by Clay, Verna
"I really have two left feet."
"Well, I have two right feet. So I guess that balances things out." He urged her from her chair and escorted her to the dance floor. Pulling her into his arms, he counted steps aloud and patiently showed her the moves. She was right about having two left feet, but it didn't matter. Before long he was twirling her around the room. The music picked up and her face flushed a lovely pink from her exertion. She laughed, flashing her beautiful smile, and Brant had a sudden desire to explore the mouth behind that smile.
The song ended and a slow one took its place. Abby started to walk off the dance floor, but he pulled her back. "Not yet, Abby." Holding her in a chaste manner, he guided her into the steps of a love ballad that toothless Charlie sang to perfection. Before the ballad was over, he'd pulled her closer and lowered his head to smell the freshness of her hair. The song ended and he didn't move away immediately. Abby broke their stance and said breathlessly, "I need to check on Ty."
Brant chuckled and watched her skirt away. My, but she was skittish. That fact, however, didn't bother him. He kind of liked the challenge of getting her used to him.
"Can I have this dance, Brant?" Lola interrupted his musings.
Because refusing would be downright rude, he said, "Of course, Lola," and reached for her hand. She snuggled close to him and made him wish he'd been rude.
Standing on tiptoe, she lifted her lips to his ear and whispered. "Brant, you really don't want to marry her, do you? At least Molly was beautiful. This woman is plain. How exciting can she be to a man of your…vigor? Don't you remember how it was when you kissed me? I have so much to offer you."
Brant wanted to groan. The woman was disgusting. "We've already been through this, Lola."
A pleading edge entered her tone. "Brant, I'll do anything you ask of me. I love you. I always have. I'd even go down on my knees and beg if I thought that would help. Just give me a chance."
Brant stopped dancing. "Lola, no. I'm not the man for you and you're not the woman for me. I'm not going to say it again." He felt her stiffen. So as not to embarrass her, he continued dancing, but when the song ended, he nodded politely and walked away.
* * *
The ride home by the full light of the moon was eerily beautiful. The older children slept in the back of the buckboard while Abigail held Ty in her arms. Softly, she said to Brant, "This has been a good day."
"Yes, it has. It's been a long time since I socialized with my neighbors. It felt good."
For the rest of the ride, they discussed the events of the day and laughed over funny happenings. Back at the ranch, while Brant and Luke unharnessed and bedded the horses, Abigail got Ty and Jenny to bed. As she tucked the covers around Jenny, the sleepy girl said, "I love you."
Abigail didn't know if she'd said it in her sleep or with awareness. No matter, it touched her mother's heart and brought tears to her eyes. "I love you, too, sweet girl." She bent and kissed Jenny's cheek and then the sleeping baby's.
Brant and Luke hadn't returned to the cabin and she was too exhausted to wait for them. Going to her room, she prepared for bed and crawled in. She was so tired the lumpy mattress didn't bother her. A knock on her door startled her awake. Was something wrong? She jumped up and opened the door wide, not even covering her nightgown. Brant stood in her doorway looking nervous. "Is everything okay?" she asked worriedly.
"I need to talk to you. Can you come outside for a minute?"
"Of course. I'll be right out." Abigail's heart pounded. What could be wrong? She tossed a cape over her nightgown and walked onto the front porch. Brant stood leaning against one of the posts. He didn't turn around and she walked to stand beside him. The light of the moon shone strong and enhanced the masculine planes of his face.
"What's wrong, Brant? Is Luke okay?"
"Luke's fine."
While she waited for him to speak, she listened to owls hoot and coyotes howl, feeling more nervous with each passing second. Was he going to ask her to leave; tell her she wasn't right for him or the children?
Slowly he turned toward her. "I want to marry you, Abigail Mary Vaughn."
She held her breath.
He continued, "Soon."
She couldn't breathe.
"Will you marry me, Abby?"
Finally her voice worked and she said softly, "Yes."
"There's something we need to talk about though."
"Okay." She waited.
"Luke doesn't want me to marry you."
"I know that, and I understand how he feels."
"He doesn't want me to sleep with you, either."
Abigail placed a hand over her heart. Never had she imagined having this sort of discussion with a man and she wasn't prepared for it. She couldn't think what to say.
Brant said, "We need to talk about that part of our lives, Abby. I don't intend to be a monk. I expect us to be husband and wife in every way."
Abigail nodded, but she didn't know if he saw it.
"I'll give you time to adjust. You can stay in your own room. I don't know how long it will be, but…I'll try to be patient. It'll give Luke time to come around, too." He turned the full force of his gaze on her and Abigail felt her knees go weak.
She said, "I understand and accept your conditions, Brant Samson."
"Then I'll ride out tomorrow and ask the preacher to marry us on Sunday."
Abigail nodded.
"Before you go back in the house, there's one more thing, Abby."
She gazed questioningly up at him.
"I intend to kiss you."
Abigail's lips parted in surprise and his lowered to them. The kiss was light, sweet, but filled with so much promise that Abigail made a tiny sound and leaned into him. He cupped the back of her head and increased the pressure until Abigail was lost in a sea of sensation. She didn’t want to go back in the house. She wanted to kiss Brant all night under the moonlight.
He broke the kiss. "Miz Abby, I think you best go in now."
Feeling embarrassed by her aggressive behavior, she rushed inside.
Chapter 8: Wedding Day
Jenny helped Abigail dress for her wedding. Now that it was here, she was a bundle of nerves. The little girl cinched Abigail's corset as tight as a child of ten could and then helped her into the cream colored dress Abigail had designed and sewn with the help of a seamstress before leaving Philadelphia. Her marriage may be one of convenience, but it was still a special day that she'd wanted fond memories of.
Gently, Jenny touched the multiple lace layers spanning the bodice and sleeves. "It's so beautiful, Miz Abby! My Pa is gonna think you're the prettiest lady in the world."
Those words, spoken with such innocence, meant more to Abigail than her most precious jewelry. If only they were true. She had no illusions about herself. She didn't consider herself physically appealing and she knew Brant was only marrying her to mother his children. Yet, a spark inside her breast wanted him to look on her today with longing. Reaching for her wide brimmed hat with a short veil that she would pull down over her face before the wedding, she said breathlessly, "I-I guess I'm ready."
"Wait!" said Jenny. "You've got to have something old, something new, something borrowed, and something blue."
"Oh, goodness. I didn't think about that." Suddenly, Abigail had an idea. "How about this for something old and something new—something old will be my name, Abigail, but something new will be the name your father calls me, Abby. I'll think of myself as Abby from henceforth."
"I like that, Miz Abby! Now what about something borrowed? Wait! I've got it in the trunk in my room!" Jenny rushed out the door and returned a few minutes later grinning widely. "My ma gave me this on the Christmas afore she died. And look, it's got blue stitches in it."
Tears sprang to Abby's eyes. "Thank you, Jenny. It's perfect." Tucking the delicate handkerchief into her sleeve, Abby bent and kissed her soon to be stepdaughter.
Jenny walked to hold the bedroom door open.
Placing a ha
nd over her heart, Abby said a silent prayer of thanksgiving for her new family. Leaving her room, she paused in the doorway and inhaled a calming breath. Brant was sitting at the table sipping coffee. Ty and Luke were eating biscuits and boiled eggs.
Jenny called to her Pa, "Look Papa, isn't Miz Abby pretty?"
When Brant turned, he jumped up and almost knocked his coffee over. Jenny giggled. Ty said, "Pretty Mama," and Luke shoved a biscuit in his mouth, solemnly chewing.
"You look lovely," Brant said in his wonderfully deep voice. "And so do you, Jenny."
"You look very nice, too," Abby responded shyly. He wore black slacks and a handsome double-breasted white shirt. His work boots had been replaced by dress boots polished to a spit shine. His longish hair, combed back, still glistened with water and his blue eyes seemed even bluer in contrast to his deep tan. He was so much more than she had anticipated.
"Well, guess we best get started." Brant picked Ty up and walked him to the sink to wipe his hands and face.
Jenny rushed to the door. "Come on, Luke. Don't be a jerk today."
Luke narrowed his eyes at his sister.
Brant said, "You should eat something, Abby, before we leave. We'll wait."
"Goodness, no. My stomach has too many butterflies to make room for food." Her admission, spoken without thinking, made her want to cringe in embarrassment. Brant only did that "quirk of the lips" thing that meant he was laughing on the inside. He reached for his hat and slipped into a black frock coat. He looked so handsome and his shoulders were so wide, Abby could barely breathe.
As the horses plodded to the church, Jenny talked about everything from wedding dresses to the dietary habits of chickens. Wally followed them the customary half mile and gave his forlorn look when Brant ordered him home. Ty sat on the buckboard between his father and Abby and pointed to objects along the way. "Twee…burd…wabbit." Abby held her parasol over their heads and smiled, smoothing the baby's curls. She thought about the coming winter months and the lesson plans she'd already begun designing for Jenny and Luke. She was making picture cards for Ty.
"A penny for your thoughts," Brant said.
Abby met his gaze and smiled. "I've been thinking about lesson plans and some books Luke and Jenny might like to read. I've even got lessons planned for Ty."
Brant gave her a grateful look. "Thank you, Abby." His slow smile made her pulse race. Glancing back at the fall countryside, she pulled her cloak tighter and marveled at the colorful leaves, blue sky, and rolling hills of her new home that now seemed the loveliest place on earth.
Brant pulled the horses into the churchyard. On the outskirts of town, it was already filling with people. "Looks like the whole town's turned out for the wedding," he mused. He lifted Ty from the wagon, handed him to Luke, and then came around to help Abby down. The touch of his hands encircling her waist sent shivers up her spine and she felt her face burn. For an instant, his hands lingered and held her close.
Luke started walking toward the church and Brant said, "Hold up, son. We'll walk in as a family."
His words sent a thrill through Abby's heart. Never, during the lonely years of caring for her parents, had she believed she would have her own family. She'd imagined what it would be like, but never truly thought it would happen. Perhaps it wasn't too late for her to bear her own child. The possibility sent another wave of crimson color to her face and she glanced at Brant to see him offering her his arm. Smiling shyly, she accepted it and they all walked into the church together.
Immediately, parishioners descended and offered congratulations. Mrs. Merriweather, the pastor's wife, whom Abby had met at the barn-raising, welcomed them and said a reception had been planned for after the service. She looked almost as nervous as Abby felt. "I just love weddings!" she gushed, and then proceeded to exclaim over Abby's dress.
At precisely ten o'clock everyone found their seats and Mrs. Merriweather played the piano. Lovely songs were sung and then the freckle-faced young pastor took the pulpit, announcing the wedding would be at the end of the service. Thankfully, he shortened his sermon and spoke about the acts of kindness performed by the disciples. He encouraged everyone to perform their own acts of kindness that day. Finally, he said, "Now it's time to join Brant Samson and Abigail Vaughn as husband and wife. After the wedding, we'll be celebrating with food and song. I'd like to thank everyone who brought something for this momentous occasion on such short notice."
Mrs. Merriweather, tall and thin, whereas her husband was short and stocky, walked back to the piano, a huge grin on her face, and began playing a soft tune. The pastor said, "Will the happy couple please come forward?"
Brant sat Ty on the bench beside Jenny, but the toddler climbed to his feet so he could see what was happening. Abby followed Brant into the aisle, pulled her veil over her face, and accepted the arm he offered. Between her excitement and not eating, she was feeling dizzy. In a daze, she walked to stand before the pastor. Unwanted thoughts raced through her mind. Do you really want to marry someone who doesn't love you the way a husband should love his wife? Are you ready to become the mother of three children? Can you handle living in the wilds and not the city?
"Please hold hands," said Pastor Merriweather, and the music ceased.
Brant reached for her hand that trembled and she realized it was now or never if she wanted to call off her wedding. When his warm clasp enfolded her fingers, she knew without a doubt that he was the husband she desired.
The preacher said, "Dearly beloved, we are gathered together in the sight of God to join this man and this woman in holy matrimony…"
Abby listened to the preacher's words in a fog. She really should have eaten something. After a time, he said, "Do you, Abigail Mary Vaughn, take Brant Samson to be your wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, in sickness and in health…" Softly, she said yes when he finished his question.
When the preacher asked for the rings, Brant reached inside his pocket and brought out the simple bands he'd purchased the day before at the general store. Her hands shook when it was her turn to place the ring on his finger.
The preacher spoke more words and Abby's head felt fuzzy. Then he said words she understood, "I now pronounce you husband and wife. Brant, you may kiss your bride."
As if in slow motion, Brant raised her short veil and touched his lips to hers. When he lifted his head, she saw concern in his eyes, just before everything went black.
A familiar deep voice, speaking from far away, barely penetrated Abby's void. She concentrated on the soothing sound. "Abby, open your eyes and look at me. Abby, open your eyes."
The darkness felt safe and she didn't want to leave it, but the voice was persistent and kind. With difficulty she lifted her eyelids.
"That's my girl. Talk to me."
After a few seconds of confusion, awareness flooded her and she glanced around. She was inside the church being held on Brant's lap like a child. Several people surrounded them looking concerned.
Mortification made her eyes widen. "I'm so sorry I fainted."
Relief passed across Brant's face and he looked up. "She needs to eat. Can someone bring my wife a slice of bread and something to drink?"
"I'll get it," said Mrs. Merriweather.
The pastor boomed to everyone, "Now that we know Mrs. Samson is fine, let's push the benches aside and ready the room for the newlyweds' reception. We'll just leave Brant and his Missus alone for awhile."
Abby listened to the commotion of scraping pews and directions being called out. She said shakily, "I think I can sit up now."
Brant lifted her to sit beside him and Mrs. Merriweather returned with bread wrapped in a cloth napkin and a glass of milk. He accepted the sustenance from her and the woman patted Abby on the shoulder.
Mrs. Mina Priestly walked over and said, "You're gonna be jus' fine. Gettin' married to this outstandin' specimen of a man would have any gal faintin'."
Abby felt embarrassed by her words.
Brant a
cted like he hadn't heard the old woman. "Here, honey, eat some bread." He handed the napkin to her and she gratefully nibbled. After a few minutes, he handed her the milk. The food and drink revived her strength and she glanced around to see they were sitting on the front pew and all the other benches had been moved to the walls to make room for tables placed in the center of the room. Ladies were filling the tables with food. A smaller table held a cake.
Abby said, "Goodness, I didn't expect all this."
Brant said softly, "A wedding is something to celebrate."
Lifting her eyes shyly to his, she smiled her agreement. Soon, Abby got over her initial embarrassment about fainting when the parishioners treated her like one of their own. Never had she felt such a sense of belonging. She was beginning to associate names with the faces of her neighbors.
Brant stayed by her side, and other than a couple of times when she saw a look of sadness in his eyes, he was attentive and funny. Her wedding day turned out to be wonderful; something quite different from what she had expected. To her relief, Lola Pitts and her parents didn’t attend.
One of the younger mothers, Mrs. Lita Brandon, took oversight of Ty and Jenny and insisted that all three of Brant's children spend the night with her family so Brant and Abby could have at least one night alone. Abby protested, but Brant agreed.
The same fiddlers from the barn-raising struck up happy tunes and the country folk celebrated heartily. Brant explained, "Winter's coming, and everyone celebrates as much as they can before then. Gives a person something to remember on cold, stormy nights."
Late in the afternoon, Brant helped Abby onto their wagon and bid everyone goodbye amidst shouts of "Congratulations!"
As he turned the wagon toward their cabin, nervousness infused her chest. She tried to make small talk, but Brant had turned quiet. No doubt he was reflecting on his new state of matrimony. She figured the sadness she'd seen in his eyes earlier stemmed from remembrances of his wedding to his first wife, the love of his life.
Wanting to be sensitive, Abby ceased talking and watched the countryside.
