Naked in the Winter Wind

by Dani Haviland

  “I do believe the lye fumes have gone to your head, Wallace. But before you come to your senses, yes, I do know of one. See, she figures that because of the tradition of handfasting, when her babies are about three-months-old, it will have been one year and a day since her handfast marriage. At that time, she’ll be unmarried again—unless that rascal, coward of a man comes back before then. And even if he does return, she would have to agree to remarry him, this time in front of a priest or parson. And I’m sure she wouldn’t say yes to that! So, it appears she will be a single woman soon. Oh, you do realize I am speaking about me, don’t you?” I rolled my eyes at the end of my dissertation to avoid looking into his, embarrassed at my own boldness.

  “Really?” he said, shoulders back, jaw dropped and mouth opened, in mock surprise. He relaxed and smiled in contentment, his eyes now locked on mine. “That’s the best news I’ve heard all day.” He swung me around quickly, and said, “As a matter of fact, it ranks right up there with being acknowledged by my father! I’m so happy, I don’t know if I can hold it in.”

  After his own introduction, Wallace began his serenade. I didn’t know that he had heard me singing while I worked in the garden, but he was now belting out my favorite song, “Oh, what a beautiful morning,” in his rich, baritone voice. He started dancing with me again, deftly picking me up, swinging me over the small rocks and roots as they appeared in our makeshift ballroom floor.

  At the end of his melodic refrain and our clumsy, but spirited dance, he carefully brushed back my hair and placed a soft, warm kiss on the middle of my forehead.

  “Oh, boy,” I muttered. On the outside, the buss wasn’t any more than a father would give a daughter, but I was overwhelmed—twitterpated—by my own intense reaction to such an innocent kiss.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. He quickly brought his hands down to his sides, and stepped back, away from me. “That was rude, improper, disrespectful…”

  I moved forward two steps, grasped his hands in mine, and said, “Yeah, well, maybe you thought so. I liked it! After your little…um…surgery, I thought you’d never let me kiss you again.”

  “Me, let you, kiss me? I thought it was you who let me kiss you.”

  Wallace was both flustered and blushing—and I was hot and bothered in a different way. I think he was confused about how to behave with me. There was his proper British upbringing—how to treat a lady, 18th century-style—and my very liberal, and obviously innate, 21st century attitudes.

  I knew I was a flirt. I didn’t try to be—I just was. ‘The look’ given to me by others reminded me to hide it every time it popped out. I didn’t behave that way on purpose, and I seldom apologized for my forwardness—to do so would only draw more attention to it. I just hoped to be given the benefit of the doubt, that my words or actions had been misconstrued or misinterpreted, and weren’t simply bad manners or rudeness on my part.

  “Would you kiss me again, a little lower this time?” I asked, trying to be demure and bold at the same time. “I’m not really married any more. Sarah said that Ian ‘released me’ from our wedding vows. Ian didn’t tell me himself, but I know she wouldn’t lie to me, especially about something like that.”

  Wallace brought my hands up to his mouth and gently brushed his lips across each knuckle. “Aye, Jody told me, too. I wouldn’t have kissed you, even here,” he kissed my forehead again, “if I thought you were married to another.”

  I saw the desire in his smile, and tipped my head back, shut my eyes, and waited for the kiss I knew was imminent. I was very ready.

  “Therefore…” he began slowly.

  I opened my eyes again, frustrated at the substitution of words for passion. I didn’t protest verbally, but let my intense frown speak for me.

  Wallace laughed unexpectedly, his serious preamble dissipated by his chuckles. “You look so cute when you do that—is that the phrase?”

  “Yes, but no. That’s the phrase, but I don’t feel too cute. What were you going to say?”

  “So, in your other time, would it be acceptable for a divorced woman to kiss another man? I mean, could she kiss her fiancé?”

  My grin came back, broader and wider than ever. “Uh, huh,” I cooed as I bit my bottom lip coyly, hoping his words were done. “Fiancé?” I squeaked as I realized what he had just asked.

  “I wouldn’t have it any other way.” He bent forward and placed a soft, reserved kiss on my lips. He started to pull back—for propriety’s sake, I’m sure—but I wasn’t feeling very proper.

  My hands slipped away from his, and reached around his neck, holding him in place to make sure he didn’t try to speak again. The rest of the world had disappeared for me. I was only aware of his mouth on mine—warm, soft, and tasting of maple syrup.

  His bashful kisses quickly became firmer and more insistent. My world of newfound passion expanded as I became aware of my womb, now contracted and hard, having tightened with the excitement. Wallace pulled me closer, undeterred by my swollen belly. He let me take the lead as our cravings and ardor increased. I opened my mouth slightly, and his followed. I gradually let my tongue slip into his, and he both relaxed and tensed. His lips softened, but I could feel a part of him firm against my belly. I snuggled closer still, rubbing against him in a way that I’m sure made him feel very good physically, but probably made his 18th century ethics quiver…or evaporate completely.

  Well, the kissing, rubbing, and physical quivering continued. We were both reacting physiologically…and procreative-ly…if there even was such a term. I hungered for him, and tried to climb into or onto him—or maybe both—I don’t know which. I grabbed his head and pulled it down to my chest, burying his face in my bosom, caressing the back of his head, and then pulled him up again for more intense kissing. I didn’t want to stop whatever it was we were doing, because the effort of it was the joy.

  We finally broke apart, both of us panting. We leaned back against my ‘let it be’ tree, side by side. I was unable to open my eyes, too satiated to move any voluntary muscles. I finally managed to sneak a quick peek at Wallace. His face was radiant, his eyelids shut, heavy with the same contentment I felt. I looked down at the front of him. He had a wet spot on the front of his bulging pants. I started giggling. “Well, I got mine, and it looks like you got yours, too. You are a true gentleman, dear—you let the lady finish first.”

  “Um…well…I was a bit overwhelmed, I guess. It’s going to be hard to keep away from you for the next few months. Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t do this right. Evie,” he asked as he got down on one knee, “would you be my wife?”

  “I would be delighted,” I answered and took his hand, offering to help him up.

  He dusted off the dirt and leaf matter from his knee and asked, “Do you want to announce the engagement right away, or should we keep it quiet for a while, just for your honor’s sake, and wait until the handfasting has expired…and when is that?”

  “One year and one day from when Ian and I took the vows…about Halloween, Sanhaim, I think. But then again, I have amnesia and I’m not too sure about the dates.” I lifted my eyebrows up and down as if hiding something. “How about we say that it’ll be six weeks after the babies are born. Then,” I grinned and looked him right in the eyes, “I’ll be able to resume, or rather start, relations—if you know what I mean.”

  Wallace smirked, and blushed all the way down to his elbows, but didn’t reply to the inference. He wasn’t experienced, but if the rest of our marriage came as easy as the kissing…

  “Well,” I said to spare him further embarrassment, “I don’t think we need to say anything unless someone makes a comment. I think even a blind man could see something’s going on by the way we’re both glowing right now. I seriously doubt it will fade in the next hour, day, week, or decade. I feel like I just can’t get enough of you.”

  I reached up for a simple, closed-lipped, sweet kiss, and a comfort hug. I didn’t think my womb could take any more of the tightening that came with his full-b
odied smooches and caresses…at least for a while. “Do you think we’ve been missed?”

  “Oh, I doubt it,” Wallace answered with a sigh. “We should be getting back, though. Jody wants to head out on another scouting mission…er…hunting trip, and I need to find out if he’s taking Julian or me. If he sees me too soon, though, I think he’ll take me just to keep me away from you. Oh, and I want to stop by the well before we leave. I should spill some water down the front of me. I don’t need to be showing off the results of our little dance in the woods.”

  “You are so clever. Come on, I’ll help.”

  We held hands, swinging our arms like playful five year olds, as we walked back to the house. I grabbed a small pail, dipped it in the rain barrel, and said, “Oops,” as I threw water at his crotch. “I’m sorry,” I feigned, “I slipped. I think you’d better dry off or put on your other pants. Someone might see you and think you had an accident.”

  “Well, a happy ‘accident’ it was. I’ll get the goats milked. The pants should be partially dry by then. Did you need anything else, ma’am? I am at your disposal,” he mocked and gave a deep bow.

  “Thank you, sir, but I have been served well already. I’ll try to have dinner in an hour. Hopefully everyone will be back by then. I’m surprised, but very glad, that they’re not here yet.”

  **38 Rumor Had It…

  March 31, 1781

  The sun was getting low, and I knew I needed to get something started for dinner. We still had some ham left, and there were a few wintered-over cabbages in the garden. It wouldn’t take much time or effort to whip together some of my sourdough corn bread, now Jody’s favorite food. I could get the ham bits and cabbage cooking while the bread was baking. “Fast food, colonial-style,” I said, “coming up.”

  I had just placed the Dutch oven, filled with the cornbread batter, into the fire when I heard the commotion. I walked outside and saw the horses in front of the barn. Jody and Wallace were taking off the saddles, and Sarah was coming toward me with her bag, wearing a ten-pound frown. Julian was dusting himself off, following right behind her, his head-down posture unable to hide his scowl, nearly identical to hers.

  I joined Julian and Sarah in their somber walk back to the house. They both looked worried—so worried that I didn’t even want to ask what was going on. I was sure I’d hear about it soon enough.

  I acted the hostess, offering them both a drink. Sarah asked if I could make a crème liqueur for her. Julian wanted his whisky straight.

  “Julian,” she said, “I think you might want to try the Evie special. It will be easier on your stomach, and the effects are the same.”

  “All right then—make that two Evie specials, if you would, please?”

  His face didn’t look right to me. His expression was a mix-up of mad and sad, with a big dollop of frustration thrown in to add an extra wrinkle. Something was definitely wrong.

  I put their drinks together in a hurry. I wasn’t stingy with the whisky, either. “Do you think I should make one for Jody and Wallace, too?” I asked brightly as I handed them their drinks. I wasn’t going to let their attitudes bring me down. I was still on my kissing and hugging high.

  “Jody will want his whisky straight and, Julian, do you think Wallace will need a drink?”

  “I don’t know, Sarah, I really don’t know. Oh, Lord, help us all.”

  “Okay, do I need to fix a drink for me? You two are starting to scare me.”

  “Go ahead and make two more drinks, Evie; one for you and one for Wallace—just in case he wants one. If he doesn’t drink his, I certainly will. Lord Almighty in a bucket! Why?”

  I looked out the door. Wallace and Jody were talking. I could tell by their body language that it wasn’t casual chitchat, nor was the subject comfortable. Wallace was facing the house. Even as far away as he was, his displeasure was evident. Jody was obviously giving him bad news.

  Rather than join Sarah and Julian’s ‘frayed nerves and worry party,’ I ignored them, and busied myself in the kitchen. I set the other two crème liqueurs on the table next to an empty glass and the bottle of whisky. I decided I’d pass on the one for me; Sarah could have it if she wanted. I’d never seen Wallace drink, so the second one would probably go to Julian. He still looked tense to me, and he had admitted that he liked the new concoction.

  Somewhere in the back of my mind, I remembered something about when you don’t know what else to do, eat. I knew I was getting hungry, and I was going to have supper no matter what was going on: I had babies to feed. I also knew that empty stomachs wouldn’t make disclosure any easier. Jody and Wallace would be in when they were ready, but maybe the aroma of a hot meal wafting from the house would help soften the blow of revealing whatever was going on.

  I rinsed and chopped the cabbage and threw it into the pot that already had the ham and water in it. The wooden plates were set out, along with a crock of butter, a jar of honey, and the spoons. When I smelled the cornbread, dinner would be ready. My part of the job was done.

  I took a big gulp of goat’s milk. Its comforting warmth filled my mouth, slipped down my throat, and tingled all the way down into my tummy, as if my cells were grabbing nutrition from it all along the way. I hadn’t realized that it had been so long since I had eaten until the milk coated the lining of my empty stomach. Ahh, another wonderful sensation.

  I wrapped my hands around the cup of milk. I was staring at, but not seeing, the earthenware mug, as I relived my earlier excitement with Wallace in the woods. I didn’t want to look at Sarah or Julian. I could hear them pacing, performing their uncoordinated two-step shuffle in the small room. They were obviously too uncomfortable about whatever it was to sit still. Apparently, they were staying inside so Jody and Wallace could have some privacy.

  I refused to worry about anything. Worry never solved a problem, took lots of energy, and half the time, the worry wasn’t needed. Life’s events seemed to have a way of sorting themselves out. Plan for—and be aware of—but don’t worry about ‘stuff.’

  My olfactory baking alarm went off. I grabbed the hook, pulled out the Dutch oven, pushed off the lid, and saw the cornbread was perfect. The pot of cabbage and ham bits came out of the fire next. “Dinner in five minutes or less,” I announced to Sarah and Julian. “If you don’t eat with me, I’ll dine alone. I’m hungry!”

  I was trying to be light, but levity wasn’t working in this household. Well, I wasn’t going to let them drag me down, too. Hmph!

  I took the ewer outside and filled it from the well. Jody and Wallace looked across the yard at me. There was no emotion on either of their faces.

  “Do you realize that you both look like clocks without hands? Your faces are positively blank. Put a smile on ‘em and come eat dinner. We have cornbread and honey butter, and ham bits and greens. I’d rather not dine alone, but will if nobody’s gonna come join me.” I didn’t wait for an answer, just turned around and walked back to the house.

  I poured water into my plastic water bottle, dished ham-flavored greens into my bowl, and set aside a small piece of the cornbread. I wanted more, but knew my stomach was squished to about half its normal size. I had to eat half as much, but twice as often.

  I prayed loudly and boldly over my dinner to ensure everyone heard me, “Lord, thank You for this food, and please bless us all. And whatever is bothering everyone, well, Lord, I know You can handle it, so please do. In Jesus’s name, Amen.”

  I started spreading butter on my bread, then paused. “Food’s been blessed, come and get it while it’s hot.” I really didn’t care if anybody joined me or not. It tasted great and was beginning to fill the empty spots the goat’s milk had missed earlier.

  “Do you like that, my little lion cubs?” I asked of my belly. “Greens will help you grow big and strong and smart.” Then I added loudly, for the benefit of Sarah and Julian, “Smart enough to eat when there’s food in front of you.”

  I hadn’t noticed, but Jody and Wallace had come in. I was sure they h
eard the last part.

  “Dinna let it be said that I passed on eatin’ good food prepared by a fine lady,” Jody announced as he sat down next to me.

  Wallace sat down on the other side. “Dinner smells delicious. Wasn’t this cabbage out in the garden just an hour or so ago?” he asked, smiling as if nothing had happened.

  “It was. And if you care to have an aperitif, I made one for you, and there’s one extra…just in case anyone wants it. Jody, I assume you still like your whisky naked?”

  “If by naked, ye mean without the honey and cream, that’s still true. Slante,” he toasted.

  “Health and happiness to us all,” I said.

  Julian and Sarah appeared at the table and joined the toast, “Health and happiness to us all,” they chimed in.

  “Now about this dinner, madam, you have set such a wonderful table with such meager resources; I salute you in your efforts. I am sure it tastes as good as it smells.”

  Julian had changed his outlook, as had Sarah. Whatever it was, it wasn’t bothering them now. Jody and Wallace seemed to have had a change of heart, too.

  “See,” I said to myself, “worry not; want not.” I was glad to have my family happy again, even if it was just when they were with me.

  **39 The Rumor

  March 31, 1781

  Earlier in the day

  Julian, Jody, and Sarah had just come back from town where the story was spreading like the itch of poison ivy. Jody would have to tell at least one of the two young lovers what he had heard, and he wasn’t looking forward to the task.

  “Watch where yer goin’ there,” Jody warned Sarah. “It appears the two of them have been busy, stringin’ a rope across the yard fer Evie to hang her washin’ on.”

  There was no way that the clothesline restricted access to the barn. Jody had just wanted to announce their arrival as subtly as possible. He needed to speak with Wallace and hoped that he would come out to greet him.