Mail Order Mistake (13 page)

“Thank God,” he whispered, speeding up the pace.  “It may not happen for you this
first time, but if it doesn’t, we’ll try again.”

“What may not happen?”  She was surprised at how breathless her voice sounded.  She
was winded, but not even certain why.
 

His thrusts were fast and strong now, driving into her with a quick and steady rhythm. 
Suddenly he cried out, arching and moving into her one last time.  She lay beneath
him, aware that she hadn’t felt as good as she had with his finger, but she’d still
felt wonderful.    He had buried his face in her neck, and she stroked his shoulders,
letting him know without words that he’d made her feel good.

After what seemed l
ike hours, he rolled off of her
and pulled her to his side, her head pillowed on his shoulder.  “Thank you.”
  He brushed a sweet kiss across her forehead.

She looked at him in surprise.  “Why are you thanking me?”

“Because you were still frightened, but you let me make love to you anyway.”  He kissed
the top of
her head, hugging her tightly to him.

“You could tell?”
  She had wanted to hide it better than that.

He laughed.  “You were
shaking like a leaf.  Of course
I could tell.
  And you told me you were afraid.
”  His hands were still moving against her back, a constant reminder that he had the
right to touch her anytime he wanted.  “Will you be frightened next time?”

She shook her head, her hair tickling his shoulder.  “How could I be frightened of
something that feels so good?”
  She felt silly having been so afraid of it before.  She needed to write to Harriett
and tell her it didn’t always hurt.  Of course, she wasn’t sure she could write that
to anyone, even Harriett.

He smiled, pulling her even closer to his side.
  “Good, because I want that to happen between us often.”

She sighed contentedly.  “So do I.”  She yawned and snuggled happily into his side. 
“I’m tired.”
  Her eyes drifted closed, her head pillowed on his arm.

“Me too.”  His
closed his eyes
even as his hands continued to stroke her.  “Morning can’t come soon enough.”

“Why’s that?” she asked only half awake.

“So we can do this again in the morning light.”

She smiled.  “Sounds like a good plan to me.”

*****

Malinda woke with a smile on her lips.  She didn’t know what was making her happy,
but she knew she was happier than she’d been for a long time.  She felt something
pulling her hair and she reached out to tug
her
hair
away
from whatever it was
, and realized it was Wesley’s shoulder. 

He was still asleep, facing her on his side in the bed.  She stared at him openly
in a way she’d never been able to look at him before, because she always knew he was
watching.  She reached out a finger and traced his features, his nose, his eyes, his
mouth.  How could she have been afraid of the glorious pleasure she’d felt the previous
night under his hands and body?  She was certain she’d made the right choice for her
heart and body when she’d married Wesley.  She just hoped she’d made the right choice
for her fears.

His eyes blinked awake and he saw her lying in the morning light
,
watching him.  “G’morning.”

She brushed her lips across his, enjoying the feel of his morning stubble on her chin. 
“Good morning.”

“Been awake long?”

She shrugged.  “Just for a minute or two.  I love watching you sleep.”
  She trailed her fingers along the side of his face. 

He laughed.  “I can’t imagine what you’d enjoy about that.”

“When your face is that relaxed, you look like a little boy.”
  She grinned at him, wondering if he’d like the comparison.

His hand came up to cup her cheek.  “A little boy?  Are you sure?”

She nodded with a grin.  “Positive.”
  Her thumb rubbed along his bottom lip, noticing it was swollen.  She wondered if
hers looked the same.

He pulled her up against him and she felt his erection pushing against her.  “Would
a little boy touch you this way?”

She made a face, rubbing his shoulders.  “I hope not.  But I’m glad you are!”
 

He laughed and pushed her to her back, his hands roaming up and down the body that
he now knew as well as his own.  “That’s a good thing, because I’m not planning on
stopping anytime soon.”

*****

She couldn’t quit grinning as she fixed breakfast, thrilled that he was no longer
angry with her and that marital relations weren’t nearly as bad as she’d worried they
would be. 

Ellen had explained how to make French toast the previous day, so she tried it for
the first time.  She’d certainly eaten it enough to know how it should look and taste,
and after understanding the basics of how to do it, she was ready to give it a try. 
She found some maple syrup in the cellar, and brought that up along with the tiny
bit of butter that was left.  She would have to get Ellen to teach her to
churn
butter, she thought. 
She knew how to churn it, but she was uncertain about what exactly went into it. 
Ellen wouldn’t mind.

Somehow
the act
of pleasing her husband in bed
made her feel a lot more confident about her homemaking skills.  It was as if knowing
how to please him one way made her feel like she could please him in every way.

When he sat down for breakfast, she slipped his plate onto the table in front of him
and put her own down.  After he’d said a prayer for them, they ate.  She was surprised
at
how well breakfast had come out
and enjoyed seeing his eyes light up at the first bite.  “This is really good.”

“Thank you.”   She couldn’t keep her eyes off his face, so different now that he’d
shaved.  “Are you coming home for lunch today?”
  There were leftovers from the night before she could warm up. 

He smiled.  “I’ll come home for lunch every day
,
if you’d like.”

“I’d love that.  I’ll make sure I have something ready for you around noon.”
 

He took her hand in his and squeezed it tightly.  “Being married to you is going to
be just as wonderful as I’d imagined it would be.”

She smiled.  “I think so
,
too.  I’m sorry I was such a baby about things
and got us off to such a bad start.
”
  She hoped things were completely better between them, but he still seemed to be
hesitant.  She couldn’t blame him, though.  She’d been the one to mess things up from
the start.

He shook his head.  “I understand you were afraid.  I just wish you’d have trusted
me from the very beginning.”

“I did, but I didn’t.  I couldn’t imagine you ever hurting me, but I had some preconceived
notions.”
  She stared down at her plate wishing things were different between them.

He finished his breakfast and stood up, bending down to kiss her softly.  “I’ll see
you for lunch.”  He grabbed his hat from the hook by the kitchen door and left for
the morning. 

She immediately jumped out of her chair and got the hot water ready for
the breakfast
dishes and made the bed.  She didn’t want Ellen seeing the house like she had the
previous morning.  From that moment on, she would be the best wife anyone had ever
seen.

Chapter
Seven

Malinda followed Wesley’s directions exactly as she walked to Mary Pickering
’s
house on Friday afternoon.  She was so nervous
,
she’d written a letter to
Mrs. Pickering claiming to be ill before tearing it up and throwing it into the fire. 
It was important to Wesley that she make friends other than Ellen in town, so she
was going to do it no matter how hard it was for her.

She
stopped in front of the medium-
sized wood house which had been freshly painted white.  There were several flower
beds in the front of the house, making it very welcoming.  After taking several deep
breaths for courage, Malinda knocked on the door, waiting patiently for someone to
come.  She
hoped no one was home, but knew she was being silly.
  She didn’t really want someone to invite her over and then not be home when she
got there.

A
fter a moment,
Mrs. Pickering
came to the door and
opened
it
wide.  “Mrs. Harris, come in!  None of the other ladies are here yet, but they should
be any moment.” 

“Thank you for having me.”  Malinda
stepped inside and
looked around the
house, admiring
the way it had been decorated. 
Mrs. Pickering
didn’t have the kind of décor she’d admired at Harriett’s house, or even at Patrick’s
house, but it was still very tastefully done.  It seemed much homier than the other
houses.  The curtains were made of a pretty blue gingham cloth, and the pillows on
the sofa matched.  Looking around, Malinda saw several things she would like to duplicate
in her
own home
if Wesley didn’t mind.

“I thought we’d sit in here,” Mrs. Pickering told her.  “I only invited two other
ladies because you seemed a little shy in church on Sunday.  Is that all right?”
  Mrs. Pickering remained standing while she invited Malinda to take a seat on the
sofa.

Malinda nodded.  “That’s perfect.”  She looked down at her hands for a moment.  “I
do have trouble meeting new people.  I’m okay one on one, but a big group at once
is hard for me.”  She smiled at the older woman, thankful she’d been so attuned to
her feelings that she had only invited two people.

“I thought so.  Excuse me.”  Mrs. Pickering hurried from the room at the sound of
a knock on the door.

She led two other women into the room, both of them around Malinda’s age.  Malinda
breathed a sigh of relief that she wouldn’t be in a room with several older women. 
She would be much more at ease with women her own age.  “Mrs. Harris, I’d like you
to meet Joan Smith,” she indicated a short blond woman, “and Beatrice Brown.  They’re
both new to our town as well.”  Beatrice was a tall willowy brunette with sad eyes.

Malinda nodded at the two.  “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Make yourselves comfortable.  I need to get the refreshments.” 
The three younger women sat down together while Mrs. Pickering hurried out of the
room. 

Malinda looked at the other two, wondering what she should say to them.  She felt
drawn to Beatrice because her eyes were so sad, so she started with her.  “What brings
you to Gammonville?”
 

“My husband and I were on our way through here, heading to California with a wagon
train, when I lost the baby I was carrying.  We stayed on because there was a d
octor here, and I needed care.”  The woman looked down at her hands, her eyes filled
with tears.

Malinda reached out and took the other woman’s hand.  “I’m so sorry.  How long ago
was that?”  She couldn’t imagine how hard it would be to lose a child and her heart
went out to Beatrice.

“Just a month.”

No wonder her eyes look so sad.
  “So will you be continuing on to California once you’re recovered or are you planning
to stay here in Colorado?”  Malinda hoped she’d stay, because there was something
about the other woman that made her feel as if she’d make a good friend.

“My husband is
a blacksmith, and the town needed a blacksmith, so it looks like we’re staying.”
  Beatrice shrugged as if she didn’t care whether they stayed or moved on to California.

“How do you feel about that?” Malinda asked.

“Oh, fine.  At least I know people here.  California would be strange and new.  I’m
not good at meeting new people.”

“Neither am I!” Malinda exclaimed.  She turned to Joan.  “What about you?  How long
have you been in town?”  She felt bad she’d le
ft Joan out of the conversation, but she didn’t feel as drawn to her as she did to
Beatrice.

“I’ve been here close to a year.  I came here with my parents because my father had
some work to do for the railroad.  I met my husband and just stayed.  They moved on
about nine months ago.” 

“Do you like it here?” 

Joan shrugged.  “It’s fine.  I was tired of traveling, and my husband is a sweetheart.” 

Mrs. Pickering walked back into the room then
,
carrying a tray loaded with a teapot, cups and several different kinds of cookies. 
Malinda jumped up to help her.  “I’ve got it,” Mrs. Pickering told her as she lowered
the tray onto the small table in front of the couch.