InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ The Short Straw ❯ Chapter five ( Chapter 5 )

The short straw

By Flamingwillows

Chapter five

Koga attended church alone the following Sunday, and his presence incited only a smidgen less speculation than it had the week before. After the service he had exchanged greetings with people he knew, but made it a point to intercept Kagome's family before they reached their carriage. A few minutes of conversation and a smile and he was the recipient of an invitation to join them for Sunday supper.

It was no wonder Mr. Sukanami had hinted for an invitation to dine with them, Kikyo pointed out, what with Kagura looking especially pretty today. "Just be your own sweet self, precious, and Mr. Sukanami won't be able to resist you." Kikyo gave her daughter a fond look. Koga was following on horseback, giving the family a few moments alone.

"I don't know if I want to marry a rancher, Mama. All that dirt . . . and those animals." Kagura wrinkled her short, straight little nose.

"The Sukanamis are just about the wealthiest folks hereabout," her father put in.

"Really?" Kagura straightened and gave her father a calculating look. "How wealthy?"

"Now you know I can't tell you that, pussy-cat." Naraku clicked his tongue at the horse that drew their carriage. "That's confidential information."

"But this is important, Daddy." Kagura thrust out her lower lip in a pout. I'm not asking for me, you know. I'm thinking about you and Mama. It's my duty to marry someone who can provide for you in your old age."

"Isn't that just like her?" Kikyo asked, to no one in particular.

"Yes, isn't it." Kagome's muttered comment brought her aunt's attention to her. The sentimental tears that filled Kikyo's eyes vanished the moment she looked at her niece.

"You see that you don't push yourself forward like you did last week. `Six years, four months and twelve days,'" she mimicked sharply. "I was never so embarrassed in my life. You just remember where you'd be if your uncle and I hadn't taken you in."

"Yes, Aunt Kikyo." Kagome kept her lashes lowered, knowing that her resentment must be plain to read, even to someone as insensitive as her aunt.

"Is everything ready for dinner?"

"Yes, Aunt Kikyo."

Yuka Kurosaki and her husband were to join them for Sunday supper as well, and Kikyo was determined that everything be perfect. She didn't want to give her `dearest friend' a single flaw to find. Koga's presence was icing on the cake, as far as she was concerned.

As soon as they arrived at the house, Kagome slipped into the kitchen without waiting to see the arrival of her aunt's guests. She stood in the center of the cramped, airless room for a minute, her hands clenched at her sides. She wasn't sure what she wanted to do more- cry or break something.

She heard the low rumble of Koga's voice from the direction of the parlor, and felt her eyes sting with tears. When she'd seen him at church this morning, she'd felt her heart bump. Her stupid heart, she thought savagely. So what if he was the handsomest man she'd ever seen. He was just as foolish as every other man in this town, not able to see past Kagura's crimson eyes and practiced charms.

When he'd approached them at church, for one giddy moment she'd thought that their brief encounter at the general store had made him want to see her again. But he'd barely acknowledged her presence before turning that devastating smile in her aunt's direction. From the look he threw at Kagura, it wasn't difficult to guess why he had gone to the trouble to charm Aunt Kikyo into inviting him to supper.

Kagome stalked to the stove and lifted the lid on the pot she'd left simmering. Picking up a fork, she jabbed a potato hard enough to break it in two. If Koga was stupid enough to fall for Kagura, then he deserved every minute of misery she'd dish out. She herself had better things to think about, like getting supper on the table.

She threw a few sticks of wood into the stove and opened the damper a little wider. The chicken had been floured and left to sit, so Kagome only needed to start it frying. While the chicken cooked, she mashed the potatoes and whipped up a batch of biscuits. And if her eyes stung while she was doing so, it was purely because of the heat. It certainly didn't have anything to do with a particular dark haired cowboy in the parlor.

~ ~ ~*~ ~ ~

Koga sat in the cramped little parlor and tried to remember all the lessons his mother had drummed into him about making polite conversation. He talked about the weather, the possibility of the town building a new school and the latest government negotiations with the hostile Indian tribes in the southwest. He didn't give a damn about any of the three. What he really wanted to do was demand to know where Kagome was, not discuss the possibility of a drought with these two overfed bankers.

The two older women sat on a black horsehair sofa, twin to the one he occupied and probably just as uncomfortable. Kikyo was busy with some sort of needlework, her fingers moving swiftly over a mass of fine cotton. Probably another doily like the ones that covered every available surface in the overcrowded room.

Kara or Kagami or whatever her name was sat on the piano bench, poking her fingers on the keys in a series of unrelated notes that grated on his nerves. A beam of sunlight that managed to struggle it's way past the layers of draperies that smothered the window and fell across her, turning her hair to obsidian and highlighting her pretty features. Cynically, Koga wondered if she'd chosen that spot for just that reason. It sure as hell couldn't be out of a love for music, he thought, wincing as her fingers descended on the keys again.

"Where is Miss Kagome?" He asked, waiting only for the smallest of breaks in the conversation. He looked at his hostess, hoping his expression was politely interested, rather than impatient.

Kikyo looked at him blankly for a moment, her niece so far from her thoughts that she seemed to be having a difficult time remembering who she was. Her daughter had no such difficulty.

"She's in the kitchen, earning her keep." She said, throwing him a bright, sharp smile.

"She's employed to you?" Koga asked, knowing full well that wasn't the case.

"Of course not." Kikyo threw her daughter a warning look before smiling at Koga. He didn't find her smile any more appealing than her daughter's. "What Kagura should have said was that Kagome insist on helping around the house. It's her way of thanking us for taking her in when her father was killed."

"Does she always stay in the kitchen when you have company?" Koga's polite expression drew any sting from the question.

"Can't say I've seen much of her." Yuka Kurosaki said, her voice sounding unnaturally loud in the stuffy little room.

"Kagome is very shy." Kikyo said in a strained tone. "Her upbringing before she came to us was rather- shall we say, unconventional?"

"'We' aren't saying anything." Yuka spoke up again, withering her hostess's coy expression. "And if you're hinting that Kagome's father taught her anything less than perfect manners, I'll flat out say I don't believe it for a minute. Sesshomaru had manners smooth enough to please the queen of England. So if you're suggesting that Kagome might be inclined to blow her nose on her sleeve of something, it doesn't seem likely."

Kikyo's face had turned a pale shade of purple during Yuka's speech, and Koga hid a smile behind his coffee cup. He thought he could come to like at least one banker's wife.

"Of course, Kagome's manners are impeccable. I certainly wouldn't allow anything less. I merely meant that, with her father having practiced a less than respectable profession, perhaps Kagome is not as comfortable in polite company as a girl like my sweet Kagura, who was raised in more cultured surroundings."

"What was her father's profession?" Koga asked. "If you don't mind my asking, of course." Not that he really cared whether anyone minded or not. He wanted to find out as much as he could about the girl he was considering marrying. Kagome had said her father had traveled a great deal, but he hadn't given much thought to the man's profession.

"My brother-in-law made his living on the turn of a card," Naraku said in a repressive tone that made his opinion of such a profession quite clear.

"A gambler?" Koga's brows rose.

"Yes. It's not something we talk about a great deal, for obvious reasons." Naraku looked as if he'd just confessed to having a wild Indian in the family.

"Look how serious we've all become," Kagura said with forced gaiety, annoyed that everyone's attention had somehow been drawn away from her. "It's much too nice a day to be so serious. Don't you agree, Mr. Sukanami?"

She widened her pretty red eyes at him and thrust out her lip in the merest hint of a pout. Koga would have bet a good horse that she'd practiced that look in front of her mirror. He smiled and wondered if maybe her parents shouldn't have spanked her a time or two when she was younger.

"Why don't you play for us, dear?" Kikyo said indulgently.

"I'm not very good," Kagura protested prettily, but Koga had the idea that it would have taken a tornado to budge her from her seat on the bench.

"Nonsense, my dear. Miss Himemiya said you had a natural talent." Naraku said. "Miss Himemiya learned to play in Boston," He added proudly, giving the impression that Bostonians had some sort of edge over the rest of the country when it came to piano playing.

"Miss Himemiya said the same thing about my son," Yuka put in. "But he can't carry a tune in a bucket."

There was an awkward little pause and Koga saw Kagura's eyes flash with fury, the first genuine emotion he'd seen from her.

"Well, Kagura doesn't need a bucket to carry a tune." Kikyo said with a tight smile. "Do play something, precious."

"Only if Mr. Sukanami promises to make allowances. I feel a little shy. I don't often perform for anyone but the closest family."

"You played two weeks ago at my house, with half a dozen people watching." Yuka said. "Didn't look shy at all then."

"I'm sure no one needs to make allowances for your performance." Koga spoke quickly staving off the explosion he could see building in his hostess's face. "I'd enjoy hearing you play."

`About as much as I'd enjoy having a tooth pulled.'

Kagura conjured up a pleased blush before turning to the piano, where her music, by coincidence, of course, just happened to be laid out. It didn't take more than a few measures for Koga to realize that Miss Himemiya was either completely tone deaf or a terrible liar. Kagura might have had a nature talent but it sure as hell wasn't for piano playing.

He was starting to wonder how much of this he'd be expected to suffer through when Kagome came to the door of the parlor. She didn't speak and no one seemed to notice her presence but Koga knew the moment she appeared.

As Miroku had said, there wasn't much to her, but what was there was very neatly packaged, Koga thought, admiring the feminine softness of her figure. After all, when it came to women, a man didn't need more than an armful and Kagome looked as if she'd provide plenty to hold onto on a cold winter's night.

He was grateful to see that she'd left off the ugly hat she'd been wearing both times he'd seen her. Her hair was drawn back from her face, but the severe style was softened by the delicate fringe of soft curls that had escaped to frame her face. He found himself wondering what her hair looked like when it was down. Would it curl over a man's hands, pulling him closer to her? And would she welcome a man's passion or be frightened by it?

He was surprised to realize that he was becoming aroused just looking at her. Irritated with himself, he looked away, turning his eyes to where Kagura sat abusing the piano keys, thereby missing the wistful look Kagome turned in his direction.

~ ~ ~*~ ~ ~

Though he certainly wouldn't choose a wife based solely on her cooking skills, Koga was pleased to find that Kagome's were more than adequate. He and Miroku had hired a cook but he'd quit almost a month ago and since then, they and the hands had been cooking for themselves. Even when they'd had a cook, the food had been less than inspired. The meal spread out before him was the best he'd had since his mother's death. The biscuits were as close to pure heaven as he'd ever eaten in his life. He said as much, and from the startled look Kagome shot him, he suspected few compliments came her way.

"Thank you." Her voice was low and soft, just as he remembered it, and Koga added it to his list of prerequisites for a wife- a pleasant speaking voice. He didn't want to spend the rest of his life with a woman with a voice like a cat who'd got it's tail caught under a rocking chair.

"Kagura, who'd been seated next to Koga, looked annoyed that someone had noticed her cousin. When Yuka seconded Koga's comment about the biscuits, her pout became a little less studied and not nearly as pretty as it had been. Kagome looked uncomfortable with the attention being given her and Koga decided that modesty was a good attribute in a woman.

Though Koga participated in the conversation, his attention was centered on the dark haired girl across the table from him. He saw nothing to make him think his first assessment had been in error The more he watched Kagome, the more convinced he became that she'd make a suitable wife. Her looks were pleasant; her demeanor quiet-she was the very picture of the docile bride he'd described to his brother.

When the meal ended, Kagome rose and began to clear the table. Koga noticed that neither Kagura nor her mother moved to offer any assistance. Since Kagome didn't seem to notice the omission, he assumed this must be another example of how she `earned her keep.'

As Kagome disappeared into the kitchen, Kagura caught Koga's eye. Her smile was pure invitation, too old for her sixteen years. Koga was surprised by his own lack of interest. Perhaps Kagura read something of that lack in his expression because her soft, pink Cupid's bow mouth tightened momentarily and something cold and hard flickered in her eyes.

`Just like that mule Pa owned,' Koga thought again. Remembering the mule's tendency to bite when riled, he had to restrain the urge to scoot his chair a little farther away from Kagura's. But he underestimated her intelligence. Kagura knew exactly who was to blame for his indifference.

Kagome carried in a pie and Koga's mouth watered at the pungent, sweet smell of warm cherries. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had cherry pie. And if her pie was anywhere as good as her biscuits . . .

"That smells mighty good, Miss Kagome," he said, enjoying the flush of pleasure that brought a sparkle to her eyes.

"Serve our guest first, Kagome," Kikyo said, with the air of a queen giving out favors.

Still flushed, Kagome set the pie down next to her aunt and used a narrow spatula to lift an already cut slice onto one of the small china plates that sat ready to receive it. It had never occurred to Koga that a woman could look graceful doing something as simple as serving a piece of pie, but there was a quick grace about everything she did and he found himself thinking that it wouldn't be such a hardship to watch her around the house.

Kagome moved down the table and reached between him and Kagura to set the plate down in front of him. Koga was looking at the pie but out of the corner of his eye he caught a quick movement from Kagura. Kagome gasped as her arm was jogged. The plate tilted and Koga's white shirtfront was suddenly decorated with cherry pie.

There was a moment's stunned silence as everyone at the table stared at the bright red cherries splattered across his chest.

"I'm so sorry. I don't know how-"

"Kagome, you clumsy little idiot!" Kikyo's sharp voice cut off her niece's breathless apology. "Can't you do anything right?"

"It's all right, Ma'am." Koga said.

"It's kind of you to say so," Naraku put in, his long face drawn in tight lines of disapproval. "Naturally, Kagome will see to the cleaning of your clothes, or their replacement. Tell Mr. Sukanami you're sorry, Kagome."

"She's already apologized." Koga spoke before Kagome could say anything. She'd set down the plate and grabbed Koga's napkin and was dabbing at the stain on his shirtfront. He closed his fingers around hers, stopping her futile attempts to repair the damage. "I'm just glad the pie wasn't hot," he said, glancing up at her with a smile.

Her mouth curved, but the lower lip quivered and her eyes were bright with unshed tears. Koga found himself wanting to bang her aunt's and uncle's heads together. He still held Kagome's hand and he could feel her pulse jumping erratically under his touch.

"If I could have a towel?" He suggested gently.

"Get Mr. Sukanami a towel, Kagome," her aunt snapped immediately.

There was an awkward silence when Kagome vanished into the kitchen once again. Koga found himself wondering why his mother's lessons on etiquette had never covered what a man should say when he found himself wearing a slice of pie and knowing that the cause of the disaster was sitting right next to him looking as if butter wouldn't melt in her mouth.

"I can't tell you how sorry I am that this happened, Mr. Sukanami." Kikyo's voice was heavy with mortification.

"No need to apologize. Accidents can happen." He let his gaze settle on Kagura, who looked back at him without the smallest trace of remorse in her eyes.

Kagome returned and Koga scraped cherries and crust off his chest and into the towel she'd brought. Aside from his shirt, there was no real damage done. Once the towel was disposed of, he fixed Kagome with his best smile, the one that had generally succeeded in getting him just about anything he wanted from a woman.

"I'd still like a slice of that pie, Miss Kagome."

She gave him a grateful look and reached for the pie plate, but before she could touch it her aunt spoke. "I'll serve the pie. I'd prefer to avoid another scene."

Kagome blushed and moved around the table to sit down, her hands in her lap.

"Kagura, my dear, please pass this to Mr. Sukanami."

"Yes, Mama." Kagura took the plate from her mother and turned to Koga, who eyed her warily. But she set the plate in front of him, giving him a sweet smile in the process. She turned that smile on her cousin. "You see, Kagome, all it takes is a little care."

Koga saw Kagome's dark eyes flash with anger. She knew as well as he did who was to blame for spilling the pie. He waited, wondering if he was about to see a display of temper, but she only drew a deep breath and looked down at the table.

His expression thoughtful, he picked up his fork. She had a temper, but kept it under control. That was a good thing in a wife. As he'd told Miroku, he didn't want a wife who was prone to throwing fits. The more he saw of her, the more she seemed a likely candidate for marrying.

Besides, she baked the best darned cherry pie he'd ever sunk a tooth into.