Be It Ever So Humble

by Jenifer Jenkins

  “Yeah. Martha makes the best soap I’ve ever used,” he agreed.

  “She... what?”

  John glanced over at me. “You didn’t know she makes those soaps?”

  “No. She never told me. I thought she had a secret fancy soap dealer or something.”

  He chuckled. “Turns out, Martha’s the fancy soap dealer. She makes those soaps for everyone around here as birthday gifts, Christmas gifts, and whatnot.”

  “Huh.” I thought back to all the times she’d sent me her soaps. They always seemed so luxe, so high end. I never would have guessed Martha made them herself. “How does she make them?”

  “I don’t know. She’s kinda secretive about it. I think it’s because she wants it to be a surprise when she gives them out. I don’t even think she lets Ken in on it. You know what the secret ingredient is, right?”

  “What?”

  “Goat’s milk.” He peered at me out of the corner of his eye, anticipating my reaction.

  “Goat’s milk?”

  “Yeah.” He shrugged. “You didn’t know?”

  “Ew! You’re joking, right? Do you really think I, of all people, would be okay with bathing in the milk of goats?”

  “Is this a vegan thing?”

  Truth be told, that thought hadn’t even crossed my mind. Since I wasn’t a strict tree-hugging, animal-loving vegan, I still wore leather and other materials made of animals. It was a dietary thing for me. However, the thought of bathing in the milk of any animal made me slightly ill. “I just... It’s kind of gross, isn’t it? Using milk on your body?”

  “Nah. People have been doing it forever practically. If it’s good enough to drink, it’s good enough to bathe in.”

  “Orange juice is good enough to drink, but I wouldn’t bathe in it,” I retorted.

  He wrinkled his nose. “Touché.”

  “I guess I’m just... I don’t know... a bit offended that she never told me that she makes soap. That’s kind of a big deal, right? Why didn’t she ever tell me?”

  “Maybe she didn’t think you’d be interested,” John said simply. “It’s soap. It’s nice, and it smells good. She thought it would make you happy, so she made it. Martha’s not one to toot her own horn.”

  “If by ‘toot her own horn’ you mean ‘admit a very unique talent,’ then yes. That is very true.” I thought about this for a few minutes, then asked, “You said she makes them for you, too?”

  “Yeah, but she probably doesn’t make them the same scent for me. She uses some sort of musky, manly scent.”

  “That’s why you always smell so good,” I mused. Had I just said that out loud? This time I was the one blushing. I hoped he wouldn’t make a joke at my expense like I’d done with him earlier.

  He didn’t. In fact, he looked flushed as well. Instead of teasing me, he said, “You should talk to Martha about it when she gets back. Maybe she would want to teach you.”

  “Maybe I will.” Changing the subject again, I asked. “So, how long is this little trip going to take?” It seemed like every time I’d been in his truck, it was for hours at a time. Today, I wouldn’t mind a long drive, though.

  “We’re almost there,” John assured me. Well, so much for that, I thought. “Any guesses for that riddle?”

  “Nope,” I shrugged. The riddle reminder made me think of John’s mouth, and I stared at it for a moment. It was curved into a half-smile. I had grown fond of that arrogant little smirk of his. Suddenly I wanted to reach out and brush my fingertips across his lips. They looked so soft and kissable. I remember something in the riddle about a tongue, too. Was it getting warmer in the truck? I set the air vents to blow directly in my face and pulled myself back to the present. “This had better be good.”

  As I spoke, we rounded a corner and pulled up to a large sign that read: “Bridal Cave.”

  “Bridal Cave,” I spoke slowly as if sounding it out. “Is that where we’re going?”

  “A mouth and no tongue,” John replied, as if that answered any questions I had.

  “Bridal Cave? What is this, some kind of hillbilly wedding ritual? Did you kidnap me to marry me against my will or something?”

  John looked at me, incredulous. Then, in perfect deadpan, he said, “Yes. Yes, Chastity, I brought you here to elope.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  “I’m taking you into a cave to marry you against your will.” John rolled his eyes.

  “Okay, I’m confused. Is this sarcasm? I’m not that great at reading you yet.”

  He guffawed. “Chastity! You’re nineteen years old!”

  “Oh? So, now you’re saying I’m too young for you? My age is a problem? I have dated guys much older than you, thank you very much.”

  John pinched the bridge of his nose and said, “So, let me get this straight. Now you’re angry at me for not wanting to marry you against your will?” He threw his hands up in the air. “I’m the one who’s confused.”

  “Well, you can’t take a girl to someplace called Bridal Cave and not expect her to freak out a bit,” I pointed out, nostrils flaring. Perhaps I overreacted a smidgeon, but I wasn’t about to admit that.

  “You’re right. I didn’t think that through.” He rubbed the steering wheel with his hands and added, “I just wanted to take you somewhere interesting to get your mind off things. Yesterday was... somethin’ else.”

  I couldn’t argue with that.

  John shook his head, mystified. “You actually thought that I would whisk you away to some cave and...? What kind of a person do you think...? That’s just...”

  “Crazy?” I finished for him.

  “Far fetched,” he replied pointedly.

  The word crazy was probably my least favorite word in the entirety of the English language. Maybe that was because the very idea of it terrified me. Sometimes I felt as though I was teetering on that line. How many more anxiety attacks would it take? How many meltdowns?

  As if guessing my thoughts, John said, “You’re not crazy, Chastity. You have a flair for the dramatic, but I would chalk that up to a healthy imagination.”

  I smiled sheepishly. “Thanks, I think.”

  “We don’t have to go into that cave if you don’t want to. You’re right. It was a bad idea.”

  I placed my hand on his forearm; his hands were still gripping the steering wheel. “It was a fine idea,” I said. “But, maybe next time a little warning would be nice. And maybe don’t give a sexy riddle before taking a girl to a place called Bridal Cave.”

  “Okay.” He squinted and shook his head before raising his hands in defeat. “Fair enough.”

  I gave his arm a quick squeeze and popped my door open. “I’ve never been spelunking,” I said as we got out of the truck. “I’m not sure I’m dressed appropriately.” Then again, when had I ever dressed appropriately for our little adventures?

  John laughed as if I’d said something adorable. “This isn’t that kind of cave. Trust me, you’ll be fine.”

  After parking and passing the gift shop, we headed down a concrete path. We emerged onto the landing, and the landscape was breathtaking—like something I’d only seen in movies. Rich terracotta rock stretched for miles within a lush green canopy of trees, and beyond that was a shimmering lake. I followed John as we passed signs directing us to the cave’s entrance and was surprised to see quite a few people milling about. “This is a tourist trap,” I said.

  “In the summer, it is. Other times of the year, it’s a field trip trap. Try saying that ten times fast,” he chuckled. “We came here on school trips a lot when I was a kid.”

  “So, this isn’t your first trip down the aisle, then?”

  He cocked his head. “Huh. Guess not.”

  As we neared a sign that signified the mouth of the cave, I stopped. “Oh, mouth and no tongue... I understand the riddle!”

  Another indulgent smile from John. “A buddy of mine runs tours through the cave. He said he’d give us our own personal tour. I just have to go find him. Do you mind
waiting here for a minute?”

  I told him I didn’t mind. The day was another scorcher, but the breeze off of the lake made the heat bearable. I found a large rock to sit on nearby and felt a oneness with nature as I took in my surroundings. The cave area had definitely been modernized with the added walkways and railings along the paths. Still, the surroundings and the occasional chirp of birds and hum of insects made the scene feel as close to old-world rustic as I’d ever been. Occasionally a boat would zoom by with its mechanical buzzing, or a tourist would snap a photo with their camera phone.

  In fact, the sound of a photo snapping made me dreadfully aware that I wasn’t alone. How had I not thought of this before? There I was sitting amongst random tourists who might possibly recognize me and blow my cover. All of a sudden, I felt paranoid. I had to get out of the sunlight, had to hide somewhere. I stood up and ran smack into John as I attempted my escape.

  “Chas? What’s wrong?” John caught me as I tipped back.

  “Too many people here,” I whispered.

  His jaw clenched. “I guess I really didn’t think this whole trip through, huh?”

  “It’s fine. I’m just feeling very... exposed. I never thought I’d say this, but would you please take me into the cave now?”

  Without hesitating, John took my hand in his, leading the way. “I told my friend that you’re a visiting cousin.”

  I nodded. I was an actress; I could play along with that. “Sure thing, cuz.”

  We entered the cave’s mouth and were greeted by our tour guide. “John! And this must be your cousin. Sissy, is it? I’m Tim.”

  Waving to him, I responded in my best western accent, “Hi there. Nice to meet yer.”

  The cave wasn’t too dark at the opening, but coming in from the light meant my eyes needed to fully adjust. Still, I could have sworn I saw John’s eyebrows slope when he heard me speak.

  “A group went in a few minutes ago. If we get started now, we can probably avoid the other group coming in soon. You wanted a private tour, right?”

  John and I bobbed our heads.

  Tour Guide Tim eyed me suspiciously. “Usually, people want a private tour for romantic reasons. You sure you guys are cousins? You’re too pretty to be related to this guy.”

  The compliment was aimed at me, but it only succeeded in making me want to gag. What a gross thing to say to two people who were claiming a familial relationship. This guy didn’t know it was a farce.

  “So do you want the full tour, then, John? I bet you could give this tour in your sleep.” Tim nudged him in the ribs.

  John snickered. “You know, I probably could.”

  “Well, then, let’s see what you’ve got,” Tim taunted.

  Puffing out his chest and using his most professional tour guide voice, John began, “The Bridal Cave is thought to have been discovered by the Osage Native Americans, perhaps sometime in the 1800s...” He motioned stiffly towards various areas of the cave as he recited facts.

  We wandered through nooks and crevices as we got deeper into the cave. I was surprised John, with his tall frame, managed the tour so well, considering there were times that even I had to duck. The ground was slick because, as John pointed out, the cave was not impenetrable to the rain. I ran my hand along the rough cave walls and was amazed when the texture became noticeably smoother. The beauty of the cave was otherworldly, gorgeous yet a little terrifying. Like a scene out of a science fiction television show. I wondered when the cave monster would jump out and send us running back the way we came. Luckily, this Tim guy was the redshirt in this scene, so he’d be captured first.

  We walked in awed silence through the rooms. I didn’t want to talk. This seemed like a place of reverence. Approaching a concrete stairway, Tim’s voice broke through the stillness. “And here we have our wishing well. Feel free to toss a coin in and make a wish.”

  The water was the clearest, bluest pool I had ever seen. It reminded me of John’s eyes, and my cheeks warmed at the memory of last night.

  John reached into his pocket and pulled out two pennies. It looked as though he’d planned for this, at least. He handed me a penny and said, “Make your wish.”

  I didn’t know what to wish for. Before coming here, I probably would have wished for a role in a Marvel film or maybe some exotic getaway with Cooper—things that seemed so trivial in my current situation. Now, standing in this incredible work of natural art, I could think of nothing to wish for. I watched as John kissed his penny—a move I found endearing and disgusting at the same time. Germs much? He threw his coin into the depths and closed his eyes. It was my turn, and I decided the only thing I could even imagine to wish for was a swift recovery for Uncle Kenny. Everything else felt right.

  I threw my coin in without kissing it, and John smirked at me. “Didn’t figure you’d kiss your penny.”

  “What is that about anyway?”

  “It’s extra lucky,” he responded gravely.

  “Blech. Contracting a virus from dirty pocket change doesn’t sound very lucky to me.”

  “I don’t make the rules,” he quipped.

  We continued on through and eventually emerged into what seemed like the main corridor of the cave. It was a large, cavernous room filled with gorgeous stalactites and a ceiling that seemed to stretch toward the heavens. I let out a gasp. “It’s stunning.”

  Whoever had maintained the cave had perfectly placed lighting to best illuminate different features of the natural marvel. I was mesmerized by how the light glinted off of the rock and crystal. “Is this why they call it Bridal Cave? Because it looks like a cathedral?”

  “Actually,” Tim answered, “people do get married here. The cave has a rich history of wedding ceremonies. Legend has it that the son of one Native American chief fell in love with the daughter of another chief—a girl from the other side of the tracks, so to speak.”

  I swooned. “This sounds very Romeo and Juliet. Did they run away together and elope in this cave?”

  “Uh, no. The chief and his daughter didn’t care for the match. The other chief’s son kidnapped her and her friend and hid them in this cave,” Tim continued.

  “That’s not where I thought this story was going at all.” I frowned. “Did she learn to love him among the stalactites and stalagmites? Like Beauty and the Beast?”

  Tim laughed patronizingly, “You’re so cute. John, your cousin’s so cute. But, no, she ended up escaping and jumping off that cliff out there. I guess she’d rather die than marry a man who’d force her to marry him.” He paused for effect. “Man, it’s way more fun telling that story when I don’t have to overdramatize it. When I’ve got a tour group in here, I have to add a lot of fluff.”

  My lip quivered. “That’s terrible. That poor girl. And here I thought you were bringing me to this cave to marry you against my will, John. It’s like this place spoke to me.”

  “Uh... Aren’t you cousins?” Tim laughed awkwardly.

  John’s face squished into a grimace. “She’s joking, of course.”

  “It’s this joke we have,” I tried to cover, “because back in olden days, cousins used to get married. And that’s nasty.”

  Tim moved on, unconcerned about my slip up. “The good news is that the chief’s daughter’s friend, who was also held captive here, fell in love with one of the other guy’s brothers, and they decided to get married here. So, you know, it has a happy ending. Sort of.”

  I nodded. “That’s nice, I guess.”

  John came up beside me and placed a hand on my shoulder. “Are you all right?” he whispered.

  “Why wouldn’t I be?” I asked, but I knew by now he was pretty good at reading me.

  “Another thing I didn’t think through. I forgot about that story. And after what you told me last night...”

  I shrugged his hand off my shoulder and glanced meaningfully toward Tim. Fortunately, he seemed engrossed in reading something on his phone. Did he have reception down here? “Don’t worry about it.”


  “Okay.” John stepped back, pretending to see something interesting off to the side. I think he was giving me some space to process.

  Truthfully, the story did bother me. That girl killed herself so she wouldn’t have to marry someone she didn’t love. I almost killed myself because the guy I didn’t really love—I could admit that now—had betrayed me. Her story seemed noble; mine seemed like a child having a tantrum and using her life as ransom to get her way.

  Tim disappeared after that, which was fine since the official tour was over. We were free to roam around the large room for a few more minutes before another group would intrude. I stared at the ceiling of the cave. Little beads of water collected in various areas, and the way the light hit them made them sparkle.

  In this natural marvel, I could have been thinking about anything else—the wonders of science or God or something. I couldn’t help but think back to that night, though. If I’d been successful in ending my life, I wouldn’t have had the chance to see this. I wouldn’t have come to stay with Kenny and Martha; I wouldn’t have met John. I would never have felt so content.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  “I’ve got a few bottles of tea in here,” John called from the kitchen.

  I was sitting in the same spot on the sofa as the night before. It had become my go-to seat when I was exhausted. The trip to the cave was unlike anything I’d ever experienced. The beauty and the tragedy of it left me feeling wiped out.

  “Sweet or unsweet?” I called back to John.

  “Unsweet.”

  “I’ll take one.”

  He’d anticipated my response and was already on the move back to the couch, two bottles in tow.

  After my confession the night before, knowing the role alcohol had played in my nearly fatal decision, John must’ve decided against offering me beer again. We clanked our bottles as we had the night before, and I thought this might not be a bad way to end every day.