The Deepest Sigh

by Naomi Musch

  "Daddy gave his blessing. I am agreeable of course."

  Jacob smoothed away the frown that kept appearing and disappearing on his brow. He turned to align cans of beans on a shelf. "I see. I did not realize you and he..." He faced her again, but he didn't finish his sentence.

  She fiddled with her pocketbook. "Yes."

  "That is news."

  She leaned forward then straightened again. "I'm sorry, Jacob, if I gave you the impression—"

  He stopped her with a raised hand. "You do not owe me an apology. We are still friends."

  "Are we?"

  He nodded, but his shoulders didn't seem as broad or his height as tall when she left the store.

  ~~~~~

  Lang pulled a strand of barbed wire taut and hammered u-nails into a post as he thought of Delia. The struggle to keep from visiting her while he knew Theo would be busy at his job on the railroad over in Spooner was strong, but it wouldn't do. Not now. Delia was still too giddy over her new marriage. Let her get over her fascination with being a new bride first. Let her fall into a routine of Theo coming home tired and dirty and waiting to be fed, too exhausted to pay her all the attention she deserved. Let her wish for romance once it died. Then Lang would go to her and sweep her off her feet. He'd tell her all the things he'd held inside for the past three years. He would let her know how much he loved her, and then...then he'd take her away to someplace of their own. Not her father's. Someplace special of their very own. She would like that.

  There was Marilla in the meantime. Lang picked up another strand of wire and laid it against the post. He placed the nail and pounded. Marilla was not without her own charms, even if they weren't as pronounced as Delia's. He could care for her. He grabbed another nail. He did care for her. She was a good kid, but not so much a kid he couldn't appreciate a growing womanliness in her she was willing to lavish upon him.

  He had made his move with her just in time. If he had waited, she might have accepted Jacob Hessman. Why hadn't Lang acted as quickly with Delia? He grunted and walked down the fence line to wiggle the next post. He remembered why. Delia was golden. She was ethereal. She was a goddess. A man didn't just move with a goddess. He wooed her until she was won. Until she came to him of her own accord. Until he'd shown her father he was worth inviting into the fold.

  Well, Delia was experienced now. She was married, after all. The wooing could still be done, and now she would recognize his intent. Plus, she'd not be too shy to respond. He would just have to be patient, and having Marilla would help.

  By the time Lang finished with the fencing and carried the tools back to the house, Mr. Eckert and Marilla had returned from town. His heart picked up a pace not caused from the hike across the fields. He caught sight of Marilla coming out the screen door on the porch. She lifted her face and waved. He waved back.

  He sat across from her at the dinner hour just like usual. She looked at him from time to time, but he tried not to let the questions in his mind lay on his face. He had to wait on her father's answer, and he didn't want the man to have to delay his dinner because of him.

  At last, Mr. Eckert lay down his fork on his empty plate. He wiped a napkin across his mouth. "I suppose we can talk about the elephant attempting to dine with us." He looked at Lang with an expression that wasn't altogether too stern. Hopefulness flared. "Elma and I have discussed your proposition."

  Lang glanced at Rilla, whose sudden smile was shy, though her eyes were bright, and then at Mr. Eckert. "Yes, sir?"

  Mrs. Eckert reached over and patted Lang's hand.

  "You have our blessing to court Marilla," her father said, "as long as you respect and protect her purity. Are we understood?"

  Lang nodded. The man's tone had definitely grown sterner. "I will, sir."

  Mrs. Eckert's voice was warm and welcoming. "I trust you to take care with my baby girl. With Delia married now and moving on, I wouldn't want to see Rilla any less happy."

  He laid his other hand over hers. "You have my word, Mrs. Eckert." Then he turned to smile at Rilla.

  Her eyes, like oceans, washed with joy. "Thank you, Daddy. Thank you, Mama. He'll be good. I promise."

  Mr. Eckert's brows rose, but he chuckled. Her mother opened her arms when Rilla stood to hug her.

  When Marilla straightened to look at Lang, he held out his hand and she slipped hers inside. "Thank you, Mr. and Mrs. Eckert. We'll do our best to keep your trust."

  The dinner hour had come and gone, and Lang was at the outside pump filling his water jug for his washstand. Rilla came around the corner and charged into him, wrapping her arms around his neck. Water sloshed over his pants legs and her skirt. She squealed and laughed. Then she kissed him with a surprising passion easy to respond to.

  "Oh, Lang! I can't believe this is really happening. They said yes!"

  He rocked her back and forth. "It's not like I've asked for your hand."

  She held him fast, her face buried into his shoulder. "I know. Just so."

  "At least I haven't asked yet," he murmured into her hair.

  She lifted her head, and her eyes glowed. He could get lost in those eyes. At least for now.

  Chapter Nine

  November 1915

  November wind swam across the floors as someone opened the door and slammed it closed. "Brr! We must be in for snow. It feels like winter."

  Marilla turned on the edge of the bed, causing her mother's hand to slip from its work. "Rilla! You have to be still."

  "We're in here, Delia!"

  Delia stepped into the room, her face flush with cold and a sweater wrapped around her dress. "Are you almost ready?"

  Marilla nodded, jerking her mother's fingers again and eliciting a sigh of exasperation. "If you want me to pin your hair in place, you have to sit still."

  "Sorry, Mama. How does it look?"

  Her mother turned her shoulders toward the mirror. "Take a look."

  With a tiny intake of breath, she peered at her reflection, hardly able to believe who she was looking at. Her wedding gown held more decoration than Delia's had. Nipped below the bodice to accentuate her narrow waist, it fell almost to her ankles. The gown was dressed with lace and appeared to broaden her slender hips. Beadwork trimmed the bodice and edged the neckline, making her bosom appear fuller. Her mother had dressed her hair in a low bun with loose waves outlining her face.

  "And now the bandeaux." She eased the beaded bandeaux over Rilla's hair and tied its narrow ribbon beneath her low bun. It held her thin, silky strands in place and made her look and feel like royalty.

  "Mother..."

  "It's gorgeous, Rilla!" Delia cried and swept close to look beside her into the mirror. "How did you ever find time?"

  "I sent for it from Minneapolis."

  "And it arrived in time."

  She lowered her lashes and turned. No need to tell them she had ordered the dress weeks ago, before Lang had even proposed. She argued with herself that it would go into her hope chest until she needed it, believing in her heart she would need it.

  "You are lucky it fit so well," her mother said.

  She nodded. "I know. Do you think Lang will like it?"

  Delia smiled and gave her a gentle hug. "He will love it. He loves you! That's the most important thing."

  Lang loved her! He seldom said the words. In fact, he'd only told her he loved her when he asked her to marry him and once again just recently when she'd told him first. She had squirted him while milking, trying to get his attention, and had just said it. "I love you, Lang." Then he'd smiled and squirted her back. "I love you, too."

  He kissed her like he loved her, and sometimes she could tell he wanted to do more than kiss her, but he always stopped himself. Honestly, there were times it was good he did, because she wasn't sure she could have. She wondered if Delia had wondered as much about the honeymoon as she did. What a thrill it would be to take the train with Lang to Duluth, Minnesota for three whole nights! They would be away from everyone they knew and all alone wi
th eyes only for each other. She couldn't remember ever going three whole days without having to milk a cow or churn butter. It would be like heaven!

  And then... Then there would be her own housekeeping to tend to. She sat very still while Delia applied powder to lighten her skin and the smallest amount of rouge to blush her cheeks and brighten her lips.

  Her father, as promised, had given her and Lang the small acreage at the end of the road where the old homestead stood. Since they wouldn't be able to build a house for a while, they would move into the old, two-room cabin. Lang hadn't seemed as excited about the neglected cabin as Marilla was, but he just had a hard time imagining what it could be like.

  She and her mother and Delia took the task in hand of cleaning out the cobwebs and old chinking that had fallen from the logs and covered the rough plank floor. She'd scrubbed the old wood until she was sure nothing could be living in the cracks. She had added new curtains and liner in the open cupboards, while also spreading rag rugs over the floor. Lang, Theo, Theo's brothers, and her father had put new chinking between the logs where it was needed. They'd patched the roof and sealed the three small windows, replacing one pane of broken glass.

  Next spring, Rilla would plant some flowers and dig up a small patch for a garden. She would make the little cabin look like a home, and maybe Lang would find time to build her a chicken coup.

  "Have you been using lemon juice on your skin?" Delia asked.

  "Yes. Every day."

  Delia dabbed blotting paper on Marilla's lips. "I thought so. You've hardly a freckle."

  Marilla sighed. "That's good. I don't want Lang to still think I'm a kid."

  Delia stepped back to view her work. "Rilla, I swear, you have the most beautiful eyes. You don't even need liner."

  "Don't swear," her mother said. "It's unbecoming."

  Delia rolled her eyes.

  "And don't overdo the liner. We want her looking like a bride, not a lady of the evening."

  "Mama!" Marilla gasped.

  "I'm sure Lang won't mind." Delia giggled as she wagged her eyebrows.

  Both girls burst into laughter, and their mother couldn't suppress a grin. She moved past them. "I think I've heard enough. I'll see if your father is ready to head to the church."

  The November chill left a heavy frost on the brown grass when they'd gone out to milk that morning, and now the wind had whipped up, but Theo's brother William owned a car. To Rilla's relief, he offered to take her as well as her mother and sister to the church. The men would still have to come by wagon. There would be snowfall soon, and Marilla tried to remember if she'd packed an extra sweater in her suitcase for the trip up north. If she didn't, she would have to make do without. It was too late to check her bag. They planned to go straight to the train station after the wedding lunch in the church basement.

  Many more peripheral thoughts roamed through her mind as they drove into Shell Lake, but when the church came into sight, all thoughts fled away as she searched the grounds for evidence of Lang's arrival. A dozen conveyances lined the street from the church to Hessman's Store and the post office. Her heart pounded against her ribs. The car door opened, and Theo stood there, holding out his hand. She alighted from the automobile and tucked her head against the wind, hoping it wouldn't loosen her hair from its careful styling. She hastened up the church steps along with her mother and Delia. Another of Theo's brothers opened the door. They stepped inside out of the wind where calm provided a hush. With it she could hear the sound of her blood rushing in her ears. Theo removed her wool coat.

  Delia whispered to her as Theo removed hers too. "Let's take you downstairs before everyone sees you."

  "Is Lang here?"

  "I'm sure."

  They moved to the stairwell and waited in the basement. Marilla fidgeted until they heard the piano music begin. Delia's friend Judy appeared on the stairway. "They're ready for you."

  Marilla took a deep breath. Lang is up there, waiting for me. For a crazy moment, she was afraid everyone was wrong, that he had changed his mind, and it was all a dream. She pulled in a deep breath and steeled herself, forcing aside such notions. Nevertheless, her voice sounded thin, "I'm ready."

  Up the steps they went again, Marilla following last. Her mother went in on William's arm and sat in the front. Next, Delia strode down the aisle. Marilla's pulse throbbed in her wrists beneath her small bouquet. She was too jittery now to watch. Her father stepped beside her and gazed at her. "It's all you now. Marilla..." He closed his mouth. His eyes turned glassy. After a moment, he sniffed and dashed a knuckle beneath his eyes. "Never mind. You look beautiful." He kissed her forehead.

  She had never seen her father behave with such emotion before. Perhaps he had cried when Delia married, and she had missed it. Delia never said, but Rilla's heart filled. Daddy loves me. Her pulse calmed, and she turned her gaze to the front of the church where another waited to hold her heart and claim it. It was expected her father would feel something about that.

  Joy overcame all else as she stepped into the sanctuary. The three dozen guests they'd invited rose. She sought and found Lang. One by one, he watched them come up the aisle. Delia arrived at the front and turned to the side. Even from the back, Marilla could see Lang lick his lips. So he was nervous too. Then his gaze came to her, locked with hers. He gave her a smile, warming her.

  She wasn't nervous now. Not at all. How could she be nervous when all her dreams were coming true?

  ~~~~~

  Lang put his arm around his bride's slender waist when she stepped from the Sunday school room where she'd changed. Now she wore a blue flared skirt and jacket smoothed down over her hips with a high, belted waist. Cream-colored lace boots graced her feet, matching her wide-brimmed hat with its blue band. She looked very modern and fashionable, definitely a step up from the everyday clothes he was used to seeing her in. She blushed, bringing a pretty flush to her cheeks.

  He leaned near her ear. "I didn't know I was getting such a modern woman for a wife." Even as he said it, he wondered at it. Wife. It was such a foreign word, and one he had only ever attached to Delia. Now he was the husband of Delia's sister. Husband. Another strange concept. Marilla still didn't outshine Delia's rare beauty, but she was pretty in her own right. Especially with those eyes of hers that looked even more striking as she stood beside him dressed in blue. He would do his best to make her happy as long as he could until he won Delia over. By then Rilla would tire of him anyway. He would do her a favor in leaving. For now, they'd take married life and make the best of it. There was no sense in ruining a pleasant friendship, and the fringe benefits were worth it.

  They had their dinner on the train and arrived in Duluth late in the evening. Days before, Lang had made lodging arrangements for them at the prestigious Spalding Hotel. He enjoyed watching Rilla's eyes widen at the extravagant seven-story brick and sandstone building. "Wait until you see the inside," he said.

  "You've seen it?"

  "Only pictures. I knew right away, if we married, I'd bring you here."

  "Oh, Lang..."

  In the grand lobby, fitted with overstuffed furniture, she took a seat while he got them registered.

  "What are those rooms over there?" She asked when he returned to her side.

  "There are dining rooms, a barroom, and a billiard room."

  "Will we be eating there?" She nodded toward the wide doorway leading to one side of the building.

  "I'm told the main dining room is on the sixth floor." He held up a key. "Our room is on the fifth, just one floor below. The concierge tells me we will have an excellent view of the city."

  She gripped his arm, and he patted her hand then bent to pick up her case. "Shall we go up?"

  He would like to visit the billiard room, but that wasn't why they had come, nor was it the way he intended to spend his time. He had waited without a woman for a long time, ever since he had fallen for Delia. His bride would have all his attention for the next three days.

  Her finger
s trembled against his arm as he swung open the door to their room. A large, tall bed stood center, and light washed in over the room's sturdy furnishings from a double window. Rilla’s lips curved into a shy smile as she turned to him.

  "Is everything all right?"

  She nodded. "Oh, Lang, I'm so happy."

  He drew her inside and set her luggage on the floor.

  She let go of his arm and moved across the room to the window and peered below. "We're higher than the hayloft!"

  Lang chuckled and settled on the edge of the bed. "I suppose we are."

  "I can see Lake Superior."

  She turned to him. Her lashes swept downward and rose, and she stepped away from the window. Her hand outstretched to his, and their fingers touched.

  Lang's breathing quickened. He drew her to him and stilled her with a kiss. Though she trembled, she yielded. Lang removed the pins from her hair.

  He might have to wait for Delia a while, but with Rilla so willing to come to him, the wait might not seem as long.

  ~~~~~

  The three days of their honeymoon passed pleasurably. Lang almost wished they didn't have to come to an end. Content, for the time being, Lang laid his head back in the train car and slept for as much of the journey home as he could. Thankfully, Rilla didn't talk much either. He didn't feel like talking about the cabin, the farm, or the future. He thought about the last three days and for the dozenth time imagined them with Delia. The soft nights and the days of food and shopping in downtown Duluth... What would they have been like with her? Rilla had been pleased, and he didn't mind giving her tokens of enjoyment around the city, but in truth, there were times when he longed to share those moments with her sister.

  The train whistle blew, and Rilla roused him, whispering in his ear they were home. Home. With Rilla.

  Half an hour later, he opened the door of the two-room cabin and carried her over the threshold. While the place was roomier than his quarters on the farm had been, they still felt a bit foreign, or maybe that had to do a little with this girl he'd wed. She spun around and clasped her hands, her smile as big as the sun in the warm cabin. Someone had slipped in and built a fire, expecting their return. Probably Mr. Eckert.