“That’s high all right,” Gloria said.
“And I guess they wandered off or somethin’, because I couldn’t find ’em. They wasn’t tall enough to be seen over the wheat, and I was just tearin’ through the fields, callin’ for ’em.”
“Did you find them?” Gloria still refused to lift her face from the nest of her arms.
“I woke up and walked straight over to make sure they were all right.”
“Were they?”
“Of course.”
“That’s good.”
A silence settled around them once again, and Gloria dozed in and out. At some point she felt like a spectator in John William’s dream, saw him striding through the fields, searching, calling. And then she wondered.
“Was I there?” she said.
“Where?”
Gloria propped herself up on one elbow and turned her body toward his.
“In your dream,” she said. “Where was I?”
She watched him sigh before he brought his hand up to lift his hat from his face. He turned his body to mirror hers. His brow furrowed before giving way to a full and joyous smile that drew Gloria to him like no embrace ever could.
“You were right beside me, darlin’,” he said, “callin’ out their names.”
It was a moment, Gloria thought, that should have taken her breath away. Such affirmation. Such invitation. Instead, she felt it settle within her.
“What do you think it means?” she asked
Big Phil interrupted with a yawn befitting his name and a satisfied belly scratch. “If you ask me,” he said, grunting as he hoisted himself off the ground, “it means that you two better keep them kids on a leash once they’re old enough to walk.”
John William and Gloria had been smiling at one another, and now they burst into comfortable, relieved laughter. In the distance, the soft jingle of the horses’ harness signaled an end to the noontime break. Rested and revitalized, they roused themselves to resume the day’s work. There were, after all, only three acres left.
The harvest was in before dark.
I will arise and go to Jesus,
He will embrace me in His arms;
In the arms of my dear Savior,
O there are ten thousand charms.
22
Gloria sat in the willow rocker exchanging gurgling giggles with a very happy Danny. It was a rare moment stolen from the endless work of the field and garden and kitchen. But the cellar was stocked with vegetables, and the cupboards were full of things pickled and preserved. A glimpse out the window showed Big Phil and Lonnie in the distance, pitching the bundles of wheat into John William’s wagon, its sides framed high to contain the sheaves. Gloria’s eyes searched the distance for John William—seeking him as she seemed to these days—and became so engrossed in her search that she failed to see his face grinning at her from the other side of the window until his knock on the glass caused her to jump.
“Dah!” blurted Danny, his chubby finger pointing.
John William smiled and wiggled his fingers at Danny before beckoning to Gloria. “Come outside,” he said, his voice muffled.
“What do you want?”
“Just put the baby down and come outside.”
Gloria sighed, heaved herself and Danny up from the willow rocker, and went to hand the child off to Maureen.
The season had definitely turned. The afternoon held a bracing chill as John William and Gloria made their way through the newly shorn fields.
“It looks sad out here,” Gloria said.
“Sad?”
“Dead. Finished.”
“You can’t look at it like that, darlin’,” John William said. “You’ve got to look at the ground and see the promise. It’ll be a new crop next year, more, even. I hope to put in at least another fifty acres of wheat, maybe corn.”
“What does Maureen think of all these great plans?”
John William was quiet for a moment. “She’s signin’ it over to me in the spring. It’ll all be in my name. It’s gonna be ours.”
Ours.
They continued walking farther from the house, across the fields, their feet sinking into the soft soil, heading toward the grove of trees that bordered the field.
“Where are we going?” It was the third time she’d asked since leaving the house, each request more petulant than the last.
“You’ll see,” he answered.
John William’s long stride covered nearly twice the distance of each step of Gloria’s, and she scrambled not quite behind him, determined to keep up. Once or twice she stumbled on the uneven ground, and she reached out and clutched John William’s sleeve. When her ankle twisted in a particularly deceptive hole, John William caught her around the waist and steadied her.
“All right?” he asked.
“Fine.”
“Good. Come on.”
Somehow her hand ended up clutched in his, and she left it there, content now to walk behind him, following in his footprints as he half-led, half-dragged her across the field.
A small running stream, maybe ten feet wide, created a border between the edge of the wheat field and the grove of trees.
“What do we do now?” Gloria asked as they came to a stop at the water’s edge.
“What? Can’t you swim?”
His amusement seemed to infuse his body, from the twinkle in his eyes to his smile to the slight squeeze he gave before dropping her hand, plopping to the ground, and pulling off his boots.
“You’re not serious,” Gloria said. She looked at the stream, trying to gauge its depth. “It doesn’t look deep.”
“Guess we’re wadin’, then.” He whistled a little as he rolled up his pants legs.
“I am not walking through that river.”
“Now, darlin’, it’s hardly a river.”
“Have you ever had to drag yourself around in a wet skirt and petticoat?”
“Do you really want an answer to that?” His smile was infectious now, and Gloria found herself wanting to play along.
“Oh, all right,” she said. “But you undo the laces.”
“At your command.” He bent down on one knee in front of her. Gloria put her foot on his leg and steadied herself with a hand on his shoulder, enjoying watching his fingers work the intricacies of the hooks and laces on her boots.
“Stockin’s, too?”
“Of course not,” Gloria said, a false haughtiness to her voice. “I am, after all, trying to become a lady.”
When the second boot was loosened, Gloria stepped behind John William and reached under her skirts to untie her stockings just above her knees. Then, her palm firmly planted on the top of his head, she lifted first one foot, then the other, pulling off boot and stocking in one fell swoop.
“Let’s go, then,” John William said when the second boot hit the ground.
“Just one second.” Grumbling, Gloria gathered handfuls of skirt and petticoat, bunching it all up gracelessly just above her knees
Together they took the few remaining steps to the water’s edge.
“Give me your hand,” John William said. “The rocks might be—”
Her foot gave way beneath her, and she landed on her backside on what had to be the hardest boulder in Oregon Territory. Somewhere through the water’s splashing and the curses flying in her head, she thought she heard deep throaty laughter. Then one strong arm wrapped itself around her waist and hauled her to her feet; another hooked itself behind her knees and swept her off them. They were well into the middle of the stream before Gloria could speak.
“Put me down.”
John William laughed that big laugh of his. “You’ve already been down. Now let’s work on getting you across. If you wiggle, I’ll lose my balance and we’ll both take a tumble, so be a good girl.”
Gloria relaxed and dropped her head against his shoulder, leaving it there until they were safely on the other side. “What about my shoes?”
“What about them?”
�
�They’re on the other side.”
“I guess they are.”
“I’m supposed to walk barefoot?”
“Unless you want me to carry you the whole way.”
She did.
“Is the ground soft?”
“Soft enough.”
“Then put me down.”
He hesitated for just a moment before gingerly lowering her to the ground. Still, his hand lingered on her waist, and neither made any move to budge it.
“What are we doing?” she asked. “I mean, where are we going?”
“I want to show you something.”
She felt the slightest squeeze of her waist before he took his hand away and started walking. The ground was soft and covered with layers of dead leaves and grass. It seemed as if they were going to be walking through dense forest, but within just a few seconds they’d stepped into a clearing.
“What do you think?”
In the middle of the clearing was a little house made of rough-hewn logs stacked snugly together. It was long rather than square, and the facing wall had both a small window and a narrow door hung on leather hinges. The roof was made of smooth planks laid from one end of the cabin to the other, forming a modest peak around a stone chimney that crawled up and out of one end wall. There was a small, fenced-in square of earth that had clearly been a garden.
“What is this?”
“Let’s look.”
He took her hand and led her across the soft grass of the clearing to the very door. A wooden latch held it closed, and John William grasped the protruding stake, dislodged it from the wall, and pulled the door open.
It took a moment for Gloria’s eyes to adjust to the darkness; the only light came from the little square window. But soon it infused the cabin with enough light for her to see the details. A white plaster had been spread between each log, leaving no gaps. The wall at one end was dominated by a rock fireplace, the floor in front of it a semicircle of black.
Gloria curled and uncurled her toes, expecting to feel the grit of hard-packed earth, but the coarseness beneath her feet was merely a layer of dirt on a rough wood floor. On the long side of the room, a large plank protruded perpendicularly from between two logs and was held up by yet another log at its end. A table. Two low benches were similarly engineered on either side. As her eyes further adjusted to the light, she saw that the wall opposite the fireplace extended only about three-quarters of the way across, creating more of a divider than an actual wall, leaving a doorway into what must be a second room.
“This is the first house he built for her.”
“Who?”
“Edward. For Maureen. This was their first home. When they realized the main road to Middleton was going to run along the opposite end of their property, he built the new place so they’d be a little closer to town.”
“How did you find it?”
“Maureen showed me.”
Gloria stepped farther into the little house, and John William followed her, allowing the door to hang open on its leather hinges.
“It’s so small,” she said.
“Compared to what Maureen’s living in now, yeah. But at the time, for them, it was enough.”
“For them.”
“For us.”
Gloria had been gliding over the floor, but she stopped midstep and stood in the center of this little house that seemed to be growing larger with every breath.
“We need to start our own life, Gloria. If you’re to be my wife, we can’t just go on livin’ with Maureen.”
“There’s no stove.”
“You don’t cook.” He laughed and then added, gently, “I’ll get us a little one to go just over here.” He took her elbow and turned her to look at the corner where the rock met the wood. “See? There’s a hole cut in the roof for a stovepipe already. She had one here.”
“What about the babies?”
“Just for this winter we’ll keep their little beds in this main room. I’ll build them something small that we can stash away during the day.”
“What about us?”
“Come here,” he said. He’d been saying that all afternoon. Follow me. Walk this way. In truth, he’d been saying that since they’d left Silver Peak together, and she’d always obeyed. So when he once again took her arm—loosely, just above her wrist—there seemed no reason not to go along.
He led her to the little doorway that divided the cabin into one small room and one smaller one and pulled her across the threshold into total darkness. There was no window here, nothing but the sweet scent of raw wood, the sharp scent of him, and the sound of his breath. And hers. The lack of orientation made her dizzy and she put her hand in front of her steady herself and found the sturdiness of his body to hold her up.
“We’ll need to steal a lamp,” she said, surprised at the thinness of her voice. “And dishes for the table.”
“Of course.” His voice sounded closer. His breath in her hair.
“And maybe a—”
Her last suggestion was lost as his mouth covered hers, his lips soft against her own. She wondered for just a moment how he had landed the kiss so perfectly in such perfect darkness, but the thought was a fleeting one as she disengaged her hand from his and snaked it up around his neck. He brought his arms around her, pulling her fully to him.
“Oh, Gloria.” He took his lips from hers to say her name, then trailed more kisses across her cheeks, dotting her nose before claiming her mouth again.
She ran her fingers through the length of his hair, grazed her thumb against his misshapen ear and ached as he flinched against her touch.
“Shh,” she said, bringing her fingers to his face and tracing—even in this utter darkness—every scar.
He caught her hands in his and she felt his mouth against her palm—first one, then the other. Then she felt her face caught in the warmth of his work-hardened hands, his thumbs against her cheekbones, her ears nestled between his fingers. He kissed her again, releasing her from his grip once their mouths were engaged. She felt one hand at the small of her back, the other caught in her hair. He moved her a few tiny steps back until she felt the log wall press against her.
This was new, this feeling of melting, this sense of embrace. She’d never felt so powerless, left to the whim of her desire. Truth be told, she’d never felt desire. And that’s what it was, that need to pull him closer. She wrapped her arms around his back, loving this feeling, enticed by this thrill. This was nothing like their first kiss. There was no audience, no glaring open light. Only the two of them.
Together they shuffled one step, then two, and she felt something press against her calves, the coldness of her wet skirts sending a chill up her legs. The bed. Gloria’s legs buckled underneath her until she was sitting on the wooden plank and then, further still, until she was lying on her back, trapped beneath the weight of John William above her.
This, now, was familiar. This she knew. She’d been here countless times before. The only difference was that there was no money on the table, no sick and dying mother in the next room, no one else waiting outside the door.
Soon the feel of his mouth on hers was too sweet, too intimate to bear, and she turned her face violently away. She tried to remember the tricks she had used to make herself disappear. In the old days she used to imagine that she was actually standing in the corner, watching the whole thing. But she couldn’t imagine herself away from this. This was MacGregan. This was John William, and that hand that groped her thigh was the same hand that had gently lifted her into a wagon and into another life. It was the same hand that unbuttoned her shoe, held her son, touched her hair. This was the same man who read Bible stories and prayed.
And at the same time, he wasn’t. The gentle nature of his earlier embraces was gone, replaced by an urgent intrusion she was all too familiar with. Every second under his touch brought her closer and closer to the woman Gloria thought she had left behind. But worse, it brought him closer to becoming just another man she would de
spise.
She brought her palms up and braced them against his broad chest, pushing him away.
“John,” she said.
But he didn’t hear, and Gloria found her body flushed with fear—adolescent and virginal—that threatened to crush her resolve.
“John, please.”
There was a moment when everything stopped. A rustle of movement and he was sitting up, his long legs draped over the edge of the bed. Gloria’s eyes had adjusted to the darkness, and she could just make out a familiar profile. John William with his head bowed, his fingers raking the hair from his face, his massive shoulders hunched as if in defeat or prayer or both.
“I’m so sorry, Gloria. God, forgive me.”
His penitence broke her heart. She stretched out her hand only to feel him brush against it as he headed for the thin triangle of gray light that marked the threshold to the front part of the house.
“John,” she spoke into the darkness, then followed him into the light.
He was standing in the front doorway, filling it with his body, one hand on each side of the frame, his head hanging down. She brought her hands to his shoulders, urging him to turn and look at her.
He didn’t. She let her hands drop.
“I have to know. Is that why you brought me here?”
He spun on his heel and turned to her then, his face unreadable. “How can you think that?”
“I’m sorry. I just … I couldn’t let you—”
“I brought you here to show you that we can have a home. Together. A life together. I brought you here so you could see that you’re no different than any other woman. Any other wife. That you could marry me and we’ll have a little house. Just like—”
“You had with Katherine?”
John William charged at her, making the same big bear noise he made when he played with the children. He gathered her up in one massive embrace that lifted her off her feet and squeezed every possible protest out of her. He held her there, aloft, her arms pinned to her sides, her face floating just above his. For once he had to look up at her.
“You make me crazy.” A comic growl underscored his words.
Ten Thousand Charms Page 24
