"God, you have a way with words, lady."
"I've lain with my husband. I'm not at all sure what I expected, but I just thought there would be more to it than that. Otherwise, why would anyone want to marry another? My disappointment was not in him so much as in me. I didn't feel anything. The only thing I felt was I would be glad when it was over. It was so painful at first. I was scared. Before…I had such dreams. Thinking marriage would be glorious. And…somehow I thought I should want him. Am I wrong?"
"No…" Ben looked away. Afraid if he looked into her eyes at that moment, he'd kiss her. "You aren't wrong. I mean, when two people come together wanting to please each other comes natural. It's not something that's written in a manual, or a love story, Gabby. What you feel has to come from your heart. If it's not there, then you won't feel anything, and…it isn't love at all. You didn't make love Gabby; you had sex with your husband, that's entirely different. I've had sex with women. It's not the same as making love."
"But if you haven't ever made love to a woman, how do you know, how it should be?"
He put his hand on his heart. "Because my dream is that it will be so much more…And it will come from here." He reached for her hand, and placed it on his heart and smiled sadly at her.
Gabby's eyes lowered and a tear escaped her.
"I guess what you are saying is that I didn't love my husband. I thought I did at first…I mean before we married. I was sure of my feelings. Because he said all the right things, and did all the right things before we were married. And then…it just changed. Maybe part of it was because I was afraid after leaving my father."
"So what changed?"
"He did. Once we were in Colorado, everything changed. Once we were married, reality set it. You see, when he courted me, he had dreams, and ambitions, and we spoke of them together and planned. However, once we were married he had to face the fact that that's exactly what they were, dreams and ambitions. I don't know how a man can lose a dream so easily, but he did and…and so did I."
She reflected for a while, staring into the firelight. "I regretted going with him. I regretted the marriage. But it was just too late to do anything about it."
Ben couldn't take his eyes from her. He knew she was sharing an intimate detail with him and secretly he realized she was beginning to trust him, but he wasn't sure she realized it. For she'd never reveal those kinds of things if she didn't.
"I'm not afraid of you Ben. I find you a very gentle man when it comes to women at least. Maybe I'm presuming too much but I don't think so." She avowed and lay back against the couch, with a sigh. "I guess you have to know someone a while…to be sure."
His knuckles stoked her cheek. "You see that's the whole problem right there. We don't know each other enough…Maybe someday we can put that gentleness to the test, when you've learned to trust me, and like me a little…"
She smiled at him.
"How about, we have a little champagne to celebrate?"
"Alright, it might relax me enough to go to sleep."
He went to get the bottle he had saved for this moment. He wanted to share something with her on this special night.
He popped the bottle open, and the cork went flying. The champagne spewed a second, and he poured them a glass.
He lifted his glass to hers, "To us."
"To us." She whispered.
For several long moments, they were silent, as they sipped the champagne and stared into the fire.
Finally, when the champagne took effect, she rolled her head on the back of the couch. The soft leather cushioned her head. "I like you a little now…" she whispered.
He smiled at her and her heart flipped over in her chest. "And trust?" He asked in a husky voice.
"That could take a little time…" She smiled. "I want to be honest, I want to trust you. I do, but it comes hard when your dreams are destroyed. You are right, when I lay down with Frank, that's all it was, laying down. He went right to the matter and I was scared stiff. I didn't like it. And I came to dread it." She fretted and looked away. "That's not true, I hated it."
"I can understand it, but that's not making love, Gabby."
"Did I do wrong? Was it my fault?"
"No," he tipped her chin up so he could look into her eyes. "Not wrong. You submitted, and sometimes that's all there is to a relationship, submitting. But that's not love. And I think that's why some couples seems miserable in their marriages, because that's all they ever have. I think some people never find real love, because they settle for the submission."
He poured her some more champagne and stared at her.
"But I thought all men wanted the same thing. Are you saying they don't?"
"That's what I'm saying. Tell me about that night, what did you think? What did you feel?"
"He barely kissed me that night. He didn't even look at me. It was dark, and late, and most everyone was asleep. He just took what was there, rolled over, and went to sleep. I lay there for the longest wondering if that was all it was supposed to be. There were no words, not even much of a kiss, just…like some animal. I felt sad, because I had expected it to be…well…nice, and it wasn't. It was always the same. And I'll admit, I grew to almost hate being with him."
"Frank didn't kiss you?"
"In front of other men, he did, just not when we were alone. Anyway, after that, I didn't care if he touched me or not. It didn't seem to mean that much. Father told me I was to lie down and take it. And a lot of the old women in the camp said the same. That I should see it as my duty. And most of them felt the same way I did, as though it didn't matter much to them. I wondered what made a man stay with one woman so long, if there was nothing else. Something to bind them together. That's when I realized how right my father had been. Frank wasn't right for me, and it was my fault for not listening."
"Gabby…I hate to tell you this, but that's not how it's supposed to be."
She shrugged. "That's how it was."
"He was old enough to know better. When a man and a woman come together, you are supposed to feel things. Wonderful things. And yes, a woman can lay there and take it, but she's missing something if that's all that happens. However, the one thing I haven't told you is that it's often up to the man to encourage the lovemaking. Kissing, touching, looking, it's all a part of it, or it should be. Because when you take something that precious, you should appreciate it, covet it, and love it."
"My you have a way with words too. I guess I wasn't a very good wife, then." Gabby blushed profusely now. "After that, I felt people made more of it than it was. I grew like the other women; I didn't want it any more."
"Maybe someday we'll put it to the test."
"Maybe…" She reflected but when she looked at Ben, a strange feeling passed through her. The kind of feelings that a young girl dreams about. A warm fuzzy feeling that began deep within her and spread through her like wildfire. The kind of feelings she'd dreamed of having with Frank. However, Ben wasn't Frank.
She had to shake those feelings off.
"You think the Campbell's will leave us alone now?"
She had deliberately changed the subject.
"I sure do." He smiled.
"I want to thank you. Especially after you offered to adopt Jimmy. I never imagined anyone offering such a thing."
"I like kids. Always have." he nodded. "So…tell me, what happened to your mother?"
"My mother?" She glanced at him, their eyes locking for a moment. He was changing the subject as much as she was. "She died of consumption."
"Tell me about it?"
Gabby grew silent for a long moment. She got a far away look in her eyes, and stared into the flames in the fireplace. It had been a long time since she thought about her mother. Too long. "It had been a rainy winter, very cold. I remember I'd curl up on the bed with her, trying to keep her warm and telling her imaginary stories off the top of my head…" Gabby stretched her arms out as she spoke.
"Imaginary stories. So you are a story teller are you?"
She giggled feeling just a tad woozy. "I guess I am, it comes from being an only child. I often tell Jimmy stories that I make up in my head. He enjoys it."
"How old were you, when she died?"
"Seven…"
"Did you miss her very much?" Ben asked with a patient smile.
"My father tells me I would go into her room after she died and curl up on the bed and tell the same old stories over and over. Only she wasn't there anymore. I didn't cry, I just kept repeating the stories, as though she were still there. To answer your question though, I missed her more every day. I can barely remember how she looked now, but I remember thinking she was beautiful. I remember her voice, it was soft and gentle. And as I grew up, I wished she had been there, to guide me, tell me things, and answer questions."
"It must have been very hard for you, at such a young age, having no brothers or sisters."
"My mother wanted more children, but she almost died having me. She never had any more. I think that disappointed my father to some extent, he so wanted a boy to help with the ranching."
"And did you become a little tomboy, because of it?"
"For a while, yes. And during that time, Father and I got along wonderfully. But everything changed when I started growing up. I had a lot of questions and no one to answer them for me. Frank was my father's best friend and he hung around the ranch a lot. It was a few remarks about me growing up that got my father's hackles up. From then on, my father no longer knew how to talk to me, or what to say. I was infatuated because Frank paid attention to me. My relationship with my father changed drastically. I liked Frank; back then he was nice to me. He paid attention to me. I so needed my mother then. Perhaps if she'd been there I might never have run off with Frank."
"Why didn't he approve of your husband?" Ben asked curiously. "I mean was there a valid reason, other than age?"
"Frank had been his friend; he was ten years younger than my father, and ten years older than me. My father knew he was too old for me. He thought it indecent the way Frank flirted with me. In the beginning, Frank treated me like I wanted my father to treat me. He complimented me all the time. He listened to me, and no one listened to me back then. He'd tell me about his dream to find gold and become rich. I admired him. I wasn't madly in love with him, but then I'd never had a relationship with a boy before."
"Never?"
"I guess that sounds strange to you, but father kept me on the ranch all the time. I seldom was around other folks then. I'd been a tomboy so long; boys weren't very interested in me. I didn't exactly…develop like most girls. Most of the other girls I knew thought I was strange. I dressed like a boy, looked like one too, except for my long hair." She looked down at herself, self-consciously. "Love was something I dreamed about, not a reality. I guess I wasn't in love with him as much as love itself. Problem was, he wasn't a boy. And I didn't realize the difference. When Frank insisted we should marry, I agreed. He told me he was moving to Colorado to work a gold mine, it was the chance of a lifetime. He made it sound exciting. I thought it sounded exciting, especially the way he described it. However, the age difference showed up quickly, after we married. I had no idea what marriage was all about, but because I was such a rebel, I was about to find out. Father was right. Frank wasn't right for me, or I for him. I went from a fairly good life, to a life of squalor."
"Did you mourn him long?"
"I didn't mourn him at all." Gabby admitted. She saw the surprised look on Ben's face. "I know that sounds cold and unfeeling. It hadn't started that way, but marriage changed him. It was one of the reasons I was reluctant to marry again, myself. You see, Frank was very jealous if another man looked at me. And because I was young, they did look. Most of the miner's wives were much older. I stood out among them like a sore thumb. I didn't fit in, and most of the women ignored me, because the men didn't. I couldn't talk to the ladies there much, because most of the time I didn't know what they were talking about. Most of them had been married years, had children, and been through a lot. I had no past, or history to talk about. The women wouldn't have anything to do with me, and the men…well, they looked. However, Frank never really knew me, or he'd have known I wouldn't cheat on him. Father had a lot of faults, but he did teach me the good book, and I knew all about sin. I did respect him, until he began to drink all the time at least. It wasn't the drinking itself I minded, but Frank was a mean drunk, and I was about to find out how mean. He just couldn't face the fact that there was no gold. It killed something in him.
"I wasn't surprised when he died the way he did. The bottle made him do things he'd have never done sober. But there was Jimmy to think of. For his sake, I tried to honor his memory."
"Jimmy seems well adjusted to have gone through that." Ben reflected.
"Yes, he is. I think it's because he's always relied on me so much. He had too, his father wasn't around much after he was born. They just never became close…"
"That's a shame."
"I thought it a blessing actually." Ben frowned at her and she hastened to explain. "Well, had he been very close to his father, it might have been much harder on him and me. I never could fake my feelings. I held a grudge. Jimmy saw far too much, for one so young."
"I remember that. I remember when you were very young; I used to like to tease you, because your hair was so white blond." Ben nodded.
"I barely remember that." She turned her head to stare into his face. "So, tell me about yourself a little."
He looked at her and their eyes locked onto each other. "What do you want to know?"
"Something about you…"
"I'm a rebel too. My father and I have been a little at odds since my mother and sister passed away. A lot of it is my fault. I've been living in some strange place since it happened. I don't know whether it was because the pox took them so quickly, or what. I just couldn't adjust to life without them. Jen and I had always been close. We confided in each other, we were best friends. I was close to them both. I remember coming in from a hard day, and they would be fixing supper, but they both stopped long enough to talk to me and share things with me. Then the small pox hit our town and wiped nearly half of it out. It all happened so fast."
"Tell me…what were the good times like, when your family was alive?" Gabby encouraged.
"Well, there was always laughter in the house. I'd come in from a day's work and the two of them would have a big meal on the table and later we'd play songs on the old piano and sometimes even dance about. Life was fun…Father was so different when Ma was alive. When she died, he just sort of went back to work and nothing interested him but this ranch."
Gabby glanced around the room. "What happened to the piano? I don't see it around."
"Dad moved it out of the house after they died. It was strange. That was one of the first things of theirs that he got rid of. I argued with him about it, but he wouldn't allow it in the house any longer. I was so wrapped up in my own sorrows; I didn't realize that he suffered too."
Gabby opened her mouth to say something but nothing came out.
"What?" he was looking at her again.
"Nothing, but…don't you think he moved it out of the house so it wouldn't be a constant reminder?" Gabby asked softly.
"I guess it was…but I just didn't see it."
"I wish I had known them, your sister and mother. To bring laughter to a house is a talent at times. The silence itself would haunt you." Gabby admitted.
"That's how most of our disagreements started, he wanted to be rid of something, and I didn't."
"How long has Helena been with you?" Gabby asked.
"Mother hired her as a maid; Helena was a young girl back then. She barely spoke English, but my sister taught her. They were the best of friends. After they died, Helena took over all the duties; she cooks, cleans and helps as best she can. She took their deaths hard too; she was the one that nursed them. She's part of the family, a good part. I think deep down she misses them as much as anyone."
"She's in
love with your father." Gabby smiled into his eyes.
"You figured that out, too?"
"Not hard. I see the way she looks at him." Gabby smiled.
For a moment, they stared at each other blatantly. The look in his eyes spoke for him, he wanted to kiss her again, and she practically held her breath waiting. His head bent, his arms were almost around her. She wanted his kisses, almost to the point of needing them.
Instead, he got up and started walking away.
Confused, she felt the cold rejection like a slap in the face, but she composed herself until he turned around to stare at her from a distance.
The look in his eye mesmerized her, for he was staring at her like some prize possession.
"Make no mistake," His eyes went all over her then, slowly. His eyes glittered. "I wanted that kiss too. Maybe more than you did, but tonight is not the night. Even though it's our wedding night. Ironically, it's not the right time. I know that. When and if I take you to my bed, it'll be because we want it, need it and trust each other. You were so lovely in that dress today and I'll dream about you all night long. I got this gut feeling that we neither one want to make any mistakes with this marriage. And taking you tonight, before you trust, before you love, would be a mistake. We didn't promise to love each other, but we both know there is something between us, even now. In time, we might figure out what that is. I don't want to rush it Gabby, I want to savor it. Your kiss in the garden told me that much. Let's work on building a life together and see where it leads us…"
She smiled, "That's…a very romantic and sensible thing to say…" She cried breathlessly. His glance swept her into awareness as his gaze went from the top of her hair, to her feet under her once more.
"Being your husband isn't going to be the easiest thing in the world," His eyes seemed to rest on her mouth. "But I got a feeling deep inside it might end up being worth more than I ever imagined."
Stunned by his words, her cheeks flushed, she could feel the heat.
Love As Big As Texas Page 10
