Together Forever

by Jody Hedlund

  But every time he was with Marianne, he could think only of all the reasons why he wanted to be with her. Besides, they still had a few days until the so-called wedding was to take place. Surely he’d figure out something before then—a way to break things off without hurting Marianne or Jethro.

  “Once you’re my ma and pa, you can move in with us above the depot,” Jethro said. “You can take my spot in the bed, Miss Neumann. I don’t mind sleeping on the floor.”

  “Oh my.” Marianne gasped at his words.

  Drew grinned. “You’re too kind, Jeth. I’m sure Miss Neumann would be more than delighted to have your place in the bed.”

  “Only if you agree to sleep on the floor too,” she said while looking away.

  The thought of sleeping beside her stirred his blood, and he had to fight hard to keep the image from his mind. “I don’t snore too loudly, do I, Jeth?”

  “I don’t think so. Leastways, Mr. Brady don’t kick in his sleep,” Jethro responded cheerfully, completely unaware of the undercurrent between Drew and Marianne.

  Marianne began fanning herself with one of her gloved hands.

  Drew chuckled. “Hopefully, Miss Neumann doesn’t snore.”

  “I do nothing of the sort,” she said, flashing indignant eyes at him. “I’m quite docile when I sleep. Or so I’ve been told.”

  “Then we’ll make a boring pair.” As he spoke, his attention strayed to her mouth, and he knew they’d be anything but boring together.

  As though sensing his thoughts, she clamped her pretty lips together. Kissing her again was all Drew could think about for the rest of the ride, so he was grateful for Jethro’s steady stream of chatter that filled the heated silence between him and Marianne.

  The road north of town eventually turned into a rutted wagon path through tall grass. All around them, startled grasshoppers and butterflies rose up and flitted away. With but a few scattered clouds the June afternoon was promising to be a hot one, though the prairie breeze kept them from scorching in the sun.

  When finally the path descended into a valley and a copse of trees, Drew halted the team. Ahead was the creek, the clear water glistening in the sunlight.

  “We’re here.” Jethro jumped from the wagon and raced eagerly toward the bank.

  Drew was watching Marianne’s reaction to the shaded spot, relishing the delight that rippled across her features as she took in the surroundings—the oaks lining the creek, the wildflowers growing in abundance.

  “It’s lovely.” She rewarded him with a smile that made his heart expand with something he couldn’t explain, something he’d never felt before.

  “Your sister said there are wild raspberries around here.” He hopped down and retrieved several baskets from the wagon bed. “And she promised to make me fresh raspberry tarts if I picked her all the raspberries I could find.”

  With the childlike abandon he loved about her, Marianne joined in the raspberry picking, laughing and singing with him and Jethro as they attempted to fill their baskets, eating more than they picked.

  He realized again, as he had other times during their journey together, that even though she was much more organized than he was and took life more seriously, she adjusted quickly to his whims. She didn’t get exasperated or frustrated but rather accepted him for who he was, quirks and all. No one had ever done that before. Certainly not his family who’d tried to mold him into the proper Southern gentleman. Certainly not Charlotte who’d liked his flirting and fun ways but had ultimately expected him to fit a certain image as well.

  “Is it time to go swimming, Mr. Brady?” Jethro asked, looking longingly at the cool water of the creek.

  “I didn’t know you could swim,” Marianne said to the boy.

  “Oh, I can’t,” he responded. “But Mr. Brady told me he’d teach me today. And you too, Miss Neumann. He’s gonna teach us both to swim, so we never have to be afeared of drowning.”

  Marianne pushed up the brim of her hat, and her pretty but shocked brown eyes met Drew’s. “It would be unseemly for me to swim—”

  “Not in the least,” Drew said. “It’ll be fun.” Elise had told him the creek was shallow and slow moving, the perfect place to teach a young boy to swim.

  “I’ll sit in the shade of that lovely oak tree and watch you.” She picked up both hers and Jethro’s baskets and started toward the tree.

  Drew stepped in front of her to block her way. “Now, Miss Neumann,” he said in a low voice, “it’ll be no fun without you. Please, you have to join us.”

  She glanced again at the creek. He could tell she wanted to go in. And now it was his job to convince her that she could in fact do so. She shook her head. “I absolutely can’t. It would be entirely inappropriate.”

  “No one else will ever have to know.”

  She stared again at the water. “No. I really can’t. I have nothing to wear.”

  “I asked the maid at Elise’s house to pack a bag with an old dress.” He nodded to the back of the wagon where a small valise sat.

  Her eyes widened.

  Jethro was grinning. “See, Miss Neumann? You can go swimming with me after all.”

  A smile tugged at the corners of her lips. “Maybe I’ll get my feet wet.”

  Drew wasn’t about to tell her he was planning to make sure she was thoroughly soaked by the time they were done. He merely handed her the bag and nodded to an area of thick brush. “You can change over there. I promise Jeth and I will keep our backs to you and eyes on the creek.”

  In no time, she’d changed and was tiptoeing gingerly in the creek behind Jethro, who’d stripped down to his linen drawers. Drew had shed his coat and hat and socks and shoes, rolled up his pants and shirtsleeves, but had decided against baring himself any further in the presence of a lady.

  Their clothing would weigh them down a little, yet the creek wasn’t deep, only up to their waists. Jethro plunged into the creek while Drew hung on to him, swirling the boy around and letting him get accustomed to the feel of the water. Marianne stood close to the bank, ankle-deep in the creek.

  As he was working with Jethro, he tried not to stare at her bare calves. But his gaze kept returning there nonetheless. When at last Jethro started making progress, he crooked a finger at Marianne, grinned, and beckoned her to step deeper.

  “I’m perfectly fine where I am,” she said, stirring the water with one of her feet.

  “Don’t make me come and get you.”

  Next to him, Jethro was doggy-paddling, and he stopped to watch the interaction with a wide grin. With his feet touching the bottom, he had to hold his chin high to keep it out of the water.

  “Mr. Brady,” she said, “you wouldn’t dare drag me out there.”

  He started toward her, the water and his wet trousers slowing his steps.

  At his advance, her eyes widened, and she took a wobbly step backward.

  “Miss Neumann, you should know by now not to dare me to do anything.”

  “Ah yes, I should have remembered that. Even so, I don’t believe you’re so callous to my wishes that you’d force me deeper into the water against my will.”

  “Don’t worry. I’m not callous to your wishes.” Then he sent a spray of water her way so that it splashed against her dress.

  Surprise registered on her face momentarily, but then she reached down and sent a wave of water back at him.

  He grinned and continued toward her.

  She splashed him again. And then again, as if the water would slow his progress. When he was almost upon her, she spun away and started to run toward shore—or at least made a brave attempt at it. He was much more nimble in the water than she was, and within a few seconds he had hold of her waist and scooped her up into his arms so that he was holding her like an infant.

  As he turned and headed back toward the creek, she squirmed and squealed with laughter. “Jethro!” she called. “Save me!”

  The boy’s laughter mingled with Marianne’s, and Drew couldn’t imagine a sweete
r sound than the two of them together.

  By the time he reached the middle of the creek, she was clinging to him as the water came up and bathed her, soaking her back and legs. For a long moment he just held her, content to feel her arms around his neck and the press of her body against his.

  “This isn’t so bad, now, is it?” he asked.

  “I guess not,” she said, dropping one of her hands into the water and swishing it back and forth.

  “Then I think you’re ready to go under.”

  “Go under?”

  “Yes. Plug your nose.” Before she could protest, he sank down, dragging her with him.

  She barely had time to pinch her nose before he plunged them both underwater. The creek was clean and clear enough that he didn’t close his eyes but instead watched her reaction. With the sunlight streaking through the water and the bubbles, he took in the delight and fascination on her face. Her long hair swirled around her, and his heart ached at her beauty.

  He kept them submerged for only a few seconds before pushing back up and breaking through the surface. She spluttered and laughed and gasped, all the while clinging to him as if her life depended upon it.

  “Do it again!” Jethro cried happily. “Do it again!”

  Drew was all too happy to oblige and sank back under the water again. Before long, Marianne had wiggled free of his embrace and was splashing around on her own, dipping below the surface. They attempted to swim and floated on their backs and played tag until finally Jethro called out that he was hungry.

  Drew spread a blanket in the sun and unpacked the basket of sandwiches, sweet pickles, oatmeal cookies, and lemonade Mrs. Gray had provided for their outing. Dripping wet, they settled themselves on the blanket and devoured every bit of the food. Satisfied and full and drying out, they moved into the shade of an oak on the side of the gently sloping bank.

  Drew lay back and pulled Jethro into the crook of one arm and Marianne into the other. He was glad when Marianne snuggled against him, settling in as though it was the most natural thing in the world for her to lie next to him. He didn’t bring any attention to the fact that her damp clothes clung to her body and outlined her curves. He was unwilling to disturb the peace of the moment. Instead, he kept his eyes on the leaves overhead and entertained them with escapades of his own childhood swimming adventures.

  Eventually the deep rise and fall of Jethro’s chest told him the boy had fallen asleep. He glanced down to see that Marianne’s eyes were closed and that she seemed to be on the verge of sleep as well.

  He allowed himself to stare at her delicate features, the graceful lines of her eyes and nose, the smoothness of her cheeks and chin, and the dip in her upper lip. She released a soft sigh, and he tightened his hold. She responded by burrowing further into his side, laying her hand across his chest and turning her head so that her lips were only inches from his.

  The desire to lean in and kiss her was so powerful, his body tensed with the need. God, help me, but I want to marry this woman. His silent prayer rose in a plea for help. He needed God to keep him from hurting her in any way. He truly wanted to cherish her. And surely a soft kiss on her brow wouldn’t hurt anything.

  He bent in and pressed his lips against her forehead in the spot between her eyebrows.

  Marianne smiled at the tenderness of his touch. The day had been wonderful in just about every way. And now in the shade, with a soothing breeze lulling them to sleep, she couldn’t imagine a more perfect way to end the outing.

  His touch moved to one of her eyelids, and only then did she realize the feathery brush was from his lips. Her heart jumped in her chest, and she held her breath as he sweetly and gently moved to her other eye and left a whisper of a kiss there too.

  She didn’t stir, didn’t want the moment to end, especially as he moved his mouth to her cheek. She expected the trail of kisses to continue until he made it to her jaw. So when he began to pull back, as though wrenching himself away from her, she decided not to let him. She chased after his lips, finding them with her own. Lifting her hand to his hair, she whispered against his partly open mouth, “Drew . . .”

  He needed no other invitation. His lips came against hers with a hunger the other, softer kisses had apparently awakened. The hard, devouring pressure consumed her all at once. She would have moaned with the pleasure of the kiss, but it was so deep that she could only dig her fingers into his hair to communicate her need for more.

  “Mr. Brady?” came a small voice. “Why are you eating Miss Neumann?”

  Drew jerked back at the same time she scrambled away from him. She crawled off the blanket and stood in the sunshine out from under the shade of the tree at an appropriate distance from Drew.

  Drew hadn’t moved except to grin down at Jethro. “I wasn’t eating her, buddy.”

  “Then what were you doing?” Jethro didn’t move from the crook of Drew’s arm but was wide awake now.

  Marianne twisted at the tangled loose strands of her damp hair, mortified the boy had witnessed such an impassioned outburst between her and Drew.

  “That’s the kind of kiss you give the woman you’re about to marry,” Drew said in his Southern twang. When he looked up at her, the passion simmering in his eyes made her breath catch. For a moment, she could almost believe he really did want to marry her, that his proposal was more than just an answer to a challenge.

  “I ain’t never seen a kiss like that,” Jethro said with disgust in his voice. “Believe me, I ain’t gonna kiss a girl thataway.”

  Drew ruffled Jethro’s red curls. “See that you don’t. At least until you find the right woman.” Was she the right woman? As if he’d heard her unasked question, he added unabashedly, “Like I have.”

  It was then she realized she wanted to marry him too, that she didn’t just want to do so for Jethro or because she had to prove something. She wanted him.

  She offered him a shy smile and was relieved when he gave her a big, happy grin that told her he felt the same way.

  Jethro seemed to forget about witnessing their kiss and ran off to swim in the creek again. Drew joined him for a while, and Marianne changed out of her damp clothes into the new yellow gown Fanny had made for her.

  It still amazed her that Fanny had her own shop. The young Irish woman had been among the poor women at Miss Pendleton’s Seventh Street Mission when she and Elise worked there last year. Fanny acted as their tormenter, inciting the other women against them.

  The Irishwoman had been part of Elise’s group of women sent to Illinois by the Children’s Aid Society during the financial crisis, which hit the major cities in the East last fall. Somehow, during all the hardships of those early months in Quincy, Fanny and Elise became friends. And now Fanny was operating a flourishing business as Quincy’s main seamstress. Every time Marianne had gone for a fitting, it was clear that the young woman was quite satisfied with her new life.

  Marianne returned to the blanket with a hairbrush and watched Drew and Jethro play together. She was too distracted by the sight of Drew to make much of an effort at brushing the tangles out of her hair. His shirt clung to his body, outlining his muscular chest and arms and making her think about being wrapped against that chest within those arms.

  When he climbed out of the creek and shook himself like a wet dog, she had to look away lest he read her thoughts. He came and sat down next to her, and for a little while they watched Jethro, applauded his efforts as he yelled “Watch me!” over and over.

  “He’s quite the fish,” she said once Jethro was distracted by collecting rocks from the creek bed. “He learned to swim quickly.”

  “All children should learn how to swim,” Drew said somberly. “For their own safety.”

  Was he thinking of George again, of how he believed the boy had drowned?

  Before she could ask him, he reached for the brush in her hand. He took it from her and held it up. “May I?”

  “Of course.”

  He scooted behind her and placed the brush
against her hair. She leaned out of his reach. “I thought you were planning to brush your own hair,” she said with a laugh. “You most certainly cannot brush mine.”

  “Why not? You’re not making any progress, and I only want to offer my expert services.”

  “Expert services? Exactly how many women have given you the privilege of brushing their hair that you’re such the expert?”

  Even though she teased, she couldn’t keep a tiny prick of jealousy at bay or the realization that she didn’t know much about Drew’s past. Sure, he’d shared funny stories, like he had earlier about swimming with his brother, but he never divulged the more serious memories such as how he felt about his family, his parents, or his life.

  “To be honest,” he said, “I’ve never actually brushed any woman’s hair. But I’ve watched you and other agents comb the girls’ hair. Doesn’t that qualify me as an expert?”

  She pretended to weigh the decision as if she were a judge handing out a sentence. “Very well. I’ll allow you to put to the test your expertise. But under one condition.”

  He quirked a brow.

  “You’ll tell me more about your family and your past.”

  His expression fell, and clouds blew through his blue-green eyes as swiftly as a summer storm forming on the horizon. He twirled the brush in his hand and didn’t answer her.

  “Would it help if I promised to tell you my dark secrets too?” she asked, not entirely sure she wanted to reveal everything to him either. But if they were planning to go through with marriage by the end of the week, didn’t they owe it to each other to be completely honest?

  He studied the brush and then met her gaze. “You drive a hard bargain.”

  She smiled with what she hoped was sympathy and encouragement and then settled back into the spot she’d occupied before. He tentatively touched her hair, which made her body tense in anticipation.

  His fingers moved higher and then skimmed down. When he lifted them and dug into her thick hair again, she closed her eyes in pleasure. “So you’ve decided to comb my hair with your fingers instead of the brush?”