The Forever Man(10)

"Well, I never … " Esther spouted. "You're going to marry up without any fuss at all, Johanna?"

Marjorie set her jaw. "Don't know why your friends can't be here, too."

Selena Phillips bent closer to where Johanna stood. "Perhaps you'd  rather do this privately, Johanna. You've always been a quiet girl."

Johanna shook her head. "Yes … I mean, no, I don't mind if you want to be  here for the wedding, Miss Marjorie. You too, Miss Esther. And you," she  said finally, reaching to touch Selena's arm.

"Kinda sudden, isn't it?" Marjorie asked, her eyes narrowing as she  turned to the man who'd set tongues wagging' for the past hour or so.

"I'm Tate Montgomery, ma'am. And I've been known to make quick decisions  in my life. This one promises to be the best idea I've ever had. Miss  Johanna has agreed to be my wife, and I'd like to invite you and your  friends here to watch us do the deed."

"You new in town, Mr. Montgomery?" Esther Turner chirped.

"Pretty much so, ma'am. But I'm well established already. The bank has  my money, so I guess I'm on my way to being a solid citizen. I've got an  account started at your husband's store, Mrs. Turner. And here I am in  church. What more could you ask of a man?"

Behind them, boots clumped up the aisle, and an impatient voice heralded  a new arrival to the group. "Mrs. Jones, I've got your boys in the  wagon. If you don't want to walk home, you'd better be on your way."

Marjorie turned to face her husband. "There's to be a wedding, Hardy. Bring the boys back on in and wait, why don't you?"

His keen eyes scanned the small group. "You the groom?" he asked  sharply, pinning Tate with his stare. "You marrying up with Fred  Patterson's girl?"

At Tate's smile, he nodded vigorously. "About time she found herself a  man. She's too young to be wearin' herself to a frazzle out there."                       
       
           



       

Tate swallowed a chuckle. If nothing else, Hardy Jones was blunt. "I'm  honored to be marrying the lady. She's agreed to be a mother to my  boys."

From her other side, Johanna heard a hushed sound that sounded  dreadfully like words she'd never dared to allow past her lips. She  darted a glance at Timmy and Pete. Timmy's head was nodding, and his one  foot swinging several inches above the floor. Pete was glaring at the  floor, his lower lip stuck out, his face flushed and darkened with  anger.

"Pete?" she whispered. Surely Tate had told him the wedding would be today, hadn't he?

Dark eyes met hers and Pete's mouth twisted into a pout. "I don't need a mother," he whispered. "I got my pa."

"Oh, Pete!" She bit her lip. Whatever Tate had told him, it hadn't  prepared him for this. "Can we talk about this after a while?" she asked  softly, leaving the security of Tate's arm to bend closer to the boy.

"Won't do any good."

Johanna's heart beat faster as she lowered herself to the pew. Careful  not to touch the child, she blocked him from view of the others. "Maybe  we can be friends, Pete."

"I don't need any friends."

"I do." The words were faint, spoken on an indrawn breath. Johanna had  let them slip from her mouth without thinking, and only after they had  been uttered did she realize the truth they held. She didn't have a  close friend to her name. Selena Phillips had always been kind to her.  The other ladies in town had greeted her nicely and spoken to her  politely. But never had she had a real friend.

From the far side of Pete's sturdy body, a small, warm hand crept to  touch her palm as it rested on her lap. Timmy leaned forward, in peril  of falling to the floor, balancing himself oh the very edge of the seat,  and smiled at her sleepily. "I'll be your friend, Miss Johanna."

Her heart skipped a beat. Her throat ached with unshed tears, and she  blinked her eyes vigorously, lest she allow even one teardrop to fall.  "I'd like that," she whispered.

Pete roughly pushed his brother's arm aside. "I'm your friend, Timmy."

Johanna smiled at the younger boy, and then the smile faded as she  looked up at the children's father. His brow pulling into a frown, he  bent to view the three of them.

"Everything all right, Johanna? The preacher's coming back in. Are you about ready?"

Was she ready? Heaven knew she needed a boost of strength from  somewhere. She'd just been rejected by Tate's eldest boy, and that on  top of the nervous stomach she'd been struggling with all morning. And  now it didn't feel as if her legs were going to hold her upright.

Her lips curved into a shaky smile. "I'm fine, Tate." Liar, her heart cried.

His hand enclosed hers, and he tugged her gently to her feet, then led her to the altar where the minister waited.

"Last chance to back out, Johanna," he said so that no one else could hear.

Johanna thought of the cows he'd milked this morning, the hay he'd  forked into the mangers. She remembered the easy way he'd carried  furniture yesterday, his words of thanks as she served his supper. She  envisioned the task of climbing a ladder to pick apples, imagined trying  to tend to the herd of cattle all winter, when the west wind blew snow  from the big lake. And then she swallowed her doubts as she accepted the  hand he offered her.

His arm slid from around her waist, and he clasped her fingers within  his own. It would be all right, she decided. It was a good bargain, this  marriage she'd agreed to. Taking a deep breath, she fixed her gaze on  Theodore Hughes, watching him open the small book he'd drawn from his  pocket. His smile was encouraging as he lifted the cover and turned  carefully to a page he'd marked beforehand. With one more long look at  the couple facing him, he took a breath and began.

"Dearly beloved … "





Chapter Five


"I thought you'd told Pete we were going to be married today." She  hadn't been able to look Tate fully in the face since the ceremony, and  now she spoke with her back to him, her hands busy with stirring the  gravy and tending the simmering kettle of beans. The vision of the small  boy's sullen face had been in the forefront of her mind, a surprise she  hadn't planned on.                       
       
           



       

"Pete's kinda hard to sort out sometimes," Tate said quietly. "He  listened while I told him you and I were to be married, but it wasn't  what he wanted to hear, and I suspect he just pretended to himself it  wasn't going to happen."

"Did he think you were just going to stay here?"

Tate shook his head. "Who knows what a child thinks? He seemed happy  enough with being here, I agree. I doubt he'd thought about my marrying  again. We'd talked before about finding someone to watch after both  boys." His voice softened. "To tell the truth, Johanna, till I caught  sight of you, I hadn't worried too much about remarriage. I was willing  to settle for a housekeeper."

"Until you saw me, or my farm?"

"Both, maybe. I just knew this was the place I was willing to put down  roots. Don't ask me how I knew. I couldn't tell you. Any more than I  could say why I knew you'd be a woman I could marry. I gave you a whole  string of reasons why you appealed to me as a mother for my boys." He  tilted his head and eyed her knowingly. "Maybe I just wanted to make it  permanent, like you said, so you couldn't change your mind and skin out  if the going got tough."

Johanna's spoon circled the skillet slowly, swirling the thickening  gravy in a methodical fashion, a task she could manage without a whole  lot of concentration. It was a good thing, too, because her thoughts had  been in a swivet since the moment Tate Montgomery planted his mouth  against hers, sealing their bargain before God and man.

She'd expected him to graze her cheek, or maybe the corner of her mouth.  Just to make things look right. What she hadn't expected was the warmth  of his lips, or the soft brush of them against her own before he found  the spot he wanted to land on, or the impact of the male scent of him in  her nostrils. She'd inhaled sharply when his mouth touched hers,  thereby stamping the smell of his shaving soap and the aroma of freshly  washed hair and skin on her mind.

It had only lasted a second or two, that kiss he'd given her with such  ease and assurance, but the memory of it was still causing her to doubt  her sanity.

She'd been kissed before, more thoroughly and at greater length. She'd  been seduced by a man who was fairly knowledgable at the game. Her body  had known the possession of that man, had shrunk from his greater  strength at the end, had endured the rending of her flesh as her  innocence surrendered to his taking.