RNWMP: Bride for Joel Page 7

  “I would, but I’d miss the ball every time,” Violet replied.

  “Me too,” Caitlyn added. “But we’ll cheer you on.”

  Adele grinned. “Okay, but you’re missing out.” She jogged back out to the field, and within just a few minutes, more girls had come forward, wanting to play.

  Violet couldn’t help but smile as she watched the teams assemble. The boys didn’t seem to know what to do with girls in their midst, but she had no doubt that those particular females could hold their own in any fight.

  She and Caitlyn found good spots and began watching just as Adele made her first home run. Violet and Caitlyn screamed so loudly, Violet was sure she’d have no speaking voice for a week. She’d had no idea her spunky friend could also play sports so well, but there she was, running around the bases while holding her skirt out of the way. She’d done it all so effortlessly that Violet was almost tempted, but she talked herself out of it. She remembered the last time she’d tried . . . Failure. Utter failure. Adele’s hit was a complete success, however, and the look on her face said she was having the time of her life.

  After the game, everyone freshened up, and the Mounties put on their uniform jackets to look more official as they took their positions as judges of the pie contest. The three brides were nervous as they watched their husbands gather at the table.

  “I’ve heard that Ethel Wilkinson is the favorite to win,” Caitlyn said. “She’s won three years in a row.”

  “Ethel from the restaurant?” Violet asked.

  “The same.”

  Violet wouldn’t be surprised if Ethel won—the pie they’d had at the restaurant the other day was fantastic.

  “Oh, and the leftover pie will be served at the dinner later,” Caitlyn went on. “I’m so glad—it looks delicious.”

  Mr. Dandy stood up front and announced the rules for the contest, explaining that each pie had been cut and that the judges were receiving one slice so it would be harder for them to identify which pie was which.

  “All that effort I put into hiding my pie,” Violet mumbled.

  “Don’t feel bad—we all did,” Adele replied. “Oh, look—they’re starting.”

  Each of the Mounties picked up their forks and took a bite of pie, then focused on their wives, probably hoping for some kind of hint. The wives had thought such a thing might happen, so they did their best to look indifferent. It was hard, especially when Richard waggled his eyebrows, but Violet wasn’t about to make this any easier on him. She wanted him to get it right through some sort of magical married-person connection.

  After they’d tasted several, Violet leaned over and said to her friends, “They’re starting to look uncomfortable.”

  “Is it because they don’t know, or because they’re getting full?” Caitlyn asked with a chuckle. “I know I couldn’t eat that much pie.”

  A few minutes later, the Mounties conferred once again, and the brides squeezed each other’s hands. This was the moment of truth—had they pleased their husbands?

  Mr. Dandy stood up front and announced, “Our loyal Mounties have made their decisions. It might not come as a surprise to anyone, but they’ve each chosen their wives’ pies as their personal favorites.”

  A groan went up in the crowd, but Mr. Dandy held up his hands. “Now, hold on there a moment. They didn’t know which pies their wives made—I only connected the dots just now as we identified their winners. They’ve promised on their honor that they didn’t peek. And Commander Jacobs has chosen the pie made by Hazel Hughes as his favorite.”

  Miss Hazel’s cheeks were pink as she accepted her round of applause.

  “We did it,” Adele said, squeezing her friends’ hands again. “We did it!”

  Violet grinned at Richard, who had made eye contact with her over the crowd. She didn’t know how he’d managed it, but she was proud of him.

  “And the overall winner of today’s event is Ethel Wilkinson,” Mr. Dandy announced, and the crowd cheered. It didn’t bother Violet at all that she hadn’t won—she’d done this for the fun of it, not because she wanted a ribbon. The other contestants seemed to feel the same as they gathered around and congratulated Ethel, who had tears streaming down her cheeks and a giant smile on her face.

  With the contest officially over, Richard came out from behind the table and found Violet. “How did I do?” he asked.

  “You were amazing,” she replied. “How did you figure it out?”

  “No idea. Your pie just tasted like you,” he replied. “If you know what I mean . . . that came out badly.”

  “But you’ve only kissed me once,” Violet said, choosing to flirt with him a little bit. A few days ago, she never would have dreamed of it, but now . . . well, now she felt like flirting.

  A long, slow grin moved across his face. “Well, we’re going to have to do something about that, aren’t we?”

  “In a little while. I think we’re supposed to be helping set up for the dinner now,” she said, stepping out of his grasp. Flirting was even more fun than she’d imagined it would be. She should have tried it sooner.

  The men got to work laying pieces of wood out on the ground to create a dance floor while the women arranged tables for the food. Violet kept wondering if Richard would ask her to dance. She wasn’t very good at it, but at least she was somewhat acceptable, unlike her skills at almost every sport. If he asked her, at least she wouldn’t trip all over herself or break any of his toes. She wondered what it would be like to be held in his arms. Warm and comforting, she was sure—that’s how he always made her feel even when they were just standing side by side.

  As soon as the tables were ready, everyone brought their contributions, arranging everything according to food type with all the desserts at the end, including the leftover pie from the contest. The sight of it all made Violet’s mouth water, and she realized she hadn’t eaten that day. She’d been so busy getting ready that it hadn’t crossed her mind. She’d served a plate to Richard, told herself she’d grab something in a minute, and then never had. She’d likely make a spectacle of herself at dinner by eating everything in sight, but then, she supposed that’s what you were supposed to do at picnics.

  Now finished with the task she’d been assigned, she looked around to see what else she could do to help and saw Mrs. Tremblay walking across the grass toward the party. With her was a tall man and a boy who must be her husband and son. They looked unsure about approaching, their eyes darting back and forth, and Violet noticed several of the townspeople stiffening as they looked their way. Well, that wasn’t all right—not at all.

  She crossed the grass and greeted them with her arms held wide. “Hello! I’m so glad you came. You must be Mr. Tremblay, and I never heard your name,” she said, turning to the boy.

  “Adam,” he mumbled. He must have been around thirteen—an excellent age for mumbling.

  “Adam, are you hungry? There’s so much food over there, I don’t know how we’ll manage to eat everything.”

  Mr. Tremblay held up a sack. “I brought some jerky. Smoked it myself. Thought it might do for an offering.”

  Violet wasn’t sure what jerky even was, but she smiled brightly. “Of course! I’d love to try some.”

  He reached into the sack and pulled out a withered piece of meat, handing to her wordlessly.

  She didn’t know what to think. She’d always thought that if meat was dried out, it should be thrown away, but he was looking at her expectantly, as though her approval would make the difference for him. Mrs. Tremblay bit her bottom lip, and that decided it for Violet. If she wanted to show this family that she was sincere about her friendship, she would accept the gift.

  She opened her mouth and took a big bite.

  “Oh, my,” she said after she’d chewed and swallowed. Smoky wood flavor had exploded in her mouth, along with the flavor of the meat and spices. It was different, but it was delicious. “You say you smoked this? How?”

  “I have an old metal barrel out back of our p
lace. I fill it with wood, get the fire good and hot, and then I hang the meat from the top,” he said, his features coming alive as he spoke. “The smoke dries out the meat, like you see. It stays good for a long time this way, and you can take it hunting or traveling.”

  “It’s delicious. Thank you so much for sharing it.” She was so glad that it really was delicious and that she didn’t have to pretend to enjoy it.

  Caitlyn and Adele walked up just then, each with their husbands. The two Mounties stepped forward and shook Mr. Tremblay’s hand.

  “Adele, you’ve got to try this,” Violet said, handing her the part of the jerky she hadn’t tried yet. She knew better than to offer any to Caitlyn, the vegetarian.

  She could see the same questions she’d had flit across Adele’s face, but then her friend took a bite and smiled. “Oh, this is good,” she said. “I’d love to learn how you do this—maybe the fact that I sometimes overcook meat would come in handy here.”

  The Tremblays laughed and visibly relaxed, and Violet laughed along with them. She couldn’t help the reactions of the people in town, but she could offer a hand of fellowship herself, and she was so glad her friends and their husbands had come over.

  But where was Richard?

  She turned and started scanning the crowd for him. Oh, there he was, coming around the corner of one of the buildings across the way. But what was he doing clear over there?

  He spotted her too and weaved through the gathering people, holding something in his hand. When he reached her, he held up a small bouquet of wildflowers. “I realized a minute ago that I hadn’t brought you any flowers today, so I went and got some. No vase, but I figured you wouldn’t mind.”

  Her heart was touched. “You left a party to go pick flowers for me?”

  He shrugged. “Parties are much more fun if I know my wife is happy.”

  She took the flowers and looked down at them, overcome with emotion. Had anyone ever done anything so sweet for her? She didn’t think they had, and she had to swallow a few times before she could speak. “They’re beautiful,” she said at last. “Thank you.”

  “Are you hungry?” he asked. “It looks like they’re almost ready to open the food line.”

  “I’m absolutely starving, but wait just one moment.” She took the stems of the flowers she held and twisted them into a stick shape, then pushed that through the bun at the back of her head. “What do you think?” she asked, turning to the side so he could see.

  “I think it’s perfect.” He held out his arm. “Shall we go?”

  “We shall.”

  They stepped into line, and Violet only took the smallest spoonfuls of each dish, wanting to taste as many different things as she could. Even at that, her plate was full before they got to the end, and they went and found a place to sit on the grass beneath a sprawling shade tree.

  “I’ve always wanted to take my wife on a picnic,” Richard said after he swallowed his first bite.

  “Oh? Why haven’t you?”

  “Because I only just got married, and I haven’t had the time.”

  “That does complicate things. I’m sure your wife would be more than glad to go with you once you have that time.”

  He looked hopeful. “Do you think so?”

  “I have it on good authority.”

  “I’m very glad to hear that.”

  Violet couldn’t decide where on her plate to start eating—it all looked so good. So she started at the left and worked her way around clockwise. So many different and unique flavors interspersed with some dishes she was already familiar with. She felt as though her plate represented Flying Squirrel itself—the old and the new, the common and the exotic, cultures and traditions and beliefs all blending into one community. She looked over and saw the Tremblays sharing a table with the Dandys and smiled. They might not be popular anytime soon, but perhaps with some encouragement, hearts would soften, and the less tolerant people in town would realize that they had no reason for their unkind reactions.

  “Only one thing could make this day better, and that’s if my wife would consent to dance with me later,” Richard said, pulling her attention back to him.

  “I think she’d like that,” Violet replied even as her heart skipped a beat. She couldn’t explain how very much she’d like that—there weren’t words.

  Chapter Nine

  In her yellow dress, Violet looked more like a daffodil, and Richard couldn’t focus on anything else for longer than a few minutes at a time. He was quite certain that he’d fallen in love with his wife, and it was such a curious sensation, he wanted to explore the possibility. With each day, the more comfortable they grew with each other, the more he wanted to share with her and experience with her. He’d promised her a trip to see the stars the following night, and he found himself looking forward to it as much as she was. The chance to see the stars with her, although he’d seen them countless times already, sounded like a wonderful adventure.

  When the music started, he took Violet’s hand in his and guided her out to the dance floor, then took her in his arms. This was the first time he’d held her, and the feeling was like nothing he’d ever experienced before. He felt strong and protective, and yet open and vulnerable. He was sworn to be her guardian, and yet he knew that she could crumble him with a word if she ever chose to walk away. He’d never been in this position before, but as he contemplated it, he realized how very common these feelings were . . . they were felt by every man who had ever been in love.

  It was official. He was hooked.

  As they swayed back and forth, she looked up into his eyes. “What are you thinking about?”

  “I was thinking about our trip to see the stars tomorrow night.” It wasn’t a complete lie—he had been thinking about it. Just . . . several minutes ago and not right now. He wasn’t ready to share his thoughts of right now. He wanted to phrase them just right, find the perfect moment . . . in truth, he was worried that she would reject what he had to say. Not that she’d given him reason to feel that way, but he’d never professed love to a lady before because he’d never felt it, and he didn’t want to do it wrong.

  “I can’t wait,” she replied. “Should we bring a blanket?”

  “That would be nice,” he said, smiling, hoping she couldn’t see all the emotions flitting across his face.

  “I think I’ll make some cookies too. Stargazing is always more fun with cookies.”

  “Everything in the world is more fun with cookies.” He swung her around and then brought her close again, even closer than she’d been before. Proper society would say he was holding her too close, but this was Flying Squirrel, and the rules were a little different up here. Besides, he was the law, and if he was doing something wrong, well, he didn’t think anyone would dare challenge it.

  Far too soon, the dance was over, and everyone pitched in to gather up the dishes, disassemble the dance floor, and return everything to the way it was before. Richard noticed how tirelessly Violet worked, but she had a bright smile on her face the entire time as though she was enjoying the effort.

  When they reached the cabin, Richard knew he needed to go to sleep because he had the early shift again the next day, but he reached out and caught Violet’s hand and tugged her into his arms again.

  “You said something earlier about kissing,” he said, watching her face for a reaction.

  She quickly hid a smile behind a serious expression. “Yes, I did. I was stating my opinion that there was a certain lack of such things taking place around here as of late.”

  “Well, let’s see what we can do about that.” He pulled her in all the way, then lowered his head and kissed her, feeling her relax in his arms. She was so delightful to hold.

  He let her go regretfully, kissed her once more on the forehead, and stepped back. “Goodnight, Mrs. Murray,” he said.

  “Goodnight, Mr. Murray. Thank you for an absolutely wonderful day.” She waved at him over her shoulder as she walked toward the bedroom, and he sank o
nto the couch. It was official—he was smitten. Totally, completely smitten.

  ***

  Violet went to church the next morning with the other brides, but she had the hardest time concentrating on the sermon. That night, she’d be going with Richard to see the stars. She had already set aside the blanket she thought would be best for spreading on the grass, and she knew what kind of cookies she’d make that afternoon, and now all that remained was for nighttime to come. But being antsy would only make time go slower, so she tried to calm down and pay attention. She’d always loved the story of the prodigal son—maybe it would help take her mind off things.

  As soon as she got back home, though, she went into a flurry of making dinner, starting bread, and mixing up cookie dough. She wanted everything to be perfect for their outing, and that started with making sure they had a good dinner. A beef roast with vegetables, fresh bread, and cheese should do the trick.

  Richard got home right about the same time the roast came out of the oven, and he grinned. “Are you still trying to fatten me up?”

  “Absolutely. It’s my new purpose in life.” She went up on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek, rather astonished at her own forwardness, and then chastising herself for being astonished. It was the twentieth century, after all. If she felt like kissing her husband, she should do it, and he certainly didn’t seem to mind.

  She bounced up and down a bit while they ate, unable to contain herself, and finally he started to laugh. “You just can’t wait, can you?” he said. “You realize that we have hours yet before dark.”

  “I realize that, but it doesn’t make it any easier to wait,” she replied. “I’m just so excited.”

  “You and your stars.” He shook his head with an indulgent smile. “I’ll tell you what. After dinner, why don’t you show me some of your astronomy books? Tell me about all your favorite stars. That will help pass the time, won’t it?”

  “Oh, that’s a wonderful idea.” Was he really interested, or was he just trying to calm her down? She didn’t actually care about his motive—she was just so pleased that he would sit and talk with her about something she loved so much.