That Tender Light: An Owen Family Novella

by Marsha Ward

  But quickly!

  Ask for her hand.

  Yes, that was the wise thing to do, even though he wasn’t sure who should perform the office of giving her hand to him in marriage. Her brother was far away in Cumberland County, Pennsylvania. However, Mr. Roush was close at hand, and he was her uncle. Surely he would do.

  He realized that once more, her little hands lay upon his chest. He grasped them. “My dear Julie, I must approach your uncle. Will you stand beside me as I—” He paused to clear his throat of the emotion that nearly strangled him. “As I plead for your hand?”

  “Now? Tonight?”

  He nodded.

  “Shouldn’t you ask Jonathan?”

  “Who is Jonathan?”

  “My brother. He promised to be here in time for Camilla’s marriage on May tenth.”

  “Two weeks away. I can’t wait that long to ask. Things must be well in hand if we are to be married soon. Unless you’re suggesting we run away, elope.”

  “If it can be arranged, I’d be pleased if I could marry you before Camilla’s wedding.” Her voice did not waver as Rod laughed and she continued. “But there will be no elopement. I want a proper ceremony, with a minister.”

  “Yes. That’ll please the pious ghosts of my ancestors.” He chuckled. “My mother threatened to bring them down on me to haunt my dreams if I didn’t marry a God-fearing wife.”

  “She didn’t!”

  “On her death bed.” He sobered. “I know I’ve done much in haste, Julie, but I was smitten by your grace the moment I saw you. Knowing the situation better now, I can’t bear the thought of you leaving.” He motioned with his head toward the door. “The girl is having a conniption. Let’s go inside and get permission to wed, so we don’t scandalize the neighborhood.”

  She tugged one hand free and used it to muffle her laughter. When her mirth had subsided, she said, “As you wish,” and giggled.

  ***

  When Rod led Julia into the parlor, followed by the embarrassed maid servant, who escaped as soon as she could scuttle across the parlor rugs to the door, Uncle Phillip looked up from smoking his pipe beside the evening fire, and got to his feet.

  “You’ve caught the contagion?” he asked Rod, then addressed Julia. “I’ll get your aunt.”

  He departed, leaving Rod and Julia to stare at each other.

  “What does he mean?” she whispered.

  “I think he knows the situation.”

  “He can’t have guessed!”

  “It’s plain as the nose on your face. You are a changed woman.”

  Julia put her fingers in front of her nose, and then lowered her hand to her side. “I’ll have you know there’s nothing wrong with my nose. It suits me.”

  “Nothing wrong at all,” he said, shaking his head. “It’s an adorable nose.”

  “Are you teasing me, Mr. Owen?”

  “No.”

  “Well, see that you don’t. I’ve endured enough of that from Jonathan.”

  He took her hand in his. “My Julie, I adore you. I adore your nose, and every part and parcel of you. Even the parts—. No. I’ll save that speech for later. I won’t borrow trouble tonight.”

  “Do you have a silver tongue, Mr. Owen?”

  “A sil—”

  “Are you trying to charm me?” It was too late for such attempts. She was already thoroughly bedazzled by the man.

  “I often speak my opinions a mite too plainly,” he answered, smiling broadly. “You will let me know when I am too plain-spoken?”

  She smiled back at him and decided to try on a Southern word, see how it rolled off her tongue. “I reckon.”

  It tasted just fine.

  The door opened, and Rod let Julia’s hand loose. She couldn’t help sighing at the loss of the warmth of his fingers as Uncle Phillip entered the room with Aunt Susannah close behind, bearing a somewhat puzzled expression.

  “Julia, is it true?” asked her aunt.

  “There, there, Suse. Let the young man have his say. I presume you do have something to say?” he asked Mr. Owen.

  ***

  Rod felt like a schoolboy called into the presence of the school master for misbehavior. He resisted the urge to shuffle his feet. “I do, sir,” he finally got out. “I have asked Miss Julie if she will do me the honor of becoming my wife. She has agreed. May I have your permission, sir, to take her hand in wedlock?” He stumbled over the formal words, wondering if he appeared as foolish as he felt.

  “Well now,” Mr. Roush began, rising onto his toes. “You have slight acquaintance of my niece. What propels you to this haste?” He rocked back onto his heels.

  Rod felt the blood drain from his face. The man was going to refuse.

  “Sir, I am convinced of the suitability of our match, despite our short acquaintance.” He felt lightheaded, and hasty words began to stumble over his tongue. “If we don’t marry now, she’ll soon be gone, and I can’t bear to lose her.”

  The silence that followed seemed to stretch until his ears began to buzz. A black tunnel clouded his sight. His stomach appeared ready to betray him. Out of the haze, he heard a feminine voice.

  “Julia, is this your wish?”

  “With all my heart, Aunt.” There was no denying the fervor in her voice. “Mr. Owen will treat me well, as I will treat him well in return. As he said, we are suitably matched, and I desire to marry him.”

  She had put emphasis on the word desire, and Rod felt the stirring of an equal emotion. He swallowed. Mr. and Mrs. Roush could not refuse such a passionate appeal.

  “Will you at least wait to marry until my nephew arrives, to seek his approval as well?” Mr. Roush asked.

  Rod felt a small hand creep into his. “Yes, please, Mr. Owen.”

  He glanced down. Julia was looking up at him, trusting him.

  “I can wait a reasonable time.”

  “Then you may speak to our minister, Mr. Harris. My dear, will you wed here at home, or at the church?”

  “This is a lovely room. It will fit all we need to have in attendance.”

  “Very well, my dear. Mr. Owen, I’ll give you directions to the rectory. Mr. Harris is free on Tuesday evenings.”

  ***

  Jonathan arrived a week before Camilla’s grand wedding was to take place. Needless to say, greeting her brother with the tidings that she had accepted the petition of a virtual stranger to marry him caused a furious turmoil in Julia’s insides. But she put on a brave countenance and gave him the news almost before he had ceased hugging her.

  “You’re going to what?”

  The look on her brother’s face made Julia titter in nervousness. “He and I suit, dear brother. Besides, one of us has to marry, and you’ve made no attempts to get a wife, probably because of the impediment of having charge of a younger sister. Now you will be free to find your own happiness.”

  “You are happy, little Julia?” His face expressed his uneasiness, but also a hint of wistfulness.

  “I am gloriously happy,” she replied, and knew it showed.

  “I must meet the man to judge if he can care for you properly.” He went off to care for his horses, retrieve his belongings, and properly stow the wagon.

  Feeling the power of having a suitor ask for her hand, Julia took it upon herself to send one of her uncle’s servants down the road to Mr. Owen’s farm to notify him of her brother’s wish to meet him.

  Scarcely before she knew it, Mr. Owen rode up the lane on a beautiful bay mare, which bore flecks of sweat upon its flanks. The manservant followed after some minutes, having no particular need to hurry on his return.

  Julia hustled Mr. Owen into the house and toward the parlor.

  He paused outside the door, straightened the coat he wore, and polished his boots on the backs of his trouser legs. “Do I look presentable?” he whispered, nerves evident in his wide eyes.

  “You make a very handsome appearance,” she whispered back. “Jonathan won’t bite.”

  “We shall see,”
he said, clearing his throat. “Hold my hand, Julie.”

  “By no means.”

  “Are you fearful, too?”

  She lowered her shoulders from their place close to her ears and threw them back. “Of course I am.”

  “What a pair we make,” he said, and opened the door.

  Chapter 5

  The interview with Jonathan, which felt like he was being challenged to a duel by Julia’s formidable brother, went about as well as could be expected, Rod mused as he jogged his horse toward New Market to see the minister. Of course the man had been surprised. Of course he had been on the defensive. Of course he had examined Rod closely, making much inquiry about his farm and his finances.

  “I must have passed his tests. He did give me his permission,” he told the mare. Now it was a matter of finding a day this week for his marriage, before the magnificent wedding of the cousin could take place.

  He grinned at the thought of his Julie wanting to gently tweak the nose of the overbearing Camilla. He guessed that she would wear the mantle of complacence no longer. After all, she was also to be a bride. On short notice, but a bride nonetheless.

  The warmth swirling in his soul made him laugh aloud as he came into the town. He was to be a bridegroom at last. He hoped his mother— watching him from somewhere in the immortal realms above— was pleased with his choice. He thought his father would approve. Julia was impressively comely, but she was more than that. She had spunk.

  A thought hit him. They would make beautiful sons and daughters together.

  Before he could work that entrancing thought any longer, he arrived at the home of Mr. Harris.

  ***

  Mr. Owen returned at twilight, grinning from ear to ear. Julia awaited him in the parlor, nervous as a cat with its tail too near a rocking chair in use. She sat alone. Jonathan had retired to his rest after his long journey, and the Roush family members were engaged in their own affairs.

  He entered the room. “It’s to be Tuesday.”

  Julia gave a gusty sigh as she rose. “At last.” She allowed him a brief kiss, then pulled the bell rope to summon a servant as he seated himself on one of the sofas.

  She told the girl, “Please inform my aunt that Mr. Owen is here and we wish to speak with her. If Miss Camilla is about, let her know she is included in the invitation.”

  “And Mr. Phillip?”

  “Oh, of course, he must come, too.” The girl departed. “Dratted nerves,” Julia said. “My mind is a muddle. Uncle Phillip must be informed as well. It’s his house.”

  “There is no need for nerves,” Mr. Owen said, patting the sofa cushion next to him in bold invitation for her to sit beside him.

  She did, snuggling against him for a moment, and then scooting aside. Just a bit.

  “I will treat you well, as you told your aunt. We will begin our life together gently.”

  Julia’s body tingled. Was he speaking of the “knowing” process?

  “Mr. Harris said noon was a good time. Will that be agreeable with you?” His eyes shone.

  “Noon is as good a time as any other to start a new life, Mr. Owen.” She felt slightly faint. On Tuesday I will be a bride. His bride.

  “The world can think of me as Mr. Owen,” he said, and lifted her chin with his forefinger. “Won’t you call me ‘Rod’ in private? That’s how I am called by my friends. Certainly my wife should use my name also.”

  “Rod.” She tried it on her tongue. “On Tuesday,” she promised. “In private.”

  She was about to close her eyes to accept the kiss she saw coming when Camilla slammed the door open and hustled into the room. Julia leaned away, as did Mr. Owen.

  “When do you plan to marry?” Camilla’s harsh voice echoed through the room.

  Julia stood and clasped her hands together at her waist, trying to stem the blush she felt rising along her neck. Behind her, Mr. Rod Owen got to his feet. “Are your parents coming?” she asked.

  “They are coming.” Camilla caught her lip between her teeth, then her ragged voice burst out again. “I asked you a question.”

  Julia let her lungs fill with air and her calm return before she spoke. “I will answer it when we are all together.”

  “You’re becoming insufferable, Julia. Don’t you know your place?”

  “Of course. I’m your beloved cousin, come to visit and expecting to be treated well. Which you don’t often do.”

  “Are you insulting me?”

  “Am I? You would know.”

  Julia could not believe she was parrying with Camilla with such coolness. Knowing that Mr. Rod Owen esteemed her enough to offer her his hand and his life must have given her more courage than she usually possessed in situations with her relative. She smiled.

  “What are you smiling about?” Camilla’s voice rose in pitch as the door opened to permit Uncle Phillip and Aunt Susannah to enter. Camilla whirled about and implored her mother. “She won’t answer me.”

  Aunt Susannah put her hand on Camilla’s arm. “Calm yourself, Daughter. Your color is too high.”

  Camilla retreated across the room while everyone else took their seats except Mr. Owen.

  Julia watched him a bit anxiously as he endeavored to calm himself. He held his arms behind his back and gripped his hands together. She wondered if she should be standing beside him.

  He acknowledged her uncle and aunt with a nod. “Sir. Ma’am. I have made arrangements for Mr. Harris to perform a marriage ceremony for your niece, that is, Miss Julie, and me on Tuesday at noon. Will that be agreeable?”

  Julia sensed that his knees were knocking together, then chided herself for thinking of his limbs. She could think of his limbs on Tuesday. After they were married. She felt herself quake.

  Uncle Phillip turned to Aunt Susannah. “I believe that suits our schedule, does it not, my dear?”

  Julia heard the rustle of skirts and looked up in time to see Camilla bearing down upon her.

  She stopped in front of Mr. Owen, arms akimbo. “Tuesday? Do you mean this Tuesday? The day after tomorrow?”

  “I do mean that day,” he replied. Julia had a thrill of pride at the dignity in his voice.

  “You cannot mean that,” Camilla shouted. She turned on Julia. Rod moved as though to put himself between them. “You cannot marry before I do.” She took a moment to stamp her foot. Actually stamp it, as though she were a two year old in the throes of a tantrum. “You cannot! I am to take first place!”

  “Camilla!” Aunt Susannah rose and again reproved her daughter with a touch on the arm. “You must not speak to Julia that way. What will Mr. Owen think of your breeding?”

  She rounded on her mother. “Mr. Owen? Who is he? Just a farmer!”

  Uncle Phillip stood and joined the fray. “Camilla, you will go to your room until you can keep a civil tongue in your head.”

  As she left, Julia thought that the force of her scowl would have knocked a bull into the next county.

  ***

  Tuesday came. Julia waited, peering out the window in the parlor until she caught sight of Mr. Rod Owen, seated in his farm wagon, driving a pair of horses up the lane and looking uncomfortable.

  As he came into the parlor and saw Julia standing before the fireplace, wearing her Sunday best dress and a silk bonnet lent to her by Aunt Susannah, he inhaled hugely and smiled at last. In honor of the great occasion, he wore a pressed suit of clothes that fitted him handsomely.

  Mr. Harris took charge, telling everyone where they were to stand. Jonathan stood alongside Rod. Camilla stood beside Julia, allegedly to act as her witness, but Julia suspected it was to make faces at her, instead. That was easily done. Her face was a study in wrath. Julia supposed that was in reaction to having her wedding supplanted by her little cousin’s.

  Mr. Harris opened the book he held and began the ceremony. He spoke at length on the duties of a husband and a wife under the rules of the church and of God. His voice rang with the confidence of his office. Julia wished he would move
on and get to the vows. She so badly wanted to pledge herself to the man standing beside her, even though she didn’t know much about him as yet. She knew enough. She had years ahead of her to learn everything about him. Her Rod.

  Finally, the time came. Rod’s voice shook a little as he gave his vows. In all fairness, her own voice quivered as she did the same.

  As Mr. Harris pronounced that they were man and wife, Julia thought her heart would tear a hole through her ribs for beating so hard. She heard a sound from her brother, halfway between a grunt and a sigh.

  Mr. Owen, her own Rod, looked at her with great affection shining in his eyes. He lifted her left hand and slipped a gold band onto her ring finger. She took in a quick breath. She was a married woman.

  He took her face between his hands and inclined his head. He kissed her, gently at first, then with an increasing fervor. She felt his hands tremble. Or perhaps her face was trembling within them. Maybe they both trembled. It wasn’t important, she decided, and lost herself in the sensation of his mouth devouring her lips as discreetly as possible in the circumstances. He lifted his head and she sighed at his retreat. She must find a way to do that again, and as soon as it could be done.

  After the ceremony ended, Aunt Susannah hosted a small party, featuring Julia’s ginger snaps and glasses of cold lemonade. As he tasted his first cookie, Rod’s eyes opened wide, and a slow smile brightened his face. He caught Julia around the waist and brushed his lips over hers, leaving crumbs behind, then whispered in her ear, “They’re very tasty.”

  She ran her tongue over her lips. So was he. She felt herself blushing at the thought that her husband’s lips tasted delicious. Her insides quivered, because soon, very soon, she would go home with a tasty man, and she would submit to him, as Mr. Harris had said a wife was to do.

  Swirling desire inherited from Mother Eve overpowered the quivers. Julia didn’t dare eat anything, fearing that the heat inside her would burn to ashes anything she put into her mouth.

  When she sensed that the party must end or she would become crazed, she hugged her aunt and uncle and thanked them for their many kindnesses to her. She touched cheeks briefly with a wooden Camilla, and embraced Jonathan.