The floor and furniture gleamed with wax, the large brass bed was made up with fresh linens and blankets, the window curtains had been washed, pressed, and rehung, and a large vase of fresh flowers, bright and fragrant, stood atop the dresser. Dry wood was carefully stacked in the fireplace, ready to light and fill the room with warmth.
Nick opened the armoire door and set Mollie’s valise on the floor of the wardrobe. He shucked his jacket and hung it up, then closed the wardrobe. He loosened his tie and took his watch from his vest pocket. He unhooked the fob, studied the watch a moment, turning it thoughtfully in his fingers, then carefully laid it on the fireplace mantle beside a small metal tin of matches. Taking one, he lit the fire, watched it catch and settle into a cheery, welcoming blaze. Finally, inhaling a long, deep breath, he turned and headed back to the kitchen.
As he entered the room, Mollie turned to him, an enormous crockery bowl in her arms. “So,” she grinned, “can I interest you in five pounds of grits, Doctor Avinger? And ten pounds of gravy to go with it?”
Nick laughed, but his stomach felt as though it were full not of grits, but of butterflies. “Miz Willie must be convinced we’ll starve on our own,” he said. He took the bowl from Mollie’s arms, set it on the table. “I think we’ll last a bit longer, though.”
Gently, he wrapped his arms around Mollie and eased her against him. They stood that way for long moments, simply rocking against one another, then he set her back and framed her face with his palms.
“Mollie,” he began, and at the suddenly serious note in his voice, she searched his eyes. “I, uh, well, it’s true we haven’t known each other very long, but I can’t tell you how honored I am that you’ve given me your trust, and, I hope, your heart.” He swallowed, hurried on. “I … I never want to do anything to damage that trust, and I never want to rush you to give more than you are ready to give. If you….”
Deeply touched by the realization that he was as nervous as she, Mollie felt her heart go out to Nick. She reached up, laid her fingertips on his lips, stopping the outpouring of words.
“Nick,” she whispered. “Do you have a whole speech?”
His brow shot up, and his hands dropped to her shoulders. “Uh, well, yeah, I … that is….” Then he stopped again, swallowed, nodded.
“Might I hear it later?” she asked, and in a surge of daring she hardly knew she possessed, added, “Afterward?”
Hardly believing what he heard, it was all Nick could do not to shout out a whoop of joy. He took Mollie’s face again in his hands, kissed her with all the hunger and loneliness that was in his heart, and she accepted it all and gave him all she was in return. When he sank his hands into her hair and murmured, “May I?” she nodded. Nick gently took the flowers and pins from her hair, letting the heavy tresses tumble over his hands and down her back. Combing through the silky strands with his fingers, he kissed his bride again, then swept her into his arms and carried her to the bedroom. For the next few hours, the world belonged to the two of them alone.
CHAPTER 13
The fire had burned down to embers, but Nick and Mollie had had no difficulty making their own heat. Now, as she lay sprawled across his chest, he dreamily stroked her hair, letting the soft, shiny tresses stream lazily from his fingers.
He thought she might be asleep, but he desperately needed to know if she were as happy as he was. Gently, he cupped her cheek, and Mollie lifted her head. She met his eyes, and he was horrorstruck to see tears in her eyes.
“My God, Mollie!” he rasped. “I hurt you! I’m so sorry!”
She shook her head. “No, no, Nick! Not at all! I’m not crying because I’m unhappy. These are tears of joy. I just have so much feeling, I-I can’t keep it inside.”
“Thank God!” he breathed, gathering her close. “I couldn’t stand it if I hurt you.”
She snaked out a hand, ran her fingertips along his cheek. For once, Nick didn’t care about the scar, didn’t even think about it. “You’re sure?” he asked again, gazing into her eyes. “You’re sure you’re all right?”
“Mmm,” she murmured. “But there is something I must ask you.”
“Oh. I see. Very well, what is it?”
“Well,” she hesitated, “I do hope you won’t take this the wrong way, Doctor, as I know this might not be proper….”
His brows furrowed. “What? What do you want?”
She gave him a wide-eyed, innocent grin. “Can we do it again?”
In answer, Nick flipped her and tucked her beneath him in one smooth roll, scarcely noticing the sharp twinge in his injured leg. “Only for you, ma’am. Only for you,” he murmured, and took her eager, waiting mouth.
• • • • •
Mollie woke to Nick’s muffled groans and growls. The room was dark but for the faint glow of the fireplace embers, and she turned worriedly toward her husband. His face was bathed with sweat, and suddenly he writhed, kicking wildly at the covers. Frightened that he was in the throes of a nightmare, or worse, suddenly taken ill, she reached out to calm him, trying gently to stroke his face. His eyes flew open, and he stared at her with the ferocity of a cornered animal. His eyes were feral, but opaque, blind.
“Get away, damn you!” he shouted, and Mollie gasped, shrinking back. Nick’s hand shot out and his fingers wrapped around her throat like an iron vise, tightening painfully. Abruptly, he shoved her backwards, slamming her shoulder against the brass bars of the headboard. He released his grip, then, in one wild scramble, bolted from the bed. He whirled back to face her, his hands balled into fists and his chest heaving. His eyes were unfocused, staring past Mollie with crazed fury at something only he could see.
Trembling, horrified, she gasped for air, broken sobs choking her bruised throat. “Nick!”
Her cry emerged as a strangled rasp. She swallowed, tried again, desperately. “Nick! Wake up! For God’s sake, darling, wake up!”
He froze, and a tremor ran through his body. The sound of his labored breathing filled the room.
Slowly, never taking her eyes from him, Mollie eased her way from the bed. Carefully, she padded toward her husband in her bare feet, one cautious step at a time, murmuring all the while in a low, calming litany of soothing words.
“Nick, it’s me. It’s Mollie. Y’all must wake up now. Y’all must wake up. You are home, Nick, you are here with me and you are safe. Please, now, please wake up.”
She stopped just out of his reach, tears spilling slowly down her cheeks. Why hadn’t he told her he suffered this way? Dear God, did he even know?
Slowly, a look of confusion shadowed Nick’s face. His gaze darted about the darkened room, then came back to Mollie. “They were here,” he breathed. “The Yanks, they were right here. I saw them. They … they were comin’ up the hill. They came right at me.”
He blinked, looked again about the room, gradually began to realize he’d been dreaming. “I … I thought I saw them. I swear they were right here, but I … I must have imagined it. ” He shuddered, scrubbed his face with his hands. “My God, Mollie, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I frightened you.”
Mollie closed the distance between them, took his hand. “Don’t worry now, Nick. It was just a bad dream, that’s all. Everything’s all right. Come back to bed now.”
She turned to lead him to bed, but he resisted, not moving. She stopped, asked gently, “Won’t you come with me, Nick? I won’t be able to sleep without you.”
He blew out a shuddering breath, then slowly nodded. They climbed back into bed, and Mollie began to settle onto her pillow. “Wait,” Nick said. “Please. This way, Mollie, so I’ll know it’s you, even if … you know….” He turned on his side, slipping his arm beneath her head. Mollie curled her back against his torso, resting her hand on his wrist beside her cheek.
Nick sighed, a rattling sound that seemed to come from the very depths of his soul. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” he murmured again. In response, Mollie simply turned her head and pressed a kiss to his arm.
&
nbsp; “I should have told you that I have these ... these episodes. I should have told you, but I hoped.…” He sighed again. “Well, I just should have told you, that’s all. It … it happens sometimes. The dream. Doesn’t seem to matter how many years it’s been since Bald Hill, I still dream myself right back there like it was yesterday.” He paused, try to settle himself. His leg ached, but he paid it no mind. The pain in his heart blotted out everything else.
“When it happens, it seems so real. Not like a regular dream at all, but like I’m really there. I guess it’s why I haven’t slept with anyone – I mean, all night…” he added hastily, “…in a very long time.”
“Nick, darling, listen to me,” Mollie said quietly. “You and I, we’ve both been alone. Even with other people, we’ve been too much alone. But don’t you see? Now we have each other.” She lifted her head, turned to him. “To my mind, anyway, it was very much worth the wait.”
Nick’s heart stuttered, and in the dark he found her mouth. Their kiss was long, lingering, and sweet. When they parted he murmured, “Yes, it was for me, too. I’ll try to keep the nightmares at bay, Mollie. I swear, I will try.”
“Yes, Nicholas. We’ll keep them away together.”
• • • • •
He awoke at first light, came up into awareness more gently, more contentedly than he had in, well, years. Mollie was spooned against him, her head pillowed on his arm, her breathing soft and steady as she slept.
Nick didn’t care that his arm was numb; he wanted to stay like this forever. Oh, he knew there was plenty of work to do. He’d gotten word a few days earlier that scrofula had broken out in a northeast Atlanta neighborhood, and the local dairy was the likely culprit. He’d need to get out there and do an inspection. And he couldn’t neglect the zoo, even though the keepers were quite capable of handling things for a few days. He almost never took days off, but by God, he was going to do it now. He and Mollie were going to have a proper honeymoon, which he hoped would involve a great deal of time not getting out of bed. He grinned to himself at the idea.
From a pile of thorns, we’ve made a bed of roses, he thought. Thank you, God, for this beautiful woman.
Unable to resist touching her, he ran his fingers gently through her hair, toying with the soft, mahogany strands. He shifted slightly, raised himself onto his elbow to bend over her. A sudden, sharp pain in his leg made him grimace.
Have to redress that gash when we get up. Later. He smiled to himself. Much later.
Nick knew better than to ignore a stableyard wound, but it could wait a while longer. He’d hurriedly cleaned it just yesterday, and he was fully counting on throwing himself on Mollie’s tender sympathies. The thought of her hands on him in such an intimate way filled him with need and yearning. God, how he wanted her! How he could want her more now than he had before they’d first made love, he didn’t know. He only knew that he did.
Gently he swept her hair aside from the delicate curve of her nape, began to lower his lips to her skin. A shaft of pale morning light spilled across the bed from the lace-curtained window and fell over Mollie, softly warming her skin.
Even in that gentle wash of light, the bruises were stark and livid.
Nick froze, staring in horror at the obscene discoloration that circled her slender neck like the demented grasp of a monster’s hand. His hand.
He froze in shock, shuddered as shame filled his throat and burned behind his eyes. “Sweet Judas Priest, I’m sorry, Mollie. I’m so sorry.” His voice was a raw, ragged whisper. “I didn’t know. I didn’t know I’d done this to you. Forgive me.” Shaking, he touched his lips to her hair, then gently slid his trembling arm from beneath her.
Mollie stirred, smiled drowsily but did not waken, snuggling back down into her pillow. Scrubbing his hands over his face, Nick stumbled from the bed. So thick was the lump in his throat and so heavy the ache in his heart that he barely registered the stab of protest from his leg.
CHAPTER 14
The morning light had turned a muted gray as storm clouds rolled in, hanging low in the sky. Mollie opened her eyes, sighed with contentment. Nick’s nightmare had passed, and she was certain that their joy in one another’s arms would soon dispel those unhappy dreams altogether. Mollie had no experience of love-making beyond those wonderful hours in her husband’s embrace the night before, but she was certain that he had found pleasure and happiness in their intimacy, as well.
She turned her head, found she was alone in the bed. Oh dear, how late was it? She sat up quickly, then had a delightful, wicked thought. What better way to start the day than to invite Nick back to bed?
So scandalous was that idea that Mollie clapped her hands over her mouth to stifle a giggle. After a moment, she gathered her courage and called, “Nick?” His name came out in a rusty croak.
Frowning, Mollie gingerly touched her neck. There were a couple of tender spots, but they would be gone soon enough. Clearing her throat, she called again, “Nick? Nick, dear, could you come in here a minute, please?”
She giggled again at her own brazenness, but when there was no response, her brows knit in confusion.
“Nick? Can y’all hear me? Where are you, darling?”
When there was again no answer, Mollie threw back the covers and climbed out of bed. She crossed to the armoire and collected her slippers and her wrapper. Slipping her arms into the sleeves of the wrapper, she left the bedroom and went out into the hall. She checked the bathroom, then made her way to the kitchen. It was there that she found the note, propped against a vase of pink and purple asters. Several $20 gold pieces were piled neatly beside the note.
Without knowing why, Mollie recoiled at the thought of reading the note, was loath to even touch it. She knew that was foolish and superstitious; Nick had probably just gone out to fetch a newspaper or to see to Magnolia in the stable. He hadn’t wanted to wake her, that was all. But, of course, she had awakened and she was worried. It was, after all, their honeymoon, and in his absence she couldn’t shake a sudden, dreadful sense of foreboding that turned her stomach to a block of ice.
At last, telling herself she was letting her foolish imagination run away with her, Mollie gingerly picked up the note. There was no envelope; her name was simply scrawled on the outside of a folded piece of paper. She unfolded it, carefully adjusted her glasses, and taking a steadying breath, began to read.
My dearest Mollie,
I do not have the words to tell you what is in my heart. I swore I would never hurt you, and I’ve broken that promise in the worst way I can imagine.
If only I could swear it would never happen again, perhaps you could find it in your heart to forgive me. But I cannot, because I know now that I will never be able to banish the nightmares. I thought your love, so precious to me, would dispel them, but instead I abused that love and trust. I think I must have a kind of incurable madness, and it sickens me to the heart.
I went to war as a boy expecting adventure and glory. I came home a man who had lost his soul. I do not know how to find it again.
The only solace left to me is my work. I am leaving now to inspect a dairy, and then I shall return to the zoo. I have left money should you need anything. If you like, take the streetcar downtown to Rich’s, where I have an account, and order anything you need for the house. We must furnish another bedroom, as it’s clear now we daren’t share the same bed nor even the same bedroom. I’m not strong enough, were we to do so, to stop myself from touching you and unforgivably putting you in danger once again.
I am so sorry, my love. I fear I’ve ruined your happiness, and I know I have ruined my own. But I would do anything to keep from ever hurting you again.
Nick
I am so sorry, my love. Nick’s words hit Mollie like a body blow. Her knees buckled, and she sank into one of the kitchen chairs, too stunned to think clearly. Grief overwhelmed her, all the more painful for the newly discovered joy it so brutally eclipsed.
Slowly, she read the note again. This tim
e, it was Nick’s pain that registered. Oh sweet Lord, Mollie thought, her throat thick with tears. Did he really believe he’d lost his soul? That he could never have happiness?
The jackass! Mollie’s grief vanished in a sudden, hot bolt of fury. Hector’s pup! Darned if she wouldn’t do pitched battle with any man who tried to hurt her husband. That it was, in this case, he himself doing the damage made no difference. If she had to fight him tooth and nail, well then, she’d do it.
Buy him a separate bed? Not on her life!
Crumpling the note in her fist, Mollie strode back into their bedroom. She picked up the fireplace poker and stirred the embers until a small flame leapt to life. Tearing the note to shreds, she threw the scattered bits of paper into the fire with a vengeance. She watched them flame and burn until only ash and drifting cinders remained, and in those moments, she decided exactly what she must do.
CHAPTER 15
A freezing rain began to fall as Nick turned Magnolia up the rutted, mud and gravel lane toward the DeLeon Dairy. Despite the buggy’s sheltering roof, wind-driven sleet blew into Nick’s eyes, and he pulled the brim of his hat as low as he could to protect his face. Swiping his sleeve across his eyes, he fought the desperate urge to turn back toward home.
Did he even have a home now? Mollie must’ve found his note by now, but what good was an apology when his behavior had been so appalling, so unforgivable? He’d ruined everything he’d yearned for, everything he’d promised. What kind of man was he that he couldn’t keep his own promises? That he couldn’t control his darkest thoughts? He’d hurt a woman – his own wife, for God’s sake! It didn’t matter one bit that he hadn’t meant to do it – in fact, that was even worse. Only a pitiful excuse for a man couldn’t control his own mind and body.
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