by Verna Clay
Angel sat next to Abby.
Abby said, "I've sensed that you and Luke haven't disclosed everything about your marriage, and since you're staying in separate bedrooms, I guess my intuition was right."
Angel said, "I can explain–"
Abby interrupted, "No, dear, there's no need. Luke will explain when he feels the time is right. I just wanted to come by and see how you're doing. You were very upset the day we visited the graves."
Angel felt embarrassed about her behavior and attempted to apologize. "I-I want to tell you how sorry I am about spoiling your family tradition."
Abby patted her hand. "No apology necessary. That site has seen its share of sorrow and joy. Did Luke ever tell you about the butterflies?"
"You know, when we first arrived and were riding out to your place, two butterflies stayed with us for quite some time. One landed on Luke and the other on me. He mentioned something about butterflies, but didn't elaborate."
A wondrous expression lit Abby's face. Then she said, "I'll share the butterfly story."
Angel leaned forward, intrigued by the mystery.
Abby smiled. "I don't know how much Luke told you about Ty, his baby brother, but even though I did not birth him, I could not have loved him more if I had. He gave me indescribable joy and when he died, I wanted to die with him. I even ran away, thinking it would be best for Brant and the children. To make a long story short, Brant came after me, and it was his love that saved me. It took awhile before I was ready to return home from the friends' house I was staying at, but when I did, I wasn't sure how Luke and Jenny would feel about me. After all, I was the mother, and when I couldn't cope with Ty's death, I abandoned them."
Angel said, "But you were grieving. You shouldn't be so hard on yourself."
"Yes, of course, you're right. It took some time, but I finally forgave myself and realized Luke and Jenny held nothing against me. The day of our reunion is one of the happiest of my life." A faraway look passed over Abby's face before she said, "Goodness, I was going to share the butterfly story. Anyway, the year we made our first trek to the graves as a family, Brant asked the children to bring something special with them to share. Of course, the idea of talking to dead people is a concept quite foreign to most people, but our family has made it a yearly tradition. For the first year after Ty's death, I often went to his grave to talk with him. I can't explain why, but it helped me tremendously." Abby grinned. "There I go getting off the subject again. Back to the butterflies—so, at our first gathering, Jenny brought a picture she had drawn. After we finished sharing our thoughts and turned to leave, two butterflies danced around the gravestones before landing on them—a butterfly on each stone. When Jenny saw them, she grabbed her picture and said, 'Look, there they are.' When we looked at her drawing we were amazed that the butterflies looked exactly like the ones she had drawn and had alighted in the exact same locations on the stones. It was a wonderful surprise and filled a sad event with joy. Since then, two butterflies often fly around us during momentous occasions; such as the birth of both my children, the groundbreaking for Luke's home, Jenny leaving for art school, and sometimes, but not always, during our yearly visits to the graves. And now, you've just told me that the butterflies showed up for your arrival in Two Rivers. I can't wait to share that with Brant."
Angel was at a loss as to how she should comment and Abby seemed to understand. After a moment's hesitation, Abby said, "Honey, I know there are things you don't want to talk about—sad things in your life—I can see it in your eyes. But I want you to know I'm always available if you want to talk. I've experienced the depths of sorrow and the tough road back to the land of the living."
Angel turned her head to the side and fingered a tear. "Thank you," she whispered. "I-I just can't talk about it."
Abby patted her hand. "I understand more than you realize. I just came by today to let you know you're loved and I'm here for you, as are Brant and Luke."
Angel sniffed and wiped her nose. "Thank you."
Abby gave her hand one last pat and then rose. "I best be on my way. I don't like leaving Brant too long, but I have a tendency to hover and I know he needs his space."
Angel walked Abby to the door and in a spontaneous gesture, hugged her. Abby returned her hug and said softly, "Luke's just the man for you and you're the perfect woman for him." Before Angel could react, Abby closed the door.
Late that night Angel lay in bed staring at her ceiling and tossing restlessly. Luke had told her only that morning that they would be leaving for California in two days. She should be elated, but she wasn't. The Samson family had planted themselves in her heart and try as she might to deny it, she hated leaving them.
Rising, she stood by her window and stared at a half moon. After a time, she felt the need to do something, anything. Lighting her oil lamp and grabbing a handful of books, she quietly slipped from her room and padded in bare feet to the library to return them. Slipping each book back into place, she brushed at a tear. Even the library had become dear to her, its smell of books and leather and oak furniture comforting. A book on an upper shelf caught her attention and she stretched to pull it from its place. Maybe if she read when she returned to bed it would help her fall asleep. When she turned to leave, shifting the book to her other hand, a folded paper slipped out and opened. Bending to retrieve the crisp stationary she recognized as Luke's, she was about to place it back in the book when her eyes were drawn to a name—Dawson Jeffries. There was also a date on the letter. It was several years old. Feeling like a snoop, but wanting to know why her favorite author's name was on the paper, she read the contents.
Dear Mr. Carthage,
I am ecstatic that you enjoyed the draft of my latest story and want to serialize it in your paper. I must say, I am very surprised by the overwhelming response to my writings and it is because of that response I have decided to continue under a pen name—Dawson Jeffries.
I must confide that initially I enjoyed the prestige afforded me when I wrote under my own name, but that soon wore off. I desire a simple life and find that
Although unfinished, Angel recognized Luke's handwriting. Luke was Dawson Jeffries! She dropped the paper like it had scalded her fingers.
A noise made her jerk her head upward and she saw Luke standing in the doorway. "What's wrong?" he asked, and glanced at the stationary on the floor.
Angel blinked, unable to respond while her mind wrapped itself around her discovery.
Frowning, Luke hastened to pick up the paper. After he glanced at it, he said, "I guess my secret is out."
The humorous tone in his voice incensed Angel. "How could you not tell me when I told you how much I enjoy Dawson Jeffries' writings and I even read the latest installment to you?" Before he could respond, she forged on. "I bared my soul to you the other day and you kept something like this from me. How dare you! You're just like every other man in my life—a liar!"
"I am not a liar, Angel. I simply saw no reason to tell you."
His words, spoken quietly, hurt Angel deeply. Although she knew there was really no reason he should have confided his secret, she couldn't help her reaction. Years of mistreatment from men finally erupted and she launched herself at him, pummeling his chest. "I hate you! I hate all men! They lie and hurt me for their own pleasure! I hate you!"
"Angel, stop! You don't know what you're saying!"
"I do! I do!" Reaching her arm back, she slapped his cheek as hard as she could, the impact stinging her hand. Suddenly aware of what she had done, she gasped and stared at the reddening handprint on his face. He didn't move, and neither did she until reason reasserted itself. She cried, "Oh, Luke," and covered her mouth with her hand.
"Angel, I think you should return to bed."
She wanted him to chastise her, even strike her like other men had done, but he merely remained still, staring sadly at her.
Unable to bear the tension or her longing for this man, something she fought daily, she didn't think; she merely reac
ted like she had done that day in the forest. With a cry, she threw her arms around him and covered his mouth with hers. Her hunger was insatiable and after his initial surprise, he responded with instant ardor. Groaning, he wrapped his arms around her and then lifted his hands to her head, repositioning her mouth roughly against his, matching and surpassing her passion. His tongue mated with hers and she grabbed his shoulders, digging her fingers into solid muscle. Instead of the kisses gentling, they became feverish. After a long time, Angel moved her mouth to the red mark on his cheek, kissing it repeatedly and whispering over and over, "Forgive me. Please forgive me."
Instead of responding, Luke captured her mouth again and then Angel felt herself being lifted into his arms. Keeping her lips on his, she didn't care where he was taking her. She wasn't capable of rational thought, only sensation, and beyond a shadow of a doubt she knew she loved this compassionate young man.
* * *
Luke lowered Angel to his bed, his heart full of love for his broken wife. Never had he wanted any woman as much as he wanted her. She clung to him, still covering his mouth with heated kisses. She was driving him crazy and if he didn't slow her down he wouldn't be able to keep himself from shattering before consummating their marriage.
"Angel," he whispered, lifting his mouth slightly. She followed his mouth with hers and his heart thrilled at her desire for him. He tried again, raising his mouth a fraction above hers. "Angel, love, listen to me." That seemed to get her attention and her little pants sent puffs of air into his mouth. "I don't want you to move. Will you humor me?"
"I-I don't understand."
"Shh. You will soon. Don't move, okay?"
She nodded and when he touched his lips to hers, she leaned into him, kissing him again. He chuckled and lifted his lips slightly. "Don't move, baby." He moved his mouth to her ear and whispered, "Stay perfectly still." When he grazed her cheek with his lips, she moaned but didn't move. Next, he kissed her eyes and nose and she lay still in his arms. Returning his mouth to her ear, he said, "I'm going to slip my hands under your nightgown. I want to touch you. May I?"
Angel squirmed beneath him. "Oh, yes. Do it now."
Luke almost lost it and wanted to crush his mouth over hers, but he knew he had to be gentle with Angel because of her past experiences. Slowly, he reached his hand to her bare foot and caressed it before gliding his palm up her calf and then to her thigh. When he reached her bare hip, he groaned and lightly nipped her lips. Moving his hand to the outside of her breast, he heard her gasp and paused in his exploration, kissing her tenderly until he felt she was ready for more. When he covered her breast, she said, "Touch me everywhere, Luke."
Her sweet words released so much love from his heart that he could do nothing but tell her over and over how much he loved her—how he had loved her from the first moment he'd seen her—how sorry he was that he hadn't told her who he was.
When she responded with, "Luke, I've tried not to, but I love you so much I want to be your wife," he lifted off her and removed his clothing, never removing his eyes from her closed ones. When he was naked, he sank back onto the bed. Holding himself above her, he whispered in her ear, "I want to remove your gown." Gently, he fingered the button at her neck. With her hair spilling across his pillow, its blackness shining even in the dim light of the moon trickling through the window, he began unbuttoning tiny pearl buttons.
* * *
Angel could barely breathe. Luke's hands and kisses and sweet words captured her very soul. The love she had been trying to deny came spilling forth. Tears leaked and trickled down her cheeks and when he paused in touching her, and whispered, "I won't go any further if you don't want it," she begged, "Please don't stop," and lifted her mouth to his, kissing him tenderly.
Throughout the night, Angel marveled at the pleasure Luke expressed in loving her and greatly marveled at her own desire for him. At first, she shyly caressed his chest and shoulders, becoming bolder as the intensity of their lovemaking increased. When Luke poised himself over her body and slowly consummated their marriage, she was lost to such overwhelming love that every hurtful thing ever done to her was forgotten in that moment. Nothing existed in the universe except the body, soul, and spirit of her husband merging with her own body, soul, and spirit.
Hours later, when morning sunshine splashed the horizon and cast cheery light into the bedroom, Angel watched the play of shadows on the ceiling and walls, and for the first time in years, welcomed the day. Rising above Luke and rubbing her cheek against his chest because she loved the feel of his strength, she kissed and touched her tongue to the space just above his abdomen and licked her way to his neck. Never had Angel believed she could do something so sensual of her own volition.
A rumbling in Luke's chest let her know he was awake and enjoying her playfulness. He said low, in the voice of someone just awakening, "Angel, let's go to heaven again." And they did just that.
Chapter Fourteen: Finding the Cookie Jar
Luke pulled the buckboard in front of the church and reached to squeeze Angel's hand. For two days they had done little more than make love, neither of them wanting to disturb their bubble of joy. However, the previous night when Luke had broached the subject of San Francisco and the fact that he would do whatever was needed to make Angel happy, even live there if she was of a mind to still go, she had lifted glistening eyes to his and whispered, "I don't want to be anywhere but here with you, your family, your friends, your ranch, your town. I love you and everything connected with you."
For Luke, her heartfelt words brought tears to his own eyes. "I'll build you a magnificent bakery, Angel."
The happiness on her face and her tinkling laughter had made him want to give her the moon if she asked.
Now, letting his hands linger on her waist as he set her on the ground, he could feel her nervousness. "Don't be nervous, darlin'. Everyone is going to love you."
She inhaled and confided, "I haven't mingled in society like a normal person since I was a child. I'm scared, but excited." Grazing her teeth innocently over her bottom lip in a gesture that made Luke want to jump back in the buckboard and hasten to their bedroom, she said, "Thank you, Luke, for returning my life to me."
* * *
Holding tightly to her husband's hand, Angel entered the simple white-washed church. It seemed all heads turned and all conversation ceased when they walked through the big door. For a second, Angel panicked and wanted to run from the building. In the next instant, a hubbub of noise erupted while neighbors and family converged on them. A woman, who looked to be as old as God, with white hair peeking from beneath a girlish gingham bonnet, was the first to reach them.
"Howdy, Luke. I hear tell you up and married. And I must say, you got the pick of the litter." She extended an arthritic hand toward Angel. "I'm Mina Priestly and I've known your husband since he was a squallin' babe. I even did some substitute teaching when he was a rambunctious third grader. Mischievous little devil he was—in trouble all the time. But he's grown into a fine young man and you got yerself a keeper. Now I hear tell yer name is Angel. Is that right?"
Angel wanted to hug Mina Priestly for being so friendly. "Yes, Mrs. Priestly, that's my name."
"Well, Angel, I think we're gonna be good friends, just like Abby and me. But the first thing you gots ta do is call me Mina. I make the kids call me Miz Priestly so's they can learn respect, but all my friends call me Mina."
"Thank you for your kindness and I'd be honored to call you Mina."
"Good. Now I better move on so's other folks can git ta know ya. Since I still git around pretty good, I'll be visitin' soon in me old buckboard."
After Mina walked away, Abby stepped up, hugged them, and tilted her head to the side. "Okay, something's going on. You both look happier than a two year old who's found the cookie jar."
Luke laughed and placed an arm around Angel's shoulders. "Let's just say Angel and I have been honeymooning."
At his forthrightness, Angel blushed and Abby laughed
delightedly. After that, Abby held Angel's hand and introduced her to so many people, she lost count. Pastor and Mrs. Merriweather were just as friendly as pastor and Mrs. Goodbodie in Dallas had been. When Luke led her to sit beside his family for singing and the sermon, she refused to allow her happiness to be marred by dwelling on the other secret she had yet to disclose to her husband.
After the service, Abby approached Angel with a group of smiling women. Abby said, "Angel, we've been talking and want to do something special for you and Luke by having a reception." She was interrupted by Bessie Jane Smythe, the woman who had traveled on the stagecoach with Luke and Angel to Two Rivers. "Yep. Me and Mr. Smythe want to do our part by cooking up a feast for you and Luke at the gathering. We was of a mind to hold it at the hotel, but Abby said she'd like to have it at her house so's Luke's pa can be there, and that's fine with us. What do you say? Can we throw ya'll a big shindig?"
Angel glanced at Luke, overwhelmed by all the attention. The surrounding parishioners answered for them.
"Great idea!"
"I want to help."
"Just let me know what I can do."
"I can't wait!"
"Bessie Jane, you gotta make some of those great cinnamon pastries!"
Luke bent to Angel's ear. "I don't think we have much say in this. But if we did, I'd say, 'My angel deserves the biggest party ever'."
Angel blinked back tears at his sweet words, and while they both listened and nodded because getting a word in above all the excitement was impossible, the wedding reception was planned for the coming Saturday.
Finally, the congregation began disbursing and calling farewells to Luke and Angel.
A beautiful woman who said her name was Lola Skinner, and a short, skinny man she introduced as her husband, were the last to bid them goodbye. Lola said to Luke, "Give my best to your father. I told Abby we're ready to help with anything; she just has to say the word."
"Thanks, Lola."
