by Renee Roszel
Ransom’s eyes contained a sensuous flame as he lifted the woman he loved into his arms and gently teased, “Why, Sara, did you deny our love?”
Heat rising in her cheeks, she snuggled against his chest. “I thought it was entirely one-sided,” she admitted shyly.
With a hearty laugh, he turned to address the inquisitive old woman. “Madam, I’ll have you know there was absolutely nothing small about our amour, and there never will be.” Having said that, he swept Sara off the bus to the accompaniment of wolf whistles and boisterous cheering.
As the bus pulled away, Erma could be heard shouting, “Looking at you, mister, I can certainly see there’d be nothing small about it!”
Sara reached up and hugged Ransom. “I’ll never hear the end of this.”
Gracing the tip of her nose with a kiss, he countered, “You’ll never hear the beginning. We’re leaving for Anchorage tonight.”
“We can’t, not tonight. My things, Lynn...” she protested.
“I picked Lynn up from work early. She and your landlady have been packing for two hours. I’ve chartered a plane. My plan is to leave by eleven. So, we’ll be tucked in bed at home by tomorrow morning.”
The loving warmth of his smile echoed in his voice, and Sara could do nothing but smile back. But when the significance of his remark sank in, she had to say, “We won’t be sleeping together—er, well, what I mean is, Lynn and Tag-”
“Unfortunately,” he broke in, amusement glittering in his eyes, “The house in Anchorage does have several extra bedrooms. However, as soon as the paperwork is done and the vows are repeated, one guest bedroom will be vacated.” He kissed her temple, whispering, “By the way, I like your hair.”
Startled, she looked up at him. “It’s not curly in Kansas.”
“I don’t care. I like it because it belongs to you.”
“Oh, Ransom, I hope this blind devotion of yours doesn’t wear off. It’s wonderful!”
He sobered slightly and crushed her to him. “It’s my biggest flaw,” he muttered gruffly. “I tend to give my devotion blindly.”
Tears welled in her eyes, and she moved slightly away so he could see the candor in her face. “Blind devotion isn’t a flaw, Ransom. You’re a good man who’s been hurt badly. And I plan to earn your trust if it takes the rest of my life.”
“I’ll hold you to that,” he vowed, “because I plan to love you for the rest of mine.’’
EPILOGUE
IT HAD BEEN TWO WEEKS since Ransom had gone to Andover to fetch Sara and her sister. During those two whirlwind weeks, the couple agreed that they wanted to be married on St. Catherine Island, where they’d met.
Sara was overwhelmed by the way the Pribilovians took her to their hearts as one of their own. And it tickled her to see Baby and Boo frolicking around in the village in their shaggy winter coats. Ransom had told her that one day they’d be released into the herd to mate, but they’d probably always come when called.
Today, Valentine’s Day, every house in the village smelled of breads and festive foods prepared for the traditional wedding feast. Right now, however, on this snowy Bering Sea morning, all two hundred villagers were in the church or barabera which was half buried in the ground and built into the side of a hill. Jutting from its roof was the familiar white wooden steeple and green-tiled dome, visible over most of the island. Sara had been surprised to learn that the building, which seemed delightfully strange and old-fashioned to her, was actually a modern version of the Pribilovian underground church.
Sara hadn’t seen Ransom today; she’d spent the morning with Lilly, Pat, Lynn and a few other island woman dressing in a traditional Pribilovian bridal costume and learning about the history of the islands. Lilly had explained that the Aleuts first came to the islands as forced labor for Russian fur traders. Gradually those two diverse cultures merged and evolved into the unique mix of high pomp and earthy simplicity the Pribilovians enjoy today.
Sara was fascinated by the wedding costume. The antique dress was well-suited to the harshness of Pribilovian weather. It was made of calf-length leather, lined with fur and decorated with colored beadlike rocks, seashells and a rainbow’s hue of bird feathers. She found it to be heavy, yet felt feminine and somehow enchanted wearing a dress that had served Aleut brides for generations.
Her hair was tied back from her face by dyed and braided leather decorated with tinted shells and beads. One cheek had been painted with a small red flower. It was explained to her that the flower symbolized her coming “oneness” with another person—her husband. Sara smiled to herself. Oneness with Ransom. How wonderful to think of marriage that way.
Just before they left Lilly’s home, the Aleut woman’s mother proudly produced a flowing white wool cloak for Sara to wear on the chilly trek to the church. Sara felt like a princess from long ago and far away as she walked along, accompanied by Lilly, her mother and grandmother. Lilly had gladly offered her relatives as a surrogate family for Sara, and the women seemed happy to escort her through the still, twenty-degree morning to her husband-to-be.
A group of giggly girls, bundled up but clad in their best dresses, followed them through the two inches of fresh snow, visions of their own future weddings no doubt glittering brightly in their wide, dark eyes.
As the bridal procession neared the barabera, darkness had faded into a colorful late-morning dawn, and the sea and sky shimmered in shades of mauve, pink and rose. Sara looked about her, wondering if she had ever seen a lovelier daybreak, a lovelier place on earth.
The moment they reached the door, which was just beneath the roof, it magically opened. Obviously someone had been watching the women approach.
Isaac Dorfman stood in the doorway, all smiles, which startled Sara since Dan had offered to give her away. As Lilly lifted Sara’s cloak from her shoulders, Sara said, “Why, Isaac, I didn’t know you were here.”
He gave her a brief hug and brushed her cheek with his lips. “Hey, I wouldn’t miss this.” With a wink he reminded her, “I’m responsible for getting you two together, remember?”
“I remember.” Sara blushed, her face going hot in the cold air. “How can I ever repay you?”
“Name your kids after me.”
Sara laughed. “Sure. How about Isaacetta and Dorfie?”
He chuckled, then nodded toward the open door. “Maybe we’d better get moving. There’s a groom down there who’s pretty anxious to see his bride, and I don’t relish getting fired again today.” Taking her hand, Isaac helped her down the ladder until her boots hit a packed-dirt floor covered with dried, fragrant tundra grasses.
Sara was struck by the spicy scent of incense and the rich, golden brightness of hundreds of flickering candles. The large room was completely full, though the place was hushed with the reverence of the ceremony.
As the rest of the entourage descended, Isaac silently placed Sara’s hand within a warmer, larger one. She lifted her eyes to see Ransom standing beside her, regal and tall in his inherited wedding suit. His costume, too, was fashioned of tan leather and decorated with shells and stones. A rush of excitement went through her, making her shiver. His costume was of a past age, but his eyes flashed with an emotion that was older than even the spoken word, yet as recent as the day dawning above them. His love for her was strong and enduring, and that knowledge made Sara almost want to weep with joy.
With an encouraging smile that warmed her to her soul, he led her along the aisle toward the golden-robed priest. Lost in a fog of happiness, Sara was barely aware of what the priest murmured. As carved bone rings were exchanged amid prayers spoken in Aleut, Ransom bent close to explain the meaning—unity, oneness, a beginning.
Then, two wooden crowns, carved and encrusted with black diamonds, were brought forward by Lynn and Tag. Obviously proud to be included in the native ceremony, they presented the sparkling relics to the priest.
The holy man took the delicate crowns one at a time, blessed them, and then gently placed them, each in turn, on th
e bride and groom.
After that, bread was broken, and Ransom offered a piece to Sara. Seeing her confusion, he whispered, “Take a bite, my love. This is a symbol that I will care for you.”
When she did, he said, “Now feed me.”
She smiled shyly and held out her bread. When he took it between his lips, their eyes met. Yes, I will love you, care for you, never hurt or betray you. Sara made her soundless vow so passionately that a tear formed in her eye and slid down her cheek. Ransom saw it and Sara noticed that he had difficulty swallowing the bit of bread she’d given him.
Next, they shared a cup filled with mossberry juice, while a choir burst into a beautiful song. Though she didn’t understand the words, Sara thought she’d never heard such an angelic gathering of voices.
Ransom reached across Sara and took her right hand, holding it toward the priest. She was startled when the holy man tied her wrist to Ransom’s. As she looked toward her groom for guidance, he said, “We’re to walk around the table.”
Nodding, she walked with Ransom around the table that held the priest’s accoutrements, along with a small plate filled with bits of breads and an empty cup. When they’d completed one full circle, Ransom prompted her forward again, whispering, “Three times, sweetheart.”
Once this symbolic “dance of the trinity” was completed and their hands were untied, the priest removed their crowns with a final prayer.
The choir began again, and Sara glanced at her husband. He, too, was singing this ancient Aleut wedding song. He smiled at her and squeezed her hand, assuring her it was perfectly all right that she didn’t know the song. As it drew to a close, Ransom leaned toward her and murmured, “A kiss isn’t part of the ceremony, but if you’ll recall, I’m only half Aleut.”
Taking her in his arms, he kissed her tenderly. Ransom was now her husband. All the anger and sadness she had felt in his first kisses was gone and forgotten, like last winter’s storms. She gloried in this kiss, growing weak with desire and need for him. Sighing softly, she clung to him, thrilled that they were spiritually one, with the physical oneness that marriage promised soon to come.
At last Ransom released her, but not before placing a loving kiss on her nose. Her heart fluttered wildly, and she could only stand there, staring longingly at the man she loved. His gaze as soft as a caress, he took his new bride by the hand and led her to the entryway.
As Sara ascended the ladder with her husband, she saw the two hundred upturned faces of the villagers, silent and smiling. She was awed to realize that many of those faces were streaked with tears of joy, perhaps recalling quiet memories of their own weddings.
When she and Ransom were finally standing alone in the brisk winter morning, Sara turned toward her grinning husband, her mind in a whirl. “What happens now?” she asked, breathless from the majesty of it all.
Placing her white cloak about her shoulders, he swept her into his arms. “There’ll be a huge feast in the barabera as soon as the food arrives.”
She sighed languidly, leaning her cheek against his. “I don’t think I could eat a thing.”
He chuckled and with one arm around her shoulders, began to walk toward his house. “That’s probably just as well, my love, because we’re not invited,” he told her in a husky whisper. “You and I will be busy elsewhere.”
She laughed with pure delight. “Oh, Ransom, your wedding customs are not only beautiful but wonderfully romantic. This has been the best Valentine’s day I could ever imagine.”
“Well, my sweet, sweet bride,” he murmured, his lips teasing her earlobe, “the day has just begun. ... ”
Table of Contents
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
EPILOGUE
