This time the words made sense. The last of her doubts evaporated. The hopes and dreams she had almost been afraid to entertain had not been built of air. "And I love you, Clay Knight. Let me show you just how much."
She reached for his shoulders, pulled him down to cover her body with his. His erection against her belly brought her to full readiness. She could feel his aching need for her in the tension of his spine and the hard grasp of his arms around her. Opening herself, she gasped as he entered, then gave herself up to incredible experience. His climax was imminent, but her own was as close. This time, when Annie reached the peak, Clay was around her, beside her, within her.
Chapter Thirty
Summer Again
The new house was gray, but everyone still spoke of it as The Blue House. It was larger than its predecessor, with four bedrooms instead of three. Gran had staked her claim to the largest one and ruled over the men and boys like a queen. "They're more rambunctious than the little girls," she confided to Annie during one of their rare quiet moments, "but more interesting too. I'd forgotten how linear their thinking is."
A tiny twinge of sorrow arrowed through Annie, and was quickly gone. She'd miss Calvin every day of her life, but the pain was no longer sharp, no longer insistent. "Maybe that's why we have so much trouble understanding them." She gathered the bows she'd made into a basket and picked up the staple gun. "Are you sure it's okay to staple these to the walls?"
"This old place is so full of holes already, what harm will a few more do?" Gran swept scattered petals and trimmings together and tossed them into the waiting garbage can. "I've always wanted a wedding here," she said, looking around the big room. "It's not fancy, but it's ours. So full of memories." Her voice wobbled a little. "I remember one Christmas... I couldn't have been more than twelve or thirteen. We'd had a big storm that had lasted a week or more. The hands had strung ropes between all the buildings, because the snow was blowing so hard you couldn't see five feet in front of you.
"They were hauling feed to the herds when they could, but Pa was sure we'd lose a lot of cattle. Everyone was worn to the bone, working fourteen hour days under impossible conditions. Folks didn't talk much about wind chill back then, but I'll bet it was twenty or thirty below. The thermometer on the side of the barn registered ten below on Christmas morning."
Annie shivered just thinking about it. They'd had mornings that cold this past winter, but she and Hildy had been cozy and warm inside the Pink House, with its electric heat and pellet stove. "That was during the Great Depression, wasn't it?"
"It was, and a more difficult time to be a rancher I can't recall. We were more fortunate than most, though, because we had meat, and Ma always planted a garden and put up all she grew."
Recalling a conversation about the difficulty of growing tomatoes at this elevation, Annie guessed that her great-grandmother's garden had held more root vegetables than anything else. She pulled the ladder into place in the archway between the kitchen and dining room. "Put the big one here, I guess." She climbed, and held up the largest bow.
"With the tails dangling. Yes, that looks fine. Then a couple of the smaller ones at the corners, with long tails on them." Gran carried the largest bouquet to the cloth-covered altar the uncles had constructed.
With the window behind it, framing the Tetons glowing in the morning sun, the altar hardly needed flowers. Annie hoped the fine weather would hold until tomorrow. She attached the side bows and pinned tails to each, When she turned around, she saw that Gran must have agreed about the flowers, because they were sitting on the floor in front of the altar. "Tell me about your snowed-in Christmas." She'd heard many of her grandmother's stories, but not that one.
"Not much to tell," Gran said as she returned to the table where a dozen small bouquets waited. "There never was much ready money back then, but Ma and Pa always made sure we had something to open on Christmas morning. That year they invited the hands to join us, since most of them had volunteered to stay and help take care of the livestock. None of the boys were married, as I recall, and only a couple had family in the area. They were bunking in the barn loft."
"Brrr." Not like sleeping up there in the summer. Annie and Hetty had done that once, and discovered that sleeping in hay, even with a good strong tarp under you, was vastly overrated.
Gran chuckled. "That was the first time I heard the saying 'Cold enough to freeze the balls off a brass monkey.' I was shocked."
"I was really disappointed when I learned that it doesn't mean what it sounds like," Annie said. "What did you get, that Christmas?"
A distant, soft expression came over Gran's face. Her eyes looked into an unseen distance. "Socks, I think. Yes, Red socks, with blue heels and toes. Lizzie's were blue, with red toes and heels. She thought they were too gaudy and refused to wear them." Another chuckle. "I do believe she's where John got his stuffiness."
"Your mother made them, I'll bet." The ladder wobbled, as Annie set it next to one of the side windows. She moved it slightly and saw a spoon on the floor. "How is Uncle John? He looks older, more troubled. I wasn't sure I wanted to ask Hetty." The spoon went into her pocket and she went on with her decorating.
"Doing well, he tells me. I'm not sure he is, but at least he's coping. It's just too bad that it took a tragedy to get him to face the truth."
Annie looked down at Gran, who was sitting again. She was not nearly so robust as she had been last summer, and a frisson of fear when up Annie's spine. There would come a day when Gran wasn't here. What would she... What would the Families do then? She swallowed a lump. "At least the bicyclist she hit will be all right. DUII is a lot better than vehicular homicide." Why did I say that? "Oh, darn. I'm sorry."
"My thoughts exactly, so don't apologize. Now, where shall we put the table for gifts? It just doesn't work against that back wall. There's not room, not with all the loot that's here already."
"Loot? If I'd called it that, you'd have had a fit." Annie looked around the room, the big tables were shoved against all the walls, the benches set in rows behind half a dozen rows of rented folding chairs. The aisle between led from the kitchen arch to the altar. "It's starting to look like a chapel," she said with a smile. "Oh, Gran..."
"A far cry from the fancy church wedding you and Walter had, isn't it?"
"Don't remind me. I've never been so strung out in my life. All the parties and social stuff. And his parents had very definite ideas what a proper wedding should be. They tried to blackmail Mom and Dad into paying for it, but Dad put his foot down."
"As well he should Ten thousand dollars for a wedding. Ridiculous! Thomas and I paid two dollars for our marriage license, gave the minister twenty, and Ma made our wedding cake."
"And you stayed married," Annie said, wondering if this time she would, too.
"Enough reminiscing. I need a nap." Gran put clippers and wire and floral foam into a basket. "You can walk me back to the Blue House, then I want you to go relax."
At the archway they paused and turned to look back at their handiwork. The dining room, with its stark white walls, worn linoleum, and wide windows, wasn't exactly transformed, but the flowers and wide ribbon bows gave it charm and a welcoming warmth. Definitely a proper place for a wedding.
Or two. Hers and Hetty's.
* * * *
"May I play Mother-of-the-Bride?"
Hetty saw Louisa's reflection in the mirror over the dresser. "Of course. Come in." she'd been feeling a little sorry for herself, she admitted silently. Annie had her mother with her, but no one was here to mother Hetty.
Well, you could have had someone. All you had to do was ask.
She had to admit she'd rather have her aunt than Joss, who hadn't acted a mother for a long time. Not since she'd stopped drinking socially and started losing herself in alcohol.
Louisa sat on the bed. "Nervous?"
"Scared shitless. I'm not ready for this. What if I--"
"Hetty, we all ask those questions at times like this. I doubt a
nyone has ever felt adequate to life's big challenges. The day before I married Ben, I almost ran away."
"No way!"
"Way. And when I discovered I was pregnant with Eric... Well, let's just say I spent nine months trying to convince myself I was capable of being a good mother."
"You're a great mother," Hetty said, sitting beside her aunt. "The way you've taken CeCe and Tommy in. They aren't the same kids they were last summer."
"None of us are the same as we were last summer," Louisa said, her voice breaking. "So much has happened..."
"Oh, God, Louisa, I'm sorry. I never thought--"
Louisa took a couple of deep breaths, and gave Hetty a small, wobbly smile. "It's okay. I'm coping. In fact, having CeCe and Tommy around has helped a lot. I can't give in to grief when I have to get Tommy to his karate class, or drive the pace car for CeCe's cycling team. It's helped Ben, too, having kids in the house. They keep him from brooding."
"It's no solace, but at least Evan was doing something he believed in, something that made a difference. Gran sent me a copy of the letter from his team leader. It was--" Her voice broke.
They clung together, their tears wetting the collar of Hetty's robe, the neck of Louisa's t-shirt. The storm lasted an interminable time, but at last it passed. Hetty pulled away, groped for the tissue box on the bedside stand. "Here. Blow."
A watery chuckle. "You sound like a mom."
"Yes, well, I need to get in practice. I'll be one before Christmas." The wonder of her pregnancy drove the last of her tears away. "Oh, damn. I wasn't going to tell anyone. Keep it quiet, will you?" She sniffed, wiped her wet cheeks.
Louisa hugged her tightly. "You sound happy. Are you?"
"Yeah, I am. Much to my surprise. And Frank's over the moon. He's already started building a cradle. We just don't want to broadcast it until after the wedding. Not that anyone will care." She pulled back, looked at her aunt uncertainly. "They won't, will they?"
"Everyone who matters will be thrilled. Omigosh, look at the time!"
Hetty did, and scrambled to the bathroom. Her eyes were red, her cheeks blotched. She wet a washcloth and buried her face in it. After a couple of applications, she looked halfway decent. Makeup would cover the rest.
Louisa helped her into the lacy slip, with its froth of a skirt. Hetty had planned to buy a sleek, stylish wedding gown, until she'd seen this confection. Strapless, with a dropped waist and a full satin skirt, it had a scattering of lush satin roses across the skirt and a short train that would pick up every piece of dirt and lint in sight.
She didn't care. She loved it.
"I feel beautiful," she said, when Louisa had finished zipping her into the dress. Stepping back as far as she could in the confines of the bedroom, she looked at her reflection in the pier glass. "Just look at me. I look like a bride."
"You are a bride, love. And you are beautiful." Louisa sniffed, but this time Hetty knew the threatening tears were happy ones. "Let's go. It's time."
* * * *
Annie chose not to wear white. She wanted a dress she could use, not something that would go into a garment bag to be looked at occasionally but never worn again.. Clay had agreed, saying he'd never had any strong feelings about traditional weddings. The floaty skirt of her deep rose dress swirled around her legs as she and her dad followed Hetty and Uncle John up the aisle. Framed by the window, with the Tetons shining in the afternoon sun behind them, Frank and Clay waited, both serious, both looking a little nervous.
Last night she'd asked herself if she was doing the right thing. Today she had no doubts. This time she'd picked the right man.
Hildy reached the front of the room and stepped to the left as Ward went to the right. When she turned to face the room, Annie wanted to cheer at the happy smile on her face. This past winter and spring, she and Hildy had grown as close as sisters, but in some way they were also mother and daughter. Hildy was no longer a rebellious child, although she would never conform to what the world expected. She was unique.
Frank opened his arms to Hetty and she stepped within them. And then Clay was holding out his hand for hers. She looked into his eyes and saw a welcome, a promise.
Saw forever.
About the Author
On her way to a career as a writer, Judith B. Glad made a lot of detours--into motherhood, short-order cooking, accounting, management, graduate school, botanical consulting. Eventually she decided she had to write those books that had been growing in her head for years--romances all. She believes every story should have a happy ending, even if it requires two or three hankies to get there.
After growing up in Idaho--the locale of several of her books--Judith now lives in Portland, Oregon, where flowers bloom in her yard every month of the year and snow usually stays on the mountains where it belongs. It's a great place to write, because the rainy season lasts for eight months--a perfect excuse to stay indoors and tell stories. Judith has four children, all grown, three granddaughters and a grandson.
Visit Judith's webpage at www.judithbglad.com to learn more about her other books. While you're there, take some side trips to view early 20th century picture postcards, read about 5,000 ways to earn a living, and see what a Mentzelia really is.
* * * *
Uncial Press brings you extraordinary fiction, non-fiction and poetry. Put a world of reading in your pocket.
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