Free Forbidden by Abbie Williams Page B

how she had taken to wearing the shortest skirts she could find, just to see how he reacted. Daniel was still talking. “We’ll raise the baby together. Wilder and Shelly will help. I’ll love it like my own, and everything will be all right.”
    She told Daniel her boyfriend had left town, and he had believed her. She told him her boyfriend was a farmhand for old Mr. Darby, a traveling worker who helped bring in the harvest. She told Daniel she didn’t think she would ever see him again, and her agony had been real enough. Certainly John Ryan’s name need never be mentioned, except in the depths of her own heart, deeply buried. Lydia knew she needn’t fear him ever spilling the truth. Daniel, gullible as a young boy in some ways, believed her; he felt deeply sorry for her, but it was more than that: she was a stunningly beautiful woman, and he was as isolated in his heart as a person could be. He loved Margaret’s children, his Shelly and Wilder, but they were so young, they couldn’t have known how alone he felt in his bed at night, how he ached for the comfort of a woman in that bed. And, he reminded himself, Lydia had no one; her mother was a failing widow who lived in the nursing home in Rose Lake.
    Long minutes passed, and Lydia sighed deeply, her head sagging against her folded arms, the tears spent. She rose abruptly and made her way to the liquor cabinet, drank several deep swallows from the fat-bellied brandy bottle, until her innards felt slightly more still. And, wiping her eyes one last time, she turned to finish the dishes piled in the huge farmhouse sink.
    ***
    Their wedding took place two days after Christmas. The ceremony was held at the St. Francis retirement home so Marilyn Henry could bear witness to her only child’s marriage vows. The nurses wheeled her out in a chair, where she watched, flanked by Daniel Sternhagen’s two children, who also stared mutely at the proceedings; the girl cried quietly to herself, but the boy remained dry-eyed, rubbing his nose furiously all through the preacher’s words. Only Daniel seemed truly happy, smiling and kissing his young bride with enthusiasm; Lydia’s face was as pale as a ghost’s behind her heavy make-up, but Marilyn was going blind and didn’t observe this, wouldn’t have had much to say anyway; she could only be described accurately as a Catholic nut, not unlike many of the ex-farm wives with whom she now shared a roof.
    Daniel’s best friend Bar Taylor held a reception for them immediately after, at Rose Lake Lodge, which he owned. It was a small affair, attended only by a handful of their friends, and Michelle and Wilder kicked the legs of the table at which they were seated, punch cups untouched, leaving soggy rings on the linen tablecloth before them. Wilder had a cold, and was whiny, and Michelle couldn’t stop staring at her father and Lydia, who were dancing to the music from a small local band. Her own best friend, Raellen Taylor, was seated next to her. Rae and her older brother Bar, Jr. were the only other kids at the wedding. Rae nudged Michelle and tried for a little optimism, commenting, “They seem pretty happy, don’t they?”
    Michelle nearly came out of her skin, rounding on her friend with venomous eyes. “Rae, what are you talking about? He doesn’t even know her. She tries on Mama’s clothes from her closet when she thinks no one is looking! I hate her.”
    Rae blew out her breath in a big huff, but then added, “Shelly, I’m sorry. Maybe she’ll be nicer to you guys now.”
    Suddenly Caroline Taylor, Rae’s mother, was sitting down with them, her dark hair framed by the gold netting of her hat. She smelled like gin and tonics and her bright lipstick was smudged onto her teeth. She leaned in close to the kids and said, “Don’t they look well together?”
    Rae surreptitiously rolled her eyes at Michelle. Caroline