Page 17 of Always to Remember
“Then why did he tell you that?”
“For some reason, when you dig a hole you never seem to have enough dirt to fill it back in. He said digging during a full moon would make a difference.”
“I don’t see why it would.”
He rubbed the side of his nose. “It doesn’t.”
She leaned over slightly. “Did you dig a hole when the moon was full?”
Her eyes carried a spark of interest, and he was glad he could give her the answer he was certain she wanted. “Yes, ma’am. He always seemed to know everything so I gave it a try.”
“And discovered he’d pulled one over on you,” she said smugly.
He nodded, astonished that she still took enormous pride in her husband’s pranks.
“So he just told you silly things,” she said.
Tipping his hat farther off his brow, he smiled lazily. “Mostly.”
Looking away, she again fiddled with something on the other side of her saddle. He couldn’t see what was happening within the loose shirt she wore, but small waves rippled across her chest with her agitated movements. One day, he’d carve those ripples, but at the moment all he wanted was to look into those blue eyes. “But sometimes we discussed things of a personal nature.”
She jerked her head around, her finely arched eyebrows knitting together in consternation. “Like what?”
A corner of his mouth tilted higher as he looked up at the blue sky. The sky should have taken its shading from her eyes. “Things.”
“What sort of things?”
He squinted as though thinking hard. “All sorts of things.”
She yanked the hat from her head, and the thick braid she’d stuffed beneath it fell along her narrow back. He wondered what it would feel like to unravel that braid and comb his fingers through those ebony strands.
“We’ve established that you discussed things,” she said curtly. “Give me an example of something specific.”
He grimaced. “Can’t.”
“Why? Because it was so trivial you don’t remember anything he told you?”
“I remember it all. It’s just that I gave him my word I’d never tell you.”
She pounded her small fist into her thigh, but he had a feeling she would have preferred to smash it against his nose. “He made you promise not to tell me something he told you?”
Nodding, Clay fought to keep his mouth from forming a smile. “Yes, ma’am.”
“What was it about?”
Lifting a shoulder, he feigned innocence.
Her blue eyes darkened. “Was it something about me? Did he talk about me?”
“Of course he did. He loved you.”
She shook her head vigorously and tilted up her nose. “I don’t believe he ever talked to you about me. You’re just trying to make me angry.”
“I knew before you did that he was going to marry you.”
He didn’t know how she managed it, but she looked down on him even though their respective positions on the horse and wagon made their heights even.
“I was fourteen when I knew he was going to marry me,” she said haughtily. “I set my sights on him then, and I caught him.”
