she'd have had
to ask the mortician to come measure her for a pine
box. Her feet were cemented to the floor with glue and
her head swirled. He'd been flirting with her all day
and had a woman in his bedroom at the same time.

Briar's voice was icy cold. "Lorianne, what are you
doing here?"

"Why, darlin', I've come home to be a loving wife
and mother," the woman said. "Who's the little bit of
fluff you brought with you? Don't you think you need
to bring her on in here and introduce her to your wife?"

"Leave Clara out of this and tell me what you're really doing here" Briar crossed his arms just inside the
door. She was still picture beautiful. Dark hair styled in
the latest fashion. Blue eyes. Wearing red satin
trimmed in matching lace and shoes to match. Her hat
probably cost as much as Judith's wedding. The same
woman who'd stolen his heart and then broken it in a
million pieces.

With a racing heart, Clara finally moved her feet
from the floor and started back to the foyer. Briar's
back was to the door and he didn't see or hear her, but she stole a glance through the open door. Sitting in a
rocking chair beside the window was none other than
Lorianne Lawdry, the most famous actress on
Broadway. Good Lord! That was the Lorianne he'd
talked about! Briar had been married to the lady who
graced the cover of at least one magazine cover a
month. That was Libby's mother and she'd just said she
was home to stay. There was no way in God's great
green earth Briar Nelson would ever look at someone
like Clara Anderson after he'd been married to her.
Clara eased out the front door and calmly made her
way through the pecan grove and across the stile to
Tucker's farm. When she got to the house she slid into
a rocking chair on the back porch, put her head in her
hands and fought back tears.