by Pamela Morsi
Henry Lee ran a distracted hand through his hair as if trying to reason out the unreasonable. He never lost control with women; he always knew what he was doing. Twice now he had lost his head with his new wife and he couldn't understand it. He made a rational decision about their future together. He needed to stick to that arrangement and not allow the crazy heat of passion that she seemed to generate in him to threaten their potential for happiness.
"Hannah, we've got a lot of things going against us. If we are going to have any kind of marriage at all, we're going to have to give ourselves the best chance possible."
He hesitated, trying to think of the right words. She was so vulnerable now, he didn't want to hurt her, but he had to say it outright so that she would understand.
"I think we should wait to share our marriage bed until the reason for our marriage is behind us."
Hannah looked at him surprised. He met her gaze and added as gently as possible, "People make mistakes and I don't hold you in contempt for yours, but I think we should wait until it's no longer an issue."
* * *
CHAPTER 8
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Flat one by six pine planks stretched between kitchen chairs, barrels and stools, forming makeshift pews in the new Plainview Church. Hannah and Henry Lee had been the last to arrive and found themselves sitting front row center as the service began.
Hannah's whimsical notion of the night before, of having everyone in the church looking at the two of them, was a lot less enjoyable in fact than it had been in fantasy. The whispers had started up the minute they walked in the door. The knowing glances and speculation brought out Hannah's natural shyness and made her long for the days when she was unnoticeable in this congregation.
It didn't help that Henry Lee looked his worst. His face was drawn, lined, and tired, and he seemed to have almost a greenish cast to his complexion. She knew he was ill from the liquor when he refused even coffee for breakfast. Why he had insisted on coming was a mystery.
Hannah had given up on sleep at dawn and had dressed and readied herself for church, planning to attend alone. She looked forward to it. The time alone on the road and the communion with heaven at the church surely would calm her and give her peace. She was very concerned about the events of last night. She was surprised at what she was learning about herself, about the depth of her own passion, and the strange mysteries of her own body. She needed time to sort out what was happening, and she had hoped to have that time this morning.
She encountered her first obstacle when she found that she could not seem to harness the team. Her father had always taken care of the horses, and now she wished she had paid more attention to how it was done. After several unsuccessful attempts, she decided that her only options were to stay at home or to get Henry Lee to help her.
Her first timid knocks on his door produced no results. Ultimately, she was pounding the wood to get his attention. When the door was finally wrenched open, Hannah was momentarily frightened. He looked rumpled, sick, and angry.
"I'm so sorry to wake you, Henry Lee."
He waved her apology away. "You need something, the house on fire, what?"
She steeled herself against his bad temper. "If you could hitch up the buggy for me, I'll be on my way and you can lay back down again."
He ran his hands across his face and through his hair as if trying to rouse himself.
"You should have woke me earlier. Give me a couple of minutes to clean up and dress and I'll hitch up the buggy and take you."
"Oh, you don't have to do that! I can drive myself, I really am very good at handling a team," she protested.
He walked over to his wash table and poured the water from the pitcher into the bowl. Hannah watched as he splashed the cold water over his face and head and managed to get a good bit of it spilt on the washstand and floor.
"I said I would take you, and I will take you."
His firmness brooked no argument.
"Would you like me to fix you some breakfast?" she asked innocently.
He shuddered. "Don't you dare!" he answered. At first his voice seemed angry, but then he was almost laughing. "Did you unload the buggy? You can start that while I get dressed. Just carry the lighter things, I'll get the heavy sacks myself."
Hannah had been delighted to discover the fresh vegetables in the buggy. At least he had not lied to her when he said he was going to Sandy Creek on business. He must have gotten himself drunk later. Glancing at him now as the sunlight streamed in through the window of the new church, bathing his face, she wondered why anyone drank if this was the consequence.
As they stood together to sing a hymn, Henry Lee wondered the same thing. He felt terrible, of course, but worse than that he remembered the night before vividly. He didn't try to sing. He didn't know any of the words yet it was such a pleasure just to stand next to Hannah and listen to her wonderful rich voice that seemed more suited to a beer hall than the House of the Lord. She was such a prize and he had frightened and embarrassed her last night.
When Skut would get raving drunk he never seemed to remember what had happened. For once, Henry Lee wished he was more like him: He hated the memory of his drunkenness. He hated wondering what Hannah must think of it. She had not even wanted him to drive her to church today. Perhaps she was ashamed to be seen with him now. Well, ashamed or not, he was her husband and nothing was going to change that.
When the hymn ended, they seated themselves on the rough pine planks. Henry Lee found it pretty uncomfortable. He had planned to wait until the long dark days of winter to make the pews for the church. But, after sitting for a few moments he revised his plans to a bit sooner.
Bowing his head as instructed as he listened to the soft drone of Farnam Bunch requesting guidance from God, he became increasingly aware of the proximity of his wife. With his eyes closed he could smell her. It wasn't the kind of smell he usually associated with women. It was neither the cheap overwhelming perfume of the women of ill repute or the typical lavender sachet of more discreet ladies. She smelled of sunshine and plain soap and woman. He realized that he remembered this smell from the night before. Sprawled on the floor, the scent of her had assailed his nostrils and now beside her in church the same scent caused an immediate reaction in his body.
He quickly opened his eyes as if his sense of sight could cancel out his sense of smell. Looking at Hannah's strong, sturdy hands lying calmly in her lap gave him back his control. She had the hands of a working woman. Callused and rough, her hands reflected the work she did. The work she did, now, in his house. He remembered his mother's wedding ring that had not fit on her finger. He had forgotten that he'd given it to her. He was sorry she couldn't wear it and decided that next time he went to the city he would have it made to fit her. It was tangible evidence that she was his. He liked knowing that, and for some reason he now wanted everyone to know it. He wanted all these people to think of her as Mrs. Watson, not Miss Hannah.
Henry Lee felt an unexpected surge of pride in his new wife. She was a fine, decent Christian woman. The kind that any of these farmers would not have been ashamed to call his own. And she belonged to Henry Lee Watson. Sure, she'd made a mistake, Henry Lee was not about to forget that, but hadn't he made plenty in his life? He speculated that most of the good Christians now in the church had probably made a mistake or two themselves.
Feeling somewhat better, he caught Hannah's eye and gave her a hopeful smile. She returned his smile with a shy one of her own and lowered her eyes discreetly before returning her attention to the preaching.
Henry Lee watched her for another minute, before he too gave polite attention to Reverend Bunch.
Hannah was both anxious and encouraged by what had happened last night. Certainly, it was all very frightening, having him hold her and caress her like that. But it was exciting too, and she realized that she was anxious for it to happen again. At least she had learned why Henry Lee wasn't sharing a bed with her. The trick she had played was terrible and H
annah understood that it must be difficult for him to forgive something like that. At least he was willing to try to forget it, and planned to have a real marriage with her. She wondered longingly how much time it would take for him to get over it. If last night was any indication, surely it wouldn't be too long.
* * *
After the service, Hannah found that getting out and to their buggy was somewhat like running the gauntlet. Everyone in the community wanted to ask a question or wish them well. Nearly all commented on Henry Lee's first attendance at church. Hannah was embarrassed for him, but he seemed to take it in good humor. "Can't have my wife attending church without me," he told Mason Dillary. "She might see some other fellow and never come home."
Laughter followed in their wake as Henry Lee made joke after joke about his appearance at the Sunday service. When they finally reached the buggy, and Hannah was about to climb inside with great relief, she heard her father's voice behind her.
"Violet's cooking up a big Sunday dinner for you two, and she just won't take no for an answer."
Hannah felt drained and wanted to beg off, but Henry Lee seemed delighted to be staying for dinner and quite willing to stand and talk to the neighbors indefinitely.
"Henry Lee," Hannah called to him, "I'll just go and help Violet, she'll need me." Henry Lee nodded and Hannah quickly made her exit before anyone else had the opportunity to object. Practically racing down the hill to the house, she arrived in the kitchen just as her stepmother was stoking the fire in the stove and pulling on her apron.
"You didn't have to hurry, honey," Violet told her. "I've been learning to get these meals by myself and I'm doing better all the time. You should have stayed to visit with your friends."
"My friends are a bit nosy for me, these days," Hannah answered bluntly.
"I see," her stepmother said, "I guess I remember that. Being first married and being a bit shy, wanting to keep your happiness to yourself for a little while." She smiled nostalgically. "Yes, I think I remember that."
Respecting each other's privacy, the two worked together companionably and in a short time two chickens were delicately fried. Yeast rolls were beautifully browned and piles of greens, potatoes, and crowder peas vied for room on the kitchen table among the pickled beets, chow-chow, green onions and sliced tomatoes. Myrtie came in from the cellar bearing a crock of fresh cottage cheese and then laughingly called the men to the table.
"You best make your way to the table, Hannah hates to serve up Sunday dinner late, and there's always the chance that she'll just throw it out."
Henry Lee shot his new wife a comical expression, as if he feared her wrath.
Hannah lingered, helping Violet get everything onto the table, until her father insisted that she take her place beside her husband.
"Henry Lee, you just sit right here and Hannah, put that away now and come join your husband."
"That's right," Violet insisted, taking the vinegar bottle from Hannah's grasp. "You are a guest today, so try to act like one," she teased.
As was their custom, the family joined hands to say grace. Placing her hand in Henry Lee's sent a shock wave through Hannah's body, followed by a vivid memory of his caresses and kisses of the night before. Desperately, Hannah tried to refocus her mind upon asking blessing for the food, but unerringly her thoughts flew back to the touch of Henry Lee's hand on her breast and the relentlessness of his mouth on hers. When her father finally pronounced amen, Hannah quickly pulled her hand away, but she had no control over the flaming roses that brightened her cheeks.
Henry Lee, who seemed totally recovered from his illness of the morning, ate heartily and complimented Violet outrageously on the meal. He seemed more the self-assured, jovial man that Hannah thought him to be before their marriage. He seemed to be almost flirting with Myrtie, who was glowing from the attention.
When Hannah's stepmother offered him another yeast roll, he took two and revealed that he was partial to them.
"Next time, I'll make a double batch," Violet proclaimed, "and you can take the rest home with you."
"Oh, no, ma'am," he said, winking at her. "Don't put yourself out like that. I certainly haven't been suffering from lack of good cooking."
Henry Lee gave Hannah a quick smile as he slathered butter on his roll. "These are surely mighty fine eating, but my Hannah makes the finest light bread I've ever tasted. I consider myself a fortunate man."
Hannah was nearly dumbfounded and extremely pleased with the compliment. Henry Lee had praised her cooking before, but the tone of his voice today seemed to indicate a satisfaction that went further than a good meal. Suddenly, when she was surrounded by her family, he became charming and complimentary. She wondered if he was playing up to her parents, seeking their approval. Did he really care what her parents thought?
What Hannah's family thought was all to Henry Lee's credit. They had both been very uncertain about the potential outcome of such a mismatch, but what they were seeing appeared to be two people who had strong feelings for each other.
Reverend Farnam was reassured that Henry Lee seemed to have a pretty good head on his shoulders, and was as straightforward and honest as a man could be in his profession.
Violet was thinking that the roses blooming in Hannah's cheeks left no doubt that she was loved and cared for by this man.
Myrtie just thought they were the most handsome couple she had ever seen, and she dreamily anticipated a man just like Henry Lee to come along and marry her also.
"I very much enjoyed your sermon today, Papa," Hannah said, breaking up the silence at the table.
The preacher accepted her compliment with a nod. "Hannah has always been partial to the Old Testament," he explained to his son-in-law, smiling. "What about you, Henry Lee?" he asked. "What did you think of my sermon?"
Henry Lee studied his plate, casually moving around the remains of his potatoes.
"It was the first time I'd heard you preach, Reverend," he replied. "You have a fine speaking voice and that is for sure"
Farnam Bunch immediately noticed his son-in-law's hesitance.
"What about the subject? What did you think of the story of Cain and Abel?"
Henry Lee looked the preacher straight in the eye for a moment, as if deciding what and how much to answer. Then with an affirmative nod he decided to speak his mind.
"Truly, Preacher, I have never liked that story," he said. "I know you preachers always talk about the sin of one brother slaying the other. That's pretty bad, I've got no argument with that. But the part that bothers me is where that jealousy began."
Hannah listened avidly, curious about the workings of her husband's mind.
"Here you have two hardworking men," he went on. "One of them raises sheep and the other is a farmer." Henry Lee rubbed his chin and leaned closer to the preacher as if trying to more clearly express his point. "For some reason God decided to prefer the results of one man's labor over that of the other man." Henry Lee shook his head in disbelief. "I can't for the life of me understand why God could not accept the offering of both men. A man who takes pride in his work ought not to be scorned because of his choice of occupation."
Reverend Bunch smiled tightly. Hannah, however, did not recognize the undercurrents between her father and her husband. She was surprised that Henry Lee had given so much thought to the sermon and she could see the point he was making. It did seem unfair that God would choose the offering of the shepherd and reject that of the farmer. However, she had learned through her own mistake in thinking what was good for Ruth and Boaz was good for herself and Will Sample. The Old Testament contained many passages that were open to misinterpretation. She wanted to explain that to Henry Lee.
"I know that it seems unfair," Hannah said. "But the point of the story really has nothing to do with occupation. Some sacrifices were more acceptable to God than others, but we don't need to offer sacrifices these days, so it is no longer important."
"I wouldn't say that it's not important," her father inter
rupted, but Hannah ignored him and continued.
"All work done with diligence and care is acceptable to God. People sometimes put more value on some kinds of work than on others. They may think that the preacher or the doctor has more favor in God's eyes, but the truth is that the Bible says that God himself 'established the work of our hands,' so that whatever our talent is, if we do it to the best of our ability, God is pleased."
Hannah's smile was so loving and kind, it was difficult for Henry Lee to look at her. It was no longer a bit funny that she didn't know about his whiskey business. He wished that he had told her the first day.
Henry Lee glanced over at the preacher to see him studying his daughter. He wondered if her father was going to correct her. To tell her that God could never be pleased with a man who made his living with whiskey. The reverend, however, held his peace and changed the subject.
"Well, Henry Lee," Hannah's father asked, "what do you think of the new church you built?"
"I believe it will hold up through the winter," he teased. "But those pine planks could make even the best of sermons seem a mite long."
The reverend laughed at his son-in-law's frankness. "I doubt you're the only one with those sentiments. We'll all be anxious for winter to come so that you can get started making those pews for us."
"I'm thinking about starting them a bit sooner than the winter," he told them. "Sure, I won't be able to work steady on them this time of year, but I may be able to get a few done."
"That would be wonderful," Violet exclaimed. "It will make it seem more like a real church."
"I'm thinking to make a trip over to Sallisaw to visit the lumber mills and talk to some of the furniture makers. I'd like to find out what they have to say. I don't know too much about this. I taught myself to work the wood, but there are a lot of things about it that I still don't know."
"You're going to Sallisaw?" Myrtie's eyes were as big as saucers. "Will you take the train and everything?"
"Of course," he said, smiling at her charming sense of wonder. "What good is it to have trains, if you don't ride on them?"
