“I would love to!” Marty exclaimed. “I’d enjoy seeing the Enchanted Rock again.”
“First, let’s find you two a place to live,” Buck interrupted. “There’s a small farm just outside of town that’s for sale. What do you say we go over there and see if it would suit you?”
“Now?” Marty said in unison with Caid. They looked at each other and smiles passed between them before they looked back at Buck with anticipation.
“Sure!” Buck said with booming exuberance.
“Let’s go!” Caid said after looking to Marty for her nod of approval.
With excitement in the afternoon air, they drove down a dirt road just outside of town and then down a tree-lined lane until it stopped in a yard where a dilapidated house stood. Despite the ominous clouds that gathered above, Marty and Caid were filled with hopes and dreams for a shining future as husband and wife when they stepped from the carriage and looked around, holding their breath as if this ramshackle house would furnish them with assurance through its enchanting charm.
Chapter Thirty-Five
It was a small farm. Over the years, it had been subdivided until it included only eighty acres out of the original three-hundred and twenty. There was a small decrepit house, a small ramshackle barn and a small split-rail corral where an underfed horse ambled around lolling its head in melancholy solitude. But, to Marty, it was home and she told Caid of her plans to have a garden and a chicken house and a pig pen even before she had seen the inside of the house.
With the exuberance of a child, she pointed to the barn where her cow would be housed and where that poor old horse could bed down at night. Then, her eyes fell upon the pecan tree where she expected to have many a summer picnic and then looking beyond the tree to the field where a garden would be tilled and planted. She turned back toward the house where a small porch, which would have to be enlarged to the full length of the tiny house, would boast a wooden swing where she could watch the evening sun disappear behind the horizon. All of this, she declared without the benefit of knowing what lay beyond the weathered front door.
They stepped onto the splintered porch steps and a long board on the wooden floor teetered beneath their feet, causing Caid to catch Marty’s arm and pull her away, fearing that she might tumble down and crack her head open. He reached for the doorknob and it protested his intrusion with a rusty, angry screech before it finally gave way. When it did, the door clanked down onto the threshold with a sudden thud after slipping from its crusty hinges and then it sailed in slow motion to the dusty floor where it clapped the planks loudly enough to startle the horse outside.
Undaunted, Marty stepped onto the door as if it was a bridge to her new enchanted adventure and she opened her mouth to say how quaint and cozy the house was inside. In her mind, it was already decorated with inviting calico fabric on the windows and hand-braided rugs on the floor. She waved her hand as she began to tell Caid of her plans for it.
But, Caid saw the dirt that plastered the floor, walls and windowsills and he pressed his lips in a thin line. He watched the frightened mice that skittered along the baseboard as if they had forgotten the location of the hole that they had gnawed in the corner of the kitchen and he narrowed his eyes at a chicken nesting comfortably in the wash tub near the water pump, which was a modern convenience to its earlier owners but rusty and useless now. He looked up at the ceiling and saw a bright patch of sunlit sky. He cut Marty’s words of excitement off with one word of aversion, “Disgusting!”
Marty twirled slowly around the room in one spot, her skirt sweeping a circle on the dirty floor beneath her feet. She hugged herself in unbridled glee and her light blue eyes glistened with pure joy at seeing the ruins around her, for she saw only happiness.
The small living room was sparsely furnished. There was a homemade settee constructed of hewn logs and topped with threadbare horsehair cushions. A rocking chair, which must have been made from bent willow branches by someone’s grandfather, seemed to be possessed because it tilted back and forth in the sun-dust that danced around it like illuminated fairies. In the kitchen area, there was a small table with two rickety ladder-back chairs that sat pushed away from the table and empty as if someone had hurriedly scooted them out to escape from this filthy house.
“Oh, but it has such potential!” Marty sighed as she stepped toward the bedroom door.
Inside, there was a plank bed, without a headboard. The tattered mattress was stuffed with lumpy chicken feathers, making it resemble the waves of the ocean. Those waves billowed with dust when Marty smoothed the tatting on the mattress lovingly with her hand and then sat down on it, sending a huff of dust wafting around her, instantly inciting a sneezing fit.
Caid stopped at the threshold of the bedroom and crossed his arms at his chest while he watched her touch each piece of furniture in the bedroom that the former inhabitants had abandoned while her face lit up with love. Then he walked toward her and encased her in his arms, pulling her back toward his chest so that they could stare at their reflection in the dressing table’s cracked mirror. His cheek brushed her auburn hair before he rested it there, staring into her flushed face and finally seeing the room, the whole house, through her enthusiastic eyes. He was eager to please her, to see that look on her face forever, so he kissed her head and said, “If this is what you want, we’ll buy it.”
For a fleeting moment, he thought of the mansion in Vermont that his Grammy had left to him, which was a stark contrast to this tiny, structurally unsound house and he wondered if he should remind her that they could live there instead. But he knew that she wanted this one, that it would be hers and his, theirs forever. To make Marty happy was his incessant mission so he bought the farm the next day and then went back there to begin making it fit for human habitation. With the help of Buck and his two Comanche sons and Linda Blue Sky, Caid and Marty’s little house would become a home.
By that Friday, the house was cleaned and whitewashed, the pump was repaired and the hole in the roof was covered with new shingles. The porch was enlarged to accommodate a swing and a rocking chair. A new door and glass for the windows were delivered by a driver from Ransleben’s General Store. All of the necessary provisions including pots and pans, dishes, linens and enough food for a month were also on the wagon. Chickens were brought to the new coop that Buck had built beside the barn and the horse was turned out to pasture to graze on the green Spring grass. The mattress was hauled outside by the men, slapped with rug irons until the dust was eradicated, and then plumped with more feathers by Marty and Greta, who was ushered to lie down afterwards when a fainting spell overcame her.
The kitchen was put together by Linda Blue Sky, Buck’s Comanche maid, who darted around the tiny house, scrubbing and dusting and occasionally cautioning Greta about getting up to help. The introverted Indian woman had finally come out of her assumed shell and seemed to have become a vital part of the family that consisted of Buck, his new pregnant wife, the two Comanche braves and amiable Linda Blue Sky. And she had become a vital part of Marty’s life as well, for the shy Comanche woman and the strong German woman seemed to be bound together by their contrasting qualities.
Marty wished that her friend Josie could also be a part of the wedding as well. But when Marty returned home after looking at the farm, Josie was nowhere to be found. A note penned by her and placed on the parlor table stated that she had gone to Paris and that the house was Marty’s to enjoy. But, Marty had no plans to stay in the big blue house alone, for she was going to have her own home and a husband to love. So, since Josie was not available to make her a magnificent wedding gown, Marty had to buy a mediocre gown at the dress shop in town. But what she was wearing meant less to her than the reason that she was wearing it, so it didn’t matter which one she picked as long as it was demure and alluring at the same time.
On Saturday morning, at nine o’clock, Caid kissed his wife soundly on the lips. The ceremony had lasted all of twenty minutes, minutes which were filled with promise
s to love, to cleave, to cherish, to obey; for richer or for poorer, until death would part their union. A non-ceremonial ceremony, to say the least. But the end result was what the couple urged Father Dunham to hastily convey from his Bible and his droning sermon. They had waited long enough to finally become man and wife, lovers and partners, a family of two.
Hugs from Greta, handshakes and good wishes from Buck and the pastor were exchanged. Hunts-with-a-knife and Rising Sun stepped up to congratulate their ‘Big Brother’ before easing back to watch from the shadows of the large church. Then their new buggy carried the new couple to their new home, followed by Buck and Greta’s surrey and the two paint ponies that ‘Sunny’ and ‘Hunter’ rode. Linda had stayed on the little farm to get it ready for the small celebration that followed the wedding. The picnic and a small wedding cake were enjoyed by all in the shade of the massive pecan tree in the back yard. And then, after the day waned; Greta and Buck, Linda Blue Sky and the boys wished them well and left them alone.
Fleeting as it was, their wedding day would be remembered by Marty and Caid for the rest of their lives. It was a story to be told to grandchildren, the prelude of the many blissful years. It was a memorable tale that would reach across life’s horizon into Heaven itself to be marveled at by cherubs and angels alike. This was their path, mapped out by the hand of God and followed by the lovers who walked together in idyllic harmony until death would separate them.
Marty stood on the covered porch and watched the sun slowly set over the distant mountains and she sighed contentedly. Then, her eyes fell upon the bobbing surrey that carried her family away from her and her new husband. She could not stop the beaming smile that matched the brightness of the persistent sun that refused to set upon the distant horizon.
Finally, after what seemed like a lifetime of waiting, she had married the man who loved her more than his own life. She leaned into him, her back absorbing the warmth of his chest and she closed her eyes, remembering the first time that he had told her that he loved her.
Then, as if reading her mind, he held out his hand and asked her to do the same. He dropped a gift into her opened palm, saying, “A piece of our past and hopefully a part of our future.”
Marty drew in a joyful breath when she recognized the sparkling pink, dome-shaped rock fragment in her palm. It was a part of the pervasive Enchanted Rock where they had first professed their love for each other. She brought it to her breast and tilted her head in reverence at that simple token of the unbreakable affection that they shared.
“I will cherish it always,” she declared, looking into his deep blue eyes as he smiled his boyish grin at her. She ruffled his silken black curls, which caused them to fall into his eyes as they had that day on the giant rock.
Even though this was uncomfortable for him, Caid left his hair in that position as he leaned down to find her lips with his. When he drew back, he ran his fingers through his curls and pushed them back into position before he declared to her, “I will always cherish you.”
Caid bent down to take his wife into his arms and he carried her through the tiny house to the back room where they would sleep and then he gently eased her onto the fluffy feather bed. He pulled away from her long enough to stand before her and marvel at the incredible beauty that was Marthe McAllister.
Her hair tumbled about her shoulders, a cascade of rich, gleaming copper in the afternoon sun that streamed into the room. Her eyes, as blue as the sky that peeked through the window behind her, sparkled with everlasting joy and her mouth reflected her happiness in a smile of pure, Heavenly bliss. Her cheeks blossomed with a rosy glow that outshone the setting sun. Her bosom, though covered with creamy satin fabric, swelled with anticipation above her small waistline, which tapered ever-so gently to rounded hips that were covered with the same sleek material, which fanned out around her legs on the soft mattress. Her small, delicate hands reached for him in eagerness to please him and to be pleased.
In response, Caid removed his shirt and knelt upon the bed with one knee while stroking the long auburn hair that she had let flow, except for the thin bundles that she had pulled to the back of her head with the silk ribbon that matched her wedding dress. The waves of red-brown hair fell across her bosom, which rose and fell with her every excited breath, silently begging him to cover them with the heat of his hand. Daring to delay obliging her unspoken wish, his fingers tugged upon the ringlet on one side of her face and allowed it to snap back toward her ear while his forefinger caressed her flushed cheek. Soft as a feather, that same finger slid down her tilted chin to the concave of her neck, pausing slightly to assess the rapid beating of her heart beneath her skin. He curled his fingers and let them gently glide over the mound of her breast, his deft knuckles barely brushing the softness of her satin dress that separated her from his hungry, yet patient touch.
He turned his palm toward her, gently pushing aside the silky auburn hair and gliding his hand across the softness of her breast to slowly cup the heaving mound while he watched her face for signs of fear or uneasiness but he only saw desire. Feeling her heartbeat quicken in his hand, his own heart raced to an uncontrollable pace, causing his breath to rush in quick, exhilarated gasps. When he raised his eyes to meet hers, he saw his reflection in their light blue haze and felt her languid gaze draw him into her soul as if those fathomless pools could drown him in their alluring depths. He dragged in a ragged breath, mesmerized by her beauty and he could wait no more.
He had respected her determined stance on honoring her deceased husband and the promise that she had made to herself to be faithful to his memory as a prudent widow. But she was his wife now and he would spend the rest of his life proving it to her by his actions in their life together and as many times as necessary within the blankets of their marriage bed.
While he leaned near her face to kiss her, his eyes darkened by the anticipation of what was to come, Marty obstructed his advances with outstretched arms and with palms against his heaving bare chest. Her expression stopped him cold while she wriggled from beneath him.
“Caid,” she said shyly. “There is something that I have to tell you.”
“It can wait,” he said, almost irritated at the way she had torn herself from his grasp to curl up on the edge of the bed as if she were afraid of him.
“No,” she said, and seeing his changed expression, she crawled back toward him and sat in front of Caid as she said sadly, “This can’t wait.”
She drew in a decisive breath and finally told him what had made her heart heavy these past months, those past years that had torn the life from her heart, her body and her soul. She lowered her eyes and said, “You know that I’ve had two miscarriages. My last son died even before he took his first breath.”
Caid nodded. He remembered but wondered why it was important enough to bring it up at this time, in the middle of—before they—while they…
Marty continued before he could find the words to protest, “I found out just recently that it was caused by an incurable disease that makes my blood thin and when I get pregnant, there are…complications. I could bleed to death or the baby may die, as it has happened before. ”
Caid watched a tear slip from one of her light blue eyes and roll down her soft cheek and his heart melted with her sadness. He wiped the tear away and kissed that cheek with all the tenderness that he felt in his heart and whispered, “Then you won’t get pregnant.”
“It’s not that simple,” she argued, her lips trembling. “Now that we are married, I want to give you everything that a husband deserves. You deserve to have children, heirs to your Grammy’s fortune. I need to have them in order to feel complete.”
She fell into his chest, wrapping her arms around his neck and sobbed, “God, Caid. I want so much to give you a son, but I know in my heart that he may never live to be a father himself.”
“I don’t understand,” Caid said as he caressed her racking back. “A son, a daughter, I would love either one. But, we don’t want to take the c
hance of you bleeding to death trying to give birth to either.”
Marty shook her head as she stared at him through tear-thickened lashes before she explained, “You see, Buck told me that any son of mine, but not every one, could have a chance of being a hemophiliac, a bleeder. My case is minor, which is why I am still alive. A son with the disease will not be so lucky. If we have a daughter, she may not even show signs of the disorder, but her sons may. And her daughter will carry the condition, too.”
“What is this hemo-whatever you called it anyway?” he asked, putting her at arms’ length to study her face.
“Hemophilia is a blood disorder where a person who has it could bleed to death because their blood is too thin to clot and even a minor cut could kill them,” she explained. “As I said, mine is a mild case, which causes me to bleed during pregnancy and ultimately, I lose the baby. In the last pregnancy, I thought that I would finally have a child to love, but it was a son and Buck said that he probably died while he was being born because the pressure on his head had caused bleeding, which took his life.”
“So, there is always the chance that you will have another miscarriage,” Caid said with a slow nod. “And if you do carry the baby until birth, if it is a boy, it will die right away?”
Marty shook her head, saying, “He may live through birth. He may live a few years. Buck said that there are even some boys who live to be fathers, but they have to be very careful not to hurt themselves.”
She sniffed before she went on to say, “My little brother, God rest his sweet soul, had the condition and we didn’t know it. The doctors in our town in Germany did not realize it, and even if they had, they couldn’t help him anyway. He died shortly after he’d fallen out of the tree. Buck says that it was probably internal bleeding, intensified by the disorder.”
“So, if we have a boy who lives through birth, we’ll be careful with him,” Caid said with a reassuring smile.
Enchanted Heart Page 27