The Deepest Sigh

by Naomi Musch

  Marilla came down from her room wearing a clean dress, hoping her parents wouldn't raise their eyebrows. She paused in the sitting room where they were seated. "I'm going to Delia's now. Lang is walking with me. He wants to say hello to Theo."

  Her father looked over his reading glasses as though considering his response. "Tell Theo that bull I got from his uncle is working out fine."

  "Don't be too late," her mother said. "I know you're excited to see her, but there are still chores in the morning."

  Marilla kissed her mother's cheek. "I know, Mama. I won't forget." She spun around, her heart pattering as she left the house to meet Lang. He was outside, leaning against the corner of his shed house, watching the sunset. He'd changed and freshened up too.

  Lang straightened and stepped forward to meet Marilla. "Hey, you look nice."

  She warmed beneath the compliment. "You do too. We might shock my poor sister."

  He laughed. They started down the sandy drive, skirting a deep pocket where a puddle remained from all the heavy rain a few days ago. Today's sunshine had dried up pretty much everything else. "I hope we don't surprise them."

  "Oh, they won't mind."

  He snickered. "I don't think you caught my meaning."

  Her face heated. "Oh. Yeah." She forced a chuckle but felt young and embarrassed.

  "Aw, I'm just kidding." He bumped his shoulder into hers. "Hey, what do you say we sort of chivaree them? We don't have to pull any pranks, but we could stand out in the front yard and sing or something. Let them know they have company."

  It was kind of Lang to brush off her ignorance. She laughed. "They may mistake our voices for the clanging of pot and pans."

  He laughed too and grabbed her in a side hug. "Come on, let's do it." He let go as they hurried their pace up the road, but the imprint of his hand still warmed her shoulder and shot straight to her heart.

  The sun was setting in the woods behind Delia's house as Marilla and Lang dodged among oaks scattered through the front yard, hoping to reach the front porch without being seen. They stifled their giggles before launching into an agreed upon tune, each in a different key. They made it through one entire verse of Till We Meet Again, searching for matching notes. Finding a harmony, they entered the refrain:

  Wedding bells will ring so merrily,

  Every tear will be a memory,

  So wait and pray each night for me,

  Til we meet again.

  They both burst into laughter as the newlyweds opened their front door.

  Delia glowed like the new bride she was as she stood in the doorway of her new home with Theo's arm braced against the doorjamb above her head. She clasped her hands over her mouth and then pressed them to her chest. "You two!" She waved them in. "That's the funniest thing ever. Come on inside."

  Marilla stepped in ahead of Lang, feeling as though something was changing between them. She wondered if Delia noticed anything different, but Delia was too happy to be entertaining them as hostess and a Theo's wife to see anything happening between Marilla and Lang. She chattered on about the places they had visited in Eau Claire and what new plans Theo had for continuing the completion of the house. She showed Marilla a few of the gifts they'd received since settling in. All the while, Lang and Theo carried on their own conversation. Now and then Marilla cocked her head to hear Theo speaking of some plan or other for the future. Marilla took a moment to peek at Lang and wonder what his own plans were and if he shared them with Theo. Their visit lasted almost an hour. If their short walk home afforded it, she might ask him.

  She kissed and hugged Delia goodbye and hugged Theodore too. Then she stepped into the darkness with Lang. The sky was full of stars, but the moon had waned, and there was little light to guide their steps. "We should have thought of a lantern," she said.

  Lang's shoulder brushed hers. "Just stay close to me. I won't let you fall." To her shock and utter thrill, he reached for her hand.

  ~~~~~

  Lang was glad for the darkness, glad Rilla couldn't see his face. He could say what he needed to say and do what he needed to do, but he didn't want to fight with the possibility of her seeing the shallowness of his emotions in his eyes. Rilla's sister was so beautiful it stunned him to see her today. Marriage had put a blush in Delia's cheeks, making him want to stroke them. His fingertips twitched when she smiled. Couldn't she see what she did to him? He doubted it. She wasn't that kind of girl, though sometimes he wished she would trifle just a bit, just something to encourage him.

  But here was Rilla. Her hand was soft and thin. He cupped it in his. She had fallen silent at his touch, and he wondered. Could she be as interested as he thought she might be, as a baser part of him wanted her to be? Had Jacob not lifted her hopes? He swallowed and moved his thumb over hers, feeling her slight tremble. He adjusted his hand so their fingers wove together, and her clasp was reassuring.

  Lang slowed his steps. "Let's not hurry. We don't want to fall off the road into the ditch."

  She gave a breathless chuckle. "All right." Her fingers tightened.

  "That was fun. Seeing them, I mean."

  She moved. She must have nodded. He couldn't tell for sure. He looked at her. Her eyes glittered back at him, so close. "It was." He felt her breath, and then she looked forward again.

  "Sure is nice out."

  The head shake again.

  "Are you agreeing? I can't see you."

  She giggled. "Sorry. Yes. It's a gorgeous night."

  "Want to walk a little further?"

  He heard her small intake of breath. She nodded again. "Yes. Yes, sure."

  He squeezed her hand. They strolled further up the lane, past the farm's driveway. Two oil lamps shone in the distant windows.

  "It seems kind of funny, doing things just the two of us," she said.

  He shrugged. "I don't mind. You're okay, kid."

  She gave his shoulder a shove with hers. "Hey, I thought we had that settled."

  "I still have to tease you."

  "I don't think you have to."

  He paused, pulling her to a stop. "No?" He didn't let go of her hand. In fact, she stood in front of him closer than ever. "Rilla..." Should he kiss her now, or wait? He wanted to. He licked his lips. He could see her now, a shadow with a pale face in front of him. "Can I ask you something?"

  "Sure."

  He studied her a moment longer, forming his words carefully. "Would you be at all interested in me as a beau?"

  Her step closer may have been involuntary. Her stare in the darkness almost unnerved him. Then she gave a tiny nod. Her voice sounded choked, but she nodded more. "Yes. Yes, Lang. Sure."

  He took her other hand too, and they stood there staring at each other in the darkness, trying to make out what each other was thinking, was feeling. He could do it. He could feel for Rilla, even if she wasn't Delia.

  "Can I kiss you?"

  Her nod again, jerky, nervous, eyes wide with innocence.

  He slipped a hand behind her neck and drew her to him, kissing her tenderly. His body fired up. He wanted more but forced restraint and broke the kiss. She touched her lips. He pulled her hand away and held it again, kissing her knuckles. "I'd better take you home."

  "Can we walk to the end of the lane first?"

  "If you think it's all right."

  She pressed her shoulder close. "It's all right." They continued their walk.

  At the end of the lane, where it intersected the next road, she pointed into the woods. Lang knew what she was pointing at even though he couldn't see it now. There was an overgrown drive into a small clearing where the original homestead stood. It was nothing more than a tiny log cabin with two rooms. Her parents had lived there before they built the farm. Delia had been born there. Now it was in disrepair and had settled into the ground. As far as Lang knew, it was filled with mice and dust and not much else.

  "This is going to be mine someday."

  "This? That cabin you mean?"

  She squeezed his hand. "Yes,
but I'm not even talking about that old thing. I'm talking about this corner piece of land. Daddy's giving it to me."

  He was glad she didn't add: when I get married. Maybe she realized how forward it would sound. Still, it was something. "I didn't know you thought much about the land."

  "Of course I do. Delia and Theo are bound to his family's place. Someday I'll probably run this one. Me and my husband. Whoever he is," she added.

  He tugged on her hand, and they turned around. "What else do you want in the future?"

  She shrugged and turned the conversation to more mundane things. She talked about joining the women's study group in town and wishing she knew how to play the piano. She mentioned women getting the right to vote someday and thinking it would be fun to march with the suffragettes. He listened as she skirted all her personal, romantic hopes.

  They walked into the farmyard and paused by his shed room. He stroked the back of her thumb again and tugged her into the shadows of the building. "Rilla, I don't want you to think I'm interested in you because of what you just told me out there on the road. I can see you've grown up. You're pretty, and I like you. I mean..." He let go of her hand and put his hands on her upper arms, pulling her close. "I really like you. I want to kiss you again, but I want to ask you something else first."

  She looked at him and waited, her eyes like moons.

  "Would you mind if I talked to your dad about courting you?"

  She blinked. He must have surprised her. "Okay." The single word came out on a breath.

  He couldn't help smiling. "Then I think I will kiss you again." This time when he touched her lips with his, he let them linger, and she relaxed, allowing her own mouth to move freely. It was some time before she left him. He watched her lithe silhouette as she disappeared into the house and out of the night.

  Chapter Eight

  "Are you almost finished, Marilla?" Her father stepped out the door where Marilla sat with the butter churn on the front porch, holding a book in one hand while she plunged the dasher with the other.

  She lowered the book. "It's starting to come."

  "Good. I need to go to town. When you're finished, gather your eggs and whatever else you need, and you'll come with me."

  She nodded as she rested her arm and rubbed her hands down her apron, then returned to her work. He didn't often seek her out to go with him. Had Lang already spoken to him? She bit her lip and attacked the churning with greater fervor.

  She, Lang, and her father had milked together this morning as usual. Then she had done the skimming of yesterday's cream and cleaned all the equipment. She thought Lang had already gone to the field, but he caught her behind the chicken house while she was shucking corn for the chickens. He gave her a quick kiss, and promises lay in his gaze.

  "You have beautiful eyes," he said, right before he hurried off to work.

  She had been floating like cream ever since.

  She finished the churning and loaded a crate of eggs and a supply of cold butter into their wagon for market. The day felt mild. The seasons were hinting at change. Marilla's thoughts drifted on the breeze to what the future held. She dared to do such now because Lang was her suitor, or he would be if her father gave him permission.

  Three cars passed them on the way to town. Would she and Lang own an automobile someday? Delia had told her Theo talked about getting one. Her father might take longer to change. He had a special affection for their horses.

  "Do you think you'll ever own a car, Daddy? There are more of them on the road than ever."

  He shrugged and snapped the reins. "Such things overtake us eventually. Sunny and Cinnamon have good years left in them, and I don't want to have to learn to work on the engines of automobiles just yet." He gave her a quick, sideways smile. "I suppose you will want one before I do."

  She grinned back. "I suppose you're right."

  "I know young people always want the new things. I see Langdon's interest in them as well."

  Her nerves piqued.

  He shifted on the wagon seat. "He is interested in many things."

  She didn't know if she should say anything, so she didn't. She waited.

  "He spoke to me this morning about you."

  "Oh?"

  "You aren't surprised, are you? Surely the two of you have talked."

  "Yes." She cleared her throat. She was afraid she sounded like a mouse.

  Her father's arm went round her shoulders. "Ah, Marilla." He sighed. "He is older than you."

  "Does that matter? It isn't much. You're older than Mama."

  "I forget." He kept his arm around her shoulders but leaned away far enough to look at her. "I can hear in your voice that you more than approve."

  She gave a small nod.

  "He doesn't come to us with anything of his own."

  "He saves his money, Daddy, and he works harder than anyone." Her dad's eyebrow's rose. She'd taken him aback with her quick defense of Lang. "Don't you like him?"

  He pulled his arm away. "I like him well enough. He seems a good man. He's worked hard for me, and I am happy to keep him around."

  "Then you told him yes?"

  "Don't rush me, Marilla. I'm not finished. I know what is both good and bad in Lang. I want to know what it is you see in him."

  She fiddled with her skirt. "I see the same things you do. He's a hard worker. He's been courteous and kind. He hasn't given our family any worries. He has hopes and dreams for his future, Daddy, even if he hasn't told you. He wants to farm too."

  "Yes, this I know. What else?"

  She flushed. "He... He... Oh, Daddy, I don't know what you want me to say. I like him. I've just always liked him. I've even hoped—" She stopped. She wasn't ready to tell her father what she hoped.

  They were approaching town. "I guess I didn't pay attention. I didn't know."

  They fell silent together as her father pulled over in front of Hessman's Store at the edge of town. He pulled the brake and laid his arm across her lap before she moved away. "Marilla, just one more question. Jacob Hessman admires you. We all understood that recently. Are you sure you would not wish to encourage him? I'm no judge of men's looks, but your mother tells me he is handsome." Her father grinned, but Marilla couldn't. "He owns his own store. He is a man of some means. He is generous and seems kind enough."

  "I know, Daddy. It's just..." She sighed. "It's just Lang." She hoped he understood her longing somehow.

  He patted her leg. "Then it is to be Lang. I will give him my blessing if Lang is who you want. As long as he minds his manners, I will let him court you."

  She lifted her shoulders, and her gaze shot into his. "Oh, Daddy! Thank you!" She hugged him tight, and for a moment, she thought she might cry.

  He patted her back. "We'd better get our errands done. I'm going over to the bank and the post office. I'll leave you here to do your trading with Jacob." He gave her one last, long look. "It would be good if you told him.”

  She didn't want to talk to Jacob about Lang. Jacob had been her friend for almost her whole life. They'd gone to school together from the time she was able to read. He was a few years older, and he had looked out for her a time or two but had grown especially friendly toward her in the past year. She didn't want to hurt his feelings if he cared about her. Yet, they had not ever shared any understanding, and he would get over her if she didn't lead him on by letting the truth linger.

  Besides, another part of her wanted to share her news from the rooftops from Shell Lake to Spooner. I can't wait to tell Delia!"

  She hoisted the crate from the wagon bed and carried it through the front door of the store. Jacob's blond head came up, and a smile lifted his lips the moment he saw her. He moved around the counter and hurried over to relieve her of her burden.

  "Thank you, Jacob."

  "It's my pleasure. How many dozen have you?"

  "Eight."

  He set the crate on the counter and pulled out a notebook from a shelf beneath the cash register. In it, he jotted down the
amount she told him. "Shall I pay you or apply it to store credit?"

  Her imagination rushed to the future and the household she'd run with Lang's leading. "Credit this time, please."

  He smiled again and wrote it down. "There it is. Have you butter as well?"

  "Yes." She turned, but he hurried around the counter again and passed her.

  "I will get it. Rest yourself."

  She thanked him and meandered around the store. He'd gotten some fresh peaches. She should trade some of her credit to bring some home. Her mother loved canned peaches in the wintertime.

  Jacob came back in and unpacked the butter from its case. He put it in the icebox in the corner then pulled out his notebook again.

  "I'll trade the butter for a lug of those peaches if you don't mind."

  "All right. That's fine. Take as many as you like."

  She smiled. "Only what the butter's worth."

  "You should taste one."

  She ran fingers over the fuzzy skin of the peach and smiled. "I should?"

  "Please."

  She picked up a peach and bit into it, savoring the sweet juice and catching it before it escaped down her chin. Jacob laughed. She laughed too, holding her mouth closed even so. She swallowed.

  "Marilla—"

  "Jacob—"

  They spoke together, and Jacob deferred. Her heart beat harder. The chuckle they'd shared a moment ago fell away as discomfort crept in. She feared the way he said her name. He had hopes, and she knew what that felt like.

  "Jacob, I have news to share."

  His smile was warm. "You must tell me what it is."

  She cleared her throat and clasped both hands on her pocketbook in front of her. "You know Langdon."

  He rearranged small things on the counter between then. "Langdon Prescott, who works for your father."

  She nodded. "Yes. Lang. He's practically like family."

  His fair brows tweaked. "Is he?"

  She nodded and shrugged. Best out with it. "Lang's asked my father to court me."

  Jacob stilled.