Years (52 page)

“Oh, Pa.” Kristian’s arms tightened against Theodore’s back.

Behind them Cub set up a gentle snoring, and from the barn
came the dim sound of a concertina starting another song. In another part of the world soldiers fought for peace, but here, where a father and son pressed heart to heart, peace had already spread its blessing.

20

T
HEODORE AND LINNEA
were married on the first Saturday of February in the little country church where Theodore and most of the wedding guests had been baptized. Its pure white spire, like an inverted lily, was set off majestically against the sky’s blue breast. The one-note chime of the bell reverberated for miles on the crisp, clean air. In the graveled patch before the building the hitching rails were crowded, but the curious horses turned their blinders toward the automobiles that arrived with sound unlike any whinny they’d ever heard and left a tracery of scent definitely not resembling any leavings of their kind.

Across the delphinium sky a raucous flock of blackbirds sent forth their incessant noise, while from a field of untaken corn came the tuneless roup of pheasants. A freshly fallen snow lay upon the shorn wheat fields like a fine ermine cape, and the sun poured into the modest prairie church through the row of unadorned arched windows, as if to add an omen of joyful promise to the vows about to the exchanged.

Almost all the people who mattered most to Theodore and Linnea were present in the congregation. The horseless carriages belonged to Superintendent Dahl and Selmer Brandonberg, who along with his wife and daughters had arrived early that morning. All the students from P.S. 28 were there, and all
of Theodore’s family except Clara and Trigg — she’d had a baby girl two days earlier and was still confined to bed. Kristian was Theodore’s attendant; Carrie, Linnea’s.

The bride wore a simple dress of soft oyster-white wool, brought by her mother from the city. Its hobble skirt was shaped like an unopened tulip bud, no wider at the hem than a ten-gallon barrel. Her matching wide-brimmed hat was wrapped with a frothy nest of white net that made it seem as if a covey of industrious spiders were artfully spinning homes about her head. On her feet were delicate satin pumps with high heels that brought her eyes to a level with Theodore’s lips and elicited sighs of envy from all of her female students.

To Theodore, Linnea had never looked prettier.

The groom wore a crisp new suit of charcoal woolen worsted, white shirt, black tie, and a fresh haircut that accentuated his one lop ear and made his neck look like a whooping crane’s. His hair was severely slicked back, revealing the remnants of his summer tan that ended an inch above his eyebrows.

To Linnea, Theodore had never looked handsomer.

“Dearly beloved... ”

Standing before Reverend Severt, the groom was stiff, the bride eager. Speaking their vows, he was sober, she smiling. Bestowing the gold ring, his fingers shook while hers remained steady. When they were pronounced man and wife Theodore emitted a shaky sigh while Linnea beamed. When Reverend Severt said, “You may kiss the bride,” he blushed and she licked her lips.

His kiss was brief and self-conscious, with their wedding guests looking on. He leaned from the waist, making certain to touch nothing but her lips while she rested a hand on his sleeve and lifted her face to him as naturally as a sunflower lifts its petals to the sun. Her eyelids drifted closed but his remained open.

In the carriage on the way to the schoolhouse, with her father’s and Superintendent Dahl’s automobiles spluttering along behind them, he sat stiff as an oak bole while she contentedly pressed her breast and cheek against his arm.

At the schoolhouse, throughout a dinner provided by all the church women, he was stiff and formal while conversing with her parents, acting as if he were scared to death to touch their daughter in front of them. When the dancing started he waltzed
mechanically with Linnea, making certain their bodies stayed a respectable distance apart.

The most romantic thing he said all day was when Selmer and Judith congratulated them. “I’ll take very good care of her. You don’t have to worry about that, sir.”

But at the dubious expression on her father’s face and the crestfallen one on her mother’s, Linnea could see they were not reassured.

She herself was rather amused by Theodore’s uncharacteristic nervousness. There were times when she looked up and caught him studying her across the room, and to her delight,
he’d
be the one to blush. She watched him drinking beer and was fully aware of his taking care not to drink too much. And when she danced with Lars, or Ulmer, or John, she knew his eyes followed admiringly. But he was careful not to get caught at it.

Now they stood in the dusk of late afternoon with her father’s car chugging off down the road and the new snow shimmering in the brilliant glow of a tangerine sunset. From inside the school building it sounded as if the fun were just beginning. Theodore buried his hands in his pockets as he looked at his wife. “Well... ” He cleared his throat and glanced at the building. “Should we go back in?”

The last thing in the world she wanted to do was go back in to mingle and dance like a pair of wooden Indians. They were husband and wife now. She wanted them to be alone... and close.

“For how long?”

“Well... I mean, do you want to dance?”

“Not really, Theodore. Do you?” she inquired, gazing up fetchingly.

“I... well... ” He shrugged, glanced at the schoolhouse door again, tugged out his watch, and snapped it open. “It’s only a little after five,” he noted nervously, then put the watch away.

Her eyes followed as it flashed in the waning daylight and disappeared inside the pocket of a tapered vest that had captivated her all day long, clinging to his ribs and pointing to his stomach.

“And people would think it was strange if we left at such an odd time of the day?”

Her bold conjecture corrupted his calm. He swallowed hard and stared at her, wondering exactly what people
would
say if they left now.

“Wouldn’t they?” he choked out.

Poor Teddy, suffering with buck fever on his wedding night. She could see she’d have to be the one to get things started.

“We could tell them we’re going to stop by Clara and Trigg’s, like we promised.”

“But we already did that on the way to the church.”

She stepped close and rested a hand on his breast. “I want to go home, Teddy,” she requested softly.

“Oh, well then, of course. If you’re tired, we’ll leave right away.”

“I’m not tired. I just want to go home. Don’t you want to?”

At her request Theodore’s skin grew damp in selective spots. Lord, where did she get the calm? His stomach felt as if it held a hundred fists that clenched tighter every time he thought about the night ahead.

“Well, I... yes.” He worked a finger inside his celluloid collar and stretched his neck. “It would feel good to get this thing off.”

She raised up on tiptoe, balanced eight fingertips against his chest, and kissed him lightly. “Then let’s go,” she whispered. She heard the sharp hiss of indrawn breath as his palms dropped over her upper arms. He cast a cautious glance at the schoolhouse door and dropped a light kiss on her forehead.

“We’ll have to say our good-byes.”

“Let’s say them then.”

He turned her by an elbow and they moved around a horse and buggy and up the steps.

Kristian was having a wonderful time. He’d had a couple of beers, and danced with all the girls. It was plain as the pug nose on Carrie Brandonberg’s face that she liked him. A lot. But every time he danced with her, Patricia Lommen’s eyes followed every move they made. A song ended and he sought her out, teasing, “Next one’s yours, Patricia, if you want it.”

“Think you’re special, don’t you, Westgaard? Like you’re the only boy in the place I’d care to waltz with.”

“Well, ain’t I?”

“Hmph!” She turned her nose in the air and tried to whip
away, but he swung her into his arms without asking permission, and in seconds they were cozying up in a waltz. The longer they danced, the closer they got. Her breasts brushed his suit coat and one thing led to another, and somehow, by some magic, she was pressed against him. He thought nothing had ever felt so good in his entire life.

“You sure smell good, Patricia,” he said against her ear.

“I borrowed my mother’s violet water.”

Her cheek rested on his jaw and the warmth of their skins seemed to mingle.

“Well, I sure like it.”

“Smells like you got into your pa’s bay rum, too.”

They backed up and looked into each other’s eyes and laughed and laughed. And both fell silent at once. And felt a wondrous tug in their vitals, and moved close again, learning what it feels like when two bodies brush.

When the song ended he held her hand. His heart slammed with the uncertainty of all first times. “It’s kinda warm in here. Want to go cool off in the cloakroom for a while?”

She nodded and led the way. They had the chilly room to themselves, but moved to a far corner. From behind, he watched as she fluffed the hair up off her neck.

“Hoo! It
was
warm in there.”

“You might get chilled. You want me to get your coat?”

She swung to face him. “No. This feels good.”

“Hey, you’re a good dancer, you know that?”

“Not as good as you, though.”

“Yes, you are.”

“No, I’m not, but I have better grammar. At least I don’t say ain’t.”

“I don’t say ain’t anymore.”

“You just did. When I was teasing you about being the only boy in the place I wanted to waltz with.”

“I did?”

They laughed and fell silent, trying to think of something else to say.

“Last time we were in the cloakroom alone you gave me the scarf you made for me for Christmas. I felt bad cause I didn’t have anything to give you back.”

She shrugged and toyed with the sleeve of somebody’s jacket hanging beside them. “I didn’t want anything back.”

She had the prettiest eyes he’d ever seen, and when she looked away shyly, as she was doing now, he wanted to raise her chin and say, “Don’t look away from me.” But he was scared to death to touch her.

Suddenly she looked smack at him. “My mother says — ” Their gazes locked and nothing more came out. Her lips dropped open and his eyes fell to them — pretty, bowed lips; just looking at them made his heart churn like a steam engine gone berserk.

“What does your mother say?” he whispered in a reedy voice.

“What?” she whispered back.

They stared at each other as if for the first time and felt the thrum of fear and expectation beat through their inexperienced bodies. He leaned to touch her lips with his — a kiss as simple and uncomplicated as youth. But when he backed up he saw she was as breathless and blushing as he. He kissed her a second time and timidly rested his hands on her waist to pull her closer. She came without compunction, hooking her hands lightly on his shoulders. When the second kiss ended they backed off and smiled at each other. Then his eyes swerved to the corner and hers dropped to his chest while they both wondered how many kisses were allowable the first time. But in seconds their gazes were drawn together again. There was scarcely a moment’s hesitation before her arms lifted and his circled, and they were as close as when they’d been dancing, with their lips sealed tightly.

The outside door opened and he leaped back, blushing furiously but gripping her hand without realizing it.

It was his father and Linnea.

As the newlyweds passed into the shadowed cloakroom they looked up in surprise as two startled figures untwined from an embrace.

“Kristian... ” Linnea said. “Oh, and Patricia. Hello.”

“Hello,” they replied in unison.

Linnea felt Theodore halt at her shoulder, staring at his son, obviously perplexed about how to handle such a situation. She spoke into the breach with a naturalness that eased the guilt from Patricia’s face and made her stop trying to free her hand from Kristian’s nervous grip.

“Your father and I are going home now. Are you staying for the rest of the dance?”

Patricia lifted hopeful eyes to Kristian. The message in them could be read even across the dim confines of the cloakroom. The young man met her gaze, looked back at the pair who’d interrupted, and answered, “For a while, anyway. Then I’ll be taking Patricia home. I thought I’d take the wagon, if that’s all right with you, Pa.”