Sixty Acres and a Bride

by Regina Jennings

  She said nothing.

  All righty, then.

  He continued. “You expressed your frustration with me quite clearly. Now that I know how strongly you feel, Eliza and I will take you to the courthouse Monday morning. I’ll set you up wherever you want, or we can wait until Louise comes home if you need to. Whatever I can do, you just let me know.”

  He scuffed the toe of his boot along the edge of the rug. What was keeping Eliza?

  Weston didn’t expect an answer, so he almost missed Rosa’s simple thank-you.

  “If we go Monday,” she said, “Eliza should stay here. She’s worn out.”

  He nodded. Practical as always. “Then we could pick up Aunt Mary on the way, if you’d be uncomfortable riding alone with me. It’d be a good chance for me to talk to her about Bailey.”

  Silence fell again. A board creaked under his weight. Cows could be heard lowing through the open window. Had they reached the end of their relationship so quickly? Had the reserves of shared thoughts, stories, and dreams been depleted? Was there nothing left to discuss?

  Uncomfortable. He started rambling, letting his words fill the empty air like gnats. “Don’t much relish talking to Mary. She’ll beat that boy, for sure. Probably should wait until George is around to restrain her. ’Course if Bailey’s big enough to trifle with Molly, he’s big enough to take a lashing from his little ma. Definitely do him some good.”

  “Molly?” Rosa’s tone dripped with sarcasm.

  Weston’s head snapped up. “Yes, Molly. I shouldn’t tell tales, but his folks are possibly the only people at the wedding who didn’t see them.”

  Rosa twisted the end of her belt around her wrist. “But I saw you . . .” Her brow furrowed. “I know it was you. She said ‘Mr. Garner.’” She blinked, then her eyes widened, and her mouth turned down.

  Rosa’s outburst of tears caught Weston completely unprepared.

  “What’s wrong? What’d I do?”

  But she couldn’t answer. He stood helpless as Rosa plopped onto her bed and blubbered into her hands. Her sobs echoed through the room and brought his sister flying up the stairs. Eliza tossed a comb on the vanity and rushed to her side.

  “What did you say to her, Weston? Honestly! Hasn’t she been through enough today?” She pulled Rosa to her, and the tear-streaked face was something to behold. “What’s wrong?”

  Rosa’s chin quivered. “He . . . he didn’t kiss her.”

  What? Weston held his hands up and shrugged, but his confusion didn’t satisfy Eliza.

  “Tell me what she’s talking about.”

  “I don’t know. I was just shooting the breeze. Said something about Bailey and Molly—”

  “It was Bailey,” Rosa cried and hiccuped simultaneously. She clutched Eliza’s arm, and her weeping began to sound suspiciously like laughter. “Bailey kissed her.”

  Bumfuzzled. He was downright bumfuzzled. Was she hysterical? If not, his sister certainly was.

  “Rosa, I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but you’re scaring the living daylights out of me. My nerves are just about shot already, and here you are cackling like a banshee. I’ve been on my feet all day—”

  Weston approached cautiously. “Eliza, why don’t you go on to bed?”

  “I can’t leave her. Not in this condition.”

  Rosa still held onto her arm, and her shoulders shook—whether from mirth or despair, he couldn’t tell.

  He helped Eliza to her feet. “I’m more worried about your condition. She’s going to be fine.”

  “But . . .”

  “Don’t make me call for Jake.”

  Eliza pouted. She gave Rosa one last uncertain look and waddled out the door, closing it behind her.

  He didn’t kiss Molly. He didn’t kiss Molly. Rosa cast about, trying to remember everything he’d said since then, everything she’d discredited, but the only words she could quote with certainty were the awful things she’d said when he’d told her that he loved her.

  He loved her.

  Weston picked up the comb from the vanity and ran the teeth across his palm. “Now, common sense, my own pride, and all that’s decent says I should leave. You’ve told me how you feel, but my curiosity will haunt me—”

  “Don’t go.”

  He stared at her like she was a yodeling heifer. With a clatter, the comb landed on the vanity. “All right. Can you tell me why you want me to stay?”

  Rosa wiped her tears on the sleeve of her quilted robe. “Because you didn’t kiss Molly.”

  He pulled himself up to his full height. “Of course I didn’t. Did you think . . . ?” Then a slow grin spread across his face. “You did. You thought it was me.”

  She dipped her head, unable to bear the intensity of his gaze.

  He laughed. Weston tilted his head back and laughed with pure joy. She’d been so awful to him. No wonder he’d looked so hurt, but not anymore. The crinkles around his eyes had returned. His lips spread in the most beguiling smile as he turned his attention on her again.

  “An hour ago you had some mighty harsh words for me. Would you like me to repeat them?” Oh, how he was enjoying this.

  “No. I didn’t mean to say such things to you.”

  “You didn’t? Then what did you mean to say . . . to me?”

  Rosa waited for the tightening to begin. At any moment, she’d begin to feel crowded. The pressure would get to her. She’d fought against having this conversation for so long—from making this confession—she couldn’t believe she was standing at the brink.

  She put a hand to her forehead, drawing her wet hair out of her eyes, and slid off the bed. “You said you’d been dishonest. Well, so have I.” The words had grown comfortable hiding in her heart unexpressed. It would take some effort to release them.

  She paced the room, back and forth before him, swinging her robe in agitation as she tried to spit them out. “I lied to you, too. I don’t want to be your servant.” She stomped her foot and looked at him with eyes wide and scared. “I hate it!”

  He stepped closer. “Wonder why?”

  “I don’t want to just be with you.” Her warm blood was rising. “Not like that. Imagining you with Molly made me loca, but I couldn’t stop you. Not when I was just your employee. It isn’t enough. I want—” Her gaze locked with his, strayed to his lips, and then dropped to his hands.

  She closed her eyes as a definite peace filled her. No fear. She could do this.

  “Did you know today at the wedding I wanted to hold your hand?” she said.

  He reached out and took her hands, still shriveled from the bath water.

  “You should have. You had the right.”

  She smiled at their old game but wasn’t distracted. “I’ve never been to a Christian wedding before, and I thought it was beautiful. The church words were better than the courthouse words. I wished someone—I wished you would say those words to me.”

  He anchored her hair behind her ear and let his hand remain against her cheek.

  “What was your wedding to Mack like?”

  “Nothing like Louise’s.” Rosa thought back to that day in the village. “Eli performed the ceremony. He read a chapter in the New Testament about love and prayed for us. That was it.”

  “Sounds perfect. Cora’s and my wedding was a huge to-do. Nothing as intimate as yours. I felt like a sideshow freak with all the people staring at me. Of course she was beautiful and happy. That’s what was important.”

  Rosa pulled his hand around and pressed a kiss into his palm. She’d never heard him speak of Cora like that. As if she was a pleasant memory. As if he was healed.

  Weston led her by the belt of her robe to the bed. He sat down and pulled her to stand between his knees. He was a little shaky. She smiled tenderly. He had nothing to be nervous about. Taking his face in her hands, Rosa flashed him a wanton look straight from her mariposa routine and quoted to the best of her memory the vows she’d heard spoken before the altar that morning.

  “Do you,
Weston Garner, take me, Rosa Garner, to be thy wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish till death do us part?”

  “I do,” he said distinctly, pouring all the promises he’d made her into those two words.

  Unlike the last kiss, she saw this one coming, but she didn’t try to dodge it. Still holding onto her belt, Weston pulled her against him and wrapped her in his arms, no apologies and no reserves.

  “But that’s it?” She gasped at her first chance for a breath. “I don’t have to promise anything?”

  “I can come up with something if you insist.” He held her snugly between his legs and let his fingers trace her wide cheekbones, her jaw, down to her neck and collarbone as he thought. “Do you, Rosa, promise to be mine? To whisper my name in your sleep and blush when you think of me during the day? To remember that you were chosen by me and are loved?”

  “Is that all?”

  “No, there’s more. You can’t keep accounts. You mustn’t ever run away again, and”—his crooked grin made an appearance—“above all, you will only crawl under my blanket if you need a favor. No more finding men in barns. Do you, Rosa, promise me that?”

  “I do. You may kiss your bride.”

  “Um, I intend to.”

  He was doing just that when Jake called through their door. “Excuse me, Weston, Rosa?”

  “There’s no excuse. Go away,” Weston hollered.

  She giggled against him, but Jake wasn’t dissuaded.

  “It’s Eliza. She’s going to have the baby. I hate to bother you—”

  “It could take hours. Tell her to walk around, and I’ll be down later,” Rosa called. She couldn’t tear her eyes off her husband. She leaned forward and took another kiss, enjoying the freedom to do what she’d imagined for so long. “I plan to kiss you a lot.”

  “Uh, I can hear you.” Poor Jake was still at the door. “Rosa, where’s the mop? She said something about her water, and Red isn’t back yet. Someone needs to get Dr. Trench.”

  “Just ignore him. He’ll go away. I, on the other hand, am right where I’ve wanted to be for weeks.”

  Rosa ran her finger down his chest. “I have to go. Eliza needs me.”

  “Not as bad as I do.” He pulled her to him and kissed her once more with an intensity that left them both shaking. “But you’re right. Better get dressed and go down there. God willing, we’ll need her help someday soon.”

  The bundle in Rosa’s arms weighed as much as a cantaloupe and smelled even sweeter. She rocked quietly in the great room while the rest of the house slumbered. Little Cora watched her with bright eyes and held tightly to her finger, not the least interested in sleep.

  “Your family loves you already, bebé,” Rosa whispered, kissing her for the hundredth time in her two-hour life. “And it’s a wonderful family. You’ll never know how lucky you are. First, there’s Aunt Louise and Uncle Deacon. They’ll be back soon. Then there’s Aunt Mary and Uncle George. They have three boys who won’t let anyone mess with their princess and two girls who will spoil you rotten. But your favorites will be Aunt Rosa and Uncle Weston, because they already love you the most.”

  From the window Rosa saw the light of a lantern make its way across the yard. The darkness hadn’t yet broken, and family was already coming. With a coffee-scented gust, Mary entered the room.

  “A baby already? I’m glad Wes went for the doctor when he did.” She laid her shawl aside and wiped her hands on her skirt. “Happy birthday, sweet pea. You like your aunt Rosa, don’t you? She’s a mighty special lady in this family.” Mary leaned in close to coo over the baby and peek in the diaper. “A girl, by thunder! All right, Rosa, you’ve had your turn. Hand her over and go get some sleep.” She took Cora from her arms and pecked a kiss on Rosa’s forehead. “Morning will be here soon, and with the sun a whole new day to tame.”

  At an hour when every other God-fearing woman of Caldwell County was either elbowing her snoring husband or sleeping undisturbed in her spinster bed, Rosa found herself sneaking toward a room that was not her own. She was a trespasser whose goal was to get caught—a blissful pursuer whose prey was within reach.

  Holding her nightgown above the thick rug, she inched closer with a pounding heart. Surely he could hear it.

  Why had this short trip across her room taken her so long? Her stubborn insistence that he would eventually reject her seemed foolish now, for if anyone would love her, it was Weston Garner. And if there was anyone she’d like to visit with or work beside, it was he. And he had made his position clear. She and the farm were not a package deal. She belonged to him permanently, irrevocably, and completely.

  Her hands were clammy as she pushed against the bedroom door. Mentally she judged the distance between herself and his bed, counting the steps it would take, and then pulled the door shut behind her, plunging the room into darkness.

  Maybe this will be easier if I can’t see him, she hoped, wondering if he was awake. Her tentative steps brought her closer and closer. With an outstretched hand she slowly searched until her fingers touched the edge of the quilt. Trembling, she lifted his blanket, climbed in next to him, and pulled the blanket over them. She meant to keep her distance, to wait until he woke, but the mattress sloped where it supported his weight, causing her to slide right into his chest.

  He could feel her warmth against him; her breath was burning a ring near his heart. She was trembling, so he took her in his arms and pulled her close, until they were both burrowed deep in the feather bed. Stubborn child, he thought, I’m never letting you go.

  Holding his wife, he was at peace. This was approved—sanctioned—his heart told him. God have given him someone to protect tonight and for the rest of their lives.

  Regina Jennings is a graduate of Oklahoma Baptist University with a degree in English and a history minor. She has worked at The Mustang News and at First Baptist Church of Mustang, along with time at the Oklahoma National Stockyards and various livestock shows. She now lives outside of Oklahoma City with her husband and four children.

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