The Bridegrooms (31 page)

Vada awoke and counted three chimes. It was dead of night outside, and the three chimes could mean three o’clock, or three-quarters of any hour. She would know in fifteen minutes when the clock chimed again, so she propped herself on one elbow and prepared to wait.

“You’re awake?” Hazel’s voice came out of the darkness.

“I could probably go sleep in Althea’s bed. She just sits at Eli’s side all night.”

“But she has that tiny room with the sloping wall. Makes me feel like I’m in a coffin.”

“Yes. Much better to be in here like a couple of sardines.”

“Or one sardine and one whale.”

The last word was lost in a sob, and Vada reached over to touch her sister’s face, only to find it wet with tears.

“Hazel? Honey, what are you…” But she knew, of course, and she doubted talking would do much to ease the pain, so she took her sister in her arms and rocked her until the crying slowed.

“Lissy’s right, you know,” Hazel said, her voice wet.

“Lissy’s never right about anything.”

“No, no. She is about this. It’s crazy, Vada. Crazy. And I’m crazy to think that any man would w-w-want me. It was bad enough when I thought Mr. Triplehorn didn’t want me. How am I going to live if I travel
all the way out to some sheep ranch, and Barth does the same thing? What if I get off the train, stand there waiting for him, he sees me, and he just leaves?”

“I think you’re getting a little ahead of yourself.”

“I’m going to tell him. When I write to answer his proposal, I’m going to tell him that I’m-I’m fat. That I’m big as a house with a pretty face and give him the opportunity to rescind his offer.”

“Hazel, you’re not—”

“Don’t say I’m not, Vada. Because you know I am. Nobody ever says it out loud, but they cannot possibly look at the four of us and not see that I’m the fattest of us all.”

Vada considered the weight of the sister in her arms, the rounded shoulders and the soft flesh wrapped around her body. “But you get a much more ample bosom in the bargain.” She sensed her sister’s smile.

“No more so than Lissy. That girl has my bust and your waist.”

“Too bad she doesn’t have Althea’s mouth.”

The sisters dissolved into laughter, and Vada was so glad she hadn’t chosen to sleep in the tiny coffin room.

It was quiet again. “Hazel?”

“Yes?”

“I’m starving.”

“Me too.”

“I didn’t get any pie.”

“I did.”

They laughed again, rolling into each other, then simultaneously trying to hush themselves.

“I’m going downstairs to have a piece right now,” Vada said. “Do you want to come with me?”

“May as well.”

They climbed out of bed and tiptoed into the hall, wearing only their nightgowns. A low light flickered in Vada’s room, and she poked her head inside. Althea sat in her customary chair, writing in her journal.

“Psst!”

Althea looked up and closed her book, marking the page.

“We’re going downstairs for pie,” Vada said. “Want to join us?”

Althea looked over at the sleeping Eli. Satisfied, she looked to Vada and nodded.

Hazel took a taper from a wall sconce by the door and lowered it down the lamp’s globe to light. Then, like a scene from a suffragist’s version of “Wee Willie Winkie,” the sisters passed silently through the hall and down the stairs. Once in the kitchen, Althea set about getting plates and forks while Hazel looked for a holder for the candle. Vada found the pie in the safe, its apple filling puddled into the middle of the dish. There was plenty left for the three of them, even given generous slices, and she looked in the icebox, happily finding milk.

The cozy light from the single candle warmed the room. The pie was flaky and delicious, with the tartness of the apples buried deep within each baked slice. They made no conversation other than satisfied “mmms” until Hazel pointed her fork at Vada and said, “When are you going to tell us about your day?”

Vada looked first to one sister, then the other. “Did you already tell Althea everything about Mr. Triplehorn? About that afternoon at the restaurant?”

Hazel nodded. “Her and Molly—no, it’s all right. Molly won’t say anything. She loves Doc too.”

“But did you mention that he thought he might be Lissy’s…?”

This time, Althea indicated that, yes, she’d heard that. But she didn’t believe it.

“He doesn’t believe it anymore either.” Then, between bites of pie and sips of milk, she relayed the entire parlor conversation—from the moment she walked in until the closing of the door behind him.

“Do you think we should tell Doc?”

Vada looked to Althea for confirmation before saying, “No.”

“So, we just keep it a secret?”

“Not all secrets are bad, Hazel. Besides, who are you going to tell? The sheep and buffalo?”

“And moose. Don’t forget moose.”

Althea splayed her fingers out from the side of her head and stuck out her lips in a very impressive impersonation of a moose. She was giving a kind of wild-eyed expression when her face stretched into a mask of terror while her mouth formed a silent scream.

Hazel followed the direction of Althea’s gaze and she, too, let out a yelp.

“What on—” But when Vada looked, her throat was too clutched with fear to scream. There it was, a face on the other side of the darkened window. No, two faces. The pie was threatening to come up, bringing her heart along with it, and she clutched at the table to keep upright.

Then Hazel was out of her chair, storming across the kitchen toward the door. Vada wanted to cry out for her to stop, but she couldn’t make a sound. She could only watch in horror as Hazel yanked open the door, ushering in the intruders.

“Lisette Marie Allenhouse!” Hazel grabbed the girl’s arm and pulled her through the door, to be followed by one Kenny Cupid who looked twice as terrified as Vada felt just seconds ago. “Just what were you doing out there?”

The boy crushed his cap in his hands. “We were just out for a walk, ma’am.”

“Do you have any idea what time it is?”

“I know it’s past midnight.”

“We don’t have to answer to her, Kenneth,” Lisette said. Then to Hazel, “We don’t have to answer to you.”

By this time, Vada had sufficiently recovered her breath and joined the little gathering at the door. “Yes, it’s well past midnight. And no, you don’t have to answer to us, but you do have to answer to our father. Both of you.”

Kenny’s eyes grew wide, and now he looked about ready to eat his hat.

“Now, I have no doubt that this late-night stroll was entirely Lissy’s idea, but you have to remember that she is just a girl. A young girl. Seventeen. And it’s very important—”

Vada’s thought was interrupted by a sound from upstairs. A footstep? Surely Hazel’s scream hadn’t been loud enough to waken their father. To be certain, though, Vada lowered her voice, feeling much more threatening in doing so. “I don’t know what kind of girl she herself has led you to believe she is, but she simply isn’t—”

There it was again, more distinct this time. A voice, unfamiliar in this house, and then a long, clattering thump.

The feeling of the recent fright coursed through her, but then it was clear just where the sound was coming from. Her room. The man in her room. She turned to Althea. “I think your man’s awake.”

That ended the last relatively peaceful moment in the kitchen. Hazel snatched the candle and led the way, her soft bulbous body undulating beneath her gown. Althea followed on her heels, and even Lisette looked mildly interested. Vada grabbed her hand, telling Kenny, “Wait down here,” and dragged her through the darkened house.

“Slow down!” Lisette protested. “I don’t even care about this guy.”

Vada kept up her pace. “I know. I’m taking you to your room. And I want you to stay in it until morning.” She gave Lisette a little push in that direction and waited, hands on her hips, until the door was closed. Then she turned to her own room, where Hazel waited just outside the door.

“Is he?” Vada said, approaching.

“Yes. Doc’s in there with Althea. Here, hold this.” Hazel thrust the candle into Vada’s hand.

Nervous, Vada surveyed the scene that had become so familiar, but it was gone; her bed, empty. It seemed he’d fallen to the floor, and there he still was, pale and thin, but undeniably awake. Doc was crouched down, his arms hooked under Eli’s. Althea stood to the side, her hands clasped to her heart, her eyes filled with tears.

“Hazel, help me get him back into bed.”

“No, no! Please!” His voice was weak, but he seemed strong enough as he clutched at the blanket and pulled it down in an effort to cover himself. In doing so, a dozen or so small papers fluttered up and down to the floor, sending Althea to her knees in a frantic effort to collect them.

“On second thought, girls, why don’t you all wait outside?”

Vada set the candle down on the bureau before joining her sisters out in the hall. They gathered together just as they had a few days ago, right outside this door, waiting to hear news from Doc. But this time, instead of hopeful anticipation, they embraced each other in joyful relief.

“Thank You, God, for the healing You have brought to our home.” Vada knew her prayer spoke for everyone, and Hazel echoed, “Thank You, Jesus.”

Vada took Althea into a special embrace. “Sweetie? Isn’t this wonderful? What we’ve all been praying for?”

Althea pulled away, nodding, and Vada could tell she was a different
girl. In the harsh gaslight of the hallway, it was plain to see that the undercurrent of fear ran deeper and more powerful than it had that day. Althea clutched the papers she’d gathered to her breast, and with her hair loose about her shoulders, she looked almost mad.

“What have you got there?” Vada reached for a paper, causing Althea to clutch it tighter. “Show me, darling. Why are you so upset?”

With an insistent tug, Vada managed to loosen a sheet and opened it from its careless folding. The edges along one side were rough; it had obviously been torn from her journal.

“This is your poetry?”

Althea nodded.

“Everything that you wrote for him? To him? Have you been
reading
these?”

Althea acknowledged each question to that point.

“Not reading, exactly, but…
giving
them to him?” She could picture it, all those still, quiet hours. No sound but her pen scratching on the page. The verses, once perfected, torn from their seclusion and slid under his hand. Next to his heart.

“You’ve never shared your poetry with any of us. You really do love him, don’t you?”

As an answer, Althea threw herself in Vada’s embrace, and the reason for her fear became clear. If Eli could walk, he could leave.

The door opened and Doc walked out. Even in his nightshirt, he managed to look the part of the authoritative sage as he wiped his glasses on his sleeve.

“So, he’s awake?” Hazel asked. “For good, you think?”

“I’d say so, yes,” Doc said. “At least until it’s time to sleep again. But it’s impossible to know for sure.”

“And he’s…” Vada searched for the correct word, “…functioning? Mentally, I mean?”

“Oh yes. Sharp as a tack, as far as I can tell. He was able to let me know his name, where he came from, where he lives—”

“So, who is he?” It seemed a safer question than whether or not he still pined for Katrina.

“A better question is,
what
is he? And what he is, is easily tired and extremely hungry. So if one of you ladies would please, go downstairs and make him something to eat. Nothing heavy. A scrambled egg, maybe. Or oatmeal and a cup of weak tea.”

“I’ll take care of it, Doc.” Vada quietly handed the journal page back to Althea, who was sorting and straightening the little bundle.

“And he shouldn’t be alone for long; I’ll need one of you to go in and sit with him while I get dressed. He needs a more thorough examination, which I’d rather conduct with pants on.”

Althea moved behind Hazel, nudging her toward the door.

“Now, I’m not sure exactly what this means,” Doc said, “but he asked me about the girl who wrote poetry. Was that from a dream, I wonder? Or could that possibly be one of you?”

Hazel stepped aside. “Well, what do you know?” Grinning broadly, she nudged Althea. “He was paying attention all along.”

In her excitement, Vada had forgotten all about Kenny until she walked into the kitchen to see him dutifully waiting at the table, finishing off the last of the pie in the dish.

“I’m sorry, Miss Vada,” he said, his mouth full. “I eat when I get nervous.”

“And just what do you have to be nervous about, Mr. Cupid?” She filled the kettle and lit the stove before moving to the icebox for eggs. “Should I be in fear for my sister’s reputation?”

“Oh, no ma’am. It’s nothing about that. I was just worried about him upstairs.”

“Well, you and your team will be relieved to know that he’s fine. He’s up, and awake, and hungry.”