“Very sweet,” he observed.
“Yes. Perhaps something not as strong?” I put the stopper back in the bottle and tried another. After several samplings I discovered the one I liked best, orange blossom and vanilla in an intricately cut glass bottle.
“I like this one. Do you like it?” Sam sniffed it and then nodded his approval.
“Sure. I like it.” He took the bottle and handed it to the clerk. “This one, please. And perhaps some lady’s hand cream.”
“Really, Sam, what we’ve already chosen is more than enough,” I protested. “I don’t need hand cream.”
“But you shall have it anyhow,” he said. The clerk crossed the room to find a jar of lady’s hand cream. When he was out of hearing range, Sam turned to me and said, “What good is pay if you don’t enjoy it?”
“What about you wanting to fix up the farm, build a new barn?” I wondered.
He took my hand in his and patted it. “There will be time for that.”
We continued to walk around the store, looking at all of the lovely things. Now and again Sam picked something up to inspect. We didn’t need to be anywhere, and took our leisure with it. My eyes fell upon a silver comb and brush set, with a beautifully etched intricate pattern. Sam looked from me to the brush set and picked them up, taking them to the front with the other things we were purchasing. I didn’t say anything this time, for I surely did want them.
“You haven’t gotten anything for yourself, Sam. Isn’t there something you might like?” I asked.
“How’s about a few of them lemon drops?” he asked the clerk. I looked at his meager lemon drops next to my substantial pile and the smile faded from my face.
“This seems very unfair,” I pointed out.
“Nonsense.” Sam pulled his purse out. “What do I owe you?” he asked the clerk. The clerk gave him the amount, which Sam paid. The clerk packaged the items in a paper sack and then we left the store with our sack in hand.
“It was more than I expected,” I said apologetically.
“You remember what I said about buying the cow when you could get the milk for free?” He whispered to me. I nodded. “Well, I’m intent upon buying the cow,” he said, holding up the bag and dangling it in front of me.
This made me laugh. It wasn’t really a laugh, more like a very unflattering snort.
“What now?” I asked.
“I think we should find the good reverend, don’t you?”
I walked along next to him, feeling downright giddy at the prospect.
“And then perhaps a wedding dinner to follow?” he suggested.
Chapter 31
IT DIDN’T TAKE MUCH to find what we were looking for. The church was a white weatherboard structure with a gabled front entrance at the heart of the town. The little rectangular building with long narrow windows was grounded in gray brick. Between two massive columns, a wide staircase with a wrought iron handrail led up to the solid wood front doors. While it was a very proper church, it still possessed a folksy sort of feel to it.
Sam opened the door for me. My eyes took time to refocus, as the vestibule was dim and cave-like compared to the sunlight outside. There were pegs to hang coats along the walls and, on either side, stairs leading to the balcony. It being a small town, I was sure there wasn’t much use for a balcony, but it made the little church seem somehow much bigger.
Through the next set of double doors was the main room where worship took place. On either side of the aisle were pews, and at the front a pulpit. Behind the pulpit, velvet drapes hung against the wall, and a large crucifix which looked as if it had been carved by hand was mounted from the ceiling. It was a beautiful church, though modest in its content. It was over a year since I’d last attended devotions in a proper church and yet the reverence for it came back to me instinctively.
Our feet echoed unnaturally in the stillness as we walked down the aisle in search of the reverend. Suddenly the velvet curtain parted and, as if by miracle, a man appeared. His living quarters must have been somewhere beyond the curtain in a little room off of the back of the church. He seemed surprisingly young, possibly in his mid to late thirties. Most of the men his age were enlisted. I was sure he must’ve remained here to lead his flock.
He had a kind but unenthusiastic smile, as he asked, “May I help you?”
I let Sam do the talking. “Yes, sir. We are looking to get married. We were told you could perform a wedding ceremony for us?”
“You were not led astray,” he said with a chuckle at his own jest. A sense of humor in a holy man is surely hard to find. I caught on to his silly pun and began to laugh in the most annoying nervous twitter. His attention focused on me.
“Sorry,” I said, quickly growing sober.
“Just the two of you?” he questioned.
“That’s right. I am on furlough and we only have a short time. We couldn’t manage to get our families together for it.”
“I see it more and more,” he said. “First things first, do you have rings?”
“No,” Sam answered. “That will have to wait.”
“All right. A ring isn’t necessary. You will need a witness, though.”
I panicked. “But, we don’t have one!”
Sam sought to calm my nerves. He smiled reassuringly, giving my hand a squeeze. “That shouldn’t be too difficult. You know of anyone who would stand in for us?” he asked the reverend.
“Anyone here in town will do for the purpose,” the reverend informed Sam. “Doesn’t matter who, just someone to say they were here for the ceremony and who will sign their name to attest to it.”
“Well, then give us a moment, and we will be back,” Sam promised.
Taking my hand he tugged me back down the aisle, and out the door, back onto the street. One of the first shops we came to was a barber shop. We went in together. The proprietor was sitting idle, reading a newspaper in one of his own barber chairs. He dropped the paper to his lap and looked the two of us over with mild interest. His gaze rested upon me, somewhat confused by the fact I, a woman, was there too in a men’s barber shop.
“What can I do for you?”
“We have just come from the church up yonder and the reverend has told us we must have a witness in order to be married.”
“All right…” the man prodded, unable to see how this affected him.
“We were hoping you might be willing to do the honors?” Sam finished.
The man’s eyes narrowed shrewdly. “You wish to marry, huh?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Oughtn’t a groom look nice on his wedding day? A quality shave and cut perhaps?” he asked. Sam lost the smile, pursing his lips instead as he studied the other man.
“You’re trying to fleece me on my wedding day?” Sam accused. The man was beyond reproach. He grinned broadly, clapping his hands together and then rubbing them briskly.
“I have no such intentions. I am doing you a favor by offering you the best cut and shave you’ll ever have, young man. I guarantee it.”
Finally Sam shrugged. “I suppose that would be customary,” he said dryly.
“Just so happens I can get you right in,” the man said.
“How fortunate,” Sam said, resigned to the fact he must do as the man wanted or look for a witness elsewhere.
The man heaved himself from the chair and offered it to Sam. Sam sat down and the barber went to work. He wrapped a cloth around his neck and began cutting Sam’s hair. He was meticulous in his work, his brow furrowed in concentration as he labored. Once he finished with the cut, he took a small brush and dusted all of the small loose hairs from Sam’s neck and ears.
He leaned Sam back in the chair, humming softly as he worked. He carefully coiled a hot and steaming towel onto Sam’s face, waiting for a few moments before removing it. When he took the towel off, Sam was red faced and irritable.
“Could we speed it up a little?” He asked.
“You get what you pay for here,” the man replied. He
took his mug and brush and lathered Sam’s face up with shaving cream. Then the barber took his straight edged razor and tested it with his thumb, before he went to work shaving. “No need to rush a good shave, even for a woman, my friend. She’ll still be there when it is done. An’ you shall have her forever after. But a shave…a good one anyway…is rare.”
When it was all said and done and Sam had paid for his cut and shave, the barber agreed to follow us up the road to the church. The three of us filed back down the aisle where the reverend waited. The reverend nodded to the barber.
“Marvin,” he said by way of a greeting.
The barber nodded back. “Reverend Brandie.”
“Haven’t seen you in a while,” the reverend said, lowering his face so his chin disappeared into his neck, and his eyes, nearly obscured by his bushy brows, were looking up toward the barber.
“Well, now, Reverend, I don’t aim on hurting your feelings none, and surely I hope you don’t take it too personal, but I spend my Sundays in worship with a different sort of brandy.”
“God certainly cannot strike you down for lying,” the reverend countered, snorting contemptuously.
Sam grew impatient and cleared his throat. “Reverend Brandie? We don’t wish to take up too much of your time…”
“Moving along then,” the reverend said. He grew solemn, puckering his lips, wrinkling his brow, as he took a deep breath and plunged in. “This is a most serious commitment, not to be entered into lightly,” he began. “Just so we’re clear, you both wish to continue?” He looked from Sam to me, where his gaze rested an unnatural lengthy time.
I hesitated, thrown off by his attention. “Yes, Reverend,” I said haltingly.
Sam nodded his head decisively. “Yes.”
“That said, let’s dispense with the formalities and just get into it, then. Repeat after me,” he commanded. “I, and then fill in your christened name, take you, and fill in her christened name, to be my wife.”
Sam sat our paper bag of things from the mercantile on the ground, at his feet. He took my hand in his and said, “I, Sampson John Barlow, take you Serena—” then he looked at me blankly, for he didn’t know my whole name.
“Elizabeth Ann,” I whispered.
“Take you, Serena Elizabeth Ann Stark, to be my wife.”
“To have and to hold from this day on,” the reverend continued on.
“To have and to hold from this day on,” Sam repeated.
“For better or for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health.”
“For better or for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health.”
“To love and to cherish; until death do us part,” Reverend Brandie finished. Sam’s expression was serious, as he looked from our hands to my face and gave me a small smile.
“To love and to cherish; until death do us part.”
Reverend Brandie turned to me. “Are you ready?”
“Yes,” I replied. It was difficult to get the yes out. I felt a great lump in my throat and a strange sort of feeling as if I might be sick, but I didn’t feel sick.
“I, and then fill in your name, take you, and fill in his name, to be my husband,” he said.
“I, Serena Elizabeth Ann Stark, take you, Sampson John Barlow, to be my husband,” I echoed.
“To have and to hold from this day on.”
“To have and to hold from this day on,” I said. I chanced a glance at Sam and he was smiling at me encouragingly. He could perhaps tell I was nervous and was trying to put me at ease.
“For better or for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health,” Reverend Brandie gave me the words.
“For better or for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health,” I said.
“To love and to obey and to cherish; until death do us part,” Reverend Brandie closed.
“To love and to obey and to cherish; until death do us part.”
Reverend Brandie ended by putting a hand on my shoulder and a hand on Sam’s. “What God has joined together, let no man put asunder.”
We stood there dumbly looking at one another not sure if it was the end of the formalities or not. The silence was comforting. I wished we could sit in this cool darkness and just say nothing, but hold hands as we were and be near one another. But then the barber broke in.
“I have a business to run. Are we done?”
The reverend said, “Well, that’s the short of it. You are now husband and wife. Before you leave, I’ll need you to sign the registry, along with your witness here.”
He showed us to the back of the chapel where there was a pedestal on which rested a ledger. We each took our turn signing and then the barber left, and Sam and I were alone out on the street. The only word I can think to describe it was surreal. It felt as if my head were not attached to my body.
“Are you all right?” Sam asked.
“Yes,” I replied.
“Shall we go have ourselves a wedding dinner?” Sam suggested. “It is customary.”
“That would be very nice,” I agreed.
“There is the tavern over there, the one Mr. Garth mentioned. Should we try the place?” he asked, pointing to a two story stone house with shutters. The sign dangling above the door read Herring House Tavern in elaborate black scrolling script.
“It looks very nice,” I said.
“Or we could go to the other place he mentioned,” Sam offered.
“No need, this looks fine.”
“You’re sure?” he said.
“Yes. I’m sure.”
“All right then.”
We went down the street to the Herring House and entered. The room was spacious, with a fire burning in the immense, red brick fireplace. We selected a small table spread with a linen cloth situated near the window and waited for someone to notice us. A man came out shortly and took our requests. Sam ordered the roast beef and potatoes, while I got the fried chicken and peas. They were both served with homemade biscuits and brown butter.
“Well, this certainly is good eating,” Sam said enthusiastically.
“It is,” I agreed. After a lengthy pause Sam spoke to me with concern.
“Tell me, is there something wrong? You seem as if you’re ruminating over something.”
I dropped my eyes from his, feeling very much put on the spot, and sighed deeply. “No, Sam, there’s nothing the matter.”
“But you are being very quiet. It is your general disposition to speak more,” Sam observed.
“We are really married?”
“Yes, very much so.”
“It hardly seems real, does it?”
“I’m sure it will take some getting used to,” he said.
“Yes, I suppose it will.”
“How is your fried chicken?” he asked.
“Very good, thank you. And your roast beef?”
“I am enjoying it,” he replied.
“Do you suppose it would seem more real if our families were there? Or if I’d worn a proper gown?” I asked.
“Would you like to wait until our families can be here? Would it have been better if you had a proper gown?” he asked.
I felt horribly guilty. How could I make him understand what I was feeling? I didn’t care about the dress. I was sorry our families weren’t with us, but not so much that I regretted what we’d done. There were no words to describe my emotions.
“No! I am…I am very, very glad we were married,” I insisted. “I just meant…I mean, I don’t need those things. I really am very happy. It’s just very strange, is all.” I paused. “We are really married.”
“You are Serena Barlow now,” he informed me with a faint grin.
“It seemed like the waiting went on forever, and then it was over just like that. I mean, it took moments and then he tells us we are man and wife, you know?”
“And you are all right?”
I hesitated. I didn’t want to sound as if I were complaining. After all I was thrilled to
be Sam’s wife. It was beyond words how I felt, to finally have what I wanted so desperately. And perhaps that is why I was feeling the way I was. To be given the very thing I yearned for for so long was too much for me to take in all at once. It felt overwhelming.
Along with being in shock, I was worried too. I had a general idea of what was coming next, and I was on the verge of being terrified. I was sixteen when Dancy Garrety, married only four months, spoke in hushed whispers to Carry Rollings and me outside of church one Sunday. I went to school with Dancy, and although we weren’t terribly close, she must have felt I was safe to talk to, as she looked around apprehensively trying to make sure no one else was listening to our conversation.
She didn’t go into a great deal of detail, she didn’t have time to, but she did tell us enough to leave both Carry and I wide eyed and dismayed. My father had called for me to come and I hastily made my farewells and left. All the way home I couldn’t rid my mind of Dancy’s words. I experienced the strangest feeling in my gut, close to excitement, but something like being sick too. I knew the natural order of things. I had seen animals on the farm mate and have offspring, but it was a great stretch to imagine a man and a woman coming together in the same manner. The idea of it was fascinating but frightening at the same time.
Living among men for so long may have had its effects on me too. They spoke about all sorts of things a lady shouldn’t hear. I did my best to steer clear of that sort of talk, but there was no way of avoiding it all together. And now that I was alone with Sam I felt uncomfortable, self-conscious, and spooked even thinking about it.
“Yes, I’m very happy. I am.” I attempted a smile, but my nerves were getting the best of me and the smile faded before it fully materialized. “It just doesn’t seem real!”
“I was there. It is very real,” he assured me with a boyish grin.
When the man came around to clear our plates away, Sam asked him, “Have you any fruit cake? It is our wedding dinner and we ought to have a fruit cake.”
“We have fruit cake,” the man replied.
“Then we’ll have some,” Sam said jovially. The man came back with the fruit cake and sat it between us. We leisurely helped ourselves to the cake until it was gone.
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