by Pamela Morsi
"Yes," Cessy agreed. "But there is so much more in the world and so much more in the future. I want these boys to at least know what exists in the world outside."
That's what Tom had wanted, so much more. He let his eyes wander the familiar grounds, awash with emotions both nostalgic and abhorrent. He had vowed never to come back. He had pledged to leave it all behind him. Now he was here. Or rather, Gerald was, and everything, everything that he'd planned could just go up in a puff of smoke.
'This is Reverend McAfee's cabin," Cessy said beside him. "He usually takes a nap on Sunday afternoon."
"Yes," Tom agreed, nodding, and then added, "I hate to disturb the old fellow."
When she didn't answer, Tom turned to look at Cessy. Her brow was furrowed in concern. She glanced back at Muna and Maloof and then grasped Tom's arm.
"Walk with me," she said simply.
Surprised, Tom followed her lead. They moved around the corner of the building out of earshot of her friends. The fields in the distance were bright with thousands of rows of knee-high cotton.
Cessy took his big brown hand in her own two smaller ones and brought his knuckles to her lips. Tom's heart did a somersault at the gesture.
"Cessy?"
"If you've changed your mind, I understand," she said evenly.
"What?"
"I understand," she said. "It was just the . . . the emotion of the moment and now you are . . . regretting, but you are too much the gentleman to bow out. I won't have you do that, Gerald. I'll understand if you've changed your mind."
Tom shook his head, inwardly cursing himself. Of course she would think his strange behavior to be the evidence of reluctance.
"Oh, Cessy," he said, pulling her into his arms and setting his cheek against her brow. "It was the emotion of the moment, and I want a hundred million moments just like that for the rest of my life."
She pulled away from his embrace, unconvinced.
"I can tell that you are upset, Gerald. The truth is, and everybody knows it, I push people into things. I am . . . bossy and demanding and sometimes I just do not . . ."
Tom placed a finger upon her lips to hush her words.
"Cessy, I want to marry you," he said honestly. "It's not something that just occurred to me this afternoon. The truth is, I've been thinking about it since the night we met."
"You, too!" She smiled with such warmth, the coldest heart in the world would have melted. "I loved you then, right then," she admitted. "I knew that very first moment that you were the man I'd been waiting for all my life. The special man that God had made to suit me just perfectly."
Guilt stung Tom as he looked down into her bright blue eyes, made so large by the thick lenses of her spectacles.
"Cessy, I'm not perfect," he said quietly.
She laughed with genuine delight. "Well, it's a good thing," she answered. "I'd hate to marry myself to a true paragon."
"I am no paragon," Tom said. "In fact, Cessy, there are things about me, things that you may find out about me that you may not like at all."
His words were excruciatingly serious, but Cessy seemed unable to take them as anything but humor. Once he'd assured her that he did want to marry, nothing else had the power to evoke her concern.
"Things I don't know about you?" She tutted dramatically. "That does sound ominous, Mr. Crane. Are you suggesting that you are a former bank robber? Or that you sleep with your boots on?"
"I'm serious now, Cessy," he said. "I want to marry you. I will spend my life trying to make you happy. But I want you to understand, going in, that there are things about me that you do not know."
Her expression softened and she raised up on her tiptoes to press her lips against his own.
"Do you think I am sweet and demure?" she asked.
Tom was momentarily mute.
"I ... ah . . ."
"It's a simple question, Gerald," she said. "Do you think I am sweet and demure?"
"Cessy, you . . . ah . . . those are probably not the first words I would have come up with to describe you. You . . . you . . ." He chose his words with great care. "You have an inner strength that shines out from your soul that I find very beautiful."
"Exactly," she interrupted. "You love me for what you perceive is the person that I am. The person I am in my heart. I am not insulted by that. I am overjoyed. You see, that's how I love you, too, Gerald. I love you for the man inside you. I don't know him that well, yet. But I know that he is a good man. I can perceive that much. Whatever I learn about him later will never alter that feeling."
"But what if . . ." Tom began.
"Hallo!" A voice hailed them from the corner of the house. "I didn't expect to see you here today, Missy."
"Reverend McAfee!" Cessy ran toward the old man and gave him a hug. "I have the most wonderful news. Come here, there is someone that I want you to meet."
Tom stood rooted to the spot. The old man had changed. He had changed a lot. The bushy black beard that he remembered hung gray and uncut to the middle of his shirt. The sharp eyes that had never missed anything were now cloudy with age. Momentarily Tom remembered a long-ago moment when he'd been small and frightened and had clung to the old man's pantleg. Today Reverend McAfee was so stooped, the top of his balding head came barely to the height of Tom's rib cage.
"Reverend McAfee," Cessy said formally. "I would like you to meet Gerald Tarkington Crane."
Tom held his breath as the old man appeared to scrutinize him. His brow furrowed thoughtfully.
"I didn't quite catch your name, son," he said,
"Crane," Tom answered in Gerald's crispest eastern intonation. "Gerald Tarkington Crane of Bedling-ton in the New Jersey, at your service, sir."
Tom extended his hand graciously. The old man hesitated only a fraction of a second before he accepted it, his grasp unexpectedly strong.
"What brings you to visit us today, Mr. Crane," he said.
"Gerald is my intended," Cessy piped in, almost gushing.
The old man seemed taken aback. "You're getting married, Missy? When did this happen?"
"This afternoon," she answered with a laugh of delight. "He asked me, or perhaps I asked him, you know how difficult it is for me wait for others to take action. Anyway, I did not say no."
Reverend McAfee gave a small chuckle at her little joke, but clearly his heart was not in it.
"Marriage is a fine thing," the old man said. "I was wed myself many years ago. We had two little girls."
Tom was startled by this revelation.
"I lost them all to the yellow jack," he finished.
"Oh, Reverend McAfee, I am so sorry," Cessy told him as she lay a comforting hand on his shoulder.
He shook his head with unconcern and patted her hand. "Heaven has seen fit to compensate me. With the young fellow we got last Christmas from the Arapaho, it makes sixty-eight sons that I've been sent to raise. Not many men are so fortunate."
The old man turned to offer a glance toward Tom.
"And each one as dear to my heart as if he were my own flesh and blood."
Tom felt his words as if they were almost a slap. Did the old man recognize him? Surely he could not. If he did, he would speak up.
"Maybe some of your happiness and good fortune will rub off on us," Cessy said. "We want you to marry us, Reverend McAfee."
He gave a little startled sigh of pleasure. "I would be delighted to do so, Missy," he said. "You have been such a friend to the school and a comfort in my old age, but these old bones don't take to the buggy much anymore. I'd never be able to stand the ride into town."
"Oh, but we want to marry here," she said. "In your chapel, today."
"Today!"
"Yes," she told him. "Our families will make such a fuss if we go back and announce our engagement. My father will want to put on some grand show. And all of Gerald's relatives will have to come from back East and well, we just want to be married without all the fixings."
"But surely you want your father ther
e, Missy," he said. "And your friends."
"My best friend is with me," she answered. "With her, and you, and Gerald, I will be surrounded by people who love me."
As if on cue, Muna and Maloof came around the corner and further introductions were made.
"So you two want to stand up with this couple?" Reverend McAfee asked. "Then you must know them pretty well."
"I've known Princess forever," Muna said with great certainty. "We've all just met Gerald."
Her words held an almost palpable air of distrust.
"Ah . . . but you no need time for sure a man can trust," Maloof interjected. "My friend is such man, good man."
His words clearly surprised his fiancé and Muna looked at him askance.
"Mr. Bashara," she snapped. "You do not know this man at all. You can't even remember his name."
Cessy laughed. "Mr. Bashara doesn't speak very good English," she explained to Reverend McAfee. "But I agree with him totally. I trust Gerald completely and there is nothing I want more in the world than to be his wife."
The old man looked concerned. He glanced at Tom once more. But nodded affirmatively.
"Do you have a license?" he asked.
"No," Tom replied quietly. "We just became engaged an hour ago."
"Oh, dear!" Cessy exclaimed. "I didn't even think. I hope it doesn't mean we can't get married."
"Well . . ." the old man began.
"We have thirty days to get one?" Tom replied for him. "Isn't that how it often works, Reverend McAfee? A couple marries and then the officiant has a month to file the papers with the state court."
"Why yes, that is often the way," he admitted.
"Then we can get married today!" Cessy exclaimed, delighted. "Gerald, you are so smart. You know so much about everything. Did you study the law when you were at Yale?"
"No," he answered.
"Yale?" Reverend McAfee's eyes widened with surprise. "A fine and venerated institution of higher learning," he said.
There was something in his tone that Tom recognized as dangerous.
"Yes, the oldest in the country," he replied, raising his chin almost in challenge. "The men of my family have always attended Yale."
It was not at all as she had imagined it would be. It was no grand church crowded with fancy dressed people. Only the young schoolboys, fidgeting and curious, were seated in the pews. She did not have the arm of her father as she made her way down the aisle. He was not there smiling down at her, looking proud of her. She wore no beautiful gown of beaded silk and no long frothy veil partially obscuring her face. She was dressed as if for an afternoon picnic and she carried a Queen Anne's lace and a cattail surrounded by buttercups for her bouquet.
No, none of that was as she had imagined, as she had hoped and dreamed. But as she walked slowly, unerringly to the side of the man who was to be her husband, Princess could not fathom a happier or more beautiful wedding.
As she stepped up and accepted Gerald's hand she had to stifle the urge to giggle. The marriage ceremony was supposed to be solemn and serene, but Princess had the nearly uncontrollable desire to laugh out loud, to shriek with joy, to climb to the rooftop and cry out to the whole world that she was the luckiest woman ever born.
Her exuberance was not shared by the other members of the wedding party. Muna stood beside her, still and vaguely disapproving. Maloof, at Gerald's right, seemed to be as puzzled with her mood as he was curious about the occasion. Reverend McAfee was positively morose, she thought. His words about the responsibilities of wedlock and the sanctity of marriage were stern enough to sound almost angry and threatening.
And Gerald, her beloved Gerald, looked so pale and shaken, it seemed questionable whether he would make it through the vows without fainting.
Perhaps she should not have pushed to have the wedding today. Could she not, even on her wedding day, stop trying to manage everything? Clearly, despite what he'd said, Gerald had second thoughts about his offer. Of course he was afraid. What man would not be? Giving up his freedom to take on the responsibility of a wife and, hopefully soon, a family. And Princess was quite sure that she was not at all what his family would have expected for him. Undoubtedly they had in mind an attractive and fashionable young woman from a family they knew well and approved of. They would find the plain, brusque, and domineering daughter of a brash oil baron quite a dismay. But she was not going to worry about that. Gerald was hers. And clearly Gerald was never the type of man to be happy in the very closed, rigid life of the five hundred. It was almost as if he were as much a part of the world of the west as she was herself.
Gerald turned to face her. He was making his vows to her. Promising to love and cherish her, to guard and keep her, to give himself only to her for the rest of his life.
"I do," he said.
Her heart fluttered inside like a bird taking flight.
Reverend McAfee addressed her next.
"Do you, Princess Calhoun, take this man to be your lawful wedded husband? To honor and obey him. To keep yourself unto him for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness or in health, 'til death do you part?"
"I do," she answered, a bit too loudly, and then blushed at her unseemly enthusiasm.
Brides were supposed to be shy and scared. Princess felt only elated and eager.
Gerald was holding her hand now and placing a wide gold band upon it. She was momentarily surprised at the ring. It was fashionable enough and very traditional, but it was a strange color gold. Perhaps it was mixed with some worthy alloy, something very modern and up-to-the-minute. It was not at all what she would have picked out herself. But Gerald apparently liked it. If it made him happy, then just having it made her happy.
He was speaking to her again now, but gazing up into his dark, handsome eyes had turned her momentarily deaf to his voice. She caught only the last words of his utterance.
". . . and with all my worldly goods I thee endow."
Reverend McAfee pronounced them man and wife. Princess raised her chin, eager for the kiss of the man that she loved.
Gerald appeared momentarily embarrassed and only pressed his lips against hers for the slightest moment.
Princess was puzzled at his strange behavior and looked at him curiously. He leaned close as if to whisper another vow for her ears alone.
"I will do everything in my power to see that you are never sorry about this day," he said.
She almost laughed aloud as she wrapped her arms around his neck. "Nothing, nothing in the world, could ever make me sorry about becoming your wife."
Then she kissed him. Not the prim little peck that he'd offered, but a kiss of real passion and ardor. She kissed him until the sounds of snickering by youngsters in the pews penetrated her thoughts and caused her to pull away from the embrace with embarrassment.
There was enthusiastic applause from the boys. The congratulations of Muna and Maloof were more subdued. And Reverend McAfee quietly encouraged her to come to him with any troubles or difficulties that she might have to face.
Determinedly, Princess refused to allow the long faces to cast a shadow of gloom upon her wedding day. She laughed and hugged her friends and gently tossed her bouquet for Muna to catch.
Maloof brewed his Turkish coffee and they served it, along with Mrs. Nafee's pastries and Mrs. Marin's pies for the wedding party. There was much laughter and well wishes from the boys. The youngsters, as always, were well-scrubbed, genuine, and unfailingly polite.
It was only a short time later when, seated upon the front seat of the awning-striped surrey, she wrapped her arm around her husband's and leaned her head upon his shoulder.
"Mrs. Gerald Tarkington Crane,” she said, trying it out. "What do you think?"
Gerald smiled wanly.
"What do you think, Muna?" she asked.
"It ... it sounds fine, Prin," Muna answered.
"Princess Crane?" the new bride suggested and then wrinkled her nose. "Sounds like too much, don't you th
ink? I'll just be Cessy Crane, just plain Cessy Crane. That will be positively perfect for me."
"You don't want to be a princess anymore?" Gerald asked.
She shook her head. "When I was the daughter of the king, I didn't mind it. But now I am a simple wife, first and foremost."
It was true. It was really, finally true. She had found the man of her dreams and she had married him. It was wonderful, magical, even a little frightening.
She glanced over at the strong arm entwined in her own, the big, brown hands that held the reins with such certainty and control and the sturdy, muscular thigh that were part of the man that was now her husband, for better or worse, hers only forever.
In her mind she could taste once more his passionate kisses, feel the touch of his hands on her body, and tremble with the desire to join her flesh with his own.
Tonight. Tonight. Tonight all the mysteries of married life would be revealed. Tonight all the stoked fires of their formerly forbidden passions would be allowed to blaze at last. Tonight he'd see her with her hair down. He'd see her in her nightgown! Would he wear a plaid nightshirt like Papa's?
She snickered a little at the thought of Gerald dressed that way. When he glanced over at her questioningly, she laughed out loud.
"What is so funny to my new bride?" he asked her.
She shrugged, unwilling to answer.
"I'm just happy,” she said. "I'm just very, very happy."
Gerald's answering tone was much more serious.
"I'm happy, too, Cessy," he said. "Happier than I'd ever imagined."
His words warmed her, thrilled her, charmed her. She was delighted with herself and all the world. It was perfect, all of it was just so perfect.
"I am positively giddy," she announced. "I swear if I could carry a tune in a bucket, I'd just start singing."
Gerald looked down at her warmly.
"I'm sure you sing beautifully," he told her.
Still giggling, she glanced back at Muna.
"Remember that song leader at the church in Jackson? We were standing right behind him when he said to the pastor, 'Miss Calhoun doesn't sing any sweeter than she talks.'"
Princess shook her head, laughing at the memory. "Daddy was so angry, I thought he was going to punch that fellow in the face right there on the church steps."
