“How does Denver sound?”
“Colorado? All the way to Colorado? Oh, my goodness!” She would never sleep now! “On the train?”
“Yup.”
“Where will we stay?”
“Plenty of hotels there. It’ll be our wedding trip.”
“Maybe I am asleep,” she said. “But if I am I sure don’t want to wake up.”
“You look awake to me,” he replied. “Go to sleep now. In the morning we’ll shop for anything you need before we leave. Tomorrow you can pack, and the following day we’ll head out.”
She leaned over, rested a hand on his chest and brushed a kiss against his cheek. “Thank you.”
“Sleep now,” he said. And with that he rolled to his other side, adjusting the covers and finding a comfortable position.
Lorabeth settled back on her side of the bed and focused on calming herself. It wouldn’t do to look haggard and tired in the morning. She needed to discipline herself to rest. Her life just kept getting better.
Lorabeth loved the train ride. They had berths in a sleeping car and spent one night crammed into bunk-style beds one above the other as the locomotive chugged and swayed and cinders hit the window glass on the curves.
They ate in the dining car, mostly sandwiches and fruit, but each meal was an experience to cherish. She visited with other passengers, and Ben taught her to play gin rummy with a deck of cards he produced from the pocket of his topcoat. She’d beaten him three hands in a row when the conductor called their stop.
Lorabeth was almost sorry to see their train adventure end, but there was still more ahead. Denver was a bustling city filled with new sights and sounds. Their hotel was modest, but clean and adequate. Lorabeth anticipated their time together after the train ride, eager to be alone and to recreate the night of their wedding.
Benjamin provided her with privacy while she dressed and bathed, but as he had the second night of their marriage, he made no move to kiss or touch her. She sat in the chair with a lamp burning low beside her and read a book of poetry he’d purchased for her. His restless sleep concerned her as from time to time he’d mumble or his body would jerk.
Once, when he groaned and sat up, she crept onto the mattress behind him and eased him back down, threading his golden hair away from his face and pressing her cheek to the back of one shoulder. She imagined reasons to explain his lack of interest: travel had been tiring; perhaps relations weren’t acceptable when they were away from home; he hadn’t enjoyed that night together as much as she.
The last possibility made her chest ache. In the recesses of her heart she’d known this time had been waiting for her. That Benjamin Chaney had been destined for her. She would let nothing spoil her newfound happiness.
Instead of being overly concerned with Benjamin’s seeming disinterest in lovemaking, Lorabeth enjoyed herself in the stores where they shopped for clothing and accessories for the house, in the restaurants where he introduced her to new foods and especially during an evening at the theater.
He bought her gifts and asked her preferences about everything. Benjamin went out of his way to see to her daily needs and give her all the experiences she’d dreamed of. She worked to douse nagging doubts that plagued her about the lack of intimacy since their wedding night. Perhaps this was all normal. Perhaps men needed time between experiences. Perhaps there was more she should be doing.
Maybe she simply didn’t know how to please him or encourage him.
Denying himself what he wanted was wearing on Ben’s composure. The least little smile or touch from his new wife had him grinding his teeth in frustration. He’d thought the trip would help, that they’d be too busy and distracted for the physical issue to be a concern temporarily. But he hadn’t planned on the days and nights with little separation and without the buffer of him going to work.
He admired Lorabeth’s lack of inhibition and appreciated her childlike joy over every little thing. He learned she liked to get up early to see the sunrise. She didn’t mind getting wet when it rained, and she preferred walking to taking cabs. The things he was growing to love about her, like spontaneity and passion, were the same things he feared in himself.
On their last night in Denver they shared dinner in a restaurant and then attended the performance of an orchestra at the opera house.
“Wouldn’t Flynn have enjoyed that?” she asked, linking her arm through Ben’s as they walked from their cab to the hotel door.
“You think so?”
“I do. All those violins playing in harmony was incredible.” She smiled up at him. “You knew I’d enjoy that, didn’t you?”
“You enjoy everything, Lorabeth.”
He climbed the stairs beside her and turned the key in the door that led into their room. “I’ll find a newspaper down in the lobby while you’re gettin’ ready for bed.”
As he had every night, he departed, leaving her to enter the room alone. Polite was good, but how would they ever get comfortable with each other if he kept being so standoffish? Benjamin had entered the room and turned down the lamps each night without so much as a glance at her.
Opening the armoire, she took out yet another delicately embroidered and trimmed nightgown that she and Ellie and Sophie had painstakingly worked on for her trousseau and that Benjamin hadn’t seen.
During the day he was attentive and he had showered her with gifts and concern. But at night she might not have been there for all he noticed. She washed and changed into the gown. The fabric was cool and satiny against her skin, unlike the plain cotton and woolsey she’d worn all her life.
Undressing her hair, she stacked the pins and ran her brush from scalp to ends. She hadn’t worn a braid since she’d been married. Her gaze fell to the wedding band on her finger and she turned her hand, watching the light catch the gold.
The key turned in the door, and she met Benjamin before he could take more than a few steps into the room. The fabric of the gown swished around her ankles as she moved. She stopped before him. “It’s our last night in Denver.”
He kept his attention on her face and replied, “We’ll come back another time.”
“The maid brought hot water only a little while ago. It will still be warm for you.”
“I washed in the bathing chamber at the end of the hall.”
As he had each night. And each morning.
She stood between Benjamin and the lamp. He removed his black topcoat and hung it in the armoire. After busying himself with his tie until it came away, he removed his shirt.
With both lamps burning, she had her first opportunity to look at him. His skin was tanned and his chest broad and firm.
“When do you go without your shirt in the sun?” she asked.
“Cuttin’ grass, puttin’ up hay.”
She took a step closer and noted raised marks on one shoulder that were lighter in color. “How did you get those scars?”
He glanced at his shoulder. “Long time ago. Doesn’t matter.”
“Matters to me.”
He looked aside and then back at her. “Heath.”
She frowned, thinking. “Wasn’t that the name of the foster family that took in you and Flynn?”
“Yup.”
“You don’t mean by accident, either. The man whipped you?”
“I took care of myself. And then Ellie and Caleb came for us.”
“What about Flynn?” she asked in horror. “He could’ve only been—”
“Heath didn’t hurt ’im. I saw to that.”
She studied the face of this proud kind man who’d endured cruel treatment yet grown into a loving and protective adult. Understanding dawned on her. “You took his beatings, too, didn’t you?”
“I was older. Stronger.” He moved to step around her then, but she placed her hand on his arm, preventing him from evading her.
“Any other scars?” she asked, holding his arm and moving around him. The muscle and sinew of his back was defined by the shadows, a sight so stunning it
took Lorabeth’s breath away. She’d seen pictures of Greek and Roman statues, but pictures of cold marble couldn’t compare to Benjamin’s strong male body in the flesh. Here and there a faded scar marred the perfection of his skin. She couldn’t resist placing her hand on his shoulder and running her palm over the planes and across his shoulder blades.
Her blood pounded in her veins, and boldly she stepped right up behind him, wrapping both arms around his waist and pressing her lips to the center of his back. He smelled so good she wanted to cry with the pleasure. Ironed linen and spice and man.
Benjamin took her wrists in his gentle grasp and caressed the delicate insides with his thumbs.
“Benjamin,” she whispered.
He turned and folded her against him. She pressed her cheek to his warm skin and he ran his hands over her back, down her sides, to her bottom and pressed her against him.
He wanted her. The certain knowledge buoyed her spirits and produced a lilting song of joy in her heart.
“I love you,” she assured him. “I love the man you are. I’ll love whoever you want to be.”
She thought she loved him because she didn’t know enough to jade her romantic notions. He covered her mouth with his, silencing her. With open mouths they tasted and explored as tension built and heat rose. Breathing became difficult. Thinking became impossible.
Benjamin raised his head and played his lips over hers in slow damp strokes, pausing at each corner to press a firm kiss, halting a hair’s breadth away to taunt her with his absence.
She wrapped an arm around his neck and took the kisses she wanted. Her head swam with delight and promise. Pleasure rose and possessed.
Moments later they sprawled on the bed, bodies sliding and straining in a rhythm as natural as breathing. Stars burst behind Lorabeth’s eyelids. Benjamin spoke her name and a tremor shook his body. Remarkable longed-for sensations flooded through her and she clung to him.
There was no yesterday and no tomorrow in his arms. Only this moment, this night.
He released her to sit on the edge of the bed. “Do you want to read?”
She wanted him to hold her. “No.”
He got up and turned down the lamps, affording her a view she appreciated before the room went dark. Returning to the bed, he lay beside her, close enough to touch, but distancing himself in silence.
He had liked it, she knew he had. He would realize it soon. Realize how perfect they were together.
Chapter Nineteen
Lorabeth’s confidence faltered in the weeks that followed. Benjamin’s demeanor was decidedly cooler once they returned to Newton and settled into their daily routines.
She helped Ellie three mornings a week, and the other two mornings she still went to her father’s home and did the wash and cleaned house. That left her afternoons for her own home, and often hours into the night after Benjamin had fallen asleep.
One day, after noon, she returned to the house to find him seated on the porch. The day was chilly, and it was obvious he’d been waiting for her.
“Hi,” she said. “Did you come home for lunch?”
He nodded. “And to bring you somethin’. This wasn’t your day at Ellie’s, where were you?”
She had never revealed the fact that she was still doing her father’s chores, but she couldn’t lie. Her husband had asked her directly. “I was at my father’s.”
“Oh.” He looked surprised. “I didn’t know you visited him during the week.” He picked up a blanket-draped crate from beside the floor and she held the door open for him to enter first.
He set the crate down inside the foyer and removed his coat. Lorabeth did the same and hung it on the coat tree. “Benjamin.”
He looked at her.
“I go to my father’s two mornings a week to take care of the domestic chores.”
He seemed to absorb that. “How long have you been doin’ that?”
“When I only worked for Ellie during the week, I did it all on the weekend, but once I moved into the Chaney house, I used those two mornings off to tend to my other duties.”
“I said you could work or not, whatever pleases you, Lorabeth, but I don’t think it’s right for you to continue the chores that were yours when you lived at home. Your sister doesn’t do it.”
“My father doesn’t have a wife.”
“I sympathize with that, but you have your own home now. You can’t work every wakin’ moment to do it all. He’s the preacher and a widow. I’m thinking the church ladies could organize themselves to help.”
Lorabeth knew he was right. She’d been entrenched in providing those household services alone for so long that she’d come to think of it as her duty. “You’re right. In fact I’ll make the arrangements myself. There’s a laundry on Fifth Street. If he can’t take his dirty wash and pick it up himself, one of the ladies can manage that task. I’ll set up an account for him.”
He nodded his pleasure at her decision.
“Now what did you bring home?”
Ben turned and removed the blanket from the top of the crate to lift out the mostly gold and black calico cat she’d dubbed Mittens.
“He’s letting you hold him!”
“Yep. I worked on it ever since you met ’im.”
“Think he’ll let me?”
“Dunno.”
“Hello, Mittens,” she said to the tomcat. He’d gained weight and his fur had filled in over bare spots, though he still bore scars on his ears and nose. “Do you think we can be friends?”
Slowly, she reached to pet his head. He squirmed and meowed until Benjamin released him. Mittens stood a moment, his green eyes surveying the surroundings and coming back to blink at her in disdain. Then he moved to inspect the baseboards and the thick navy and cream carpet runner. He sat and blinked. “Meow!”
“Did you bring him home for a pet?” she asked Benjamin.
“Thought you’d like him around the house. You take over feeding and looking after him and he’ll come around.”
“Are you planning to spoil me for a lifetime?” she asked teasingly.
He looked away momentarily, then back, but he wasn’t wearing a smile. “Just wanna see you happy.”
She stepped forward to take his hand. “You make me happy, Benjamin.”
Their eyes met and a fire flickered in the depths of his ice-blue ones. He dropped his gaze to her lips. For a moment her heart dared to lift in anticipation of the desire she thought she sensed. His hand twitched in hers. And then he looked away, removing his hand from her touch. “Have you eaten lunch?”
He walked back toward the kitchen and she followed, fighting disappointment. “Not yet.”
Mittens meowed and trailed behind them.
Benjamin took bread from the cupboard and cut four slices, then found ham she’d left in the icebox. He set the crock of butter out.
Lorabeth watched him with her heart heavy and aching. She could be a good wife if only he’d let her. He’d been holding back from her ever since their last night in Denver. Oh, he bought her presents and arranged schedules and events to make her life easier. He’d taken her to dinner at the Arcade twice. Yesterday he’d brought her another Swiss chocolate bar, and he’d been working with the cat for weeks to bring her a pet.
All the kind gestures and generosity in the world wouldn’t replace what she truly wanted. What she needed. Couldn’t he hear her heart crying out for him?
Please, Benjamin. She wanted him to love her. She wanted that one flesh that she’d dearly hoped was hers. Lorabeth was a butterfly that had hatched inside a jar. Every day she beat her wings against the sides where freedom was clearly visible. Benjamin held the power to free her.
The following day Lorabeth had the first conversation with her father wherein she felt like an adult in control of her own life. Taking charge was liberating. While the first snow of the season fell on Newton, she made arrangements at the laundry and with several of the women of the church who were only too glad to take turns caring for the
parsonage.
She planned for another church member to spell her at the piano on Sunday mornings so she could sit with her husband every other week. In the weeks that followed, they had her father and Simon over for supper twice.
She inquired if Benjamin would like to have the Evanses over for Sunday dinner, and the afternoon went splendidly. Now that he knew his father would have had a relationship with him if he’d known of Benjamin’s existence, he was obviously reevaluating beliefs about men and about himself that he’d held all his life. Lorabeth was determined to be patient and supportive.
The following morning she spent helping her sister-in-law organize Christmas dinner.
“Suzanne Evans is a very nice lady,” she told Ellie. “She was quite active in politics when they lived in California.”
“What did you fix for dinner?” Ellie asked.
“One of the farmers gave Benjamin a couple of turkeys,” she answered. “I stuffed one and made baked yams.”
“I’m sure it was nice.” Ellie didn’t say anything more. Madeline had begun to fuss in her cradle near the fireplace, and she swept her up. She wore an expression Lorabeth hadn’t seen before.
“Knowing how Wes feels about him is helping Benjamin,” Lorabeth told her.
Ellie sat in the kitchen rocking chair and opened the placket in the front of her dress for Madeline to nurse. “It’s good for him,” she agreed.
“It’s helped his self-worth to know his father isn’t the reprobate Benjamin imagined all these years,” Lorabeth told her.
Ellie nodded but didn’t meet Lorabeth’s gaze.
Lorabeth placed a slip of paper in the recipe book to hold her spot and moved to sit on the hearth facing Ellie. “You close up whenever the subject of the Evanses comes up.”
Tears came to Ellie’s eyes and she looked to the side, blinking them back.
“What is it?” Lorabeth asked. “You can tell me.”
“It’s completely selfish and I’m probably just tired. I’ve been crying a lot lately. For no good reason.” She looked down at Madeline and finally at Lorabeth.
“Ben and Flynn have always been like my own children,” she said. “I don’t know if you can understand that.”
The Preacher’s Daughter Page 20
