Marrying Stone (35 page)

With Jesse's help they got him situated upon the old mule in a way that seemed unlikely to further pain his bad leg. The mule halter in his hand, Jesse led the way down the narrow path to the church. They were getting a late start, but Jesse kept a brisk pace through the ridge rows.

Roe and Meggie walked together lingering some distance behind the mule. The pathway through the trees was narrow, but patches of sun shone through and dappled the shade. And the air was fragrant with new growth and withering forest duff.

Meggie kept her eyes straight ahead and Roe tried to follow her lead, but he kept stealing glances at her. And the temptation to talk to her overwhelmed his better judgment. He missed the sound of her voice, laughing with pleasure or strident with complaint. More than once he'd been tempted to plant a worm beneath her coffee cup just to shake her out of her calm, quiet control.

"That's a pretty dress." It was not merely a polite compliment, but a sincere comment. She looked especially lovely in the vibrant blue.

"I've worn it several times before," Meggie answered evenly, still not deigning to look his way.

"I know you have," Roe said. "But I've never told you how nice you look in it. That color is perfect with your eyes."

Meggie shrugged. "Just luck about the color. I was dying it the night that—" She hesitated as a blush stained her cheeks. She cast him a quick glance and then answered in haste. "The night you and Jesse got drunk."

Roe gave her a long look as they both remembered that night. "Then, it's even more beautiful than I thought."

Meggie did look at him then, her eyes widening. It was there between them once more; the emotion, the desire, the knowledge. They had shared a secret, special rite of passage and forever the link forged between them would bind.

He saw Meggie's lip tremble uncertainly, then deliberately she lengthened her stride to outpace him. Roe allowed her to go. He no longer knew what to wish for or what to hope. He didn't want to leave his life's work behind him to become a poor Arkansas farmer. Yet, he was loath to leave this woman and her family.

Though darker thoughts plagued him he merely allowed himself to feel content as he watched the rhythmic sway of her from behind.

Since the day in the woodshed, Meggie had spent a good deal of her time trying to avoid him. When she wasn't doing that, she merely pretended that nothing had happened between them. The only time she'd allowed anything else to peek through was when she and her father took their first tour of the new privy. Roe smiled as he recalled the memorable afternoon.

It was a simple square building, with a less than grandiose purpose. Yet, Meggie had made him feel like he had erected a palace. Gazing in awe at the structure, she praised his carpentry work and marveled at the convenience. Her enthusiasm was highly contagious and even Onery grudgingly admitted that an outhouse might be a fair idea after all.

When the old man returned to the house, Roe hadn't been able to resist reaching out to grab her arm.

"I'm glad you like the privy," he said. He tried to keep his expression light and conversational, incapable of dredging up the deep feelings between them.

She smiled at him, but there was a sense of poignant sadness behind it. "It's very fancy. We'd never have got one if you hadn't come here." She glanced back at the little building with near reverence in her eyes. "It will give me something to remember you by when you're gone."

Meggie walked away then, leaving Roe to stare puzzled at the little square building that he'd created. He didn't want her memories of him to be only a privy.

Now as he watched her walk in front of him, the wide skirt of the blue homespun dress swishing back and forth in an enticingly feminine fashion, he once more warred with himself.

He would return to Massachusetts when the summer was over and forget that Miss Meggie Best had ever existed. She didn't want to marry him. She didn't want to go back east with him. And she would definitely be a liability among the better class of people in Cambridge. Marriage to her would mean a life in the wilds of these mountains, at least part of the time. A thing he was sure was contrary to his nature. Still, what he shared with her was more than just a memorable passing fancy. He wanted to leave her with something. He wanted to leave her his name.

That
was
what he wanted, he realized. He couldn't bear the thought of her marriage to some other man and of her forgetting the moments that they had shared together. He wanted her to be his, and his alone, forever. She'd spurned his proposal of marriage as if he were no one of any consequence in her life. Perhaps she didn't want to live with him. But he was going to marry her. If it took staying here all winter to convince her of that, he was ready for it.

They were still a mile from the church when they began to hear the tolling for the wedding. The huge bell had a deep, beautiful, full-bodied sound that echoed through the mountains in a way that made it seem a part of the sounds of nature. It was a wonderful noise, and, Roe thought, that forced to take a side, he'd have to agree with the McNeeses that the bell should stay and the bell tower made bigger. Roe smiled at the thought. Fortunately, he wasn't really family here, so he wouldn't have to make a choice.

As they came within sight of the church, it was clear that virtually everyone on the mountain had turned out for the wedding. The hillside around the church was filled with young girls in their Sunday best homespun giggling behind their hands and flirting with red-faced swains, shaved and slicked up for the occasion. Women labored over plank tables that groaned with the weight of the food upon them and gossiped among themselves, hesitating in their conversation only occasionally to scold a rowdy child. Men gathered in small groups to chew half-green tobacco, complain about their crops, and brag about their fishing.

Granny Piggott sat in a cane-bottom chair under a shade tree and smoked her pipe. They stopped for only a moment to greet the old woman. She held the pipe between her teeth and patted Roe playfully upon the stomach.

"I believe you are putting on some weight, boy," she said with a cheery cackle. "Is marriage making this gal a better cook?"

"I believe it is, Granny," Roe answered, glancing over at Meggie who stood somewhat unwillingly at his side. "She hasn't ruined a thing in the kitchen in a very long time."

The old woman raised a curious eyebrow as she glanced over at Meggie. "It ain't the husband that's supposed to get fat, it's the wife," she said.

"Meggie don't never eat much," Jesse piped in.

"I ain't talking about eating," Granny answered with a pointed look toward Roe. "It's the other kind of belly growing a young couple oughter be workin' upon."

Roe cleared his throat nervously. Fortunately he was saved from making any reply by the opportune interruption of Buell Phillips.

"The wedding is about to start," he announced. "You'd better find yourself a good view. Nearly everyone on the mountain is here."

Roe nodded and Phillips hurried away, circulating through the crowd as if he were permanently a candidate for some political office.

"I'll just stay here by Granny," Onery told them. "I can lean against this tree and take the weight off my leg. You younguns go on and find you a place."

Meggie looked as if she might protest, but Roe preempted her argument with a quick agreement.

"You just rest here with Granny," he said. "Jesse and I will watch out for Meggie."

Onery chuckled. "You do that, son," he answered.

Nodding a rushed good-bye, the three left Onery and their family's pounding gift at the base of the tree where Granny sat, keeping watch over the plunder. They hurried into the crowd to find a likely site to watch the proceedings. As they moved across the clearing, again and again their attention was drawn by one acquaintance or another.

They watched the Broody twins as the two gleefully stole Ada Trace's pink hair ribbon. This forced the young lady, in her first appearance in long skirts, to jerk her hem to her knees and chase the two scamps across the clearing, squalling with unladylike fury.

Beulah Winsloe, standing within a circle of like-minded matrons, took her role as mother of the groom quite seriously. "Of course she's a perfectly fine young woman," Beulah told them. "But unfortunately she has no graces and hardly any raising at all."

Althea McNees stood alone near the Marrying Stone, her brown eyes wide with nervousness and her cheeks pale. Her long, thin body seemed almost to tremble from the nonexistent chill of the afternoon. She looked very young and very frightened.

Her closest male relative, her Great-uncle Nez Beath, cheerfully laughed and joked and swapped stories with Pigg Broody, clearly grateful to have Althea, who was well into her teens and an extra mouth to feed at his place, finally become the responsibility of somebody else.

That somebody else, Paisley Winsloe, showed up at the very last moment on the edge of the crowd with his cousin Eben Baxley. The two, laughing heartily and stumbling together, were both a little worse for drink, but given the fact that a man didn't marry every day, folks graciously overlooked the social misstep.

Jesse stopped slightly up and to the left of the Marrying Stone and gestured the others to join him. The spot afforded a great view of the entire area. Roe urged Meggie in front of him so that she could see, then turned his attention to the festivities.

Pastor Jay captured all eyes as he stepped out onto the church steps and waited. A polite silence slowly settled across the crowd. The preacher's expression was disapproving and he gave a stern admonishment to the two young men as Paisley half stumbled his way to the front.

When the young man was in place, his coat straight and his hair slicked back, the bride came forward. Althea, on her uncle's arm, was dressed in a pale pink calico gown that emphasized her slenderness. As she stood at Paisley's side, she was slightly taller than he was. Her very natural grace, along with his still obvious inebriation, made the two appear rather mismatched. But the quiet solemnity of their words belied the impression.

"Who giveth this woman's hand in wedlock?" Pastor Jay bellowed out to the crowd.

"I do, Pastor," Nez Beath answered.

The preacher nodded and Althea's uncle retreated into the crowd. There was a moment of conferring within the group and then Paisley took Althea's arm and with Eben in their wake they followed Pastor Jay to the top of the Marrying Stone. They took their places above the crowd where everyone could see them and they could see the heavens above.

The sun shone down like an angel glow upon the young couple as Pastor Jay read the wedding vows and they repeated them. There was no wedding ring, such a costly display among mountain folk was thought unnecessary. But a prayer for the couple and all those present was offered. Then the preacher, with a broad smile of satisfaction at a job well done, declared the couple wed.

Paisley didn't kiss his bride, but smiled at her before he turned to nod at his cousin Eben who placed a small silver coin in the pastor's palm. His part of the ceremony now completed and paid for, Pastor Jay offered a handshake to the groom and a fatherly kiss on the bride's forehead, before he and Eben walked down the hill at the side of the Marrying Stone.

Smiling, Paisley and Althea turned to face the crowd who waited in silence. As the couple surveyed the gathering of family and friends, the moment of quiet lingered in the midday sun. Finally, Paisley grasped Althea's hand. She gave him a nervous grin and then a nod of approval. In an instant the two made the short jump from the crown of the Marrying Stone and became, in the eyes of God and man, husband and wife.

A roar of approval broke from the crowd, punctuated by applause and whistles. The most exuberant of the folks surged forward to compliment the bride, tease the groom, and congratulate both.

"I think weddings are pretty nice," Jesse declared with a deep, heartfelt sigh. "I suspect it's almost as good as being married."

Roe's glance strayed to Meggie and was caught by her own look. Raw, exposed, and vulnerable, they stared at each other for long tense moments remembering their own leap into a new life and what had happened since. In his memory Roe could feel the soft give of her body beneath him. Simultaneously he could hear her telling him to go on his way. She didn't need or want him. She'd find someone else after he was gone. A primal hurt seemed to stab him in his heart. He couldn't understand it, but it was real and it was painful. And somehow he knew only this woman could heal it.

"Meggie—"

Bringing a hand up to her mouth, she stopped the words that she might have, in that moment, uttered, and hurriedly turned away.

Eager to put distance between herself and Roe Farley, Meggie hurried through the crowd of people, her heart pounding. How could Roe Farley always ensnare her like that? How could he always catch her unaware, with her feelings exposed? Like Jesse, she'd always thought weddings to be pretty nice. And she always thought that her marriage would be a dream come true. But dreams were only pleasant for a very short time, and reality went on forever. Meggie Best had fallen in love with a prince in a dream and that prince didn't exist.

She made her way to the gaggle of young girls who were her friends. They hugged her excitedly, each a little teary-eyed and awed by having witnessed the wedding ceremony. Polly could hardly keep her emotions in check. Mavis rhapsodized over Althea's lovely homemade gown. Alba giggled about the gentlemen's obvious inebriation. And Eda tried to pretend that she was totally bored by the entire occasion.

The bride and groom made their way through the crowd to the shade tree where Granny Piggott waited for them. As if the two distant young relatives were her very own children, the old woman got to her feet and cried for joy as she hugged them both happily. Watching the sight, Meggie felt a strange hurtful tugging in her heart and turned back to her girlfriends as if they were sturdy flotsam in a stormy sea.

"We were almost late," she said. "Did I miss anything?"