“How can you talk such nonsense?” Amy said fuming, her cheeks pink with indignation. “Do you really believe I’m that shallow, that snobbish?”
“You know I don’t think anything bad of you. I just told you I don’t blame you for not wanting to marry me.”
“Jesse!” Amy frowned in frustration. “You’re turning my words all around. It’s not that I don’t want to marry you. I don’t want to marry anyone!”
“I know that, ma’am. The only thing is, you really sort of have to, don’t you, or else you and your family are going to be dragged through the dirt? I know you don’t want that.”
Amy looked anguished. “No, I don’t. It would be so awful for Corinne and Mama. Papa, too, though he’d try hard to bear up under it. But, Jesse, I can’t ask you to make that sacrifice for my family!”
“I keep telling you, it’s not a sacrifice. It’s what I want to do. It’s the only chance I’ve ever been given to help you and your father. Besides, it’d be my chance to have a family. I’ve never had that.”
Amy hesitated, looking at him uncertainly. Everything Jesse said made sense. The thought of marriage was rather frightening, but it would be less so with Jesse than with anyone else she could think of. But she could not help feeling guilty at the thought of Jesse marrying her in order to save her reputation. It seemed so unfair to him!
Seeing her hesitation, Jesse went on, “I wouldn’t push you, if that’s what you’re worrying about. I mean, I wouldn’t presume to, well, exercise my—my marital rights.”
He looked highly uncomfortable, and Amy blushed scarlet at his words. She wasn’t sure exactly what marital rights were, but it was something women talked about in hushed tones, which meant it was secret and rather scandalous.
“I know I shouldn’t say anything like this to a lady, but, well, I don’t know how else to reassure you, if that’s what you’re worried about. I would never try to force you like Whitaker did, just because we’re married. I’d, well…I mean, I know you don’t love me, and you’d feel awkward.” He stumbled to a halt, unnerved by Amy’s beet-red face and the anguish of embarrassment in her eyes.
“Thank you,” Amy said softly. She might not know exactly what he was talking about, but she would certainly be grateful not to be subjected to the kind of pawing and kissing that Charles Whitaker had done to her—not that she could really imagine Jesse acting that way, anyway. “I— Well, all right, I will marry you. I mean, if you’re still sure that that’s what you want.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He smiled at her, suddenly looking shy. “I’m positive.”
“Well. Then, I—I guess we better tell Mama and Papa.”
She went to the door and looked out into the hall. Her parents and sister were huddled together at the foot of the stairs, and they turned at the sound of the parlor door opening and hurried back into the parlor. Mr. and Mrs. McAlister were obviously relieved to hear that Amy had accepted Jesse’s offer, and they fell immediately to making plans.
“It will have to be soon, I’m afraid,” Sylvia McAlister mused. “I’d like to wait, just to prove to everyone that she doesn’t have to…but that would keep the gossip alive that much longer. Better to get it over with, and then everyone will begin to forget.”
“You’re right,” her husband agreed. “Can you manage it in a week or two?”
“Yes. We’ll keep it small. Just the family.”
Amy retreated from the group, feeling lonely and cold—not at all the way a bride should feel. And her wedding wouldn’t resemble the romantic occasion she had dreamed of. She could feel tears welling up inside her, and she had to struggle to hold them back. Amy turned away. She wished she could run away, wished she did not have to face all this.
But she could not do that, of course. She had already brought too much disgrace upon the family. She would simply have to endure it.
Amy glanced back over her shoulder at Jesse. He was standing, listening to her father talk. As she looked at him, he suddenly seemed a stranger to her. She did not really know him, and yet before long she would be living with him, married to him for life! It was a disturbing thought, and she turned quickly and left the room.
She started toward the stairs and the peace and safety of her own room, but before she reached the bottom stair, Corinne came after her and grabbed her by the arm and pulled her back around.
“What did you think you were doing?” she asked furiously. “Now you’ve ruined everything!”
“I know.” Tears welled up in Amy’s eyes. “I’m sorry.” She and Corinne were not the good friends that some sisters were, but she hated to have her angry at her.
“People will talk about me,” Corinne went on, fueled by her favorite topic—herself. “They’ll wonder if I’m loose like my sister.”
“Corinne!” Amy cried, stung. “I’m not! You know I’m not!”
Corinne made a dismissive gesture. “Of course not,” she said disgustedly. “You would never do anything wrong. But that’s what people will say. How could you have been so stupid? Did you actually believe that Charles was interested in you?”
“I—I couldn’t quite believe it,” Amy admitted. “But he seemed to be.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake! I knew right away what he was. That’s why I turned him down. It was me he wanted, you know. He was always hanging around. He asked me twice to marry him, but I turned him down. That’s the only reason he started dangling after you.”
Amy looked down at the floor, struggling not to burst into tears. Corinne was right, of course; she should have known that a man could not possibly be interested in her, especially not with a beauty like her sister around. She had been foolish to let Charles turn her head, and now her whole family would pay for her misdeed. Even though she could contain the scandal by marrying Jesse, there would still be whispers.
And Jesse would pay most of all. It seemed awful that he, innocent of any wrongdoing, should have to suffer for her foolishness. But how else could she save her family? She told herself that she would not have agreed to his proposal just to save herself the shame and scandal. She would have endured it, knowing that she deserved it. She was marrying Jesse for Mama’s and Papa’s sake. And Corinne’s, too. Corinne had been blameless and, for once, far wiser than Amy had.
“I know,” Amy admitted, her voice barely a whisper. “I was so silly and wrong. I’m sorry. Oh, I wish I could go back and do it all over. Poor Jesse!”
“Poor Jesse?” Corinne repeated scornfully. “I wouldn’t waste my time feeling sorry for him. He gets to marry the rancher’s daughter! He’s gaining wealth and position. Why, I bet Papa even gives him some land for you all to live on. He’ll make quite a profit off the deal.”
Amy’s head snapped up, and she glared at Corinne. “Jesse would never do it for that!” she protested fiercely.
Corinne’s eyes widened with surprise at her meek sister’s transformation, and she took a step backward.
“He did it to be kind, not for any thought of profit,” Amy went on. “He is giving up his whole life, his chance at ever loving someone, just to save me! Just to help our family! Now, you take back what you said about him!”
“All right, all right.” Corinne turned her hands out, palm up, in an exculpatory gesture, though her voice was still laced with sarcasm. “I’m sure Jesse has done no wrong.”
“Well, he hasn’t!” Amy thrust her chin out defiantly, and she gave her sister a look of warning. “And I don’t want to hear anyone around here saying another bad word about him.”
With that, Amy turned and stalked up the stairs, leaving Corinne staring after her in amazement.
CHAPTER FOUR
THE NEXT TWO WEEKS WENT by in a whirlwind of activity. Amy did not realize it, but much of the work was orchestrated by her mother with the primary purpose of keeping Amy’s mind off the scandal and the approaching nuptials. Mrs. McAlister took her youngest sister’s wedding dress, only seven years old, down from the attic and tailored it to fit Amy’s smaller frame.
She also bought two lovely bolts of material from the mercantile store in town and made Amy new dresses, declaring that she could not send her off to her husband looking like a ragamuffin.
She set the girls to washing the linens in Amy’s hope chest, making sure that all of them were as fresh and neat as the day they had sewn them. When they weren’t busy sewing, they were cooking or cleaning the house, for even though it was to be a small wedding, attended only by family, there would be plenty of guests, since Sylvia McAlister had been born here and had dozens of aunts, uncles and cousins. Also, a few very close friends, like the Boudreaux family, would be invited, and, of course, all the ranch hands. It added up to quite a few people, and there would be a celebration afterward. Sylvia McAlister was not about to send her elder daughter off without any ceremony, no matter what the haste. Therefore, the house must be spotless and the larder well stocked.
As Corinne had predicted, Amy’s father had decided to give the young couple a piece of land as a wedding present. It was not large, but it was plenty for Jesse to break and train wild horses and sell them, which was what he wanted to do. The land had an old line shack on it at present, and Jesse and a couple of the other hands were staying there until the wedding, getting the house in suitable shape. So Amy did not see her future husband until the wedding.
She thought many times about what her marriage would be like, and was nervous, scared and excited by turns. She wondered about the wedding night, and what it was exactly that Jesse had promised not to demand of her. Was it the same thing that happened when animals mated? Amy couldn’t quite imagine how it would work, and it made her blush to think of it.
Sylvia tried to talk to her about her marital obligations once, but she stumbled and blushed and tiptoed around the subject so much that Amy could make little sense out of it—although she assured her quickly that she understood, just to put her mother out of her misery.
Amy knew that Jesse would keep his promise, and that she did not need to be nervous or shy, but she thought that surely he would someday expect her to be a real wife to him. He was probably giving her time to get adjusted to the idea, to him…unless, of course, he found her so unattractive that the thought of coupling with her repelled him. Perhaps that was why he had been so quick to promise not to push her sexually. Saddened by that thought, Amy found herself hoping that he didn’t really intend to keep his promise forever.
Amy might not know anything about her “marital duties,” but she knew well enough that she did not want to spend the rest of her life being a sham of a bride—a wife in name only—with a husband who tolerated her just because he had to pay back a debt to her father.
Such thoughts kept her worried and on edge until the day of the wedding. She had seen Jesse only once since their wedding was announced, and that had been the day before the wedding, when he had returned from the line shack he was rebuilding for them. He had come up to see her that evening, but both of them had been awkward and had little to say to one another. Jesse had seemed like a stranger to Amy, and her stomach had knotted more tightly than ever.
The wedding ceremony was late morning the next day. Amy’s mother and sister helped her into her aunt’s wedding dress, and Sylvia arranged her hair into a thick roll, with little tendrils of hair escaping and curling around her face. Then she stepped back and smiled into the mirror at her daughter’s image.
“You look beautiful,” Sylvia assured her. “Just as a bride should. Doesn’t she, Corinne?”
“Yes,” Corinne responded grudgingly.
Amy looked at herself in the mirror. She thought that she did, in fact, look rather good today. So often the fussy frills and bows of fashionable dresses overwhelmed her petite figure, but the elegant simplicity of this dress, a few years out of fashion, suited her, and its creamy yellow color warmed her pale skin. Her mother’s pearls, lent for the occasion, glimmered at her ears and throat, as smoothly beautiful as the satin of the dress. Her cheeks were faintly flushed, and her big brown eyes were bright with excitement. She smiled back at her image. Would Jesse look at her and find her beautiful? Suddenly she wanted that more than anything in the world.
Corinne and Mrs. McAlister left Amy’s bedroom and swept down the staircase. Amy followed them, alone, a moment later. As she neared the bottom, Amy drew in her breath sharply. The parlor was filled with people, and at the sound of her footsteps they all turned to look at her. Amy was not used to being the center of attention, and her stomach turned to ice. She faltered on the stairs and reached out to grasp the banister to steady herself. She went down the last few steps, feeling more and more nervous with each movement.
How could there be this many people here? Her nerves multiplied the number until the waiting crowd seemed like a vast blur of unfamiliar faces. Then her eyes fell on Jesse, standing at the front of the parlor with the minister from their church. He was smiling at her, and her nerves settled a trifle. She started walking toward him. As long as she concentrated on Jesse and ignored the staring faces around her, she was all right. She didn’t even look over to where her mother and father sat, suddenly afraid that looking at them would make her start to shake or, worse, to cry.
She reached the front, and Jesse took her hand. Her hands were freezing, and she knew he must feel that through her lace mitts. He squeezed her hand reassuringly, and she was grateful for the warmth and strength that seemed to course through his hand into hers. She looked up at him, and he smiled down at her, giving her a wink that somehow relaxed her.
The minister began the ceremony. Jesse’s replies were strong and sure. Amy had been afraid that she would stumble over her words or forget what she was saying, but she managed to get everything out, even if it was in a rather soft voice.
Then, suddenly, it was over. The minister was smiling at her, and Jesse turned and bent to give her a brief kiss. His lips barely brushed hers, but she could feel his breath against her skin, the warmth of his flesh, and it was a strange sensation—but not unpleasant. It reminded her of the way it felt when she ran her horse—a little scary, but exciting, too.
They turned away, and Amy’s parents came up to them immediately, shaking Jesse’s hand and hugging her. Tears sparkled in Mrs. McAlister’s eyes, and she squeezed Amy to her tightly before she stepped back to let her husband and Corinne have their turns. After that, there were all the relatives to greet, as well as the ranch hands, but for once Amy felt too relieved to dislike the crush of people.
Afterward, they ate at trestle tables set up in the side yard, for the day was sunny and mild, despite the fact that it was almost November. Of course, the men got into games of skill, as they usually did, while the women cleaned up after the meal. The men laughingly excluded Jesse from the riding competitions, such as racing or leaning down out of the saddle to swoop up an object from the ground, saying that as groom he wasn’t allowed to enter. Jesse protested, saying that they were cutting him out only because they knew he would win. But his protests were faint, and he seemed quite happy to sit beside Amy on the porch with the older relatives and watch the sport.
Later in the afternoon, when the games finally wound down and the children had been put down for naps upstairs, Uncle Tyrah got out his fiddle and struck up a tune, accompanied by another man, who pulled a harmonica from his back pocket.
“First the bridal couple has to dance!” Amy’s great-aunt Hope called out as people began to gather around.
“Well, I reckon we’d better oblige,” Jesse said, holding out his hand to Amy and leading her into the center of the yard, where a circle had formed to watch the bridal couple.
Amy followed him, picking up the train of her skirt and looping it over her arm. Her stomach was dancing with nerves, and she hoped she wouldn’t stumble or do anything to disgrace herself. “I—I don’t dance very well,” she said in a stifled voice, keeping her eyes down.
Jesse reached out and put his hand on her waist, taking her other hand in his. “You’ll do fine.”
Amy looked up into Jesse’s
face, warmed by his reassuring words. How handsome he was! She wondered why she had never noticed before. But, no, she realized, he wasn’t handsome, exactly. His hair was a little too long and shaggy, and his features were a trifle too rough. He looked like a man who had seen more of life than anyone should have had to at his age, and yet…there was a certain sensitivity to his wide mouth, a kind of wary vulnerability in his eyes that refuted the wildness. He looked, not handsome, but…intriguing. Desirable.
At that thought, Amy glanced quickly away. The music started, and they began to dance. Jesse danced competently, and he kept a firm grasp on Amy’s waist, guiding her without hesitation. Amy found that it was easy to follow his lead, and she looked up at him again and smiled.
He grinned back at her triumphantly, and his face lit up, his eyes taking on a twinkle and suddenly looking very green. He looked different—younger and even a little mischievous, a lurking charm overwhelming his usual tight, tough control.
A funny fluttering started inside Amy. She was very aware of her hand in his, his callused palm rough against her skin. His other hand felt very large upon her side, the fingers curling around onto her back. She could feel their heat even through the cloth of her dress. It was curiously exciting.
This man seemed like a different Jesse from the one she had known for five years. He was no longer just one of her father’s employees whom she liked, but one of those vaguely frightening creatures known as eligible males, the sort of person with whom she was expected to talk and dance and around whom she was tongue-tied and stumbling. She could feel the smooth power of his muscles as he guided her around the outdoor dance floor, the leashed force of the male being, and the thought made her shiver. She wondered if Jesse had any idea of the effect he was having on her. Amy hoped not; she imagined that he would be disappointed in her if he learned that only two weeks after he’d found her in a compromising situation with one man, she was feeling these strange stirrings about another man.
The Wedding of the Century & Other Stories Page 15