The rest of Olivia’s day was filled with talking, laughing and doing her best to win the mental Battle of George. And losing. He didn’t try to kiss her again – he wasn’t even as overattentive as he’d been before. At this point the whole family probably knew he had feelings for her, but at least he wasn’t adding any fuel to that fire.
It was for the best, she kept telling herself. He’d surely be leaving before New Year’s, and she’d be alone again save for her fractured mind and a couple dozen Weavers. At night she’d go to bed and be haunted by a life she knew nothing about. Which left her with two questions:
How exactly was that “for the best”?
And when she got her memory back, would she like the life she’d had or loathe it?
“Pass the ham!” Daniel said jovially as soon as Harlan finished praying over the meal. Laughter came from the kitchen, where Rufi and some of the smaller children were eating – even the littlest Weavers knew Daniel’s weakness.
Olivia, unable to help herself, exchanged a smile with George, who sat across the table a few chairs down. He took the platter of ham from Daniel when he was done, transferred a slice to his plate and passed it on.
“Everythin’ looks mighty tasty, Ma,” Arlan said. “Ebba, ya done it again. Charity, Samijo, Bella, thank ya for the Christmas dinner.”
Olivia smiled half-heartedly and sunk an inch in her chair. She hadn’t contributed so much as a cookie. She promised herself she’d ask Ebba and Bella for cooking lessons tomorrow.
“Olivia, would you like some mashed taters?” Grandpa shoved the bowl toward her.
“Thank you.” She spooned some onto her plate. She passed the bowl to Bella and looked around the table. Everyone was serving themselves, talking, laughing and celebrating the day, but her heart wasn’t in it now. She couldn’t understand why. Even if she didn’t have her memories, shouldn’t she be making some new ones? Was the thought of George leaving affecting her that much?
She took a half-slice of ham when the platter came her way and tried to concentrate on eating. The food was delicious, the company enjoyable. Why did she feel such utter despair? It was as if she’d unwrapped a big box of sadness for Christmas. And why did it have to hit now, right when all the Weavers and Johnsons were having a grand time?
She brushed aside a tear, then another. She quickly brought a napkin to her face, pretending to wipe her mouth. What she really wanted to do was sob into it, but she didn’t want to ruin everyone’s evening. The sooner this day was over, the better off she’d be. She wiped her eyes as best she could, and no one seemed to notice.
Except George, who stared at her, eyes full of concern.
She looked back, and the pain struck her like a punch in the throat. Oh, Lord, she was falling in love with this man! And what good would it do her once he was gone? Heartache and torture would be all that was left behind.
Olivia looked away and poked at her vegetables.
“Biscuit?” Grandpa offered her the plate.
“Thank you,” she whispered, took one and passed it to Bella
“You know, Albert was just telling me about a couple he knew once,” he continued softly. “It didn’t look like they were gonna make it – hardly knew each other, in fact. But they pulled through. You know what brought them together?”
Olivia reluctantly turned to him. “What?”
“One bad man. Not to say a villain will help, but sometimes we all need something to give things a nudge.”
“Grandpa,” she sighed, “please don’t talk in riddles.”
“But it’s true. Albert and Bob have been telling me all sorts of stories.” He glanced around. “They like matchmaking, you know. They don’t usually work around these parts – they spend most of their time in Colorado …”
“Grandpa, please …,” she groaned.
“Albert says he knows your brother. In fact, he knows your whole family – met the lot of you a long time ago.”
Olivia froze, a single tear streaming down her face. “What did you say?”
Grandpa nodded and leaned toward her. “He told me not to tell you, but I thought you should know,” he whispered.
Her brow furrowed with worry for the old man. He was talking gibberish. Didn’t he say on their walk that Albert and Bob were angels? And now he was teasing her with unconfirmable tales about a family she couldn’t remember – how could he be so cruel? She shook, trying to keep from weeping or yelling.
“Don’t tell him I told you,” Grandpa finished and happily went back to eating.
Olivia tried to do the same, but her appetite was gone. Her emotions were exploding and her head was starting to pound. If she were smart, she’d excuse herself, go upstairs and lie down. But instead she glanced at George – and found him looking right at her. He smiled as he buttered a biscuit, bit into it and chewed, never once taking his eyes off her.
Olivia’s heart leaped in her chest, only to plummet to the pit of her stomach. Her emotions were caught in a tug-of-war, and for the first time since she’d arrived she wished she was somewhere else.
Soon the meal was mercifully over. Olivia sighed, wishing she could retire for the evening with a clear conscience. But she really felt she should help with the clean-up – it was the least she could do after playing with the children all afternoon while the other women cooked. She stood and began to clear the dishes along with George and Daniel, while the other men went into the parlor to play games with the children.
“Did you enjoy dinner?” George asked softly.
Olivia closed her eyes against the pain in her head.
“Something’s wrong, I can tell.”
“Yes.”
“What is it, Olivia? Can I help?”
“No.”
He stopped what he was doing and studied her. “Are you … remembering?”
She sighed and looked at him, wishing he’d just leave her alone this once. “No.”
He studied her face. “Oh, Olivia, I so wish there was something I could do for you. I hate to see you in such pain.”
Her eyes watered. “Please, just …” She wanted him to comfort her. She wanted him to leave her be. She wanted her head to stop pounding.
“Just what?” He set the stack of plates he was holding on the table. She realized Daniel had already taken a load into the kitchen as George closed the distance between them. No, no, no … “Olivia,” he said, and kissed her.
The kiss was gentle yet strong. Olivia had never felt anything like it. She knew it for certain – if she’d ever been kissed before, the kisses were shallow and empty, with nothing behind them but selfishness and greed. How she knew was beyond her, but there it was.
George broke the kiss and rested his forehead against hers. “I don’t regret that.” Then after a long pause: “Do you?”
Olivia’s mouth wouldn’t form words, and she didn’t know what she’d say if it could. All she could do was set down the empty mashed potato bowl, leave the dining room, go upstairs and shut herself in her room. Without thinking she wedged a chair back under the doorknob to keep the world out, then fell onto her bed and let the racking sobs come unhindered.
* * *
George stood at the bottom of the stairs and gazed upward, feeling snake-belly low. “You fool,” he chastised himself. “Why’d you have to move so fast?”
“George?”
He turned to find Arlan, Benjamin, Calvin and Daniel behind him. “What is it?”
“Can we have a word?”
“Certainly,” he said dourly. He figured he was about to get the chewing out he so surely deserved – might as well get it over with. He followed Arlan and his brothers down a side hall and into a sewing workroom – half-made hats and dresses, jars of ribbons, lace, buttons and stacks of fabric were everywhere. He moved a pile of cloth off a chair and sat. “What can I do for you, gentlemen?”
“We need to have a chat,” Calvin said.
“’Bout Olivia,” Benjamin added.
Daniel plopped himself into an empty chair. “She ain’t what ya think.”
George looked at each of them in turn. “What do you mean?”
“Probably best to start at the beginnin’,” Arlan suggested. He, Benjamin and Calvin leaned against their mother’s huge sewing table, their arms crossed
“Yes, that’s usually a good place,” George agreed cautiously.
Arlan rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. “Olivia Bridger was the name we knew her by.”
“Until she married Samijo’s uncle,” Calvin added.
George couldn’t feel anything. Had his heart stopped beating? It took him a moment to start breathing again. “Excuse me?”
Daniel stood and joined the others at their mother’s sewing table. “She almost got the bunch of us killed.”
George also stood. “That can’t be. It can’t.”
“It was,” Arlan said.
“But … she … how …?”
“We didn’t recognize her when we first pulled her out of that ditch,” Arlan went on. “Not until we got her to the stage stop. Of course, even if we had, we would have helped her. But …”
And the four brothers told George the whole story: Olivia’s attempts to get her hooks into Arlan right after he’d married Samijo, her teaming up with Samijo’s Uncle Burr so he could get Samijo’s inheritance and she would have Arlan for herself, how in the midst of it, the Weaver men and their mother had almost been killed. There were plenty of other reports about Olivia and the Bridgers that they’d heard from Tom Turner and other reliable sources, and they shared them all.
George was silent for over a minute when they were done. Finally he cleared his throat and said, “I don’t believe it. That … the woman you’re describing doesn’t sound anything like the Olivia I know.”
“No, she don’t,” Arlan agreed. “We’d much rather keep the one we have now. And we gather ya’d like to as well – permanently.”
“I won’t hide that, no. I … I’ve never met a woman like her. I never really thought about taking another wife until …” He shook his head. “I can’t explain what it is about her. She’s so different.”
“Ya can say that again,” Daniel put in. “Different like night and day. Right now we got the day. Ya don’t wanna see the night.”
George stared at him, mouth half-open. “I just can’t believe it.”
“Best you do – it might save both of ya a lot of heartache,” Arlan said. “Soon as she remembers everythin’, ya could have a whole different woman on yer hands.”
George slumped back into the chair. “I …” He shook his head in lieu of saying I can’t believe it again.
“Yeah?” Calvin said. “What about us? ‘Member, we’ve seen the other Olivia.”
George stared off into space. “Have you tried to contact her family?”
“I’ve spoken with Spencer Riley,” Arlan said. “He’s the sheriff in town – he’s tryin’ to track down Burr or her folks.”
“Sheriff Riley from the Christmas dance?” George said. “Yes, he and his family are Warren’s neighbors. They’re looking after the farm while we’re here.”
“He’ll find out if Burr was released from prison or transferred to another.” Arlan said. “We think Olivia might’ve been on her way to meet him.”
George ran his hand through his hair. “Great Scott.”
“Be glad we told ya,” Daniel said.
“Before ya did something you’d regret,” Benjamin added, slapping George on the back. “Anyone can see ya got it bad for her.”
George stared up at him. “I admit it. I …” He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. “Great Scott.”
“He keeps sayin’ that,” Calvin commented.
“It’s the shock,” Daniel said. “I’d be sayin’ a lot worse’n that, myself.”
“Poor Olivia,” George said, ignoring him. “How tormented she must be.”
“Tormented?” Benjamin said. “How so?”
“You didn’t see it at dinner?” George asked. “She looked so lost all of a sudden.”
“I didn’t see it,” Arlan admitted, then looked at his brothers. “Did you?”
“I was too busy eatin’,” Daniel admitted.
“Me too,” Calvin said. Benjamin just nodded.
“How do ya know how she feels?” Arlan asked George.
“I just … do?” He sighed and slumped further. “That poor woman.”
“Maybe,” Arlan said. “Ya might not feel that way if she gets her memory back and turns into the old Olivia.”
“Who says she will?” George stood. “You don’t know that.”
Arlan looked at his brothers before turning back. “True. But we cain’t rule it out neither.”
“Yes, I get that.” All the fight had gone out of George.
“We just thought we better warn ya,” Arlan said. “Yer scalin’ a slippery slope, Mr. Johnson. Ya might wanna climb down before ya fall.”
George took a deep breath. The problem was, he’d already fallen – in love. But he didn’t dare tell the Weavers that. They might even ask him to leave. He glanced at the window, could see the snow falling outside, and realized he couldn’t leave if he wanted to. He was stuck in a house with a woman who, if he listened to these four, was the harpiest of harpies. Worse, he was in love with her – and if his guess was right, she with him. A half hour ago he couldn’t have been happier. Now …
… now he was angry. He didn’t know the woman they were describing. But he knew the Olivia Bridger he’d met – and she was as close to perfect as he could imagine. If they wouldn’t stand up for her, someone had to. And he was more than willing.
“I’m sorry we had to tell ya,” Arlan said. “But we cain’t stand by and watch ya get in any deeper than ya already are.”
“I’m deep enough, thanks,” George said. For illustration, he held his hand level, about a foot above his head. “Deep enough to fight for the woman I love.”
“Love?!” the brothers yelped.
“Are ya out of yer mind?” Arlan asked in shock.
“Maybe. But so is she. We make a good pair.” George stood and marched out of the room.