The Fulfillment (28 page)

He felt the muscles of her cheek shift as she swallowed. His heart hammered painfully when she remained silent, but Aaron heard her swallow a second time. As if his proposal lacked full import, he added, “And will you bring our daughter along and let me be her father?”

Her arms suddenly clung to him and his face was lost in her hair as she choked, “Aaron, oh Aaron, I thought you might not ask.” She felt like singing and crying at the same time.

He clutched her against his chest, rocking in a timeless motion of relief as his voice cracked. “And I thought you might say no.”

“You should know by now I can never say no to you.”

There was a pause. Then Aaron said, “I thought you might have changed your mind about me…with Jonathan gone.”

“I was afraid of what people would say, Aaron. I tried not to love you because it seemed we could never be allowed to without scandal.”

“I could see that happen to you, and it put me through hell, girl. Seeing you every day in my house with my daughter and not being able to
claim you both. Oh, God, Mary, it was hell leaving you two at night.”

“I did so well until I saw you hold Sarah that first day by the wagon. Remember?”

He chuckled ruefully. “I remember every day of these last six months. I remember choking to keep from asking to hold Sarah. I remember the pain in my gut from wanting to hold you.” He was running his hand again and again over her hair, as if stroking away the memory. “And when I'd come in the morning and see you waving from the porch, it was you I was coming to, not the work or the house or the farm. Just you—and Sarah.” He felt it was a miracle, their being together at last.

She turned her face to kiss the palm of his hand and confided, “Right after she was born, I thought you were sorry about her. I tried to tell myself it didn't matter, but you wouldn't even look at her. But even then I could never think of her as Jonathan's baby, like we agreed. I looked at her and saw you.”

“The only way I could get through all the pain was to stay away and not touch.”

Mary knew what he said was true, that of all of them he had borne the most pain, and she wished she could change what he'd been put through. “Darling, I'm sorry for—”

“There'll be no more regrets from now on, right?”

She shook her head, not trusting her voice at that moment.

He chose his words carefully, knowing they must be said to free them of Jonathan's ghost.
“Mary…I'm not saying Jonathan willed us together that first time. We had minds of our own. We made choices. But we can't go on feeling guilty about Jonathan. If he could, I think he'd give us his blessing.”

In Aaron's voice she caught a fleeting intonation reminiscent of his brother's. And it seemed almost as though Jonathan had spoken. “I think so, too,” she said.

 

Sometime later, they became aware of the October chill around them. Aaron made a fire in the heater stove, and they opened its front grate so the flames licked lights across their faces where they huddled before it.

Their muted voices came and went, and the quiet periods lengthened as fewer words were required. Then Aaron and Mary let their bodies do the speaking, and they celebrated each other once again.

 

“Let's go to bed, love,” Aaron murmured.

“You can't stay, Aaron.” Mary's sleepy voice came from some buried spot in his shoulder.

“Oh, Jesus, don't turn me away again,” he begged.

“I have to if you want our neighbors to respect our marriage. There'll be enough raised eyebrows as it is.” She couldn't resist a chuckle. “If only they knew.”

“Who's to say I didn't bunk in the loft over at Volences' with the overnighters after the wedding?”

She shook her head slowly, pivoting it on a
spot just under his chin where her hair was warm on his chest. Then she turned in his arms.

“No, my love, you'll not have your way with me again until the deed is done. I want to have a wedding night to cherish.”

He held her from behind, an arm around her middle, another over her shoulder.

“You told me a little while ago that you could never say no to me.”

She moved his hand beneath her own, feeling its warmth and protection on her breast. “I've not said no, my love…only prolonged saying yes.”

In the end, she had her way.

 

But he was back in the morning, and he caught her sleeping, long after the sun had risen. Sarah slept soundly, too, after the tiring day before.

Aaron watched them for a long time before his gaze awakened Mary. She opened her eyes to him, and a thrill of remembrance whipped through her, arousing her body with sudden intensity.

He came to sit beside her on the bed and leaned above her, an elbow on each side. “I came for my breakfast,” he whispered, smiling and nuzzling. She could smell the fresh air in his hair as he bent to kiss her throat. He pulled at the covers, pushing them down, away from her. He lay his face in the softness of her breasts, and Mary felt his warm breath through her nightgown.

Not wanting to wake Sarah, she whispered, pushing at his shoulders, “Aaron, I told you last
night, no more till we're married. Now behave yourself.” But there was such a natural goodness about his coming to her like this, finding him here in the sun. “We seem to work so well together without even trying. What if I get pregnant as easily as the first time? What will the good people of Moran say then?” And it worked. He backed away from her a bit.

But there was something she'd never told Aaron that she thought he ought to know now. “Aaron, I said we work together without even trying, but that's not exactly true.” She hesitated uncertainly, then went on, “Doc Haymes told me a woman has a right time that comes every so often, and she can plan it by the days of the calendar.”

He gazed steadily at her but didn't reply.

“When Jonathan went on his trip, I knew my time was right, Aaron.” Still, he hadn't said anything. “I mean, I thought I could conceive then, and I did.”

“And you came to me, anyway?” he asked, and she feared he might be angry.

She said, “Yes. Are you angry?”

“Angry?” But there was jubilation in his word. “Don't you see it makes Sarah all the more precious to me? She was what you wanted, and I could give her to you, and I never knew till now anything about what you and Doc Haymes talked about.”

“I thought if you knew, you might think I just used you, but I didn't, Aaron. Honest.”

“I know,” he said, kissing her neck again.

“We really do work well together, don't we, Aaron?” she asked.

He raised his head and looked into her girl's face, loving every plane and curve of it, not wanting to stop. “Yes, we work well together,” he agreed, charmed by her simple way of saying it, “so well that I'll be wanting you morning, noon, and night for the rest of our days. And what will you think of that?”

“I think I will love it,” said Mary.

He felt smothered in happiness and closed his eyes, loving the graze of her touch on his face. His eyes remained closed as he kissed a finger that slid past his lips. “My God, girl,” he whispered hoarsely, “how I love you.”

She leaned to his bronzed face and laid her mouth lightly on his, knowing at last the fullness of their mutual harvest as she whispered with tears in her eyes, “We love you, too.”

 

The days that followed were a heady beginning, harbingers of joys to come. For Aaron there was the pleasure of Sarah as well as Mary. He indulged in all the foolish, fatherly things he'd thought of, giving free rein to the love he felt for her.

For Mary there was an awakening of pride such as she'd never known before. He was so natural with Sarah and with her, although she held him at bay, his hands, arms, and mouth constantly wanting her.

He bought a tractor with the money he got from selling Vinnie. Aloysius Duzak bought the bull, and the sale was recorded under the animal's registered name, Vindicator. Duzak admitted he'd probably call the animal by his old nickname, then became self-conscious after he'd
said it, remembering that the bull had killed Jonathan.

There was money left over after buying the tractor, and Mary used it for new curtains and wallpaper for Aaron's bedroom, informing him with an innocent look that Sarah would sleep better if she had the old front bedroom to herself.

Aaron couldn't resist teasing, “It'll be quieter there for her, too,” loving the blush that came to Mary's cheeks.

 

As Mabel Garner so often said, weddings come in threes. This one was the third, and the most unexpected.

They were married in November. It was a small ceremony, but all the Garners were there to admire Mary in ivory satin, trimmed in seed pearls.

Mabel Garner told everyone later, “Damned if she wasn't the prettiest bride I ever seen!” Rumor had it that Mary had worn a lovely ivory gown of quaint design, but nobody knew where it had come from. Surely if it were an heirloom, she'd have worn it at her first wedding.

It gave the women of Moran Township food for a whole winter's gossip. They recalled Mabel Garner's telling them how she and Garner had found Aaron wandering the roads in shock after his brother's death. They recalled how he'd given up his home to Mary and Jonathan more than once, how he'd worked the land after Jonathan died, asking nothing in return. Long before spring, their husbands had tired of hearing the merits of “that boy” and how he'd married the girl, providing for her—with that young baby
and all. They never failed to say, “What would Mary have done without Aaron?”

 

On their wedding night, after putting Sarah to bed, they tiptoed down the hall by lantern light. At the doorway Aaron picked up his bride and kissed her before carrying her into his old room, which wore a new look. When he saw the room, colorful and clean, he thought how Mary loved this house, how she felt so right in it and in his arms, and how neither of them would ever have to leave it again.

Setting her on her feet, he asked, “My darling, what would I do without you?”

“You'll never have to ask again,” she replied, pulling him toward the bed.

 

And their lantern burned brightly, long into the night.