Marriage to a Stranger

by Dorothy Phillips

  Not once, but many times during the night she had confessed her love for him. He seemed to like hearing her say it. He called her "love," but never one time said he loved her. Not even when he reached out for her the second time, then a third, and made ardent love to her all over again.

  The desire to touch him was irresistible to her now, and she pushed her fingers gently through his hair. So thick and soft it was! He stirred and she withdrew her hand and hid it beneath the covers, but it was caught and held tightly. Black eyes, just inches away from her own were open and laughing into hers.

  "What were you thinking, while you were looking at me?"

  "You were awake?"

  "I was watching you even before you awakened. What were you thinking?"

  "I… was thinking that you must be hungry!"

  He laughed and pressed his body down on hers. "In the position you're in, you couldn't have been thinking about food!"

  She slid her arms around his neck, her hand coming around to stroke his cheek. "Your face is rough," she said with uninhibited frankness.

  "It usually is the first thing in the morning. You'll just have to get used to it." He kissed her soundly before burying his face between her shoulder and neck. She jumped as his teeth nipped her. "Get up and fix my breakfast, woman!"

  "In my position you want me to think about food?"

  "Well… on second thought…" his words were shut off as his lips found hers.

  Everything was bright and beautiful. It had stopped snowing and the world was crisp and white. The trees hung heavy with new snow and Dog scurried around making tracks as he chased the birds foraging for food. Tim-Two was preparing to reset his trap lines and Dog was excited at the prospect of a trip into the woods. Adam brought a fresh supply of wood into the house from the woodpile. His feet made snowy tracks on the kitchen floor, and he laughed at the scolding Molly gave him.

  She was radiant with happiness, her sparkling eyes seeking Adam's at every opportunity. She was full of contentment, and her voice carried an extra trill when she spoke to Jim on the radio later that morning.

  "How about it, Molly girl? How about that, pretty Molly girl? Do you have a copy this morning?" Jim's voice came in loud and clear.

  Molly picked up the microphone. "Of course I have a copy! How are you on this lovely day?"

  "Lovely day? It must be about thirty below!" He gave a burr sound.

  "I'm baking fresh cookies, Big Bird. Do you have time to drop in?"

  "No time for a tea party today unless you need me."

  "I don't need a thing, Jim," she said gaily. She looked up to see Adam standing in the doorway, and gave him her brightest smile.

  "You're sure now?" Jim insisted.

  "Things are just fine with us, Jim. Tell Evelyn and the boys hello. Adam and I are sorry you can't stop this trip. Try and make time on your next run."

  "Will do. I'm about out of range, so will clear with you until the next time." His voice faded as he flew out of range. Molly didn't answer, she knew her voice wouldn't reach him.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  The days that followed were wonderful and the nights more so. Molly was walking on a bright cloud of happiness. She wanted to be with Adam every minute of the day; to see him and touch him. He seemed to feel the same. Whenever she was near, his arms reached out for her, and their smiling eyes would catch and hold. Some days didn't have enough hours for them to say all they wanted to say to each other. Other days they were content just to be near and to touch. No words were necessary.

  Molly never let her mind wander to the months ahead. She looked back once and thought about her father. She hoped he knew how happy she was and wondered if this was, indeed, his plan for her. They never spoke about the forced marriage, or the separation at the end of the year. In the evenings she would curl up in his lap and they would listen to the radio or just stare into the fire, until their desire for one another became so great, Adam would dump her off his lap and growl: "Get to bed, woman!"

  They had been living in their new happiness for a week when their name was called on the "personal message" program during the noon broadcast.

  "Attention, Adam Reneau," the announcer said, "you have visitors coming up on the morning train. Suggest you be at the track eleven A.M."

  "That will be Patrick. I didn't expect him for a while yet."

  Molly tried not to show her disappointment and dampen Adam's enthusiasm. But somehow she felt the end had come to her dream world. Another person to share her honeymoon? Her year with Adam? A feeling of jealousy toward this unknown Patrick flooded her.

  Later that night in bed, after the hunger for each other had been appeased and she lay contentedly in his arms, he asked her if she was sorry that his friend was coming. What could she say? That she was terrified she was going to lose this precious closeness they shared? She couldn't tell him that, so she lied and said she didn't mind at all and his friend was welcome.

  Adam took the snowmobile and the sled down to the tracks to meet the train. He and Patrick would ride it back. The sled was for the luggage. Before he left the cabin, he locked Molly in his arms and kissed her soundly. She wrapped her arms about his neck, reluctant to let him go. He nipped her playfully on the chin. "Just a taste of you to take with me!"

  Molly watched until he was beyond the big timber and out of sight. It was the end of her time alone with him. Before depression could set in she started preparations for lunch. Work was the therapy she needed. With lunch started she changed from her jeans and shirt to the light green slacks and sweater Adam had bought for her in Anchorage.

  She was busy at the range and flushed from the heat of the oven when she heard voices on the porch. Damn! she thought. She had wanted to fix her face and hair before meeting Patrick. But when her startled eyes saw who was coming through the door, all thoughts of her appearance left her mind.

  Dressed in a black snowmobile suit, her silver hair glistening as she removed the warm headgear, her blue eyes wide and innocent, her pink mouth twisted in a cheerful smile, was her cousin Donna.

  "Molly! I've accepted your invitation. Mama said you wanted me to come out and since Patrick was coming on the train, I decided to come along with him. Won't this be fun? The four of us here together!" The voice coming from the beautifully shaped mouth was so friendly!

  The silence that followed beat in Molly's ears while she stared at her cousin as if she had returned from the dead. She tried to ignore her pumping heart and steady her voice.

  "Hello, Donna." Behind Donna was a man whose friendly eyes were staring at her. "You're Patrick." Her voice was calm even to her own ears.

  "My wife, Molly." Adam came from behind the stranger.

  Molly extended her hand and it was enveloped after he hastily removed his mitten. Patrick had a twinkle in his blue eyes, and a deeply tanned face under a thatch of sandy hair bleached by the Australian sun. He was not as tall or as heavy as Adam. Molly knew she would like him.

  "I'm glad to meet you, Patrick." She wanted to smile at Adam's friend, but was afraid her face would crack with the effort. Desperately trying to stay calm she said to Adam, "Did you have room for the luggage?"

  His expression was unreadable. "Yes. Pat had to ride the sled, but we made it. I'll bring it in."

  "I'll help." Patrick went out the door behind him.

  Molly's fingers curled into her palms and she turned to face Donna. There was a moment of fierce glaring between them.

  "Why have you come?" she asked bluntly.

  Donna unzipped her suit. The snow from her boots was melting and making puddles on the floor.

  "I think you know." All the sweetness was gone from her voice.

  "I didn't invite you. I don't want you here."

  "I know you don't, but Adam does."

  "I don't believe it."

  Donna looked disinterested. "Ask him. Ask him when I was in his apartment last."

  "I don't believe it!" Molly repeated, her cheeks scarlet.

  Donn
a smiled cruelly. "Poor little Molly!" she mocked. "Don't tell me you've fallen for him!"

  "I think you're here to cause trouble!" Molly was shaking now.

  "What you think doesn't interest me in the least, cousin Molly," Donna snapped, then quickly turned to smile as Patrick came in the door carrying a large piece of luggage. Adam came in behind him carrying a heavier load.

  Molly's burning cheeks welcomed the icy blast from the open door. Adam looked at her with a slightly puzzled expression on his face, but before he could speak, Donna came quickly forward and grasped his arm.

  "Put my things in Molly's room, Adam. She says she has oodles of closet space." Her voice carried the purring tone again and her big blue eyes gazed up at him adoringly.

  Adam hesitated only a moment before taking the cases to Molly's room.

  Molly stood, uncertain and confused, then went into the kitchen on the pretext of checking the bread baking in the oven. Her mind was whirling. How dare Donna say she had been invited to come here! She had never invited any of Aunt Dora's family to come visit, much less Donna, whose contempt for her was most obvious of all. She doubted she had exchanged a dozen words with her cousin in the last five years. Donna wanted Adam. She had made that plain enough. A cold, icy dread started forming around Molly's heart as she remembered the lipstick she found in the bedroom of his apartment. Had he been meeting Donna while on his trips to the city? Had he asked her to come here?

  Donna was entertaining the men with a story about mutual acquaintances in the city. She was cheerful and witty, and Adam seemed to be enjoying her company. She had slipped off the bulky snowmobile suit, looking slim and beautiful leaning against the mantel, her tight-fitting coral knit slacks and sweater a perfect foil for her figure and silver hair.

  Molly grabbed up a cloth and went to wipe up the puddle of water made by Donna's boots.

  "Here, let me do that." Adam tried to take the cloth from her hand.

  "I'll do it." Her voice was tighter than she intended, and she kept the cloth in her hand, refusing to relinquish it. Almost glaring at him she added, "Lunch is almost ready."

  He frowned, then shrugged his shoulders and joined the others. He didn't even kiss me when he came in, Molly thought angrily.

  She poured the coffee for lunch and reluctantly admitted her cousin had an unfailing gift for monopolizing male attention. Her husky overtones, her tinkling laughter, the men's lower voices, all joined together. Molly was silent during the meal, speaking only when necessary.

  "Your wife's a good cook, Adam. Pretty and a good cook. You can't beat that combination." Patrick was a diplomat, Molly decided.

  "She is pretty, isn't she?" Adam's face creased with a smile. He tried to hold her eyes with his, but Molly looked away.

  "Molly is a good cook," Donna chimed in. "She used to live with us, you know. Mama always said if Molly opened a restaurant in Anchorage, she would make a mint!"

  "It would be a terrible waste to hide all that beauty in the kitchen." Patrick's voice had a slightly critical tone.

  "I didn't mean to hide her. You know that, Pat, darling. I just meant she is such a good cook it's a shame to waste all that talent."

  Molly got up from the table to serve the dessert and thought her churning stomach was going to betray her, but her self-discipline and pride came to her rescue.

  Seating herself again, she looked directly at Patrick. "Tell us about your trip to Australia." Her voice didn't betray her, thank God, and she had, at least, got the attention away from Donna.

  The remainder of the dinner conversation was lost to Molly as her mind turned over the possibility that Adam hadn't wanted to be alone with her. That thought was only a step away from the speculation that Donna was the woman he loved and he would not have insisted on consummating their marriage without her invitation.

  If the two large cases Donna had brought with her were any indication, she had come prepared for a long stay. Her clothes took up more than half of Molly's wardrobe. The perfumes and cosmetics that she used to retain her clear, soft skin dominated Molly's dressing table. Her belongings were strewn around the room which had literally taken on her personality.

  In the afternoon she changed from slacks to a long, plaid wool skirt which she paired with a long-sleeved, high-necked sweater. Looking elegant and sensual she curled herself up in the big chair with a magazine and Adam's transistor radio after the men went to Adam's room to look over his work.

  Molly stayed in the kitchen. She wanted to stay as far away from her cousin as possible. She cleaned shelves and rearranged the supply cabinet. The work absorbed a couple of hours and her jumbled thoughts were no closer together when she stopped than when she started.

  Donna sauntered in to lean against the counter and watch her. Molly knew she had something to say and braced for the ridicule that was sure to come.

  "Adam said he would do anything to get his hands on Uncle Charlie's files." Molly glanced at her cousin and saw malice in her eyes. "Guess Uncle Charlie thought that would be the only way he could get a husband for you."

  "What do you mean?" Molly's hands stopped their movement. Her cousin's blue eyes stared at her arrogantly, and the corners of her pink lips tilted.

  "Adam told all of us, the gang at the club that is, that he would have to marry you, but he said he was going to get more out of it than just the files. We made some bets, and if you know Adam like I do, you know he can't resist a dare. He bet our friends at the club that he would have you in bed in less than a month." She paused, then added a contemptuous little laugh. "He intends to collect six thousand dollars on that bet." Her voice took on a confidential tone. "I wanted to warn you, Molly. I don't like you very much, but after all, you are my cousin. I think it was kind of stinking of Adam. After all, you're not wise in the ways of a man like him."

  Molly stared at her disbelievingly. She felt sickened. Humiliation made her stomach heave. She could feel the betraying tears prickling at her eyes and turned away.

  "Who told you about the will, Donna?" She used every effort she possessed to keep her voice calm.

  "Adam—who else? He said if he didn't marry you, the files would be destroyed, and Mama would have control of your money and have to look after you for five years." Her voice took on a dreamy quality. "He knew I'd wait for him." She looked at Molly's drawn white face and pressed on. "He told me it was only for a year and if I loved him, I should be willing to wait that long."

  Molly was shaken to the core. Along with her anguish, she felt a white hot fury. She wanted to strike that mocking mouth, but not even that satisfaction would have wiped out the pain Donna had caused her, or the truth of her statements for that matter. If ever she wished herself dead, it was at this moment.

  Satisfied that she had accomplished what she had come here to do, Donna sauntered back to her chair by the fire and picked up her magazine.

  Stunned by the obvious truth of her cousin's words, and the betrayal of the man to whom she had given her heart and body, Molly numbly went to the bedroom. After closing the door softly behind her and making sure the connecting bathroom door was firmly closed, she collapsed on the bed. A noise like pounding surf was reverberating through her head. Her limbs shook as if with a fever as reaction set in. Her tortured senses were unable to believe Adam would play such a cruel trick. She choked on a thousand unanswered questions. The humiliation came up in the form of a lump in her throat which she thought she would never be able to swallow. The shame of remembering how she had asked him, had almost begged him to come to bed with her, drew her to her feet, and a wave of weakness set her swaying against the bedpost. She looked at herself in the mirror.

  "You fool!" she said aloud. "You dumb, stupid fool!"

  She drew on all the courage she had and refused to give in to a storm of weeping. It may have been an inherited pride which decreed that humiliation must be borne with head held high. Whichever it was, her courage or her pride, she looked far from downcast when she opened the door and went out of th
e room.

  Holding herself aloof from all that Donna had said, she spent the next few hours in the kitchen. The first hour or so was taken up with cleaning. She washed the cabinets and counter, scrubbed the wall behind the big range, washed all the globes on the gaslamps, and polished them until they shone. When the kitchen was spotlessly clean, she started baking. She made cookies and cake, the kind Jim liked best, rolled out a half a dozen pie crusts and put them in the freezer, then started a meat pie baking in the range oven. With the kitchen neat once again she put on her parka and went out into the cold, crisp air to bring in more wood for the range. It was totally dark now. The short winter days brought the darkness long before dinner time.

  Dog was in the yard and ran to meet her, wagging his tail and making a circle of tracks in the snow. She almost broke her stony composure at his show of affection. Keeping her mind in the safe chamber of suspension, she threw a few sticks for him to chase, patted his head, and returned to the house.

  After dumping her armload of wood in the box by the range, she took off her heavy parka and was hanging it on the hook, when Patrick and Adam came into the kitchen. She turned to face them.

  "What's the matter?" Adam stopped short. "Aren't you feeling well?"

  "I'm all right." Beyond his shoulder she could see Donna approaching and for an instant closed her eyes. Then she turned her head and forced her stiff lips to stretch into a smile. "Why wouldn't I be?"

  Adam got out glasses and bottles and mixed drinks. Entertaining is easy for him, Molly thought resentfully. Donna kept up a flow of amusing chatter. Molly was able to maintain her composure; the shock of the betrayal had blocked out every emotion and she felt herself in perfect control. She was determined to be the master of her own actions.