Romancing Olive (13 page)

“Mr. Butler, what are you doing? It sounds as though the house is coming down,” Olive said.

“Framing the back stoop,” he replied.

Olive waited for him to continue. “Why?”

“There’s a floor already there,” Jacob said.

Olive’s lids closed slowly. Certainly this last month had taught her patience. “I know there’s a floor there. Why are you framing it?”

“Adding a bedroom for you and the girls.”

“That’s not necessary,” she began.

“You aren’t staying in this house alone at night, anymore.”

“But, Mr. Butler.”

“No, buts, about it.”

Olive pursed her lips and winced in pain. Jacob had the look about him that meant no amount of arguing would change his mind. Olive tried to take a deep breath and leaned back onto the pillows.

Beth listened to Jacob and Olive bicker and turned to Mary. “I brought dinner for tonight, Mary. But tomorrow, you’ll have to see to the cooking. Your Aunt Olive will be in no shape to feed you.”

Jacob stopped at the door and turned back to the women. “Nothing new there, Mary.”

Olive rolled her eyes at his retreating figure. “He’s right of course. I don’t know how to do many of the tasks that are required. But it certainly was ungentlemanly of him to point out my flaws so vividly.” She watched Mary bite her lip and Beth smile.

“He’s teasing you, Olive,” Beth said with a giggle.

“No, he’s right. Mary was teaching me how to do laundry when we had a visitor,” Olive said. “I suppose, we’ll have to begin again with that Mary.”

“I got it all hung,” the girl said.

“See Beth. We wouldn’t eat or have clean clothes if it wasn’t for Mary,” Olive said and smiled. “Come sit beside me Mary. You’ve had a long day.”

The girl sat down tentatively and Olive touched her back. Mary looked at her and Olive smiled and pulled the child to her shoulder. Olive held Mary tightly and kissed her dark hair. She had been so close today to losing this precious, brave child. She had been warned by the sheriff about Jeb Davis and paid scant mind to it. She had seen Mary’s reaction to the mention of her mother’s family and dismissed it. Olive’s own stubbornness had put Mary and Peg in danger. The two of them lay together quietly entwined and Olive felt her eyes close, even with the pounding and shouting of the men and children.

Olive awoke slowly, hearing the shouted whispers of the children and Jacob’s attempts to shush them. She smiled as much as her mouth would allow and took a deep breath to ease the pain in her side. They were trying so hard to be quiet that Olive could not disappoint them and kept her eyes closed. One at a time, she felt a kiss from each of the children and heard Mark’s cries slow as Jacob rocked him to sleep.

Olive lay still and listened to Jacob inch around the room. She felt the bed tilt and his hands gently pull her hair from under her back and arms. Olive kept her eyes closed and reveled in the feel of his hands as they sorted through her tangled hair. Is it a sin to let this man, not a husband, caress her like this? Would he know she didn’t sleep? Would he do it anyway? Did she care? Olive felt the first tentative strokes of the brush and felt sure she had died a divine death and gone straight to her maker. Olive relaxed her neck and shoulders with Jacob’s ministrations and succumbed willingly, deceitfully to his strong hands.

* * *

Jacob sat in the rocker with Mark, pumping the floor and watched Olive and the children sleep. His anger, barely contained today, had drifted to fear and he found himself looking from one sleepy face to another, as if to reassure himself all were under his roof. Jacob swallowed as he saw himself running to the house and all the horrible images that went through his head.

But the very real vision of Olive laying, battered and bruised on his porch would not go away. Jacob lay Mark down in his crib and turned to Olive. Her lip was cut wide and swollen and he didn’t know if he wanted to be with Olive the first time she looked in the mirror. Not that she was vain, but still, Jacob imagined, no woman would want to see herself like this. Olive’s hair was always pulled back tight and neat and her clothes clean. Jacob looked at her hair, her crowning glory in her head, he supposed and thought of how many years had it been that Olive had brushed the burnished mass faithfully before bed.

Jacob found her brush on the shelf and sat gingerly on the side of the bed. She was awake, he knew, but she had chosen not to face him. From the look on her face she was enjoying it. He brushed the long strands flat on the pillow above her head, and had his own secret victory. To touch this hair on the sheets of a bed as if they had awoken together or having watched her fall asleep. He brushed through methodically; working knots out and lying combed handfuls aside. 

Olive and his relationship to her was more a puzzle than he had ever known. He and Margaret had been simple, so suited, so meant to unite that he had never felt questions. They just were and would still be if she hadn’t been taken from him. But what was Olive to him? He admired her, he knew. A woman from her background, charging forward to save a niece and nephew she had never met. And she was a smart one. Olive figured out what made these children tick in no time. She loved them all and they loved her gifts of discipline and patience. But most of all, Jacob respected her courage, in the face of her shattered dreams and in the threat of real danger. He finished brushing, reluctant to quit, and placed the ivory backed brush on her valise.

* * *

The May morning came bright and crisp and clear through the window as Olive watched the children begin to stir. She was sore from head to toe and was wondering how she would get out of bed that day. Jacob started coffee and Jack arrived soon after the chickens were fed and the cow milked. The pounding began again and the children seemed to have forgotten the previous day’s horrible scene. Peg helped Olive wash her face and hands and she felt truly the invalid. Everyone ran to do her bidding and she sat amidst the chaos, propped up, only to watch. A wagon rolled in the yard and Olive heard the sheriff call to Jacob and Jack.

“Good morning, Miss Wilkins,” the sheriff said as he came in the house and doffed his hat.

“Good morning sheriff. What brings you this way so early?” Olive asked.

“Few things. First I heard you had an unwanted visitor yesterday.”

“Yes, we did,” Olive replied and noticed Jacob had ceased his pounding to lean against the doorway. “I should have heeded your warning, sheriff.”

“What happened?” the sheriff asked.

Olive retold the tale and the room grew somber. The sheriff asked Mary a few question and she replied quietly.

“I hate the idea of you and the children facing that man alone, Miss Wilkins. How are you feeling? I should’ve asked first, I suppose,” the sheriff said and pulled a chair beside Olive’s bed.

“I’ll be fine sheriff . . .”

“They weren’t alone,” Jacob interrupted.

The sheriff sat back in his chair and tilted his hat back. “Well, I don’t think Miss Wilkins would be sitting here with her mouth split open if she hadn’t been alone.”

“I was plowing. Mary shot the gun and I came,” Jacob said.

Olive watched curiously as the two men stared each other down. “I’m sure you have all the information you need sheriff. You said a few things, what else brings you out this morning?”

“A crate and a letter came for you on the train.” He stood and went outside and motioned Jacob to follow. The two men carried the wooden box back in the house and the sheriff handed her a letter. Theda had written and Olive could hardly wait to read her dear friend’s reaction. She held the envelope, fine paper, with Theda’s distinctive script boldly etching her name. Olive looked up, smiling with the thought and saw the sheriff, hat in hand, holding a bunch of flowers.

“These are for you, Miss Wilkins. I hope they brighten your day while you’re bedridden,” he said and swallowed.

Olive knew her face colored and she could not stop a shy and silly smile from forming on her face. “Why sheriff, how thoughtful. And tulips, yet.”

The sheriff grinned and turned his hat in his hand. “I grow them out back of the jail. I’m a bit of a gardener.”

“How wonderful. I have a beautiful garden at home. I would have never suspected you would have been interested in flowers.”

“Pretty flowers for a pretty lady.”

“Really, sheriff,” Olive said. “Thank you so much.”

“You take care, Miss Wilkins. I’ll be back in a few days to check on you, if you don’t mind,” the sheriff said as he stood.

Olive opened her mouth but Jacob spoke sooner.

“She’ll be fine. I’ll look after her.”

“Please do stop back and visit, sheriff,” Olive said.

“I’ll be going then. Miss Wilkins. Children. Jacob,” the sheriff said.

Jacob didn’t reply but stood instead at the door until Olive heard the wagon pull from the yard. The children were clamoring over the crate and Jacob dragged it close to Olive’s bed.

“Do you know what it is?” Mary asked.

“Yes,” Olive replied with a laugh.

“What is it?’ Luke shouted.

“My sewing machine.”

“What?” Luke asked.

“A machine that sews. I bought it last year. It stitches in half the time I can by hand,” Olive said.

The boys lost interest quickly, but Mary and Peg edged closer. “I ain’t never heard of such a thing,” Mary said. She saw Olive’s eyebrows raise and began again. “I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

Olive smiled her approval and looked up to Jacob. “Would you open it for us?”

Jacob opened the box and lifted the wood cabinet out. Olive instructed him how to attach the black metal machine and Peg touched the gold paint on the Singer. Jacob fiddled and tightened screws and set the foot pedal up. He stood back as Olive began to show the girls how it worked.

“Lot of fuss for someone who’s not staying,” Jacob said.

Olive’s smile dropped. She looked down at her hands and raised her head slowly. “I wrote Theda, nearly the first day I was here to ship my machine. I was making the children clothing at the time and knew I could do it in half the time if I had my Singer. You’re right though, I’ll have to ship it back soon.”

* * *

Jacob’s shrugged his shoulders and he thought how forlorn Olive looked when he had gone and opened his big mouth about her leaving. Nothing like the crooked smile she gave the sheriff when he handed her those damn flowers. It was downright pitiful to see the sheriff acting like a lovesick pup and Olive fluttering her lashes at the fool. He could hardly imagine Olive falling for the sickening sweet nonsense the sheriff had spouted. Apparently he was wrong.

“What did I see you and the sheriff bringing in the house, Jacob,” Jack Steele asked from the doorway.

“Its Aunt Olive’s sewing machine,” Peg said and grinned.

“A sewing machine! Wait till Beth hears. Show me how it works so I can tell her,” Jack said.

Olive explained the workings to Jack and Peg and Mary. Jacob stood back and watched the four of them nod and grin. Olive was smiling again, this time at Jack. He heard Olive tell him to bring Beth by soon and she would show her how to use it.

“If you get me a chair and help me into it, Mary, I’ll show you how quickly we can finish your dress,” Olive said.

Jacob slunk out the door and began to hammer. I’m building her a room, he thought, do you think she’s happy about that? No. I’m building shelves in a corner cupboard, too, so she doesn’t have to keep her things in that silly suitcase of hers. Is she smiling and grateful? No. Just complaining about the noise. Jacob dropped the hammer to his side, pausing. He suddenly and desperately wished Olive were smiling at him. He was building a room, trying to please a woman who was leaving. Leaving the children. Leaving him. By God those children will miss her. He would miss her as well.

“Jacob?”

He jumped around to find Jack Steele staring at him strangely. Jacob picked up the hammer and began to pound again with fervor.

“What’s eating you?”

“Nothing.”

“You ain’t talking to just nobody. I’ve known you all my life. Why you swinging that hammer like you’re about to kill somebody?” Jack asked.

Jacob shrugged his shoulders but didn’t cease his pounding. “Just don’t know why I’m bothering with this room. Me and the children will be fine the way we were when she leaves.”

“When’s she going?” Jack asked.

“Don’t know. With Olive you never can tell.”

“Them kids will miss her something terrible.”

“Yup.” Jacob measured wood and began to work his saw.

Jack Steele sat down on the stoop and leaned back on his arms. “Why don’t you ask her to stay?”

“I told her she can stay as long as she needs,” Jacob said. He stood the timber up and pounded the bottom in tight. “I’m figuring Mary and John will be ready to go with her soon.”

Jack swatted a fly from his pant leg and stared out over Jacob’s fields. “Hard life out here, alone, with three kids.”

“Yup.”

“Olive seems to like it here,” Jack said and stole a look at Jacob.

Jacob’s hammer swung loosely at his side. “Don’t start with me, Jack. I know what you’re doing.”

“Well, for pity’s sake, don’t act like it never occurred to you. Me and Bill ribbed ya a bit when she first came, being a spinster and all, but Olive ain’t bad. I like her and so does Beth. She’d make a good wife and mother,” Jack said quickly.

“I’m sure Olive would make a good wife and she’s already a good mother, even if she doesn’t know it. But that doesn’t have anything to do with me,” Jacob said without missing a hammer stroke.

Jack leaned back against a post and grimaced. “Well, I suppose you’re right. It’d be tough in that regard.”

Jacob stood straight and looked at his boyhood friend. “What in the hell are you talking about?”

Jack Steele looked around, as if checking for listeners and continued quietly, “Bedding her. She’s getting on in years and I’ll be betting she’s as cold a fish as you’d find. Skinny and pulled tight. Yeah, you’re probably right. Wait around for some good lookin’ young one to marry and bed.”

Jacob’s teeth clenched and his jaw worked side to side. “Are you helping me build this room or just going to sit around jabbering?”