Fern

by Greenwood, Leigh

  The drive was much too short. Fern didn't care if they never arrived at the party. She was content to be with Madison, to bask in his admiration, to listen to him praise her, but she was petrified of everybody else. Odd as it may seen, considering how she felt when they arrived in Abilene, she now felt the Randolphs were her only friends.

  "Every man at the party is going to want to dance with you," Madison said. "But remember, I'm very jealous."

  "Don't worry. I'll refuse them all. Even you. I can't dance."

  "I forgot. I was supposed to teach you."

  But things got in the way, Fern thought. Something was always getting in the way.

  "I'll think of something," Madison said.

  Dozens of wagons and buggies surrounded the McCoy house. Light streamed from every window and the lilting sounds of fiddle music competed with the more strident strains floating in from the saloons on Texas Street.

  "I'll drop you at the door," Madison said. "It shouldn't take long to find somewhere to park this buggy."

  Fern thought of facing everyone alone and her heart froze. She wouldn't enter the McCoy house alone, not even if she had to turn around and walk home.

  "I'll go with you," she told Madison.

  "But you may get your dress dirty."

  "I don't care. It took every bit of courage I had to let Rose and Mrs. Abbott put me in this dress. I'm not going into that house by myself."

  "You don't have to go in. You can wait outside until I get back."

  "No," Fern said, shivering at the thought of being stared at by men she didn't know, whispered about by women she did. She could stand it if she were with Madison -- she could stand anything as long as he was with her -- but not alone.

  By asking the drivers of a wagon and a buggy to move closer together, Madison was able to make a place for his buggy near the wooden boardwalk that ran along the front of the McCoy house.

  "I'll carry you to the walk," Madison said when Fern started to climb down.

  "I can walk."

  "After all the work you've gone to, I don't want you to get dirty."

  "You can't be carrying me about like I was a saloon girl. People will never stop talking."

  "Is that what they do with saloon girls?" Madison asked, a devilish grin on his face. "I should have spent less time at the hotel."

  "You know what I mean."

  "I do, and I also know you can't arrive at a party looking like you've been trailing through the muck. They'll talk even more."

  Before Fern could make any further objections, Madison scooped up her in his arms. Gasping for breath, and from fear of losing her balance and tumbling into the dust, Fern wrapped her arms around Madison's neck. But that increased the feeling of shock even more.

  She had never been carried in a man's arms while conscious, not even that night when Troy found her dirty, half naked, and crying from fear and shame. The near hysteria which overtook her every time a man touched her had caused her to steadfastly avoid any man's embrace. Yet all at once she was in Madison's arms with her arms around his neck, her body pressed tight against him.

  Much to her surprise she didn't feel the panic. Another feeling, nearly as uncomfortable and totally unexpected, caused her nerves to grow taut and the pit of her stomach to tighten. Rather than fear and revulsion at his touch, she felt excited by the strength of his arms, the way he carried her as though she were a delicate, priceless treasure. She found the necessity of leaning against him was neither a burden nor a terrifying experience. Confusing, yes, but also exhilarating. By the time Madison set her down on the walk, Fern was flushed, breathless, her senses in a turmoil.

  So was her heart. Madison had done much more than touch her. He had held her in a tight embrace. She had been powerless to resist, to escape, and she hadn't panicked. True, the old fear had begun to rear its ugly head by the time her feet touched the ground again, but the feeling of excitement, of anticipation was even stronger.

  Suddenly the night seemed too warm. And too crowded. She needed time to explore these new feelings, but she didn't have it. Even as she felt her cheeks flush with heat, her heart beat with unusual rapidity, Madison took her arm firmly in his and directed her steps toward the house. And the light. And all those people.

  "I don't want you to act like there's anything unusual about tonight," Madison said. "If you behave like everything's perfectly normal, everyone else will too."

  "But I don't feel normal," Fern said. "I feel like a freak in a sideshow."

  "Well I don't," Madison said, holding her hand even more firmly. "I feel like a man lucky enough to be escorting the prettiest girl in town to a party. I know everybody else will try to steal her from me, but I intend to defend my prize."

  "You make it sound like dogs fighting over a bone," Fern said. She knew Madison was just saying these things to build up her confidence, but his praise warmed her heart. He must love her. If he could say she was beautiful after seeing Samantha, it was certain he was blind.

  The sound of music growing louder, the sound of voices raised in laughter, the image of people moving against the light brought home the realization that very soon the shield of darkness would be removed. Fern moved closer to Madison and held his arm a little tighter.

  The panic had faded. The feeling of excitement, of yearning to be close to him had banished her fear. For the first time, she could touch a man, could let a man touch her, and not tremble inside. Maybe, if Madison did truly love her . . .

  "Evening, Madison," Doug McCoy called as Fern and Madison approached the steps. "Your Miss Bruce has brought the traffic to a standstill. There's no getting near her." He peered into the semi-darkness. "Looks like you done turned up another beauty. Where did you find her?"

  "Right under your nose," Madison said, urging a reluctant Fern into the stream of light coming through the open door. "Don't you recognize Fern Sproull?"

  Fern knew Madison was enjoying himself, but she felt like crawling under a stone. She had been stared at and gawked at and gaped at all her life, but no one had ever gazed at her with the look of stupefaction now settled firmly on Doug McCoy's face.

  "That's not Fern," McCoy said. "Why she . . . " He stared at her again. Then taking her by the arm, he pulled Fern closer to the light. "Holy shit!" he exclaimed. "Edna!" he bellowed. "Edna, come out here this minute. You're never going to believe your eyes."

  Fern tried to pull away. But Doug McCoy had a vicelike grip on her arm, Madison stood right next to her, and there were people coming up the steps behind her. She had nowhere to go. She was trapped. Instinctively she reached out for Madison. She felt some of the tension leave when his strong fingers closed around hers.

  "Go on," he whispered. "This is your big moment. Enjoy it."

  Fern tried to feel like she was a princess being escorted into her throne room, but she felt a lot more like a prisoner being brought before a judge who was going to give her hell for even thinking she could be pretty. The guests were a jury waiting to condemn her.

  She walked through the door and came face to face with a sea of eyes, all turned on her, all drilling through to her.

  But even as she felt the urge to run from the room, she felt Madison's hand in the small of her back, urging her forward, letting her know he was there, that he stood at her side. She also caught sight of Rose beaming a smile of support in her direction. Drawing confidence from both of them, Fern stepped into the circle of light.

  Several men stared at her, their jaws dropping in stunned surprise. A couple more stared in curiosity, obviously unaware of her identity. But in all of them, she saw a man's appreciation for a lovely woman.

  She saw something else in the women's eyes. She caught sight of Betty Lewis, and memories of that childhood party were swept aside by the look of pure anger she saw, anger she saw reflected in other eyes, all looking at her as though she had done something wrong.

  Fern realized it was the anger of women who feared they would be eclipsed, who feared they might be forgotten. She
understood, but she felt no sympathy. They had all made her feel that way too many times.

  Fern could feel the resentment settle over her like a suffocating cloud. She could feel Madison's fingers tighten around her hand; she saw Rose look about her with disgust. Then much to her amazement, the crowd parted and Samantha Bruce stood before her.

  Fern didn't know how anyone could think she was beautiful, not after seeing Samantha. She was breathtaking. Fern was surprised anyone had even bothered to notice her own arrival. How could anybody think she was a threat with such a gorgeous creature in their midst.

  "I'm so glad you're here," Samantha said, coming forward and slipping her arm around Fern's waist. "It's so nice to see another familiar face. Freddy and I are depending upon you to introduce us to your friends."

  "I'm sure they can speak for themselves," Fern said, hard pressed to recognized most of the men in their party finery. She wondered how many of the girls wanted to be introduced to Samantha. Most her age were married. She could see them holding on to their husbands as though they might fly away if they weren't tied down.

  "I'm sure they can," Samantha said, "but it always helps to have the guidance of someone you trust."

  Fern decided if anyone ever deserved a place in Heaven, it was Samantha Bruce. She swore she would never again feel jealous, never think a harsh thought, never begrudge Samantha her beauty, wealth, or anything she had in this life.

  Except Madison. Her gratitude didn't extend that far.

  "That's a lovely dress, dear," Rose said, moving forward to add her support. "It goes so marvelously well with your coloring."

  "It certainly does," Freddy said, coming forward. "I hope you will give Samantha the name of the shop. She doesn't have the advantage of your color. She has to be so careful not to slip into the insipid."

  As they moved into the main room, Fern felt enveloped in a cocoon of protective warmth, a shield so thick nothing could harm her. With Rose and Samantha on either side and Madison, George, and Freddy following behind, she felt like a princess entering her court.

  The feeling grew stronger as the evening progressed. Everyone wanted to meet the Bruces. The wives wanted to meet Rose. They all had to come to Fern. It was a situation which was just as frightening to Fern as it was annoying to them. And of course the women wanted to meet Madison. They had all seen him and heard about him. They knew he was a rich Boston lawyer who had all but proved his brother didn't kill Troy Sproull.

  But the final cachet came when Hen Randolph entered the room and went straight to Fern's side. She may have been the local tomboy, the butt of their jokes and whispers -- they may have ignored her and reviled her -- but any woman who could attach to herself a wealthy Boston socialite and her brother, his shatteringly handsome partner, a powerful Texas rancher and his wife, and a notorious gunfighter all in the same evening was someone to be reckoned with. The past was cast into limbo; all was forgotten. Fern had gone from an outcast to a lioness of society in one evening.

  But Fern wasn't sure she liked being a lioness. She was sure she didn't if it meant she couldn't spend any time with Madison. It seemed everyone else in the room saw more of him than she did. Every time she turned to him, someone else would push forward wanting to talk to her, to retell some experience she had forgotten, or to be introduced to her friends. She found herself almost wishing she and Madison had come alone.

  She cast more than one entreating glance in his direction. After one particularly despairing look, Madison broke off his conversation with a man Fern didn't know and came over to the knot of people surrounding her. Madison made his way through the press of bodies until he reached Fern's side. "You ladies are going to have to get along by yourselves," he said, taking Fern by the hand. "She came with me, and I haven't been able to exchange two words with her all evening."

  Madison headed toward the door.

  "Don't go too far, Mr. Randolph," Mrs. McCoy warned. "We're about to begin the dancing."

  "We wouldn't miss it," Madison said without slowing down.

  After the heat of the room, the coolness of the night air felt like a bath in a cold stream. Fern didn't object when Madison drew her close. His warmth comforted and excited her.

  "Are you feeling better now?" he asked.

  "No, I'm terrified. Everybody was furious when they saw me, but now they act like we've been best friends forever."

  "I don't think they were mad, just surprised."

  "I'll be forever grateful to Samantha. She and Rose really made the difference."

  "Samantha is a wonderful girl," Madison said, his eyes shining. "You'll learn to love her as much as I do."

  Fern didn't think she could go that far, but she told herself she had to be resolute in expunging every trace of jealousy.

  "How does it feel to be the prettiest woman in the room? Isn't it worth doing without your pants?"

  "It's nice of you to keep saying it, but I know I'm not the prettiest woman in the room."

  "What is it going to take to convince you that you're a very beautiful woman?"

  "At least two bottles of whiskey." Fern laughed. "I'm not sure I'd be drunk enough even then."

  Madison put his other arm around her. "That has been your trouble from the beginning. You never have been able to believe in yourself."

  "That's not true," Fern said, settling a little more deeply into his arms. "I proved I could do anything I wanted."

  "You made them accept the person you created, but you kept your real self hidden because you didn't believe in it. Just like now. You can't believe you're beautiful. You don't believe in yourself as a woman. You don't believe you can be a real wife, so you're determined to deny yourself the right to be happy."

  "Madison--"

  "I'm talking about my happiness, too, and I'm not going to let you quit so easily. I understand your fear, at least I think I do--"

  "I--"

  "--but you can overcome it. I've been talking to Samantha, and she knows a doctor who--"

  Fern felt the heat in her veins turn to ice so fast it flash froze the expression on her face. She broke from his embrace. "You told Samantha Bruce what happened to me?"

  "No," Madison said. "I've never uttered a word to anyone."

  Fern felt the tension inside her ease a little. "Then what were you talking about?"

  "We know someone who's been going to a new kind of doctor, one who helps people get over their anxieties. She was telling me this friend has made spectacular progress. I was thinking that maybe you would consider . . . " His voice trailed off.

  Fern moved close to Madison and put his arms back around her. "Didn't you notice something just a minute ago."

  "Yes. You didn't push me away."

  "I wasn't afraid to let you hold me because I knew you weren't going to hurt me. Maybe, if you can be patient--"

  "I can be the most patient man in the world," Madison told her again, his grip tightening about her with satisfying vigor. "I can wait for as long as it takes. We can be married as soon as Hen's trial is over. Then once we get home to Boston, I'll contact that doctor immediately."

  Madison was going to fast. Fern felt the old familiar fear creeping over her. She didn't know whether it came from the idea of moving to Boston, of having to bare her soul to a strange doctor, or the fact that Madison had pressed her body against his. But she told herself that none of that mattered, not now. She trusted Madison. He would never hurt her. As long as she could remember that, as long as she could believe it, there was a chance they could have a future together.

  And she wanted that. She had only realized how much since Samantha had come to Abilene and she thought she would lose him. But Madison loved her. He preferred her to a beautiful, rich, socially prominent woman who could help him achieve all he had set out to accomplish. She didn't understand it, but she would keep telling herself it was true. She had to believe it.

  It was a lot easier in Madison's arms. It was even easier when he kissed her. At first she was afraid someone wo
uld see them. She was afraid the fear inside her would expand until it consumed all her pleasure, but gradually the anxiety subsided and her body relaxed.

  For the first time she was able to endure Madison's embrace without fear.

  But there was more than that. There was pleasure. There was comfort. There was happiness. She had known for a long time there must be more to the feelings between a man and a woman than she knew. She had often wondered why the girls she knew talked of nothing but boys, had no greater ambition than getting married. With her life dominated by fear of men and fear of dying in childbed like her mother, she had never been able to understand it.

  But now she did. The way she felt about Madison right now, she would take just about any risk to be with him.

  "Are you sure you're not afraid?" Madison asked, between kisses.

  "Absolutely," Fern said, yielding herself up to the pleasure of kissing him back.

  The feel of his arms around her was a comfort, a barrier against anything that might try to destroy her happiness. The feel of his body against hers was exciting. She had never known that mere contact could be exhilarating, but gradually her body was throwing off the shackles of years of fear and repression. Natural instincts were coming to life, sending signals, issuing invitations, dancing with the sheer exuberance of being released from years of restraint.

  Fern didn't understand what was happening to her, but she loved every bit of it.

  "Tisk, tisk, Mr. Randolph," Mrs. McCoy said, interrupting them. "The dancing is about to start. We must have everybody inside."

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Fern sprang away from Madison. Even the mild rebuke in Mrs. McCoy's voice made her too self-conscious to remain buried in his embrace. But even as she felt her face flush with embarrassment, even as she dreaded the thought of facing that august lady in the light, she smiled with secret pleasure.

  She had finally gotten over one barrier; she had experienced some of what it meant to be a woman in love. And she meant to experience even more as soon as possible. She was almost ready to proclaim to the world that she loved Madison Randolph. After that maybe she wouldn't care who saw her in his arms.