“Well, now you don’t eat like this every day,” I said. “I am full up. How are you, Sam?”
“I am very good, wife.”
“It seems peculiar for you to call me wife. I am very pleased by it,” I confessed. I sat my fork down, wiped my mouth with my napkin, and laid it upon the table. “I am finished. I couldn’t eat another bite.”
“I am too,” Sam informed me. He got up from the table and pulled my chair out for me. “Should we go?”
“Yes, thank you.” I liked how formally polite he was treating me. This is what I imagined it should be like. I took his arm and let him lead on.
Chapter 32
WE HEADED BACK DOWN THE STREET to the inn, walking slowly arm in arm. The anticipation of what was to happen next had me feeling shaky and apprehensive. When we got back to our room and opened the door, the fire on the hearth was started and a tin tub with steam rising from it was sitting next to it. I was taken aback because I didn’t expect it. Sam must have planned it without telling me.
“What is this?” I asked Sam.
“I requested they start the fire and prepare a bath for you,” he admitted. “I thought I might go for a walk, let you have a moment to yourself to relax.”
I was speechless, my jaw ajar as I looked for something to say. “That was very thoughtful, Sam.”
“You go ahead and have your bath, and I will return shortly,” he said, handing me the parcel of things we purchased from the mercantile. He shut the door as he left.
I was taken off guard by this turn of events. I didn’t expect the bath, and I certainly didn’t expect him to leave. I stood for a moment, looking at the fire and the bath, and then at the door he’d just shut. I shook my head to clear it and then moved to the bed where I opened my bag and laid everything out, putting the cream and perfume and comb and brush set on the vanity and draping the nightgown across the coverlet. I undressed, slinging my skirt and blouse and jacket over the chair before I slipped into the tin tub and soaked restlessly in the warm water. I simply couldn’t get comfortable. I was in a strange place and what would happen next was an unknown for me. I didn’t want to admit to myself just how frightened I really was. Yet, there were so many reasons for my terrible anxiety.
A lady would like to think she is desirable. She would like to think she has the ability to inspire emotions in her lover that will make him feel she is indispensable to him. I yearned to possess the requisite traits of an attractive mate, so Sam would think he got himself a good deal, so he might be proud I was his wife. Being alone did little for my anxieties because it gave me pause to contemplate my current situation. My emotions were a tangled mess of conflicting extremes.
I bounded between curiosity and desire, feeling the immediate need to have Sam there with me, then to apprehension and dread and hoping he would stay away for good. It wasn’t that I didn’t want him. It was just that I was afraid of him, afraid of Sam. How could it be? I scolded myself for being such a goose. I was Sam’s wife. We were married. We belonged to one another now. Surely it would be all right?
I took my time in the bath before the fire because I hadn’t had a bath in so long, but I fretted every moment of it. I used the bar of soap smelling of pine, and I ran it over every square inch of me. This was something I missed very much in my travels—the chance to be clean. The water was clouded milky white and cold when I finally, shivering and deeply wrinkled, emerged. I let the water on my skin evaporate from the heat at the hearth and slipped the nightdress Sam gave me over my head. Padding barefoot across the floor I chanced a look in the mirror.
There was something so unfamiliar about the girl looking back at me. I was thin and pale. Short hair, still damp and slightly untamed, made me feel unattractive as I tried to comb it down with my fingers. I thought perhaps a ribbon might help, so I took the ribbon from the dressing table and tied it in my hair. It looked ridiculous. I looked like a boy with a bow. I ripped it out and threw it to the floor.
The nightdress was beautiful with its ivory cotton lace and soft gauzy fabric. I’d never owned something so delicate. A farmer’s daughter couldn’t find the money for such frills. Still, on my body, the way it molded to my figure, well, I didn’t exactly fill it out well. I caught sight of my eyes, large and frightened, dominating my oval face, and I must admit to myself I looked skittish, reminiscent of a wild animal backed into a corner. The moment when they realize they are caught, when their brain registers they may not make it out of the encounter a whole and living thing, and their instinct is to run.
I felt ridiculous. No matter how beautiful the nightdress, it could not disguise the real me. I was plain, and I was funny looking, with my boy’s haircut and my woman’s nightgown. I was on the verge of making a complete and total fool of myself, that’s what I was doing. I hastened to the chair where the maid had laid out my uniform, all freshly laundered, and I frantically tossed the nightdress aside, pulling on my shirt, buttoning the buttons all crooked in my haste, with shaking and unwilling fingers. I yanked the hat onto my head, and was in the midst of pulling on my wool stockings, managing to get only one on, when Sam came through the door. I froze, caught in the act of dressing, painfully aware I was basically naked!
His expression was one of amusement and confusion and interest. I was mortified, my bare legs the object of his curious gaze. I wondered fleetingly if he’d ever seen a pair of girl’s legs before mine. He acted as though he hadn’t, hardly able to tear his eyes away from my nakedness. He cleared his throat, shutting the door behind him, and then crossed his arms waiting patiently for me to explain myself. I grabbed hold of my britches and tried to cover my lower half with them.
“Sam, you’re back,” I said, as casually as if we were meeting at supper or after drills or cleaning the latrine for that matter.
He raised an eyebrow, his eyes soft and inquisitive. “Yes, wife, I am back,” he agreed. “Are you well?”
“Very well, thank you,” I answered with an absurdly nervous sort of twitter. What was the matter with my laugh today? As I feared, I was now making a total fool of myself. I was aware of this and yet could not seem to stop myself as it all unfolded.
“Were you going somewhere?” Sam wondered, taking in my semi-dressed state.
“I…uh, was just going to look for you,” I lied.
“In your pants and not your skirt?”
“I did it without thinking,” I said. “Habit I suppose.”
“Well, I am here now, so no need.”
“Yes. Yes, you are.”
“The hat is a nice touch, though,” he said.
My hand went up to the hat on my head, and I took it off and fiddled with it at my side, while my other hand still held firm to those britches. Sam walked over to me and wrestled the hat from my fingers, laying it aside. Then he worked on getting me to relinquish the britches.
“Sam—” I began. With my hands freed, I worked on tugging at the bottom of my shirt, doing my best to make it longer, if it was at all possible.
“What’s the matter, Serena?” he asked me gently. I suppose he could sense I was ready to bolt for the door, britches or no britches. His tone was patient, as he did his best to soothe me. “Did the nightdress not fit?”
“No,” I said. “No, it isn’t that. It fit right enough. I just, I don’t know…I just saw myself in it and…”
“What?” He put his hand to my face, his eyes searching mine.
“I looked like a complete goose in it!” I burst out. “Something as beautiful as that, well, I just looked ridiculous!”
“You look very nice from where I’m standing,” he said, his gaze wandering over me and lingering upon my exposed legs. “As a matter of fact, the shirt is quite fetching.”
I could feel my face turning several shades of red. If I could have willed it, the earth would have split in two and swallowed me whole. For all of my casual airs, I felt any composure I might have forced in my attempts at seeming calm fly right out the window. It was difficult to swallow,
and then my lips began to quiver, and then the tears spilled in great drops down my face even though I tried hard to keep them back. Why was I constantly crying in his presence of late? I couldn’t figure it, because I didn’t count myself the weepy type.
Sam pulled me to him, and I buried my face into his jacket, burrowing my head so forcefully against him that I could feel the buttons digging into my forehead.
“What’s this about?” he whispered into my ear, as his hand stroked my back.
“I don’t know,” I sobbed. “I’m very sorry for it.”
“You don’t have to wear the nightdress,” he told me. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”
I’d made a fine mess of things this time. I broke into tears anew.
“Oh, I’ve ruined it all,” I lamented.
“Nothing is ruined,” he lightly scolded. “I hoped the bath would calm your nerves. Perhaps I left you too long? In any case, maybe you could just use a good night’s sleep in a proper bed is all.”
He walked me over to the bed and pulled back the covers. “You take the bed, and I will rest in this chair over here,” he offered. He dropped his head and moved toward the chair where my clothing was laid out.
I was outraged. I grabbed hold of his arm to stop him. “You cannot spend your wedding night sleeping upright in a chair,” I said, running my hand down his sleeve and clutching his hand so he wouldn’t go anywhere.
He chuckled. “I’m fairly certain I wouldn’t be the first man to do so,” he informed me. “Besides, it looks to be a comfortable, well cushioned chair. A fine piece of furniture,” he reasoned. I could see a hint of disappointment in his expression, but he was too much of a gentleman to voice any displeasure with the situation. The fact that he was so willing to give up his own comforts on my behalf made me feel a good measure of remorse. I wanted so badly to make up my shortcomings to him but was powerless now to know what to do.
“Well, I won’t have it,” I said stubbornly, wiping my face abrasively with the back of my hands. “You will not sleep in a chair!”
“There is no hurry,” he assured. Then his expression grew serious, and he ran his fingers through my hair, doing his best, in my estimation, to tame the mess too, as I’d done earlier. He kissed me tritely upon my lips. I looked at him, really looked at him, and nearly began crying again.
“I am such a fool!” I groaned.
“No,” he said, shaking his head back and forth with the glimpse of smile. “Crazy maybe, but you’re no fool.”
I laughed out loud. “I love you,” I said helplessly.
“I love you, too.”
“Come to bed with me,” I ordered.
He hesitated, looking vulnerable, which confused me. What did he have to be self-conscious about?
“You’re sure?”
I looked at him long and hard, confused and scared by what I saw. Could he really want me?
“Whatever made you see anything in me?” I choked. “I have nothing to offer you.”
“You are the only thing I want you to offer me. Just Serena. That is all I want,” he said.
“I want to be beautiful, really beautiful, for you.”
“But you are beautiful,” he said.
“I’m not. I know I’m not.”
“How can I look upon this face but to love it?” he asked, cupping my cheeks within his two hands, where his palms met. Then he traced his fingers along my brow, down the ridge of my nose, across my lips with a pleasant tickle. “You are a rare woman, Serena, not only endowed with physical allure, but you possess a beauty within, a rare quality to be found in anyone.”
“You make me sound as if I were something special, Sam, when I know I’m not.”
“Then you know nothing,” he said in a slightly stern voice.
I was speechless. What could I say?
He gently put his lips to mine and murmured, “But I hope soon I will help you to understand. I will have you see what I see.”
“I’m afraid. I don’t have any idea what I’m doing,” I admitted in a timid whisper, my breath coming out in a shuddering sigh.
“Well you’re in good company. I don’t know what I’m doing either, but we’ll work it out together, you and me.”
This was why I fell in love with Sam to begin with. He was a good and decent man, someone who wouldn’t let me down. I was safe with him.
I felt such gratitude for his courtesy and compassion, such overwhelming love for him. And so I gave him the only thing I had to give, the only thing really and truly mine to offer him. And he took it with such tenderness and affection it was a joy to give it. We had the pleasure of experiencing a happiness only known between a husband and his wife, lying in an embrace of adoring arms, exchanging sweetly passionate kisses, his hands strong and tender on my flesh, drifting to sleep and awakening as if to a dream to have him there beside me.
I thought back, several times, on the long ago day when I only wanted nothing more than to be near him, without the hope of believing he could ever be mine. And it seemed impossible that here and now we were linked together in a bond of love. Perhaps I had begun by idolizing him. But I had gotten to know Sam as he truly was, with all of his faults and frailties, as well as the qualities I valued the most about him and his quiet heroics. I loved him for all of it. I loved him for everything he was, the good and the bad. Even his flaws made him seem fragile and yet beautiful to me. What good would he be to me if he were unblemished, perfectly complete and did not need me?
“Is this real?” I chanced to murmur against his hair in the darkness of the night. His head rested against my shoulder. He stirred, drawing nearer.
“I hope so,” he replied in a drowsy voice. “But if it is only a dream, don’t wake me. Let me have this sleep.”
Chapter 33
IT WAS MID-MORNING BEFORE I GOT UP in my nightdress and staggered to the washstand. I felt just fine, up to the point where I actually moved. I was aware immediately of a vague ache that spread through me and made me hesitate to walk the short distance. Pouring the water from the pitcher into the basin, I splashed the coolness onto my face and neck and chanced a quick look into the mirror hanging against the wall. If I thought I looked bad last night it was nothing compared to how I now looked. Was it just my imagination? Did I look different? Or was it just that I looked so haggard, and the dark circles beneath my eyes made me look older?
Sam was in nothing but his short underwear, looking like the sun, radiating his strength and beauty, looking rested and fine. How could I look so wretched and he be so fetching? It wasn’t fair. He stretched out, his hands above his head as he yawned loudly. Then he rolled onto his side, propping himself up on his elbow. He was watching me, frowning slightly.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
“I am,” I answered.
“Does it hurt?” he asked. I could see the concern in his eyes.
“Just a little uncomfortable,” I said, unwilling to disclose the whole truth to him. “It will pass.”
“Come and rest for a bit,” he told me, patting the empty space next to him. I was slow and graceless as I made my way back to the bed and lay down. He grimaced a little, wrapping his arm around me and pulling me close to his side.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “But it’s to be expected I think.”
“I did not know,” I admitted. “I wish my mother had told me something more about it.”
“Would you like me to have them make another bath for you?” he offered, brushing the hair away from my forehead. The thought of a warm bath was appealing, but I didn’t want to be a bother.
“It’s too much trouble,” I said.
“It isn’t too much trouble,” Sam insisted. He took the room divider and brought it over to arrange it so it would hide the bed. He finished dressing himself and then went to make arrangements downstairs. I dozed for a moment, until I heard the door open again as the hotel employees switched out the bath water for me.
Sam came and sat next
to me on the edge of the bed once they’d left, kissing the tips of each of my fingers.
“It’s all ready for you,” he said. “Do you want me to help you?”
I shuddered at the thought of it. “You’re staying?”
“I don’t have to,” he said. “I can leave and come back.”
“You don’t need to do that,” I said weakly, hoping he would insist so I wouldn’t be the one requesting it. All of these years I was told to be modest, to guard myself against impropriety, and in one day all of it flew out the window. All of a sudden it was all right, and expected as a matter of fact. I couldn’t help but feel shy in the light of day before him. Sam got up and moved the room divider again so it was between the tin tub and the rest of the room.
“Is that better?” he asked.
“Yes, thank you, Sam,” I said, relieved. I slipped out of the nightdress, tossing it over the divider, and then slid into the warm water, feeling relief flood through me. I leaned back and soaked with my eyes shut, moving as little as possible.
“Do you feel up to getting something to eat?” Sam asked me from beyond the partition.
“That sounds nice,” I agreed.
When I finished, I dressed in my blouse and skirt. Sam watched me as I sat before the dressing table and brushed my hair, rubbed the sweet smelling cream into my hands, and dabbed the perfume to my neck. It was as if he were infinitely amused by my preparations.
“Are you enjoying yourself?” I teased, looking at his reflection through the mirror.
“Very much,” he replied. “I have never seen a lady at her dressing table before.”
“Nor have I,” I confessed. “I’ve never had a dressing table.” I smiled. “Do you remember the house in Fredericksburg, where we found that woman?”
“Yes,” Sam said, his eyebrows drawn together as he tried to piece together the correlation between the occasion and our current situation.
“She had a beautiful bedroom, something like this one, with lovely things and a vanity too. I thought, wouldn’t it be nice? And look at me now. Here I am sitting before one, getting myself ready for an outing with my husband,” I said.
The Discovered Page 20