He started to slowly move in and out, and she raised her hips to meet him, wanting him inside her. Her arms wrapped around him just as her legs wrapped around his hips. “It feels so good,” she mumbled. Ellen should have told her it felt wonderful.
“Thank God,” he whispered, speeding up the pace. “It may not happen for you this first time, but if it doesn’t, we’ll try again.”
“What may not happen?” She was surprised at how breathless her voice sounded. She was winded, but not even certain why.
His thrusts were fast and strong now, driving into her with a quick and steady rhythm. Suddenly he cried out, arching and moving into her one last time. She lay beneath him, aware that she hadn’t felt as good as she had with his finger, but she’d still felt wonderful. He had buried his face in her neck, and she stroked his shoulders, letting him know without words that he’d made her feel good.
After what seemed like hours, he rolled off of her and pulled her to his side, her head pillowed on his shoulder. “Thank you.” He brushed a sweet kiss across her forehead.
She looked at him in surprise. “Why are you thanking me?”
“Because you were still frightened, but you let me make love to you anyway.” He kissed the top of her head, hugging her tightly to him.
“You could tell?” She had wanted to hide it better than that.
He laughed. “You were shaking like a leaf. Of course I could tell. And you told me you were afraid.” His hands were still moving against her back, a constant reminder that he had the right to touch her anytime he wanted. “Will you be frightened next time?”
She shook her head, her hair tickling his shoulder. “How could I be frightened of something that feels so good?” She felt silly having been so afraid of it before. She needed to write to Harriett and tell her it didn’t always hurt. Of course, she wasn’t sure she could write that to anyone, even Harriett.
He smiled, pulling her even closer to his side. “Good, because I want that to happen between us often.”
She sighed contentedly. “So do I.” She yawned and snuggled happily into his side. “I’m tired.” Her eyes drifted closed, her head pillowed on his arm.
“Me too.” His closed his eyes even as his hands continued to stroke her. “Morning can’t come soon enough.”
“Why’s that?” she asked only half awake.
“So we can do this again in the morning light.”
She smiled. “Sounds like a good plan to me.”
*****
Malinda woke with a smile on her lips. She didn’t know what was making her happy, but she knew she was happier than she’d been for a long time. She felt something pulling her hair and she reached out to tug her hair away from whatever it was, and realized it was Wesley’s shoulder.
He was still asleep, facing her on his side in the bed. She stared at him openly in a way she’d never been able to look at him before, because she always knew he was watching. She reached out a finger and traced his features, his nose, his eyes, his mouth. How could she have been afraid of the glorious pleasure she’d felt the previous night under his hands and body? She was certain she’d made the right choice for her heart and body when she’d married Wesley. She just hoped she’d made the right choice for her fears.
His eyes blinked awake and he saw her lying in the morning light, watching him. “G’morning.”
She brushed her lips across his, enjoying the feel of his morning stubble on her chin. “Good morning.”
“Been awake long?”
She shrugged. “Just for a minute or two. I love watching you sleep.” She trailed her fingers along the side of his face.
He laughed. “I can’t imagine what you’d enjoy about that.”
“When your face is that relaxed, you look like a little boy.” She grinned at him, wondering if he’d like the comparison.
His hand came up to cup her cheek. “A little boy? Are you sure?”
She nodded with a grin. “Positive.” Her thumb rubbed along his bottom lip, noticing it was swollen. She wondered if hers looked the same.
He pulled her up against him and she felt his erection pushing against her. “Would a little boy touch you this way?”
She made a face, rubbing his shoulders. “I hope not. But I’m glad you are!”
He laughed and pushed her to her back, his hands roaming up and down the body that he now knew as well as his own. “That’s a good thing, because I’m not planning on stopping anytime soon.”
*****
She couldn’t quit grinning as she fixed breakfast, thrilled that he was no longer angry with her and that marital relations weren’t nearly as bad as she’d worried they would be.
Ellen had explained how to make French toast the previous day, so she tried it for the first time. She’d certainly eaten it enough to know how it should look and taste, and after understanding the basics of how to do it, she was ready to give it a try. She found some maple syrup in the cellar, and brought that up along with the tiny bit of butter that was left. She would have to get Ellen to teach her to churn butter, she thought. She knew how to churn it, but she was uncertain about what exactly went into it. Ellen wouldn’t mind.
Somehow the act of pleasing her husband in bed made her feel a lot more confident about her homemaking skills. It was as if knowing how to please him one way made her feel like she could please him in every way.
When he sat down for breakfast, she slipped his plate onto the table in front of him and put her own down. After he’d said a prayer for them, they ate. She was surprised at how well breakfast had come out and enjoyed seeing his eyes light up at the first bite. “This is really good.”
“Thank you.” She couldn’t keep her eyes off his face, so different now that he’d shaved. “Are you coming home for lunch today?” There were leftovers from the night before she could warm up.
He smiled. “I’ll come home for lunch every day, if you’d like.”
“I’d love that. I’ll make sure I have something ready for you around noon.”
He took her hand in his and squeezed it tightly. “Being married to you is going to be just as wonderful as I’d imagined it would be.”
She smiled. “I think so, too. I’m sorry I was such a baby about things and got us off to such a bad start.” She hoped things were completely better between them, but he still seemed to be hesitant. She couldn’t blame him, though. She’d been the one to mess things up from the start.
He shook his head. “I understand you were afraid. I just wish you’d have trusted me from the very beginning.”
“I did, but I didn’t. I couldn’t imagine you ever hurting me, but I had some preconceived notions.” She stared down at her plate wishing things were different between them.
He finished his breakfast and stood up, bending down to kiss her softly. “I’ll see you for lunch.” He grabbed his hat from the hook by the kitchen door and left for the morning.
She immediately jumped out of her chair and got the hot water ready for the breakfast dishes and made the bed. She didn’t want Ellen seeing the house like she had the previous morning. From that moment on, she would be the best wife anyone had ever seen.
Chapter Seven
Malinda followed Wesley’s directions exactly as she walked to Mary Pickering’s house on Friday afternoon. She was so nervous, she’d written a letter to Mrs. Pickering claiming to be ill before tearing it up and throwing it into the fire. It was important to Wesley that she make friends other than Ellen in town, so she was going to do it no matter how hard it was for her.
She stopped in front of the medium-sized wood house which had been freshly painted white. There were several flower beds in the front of the house, making it very welcoming. After taking several deep breaths for courage, Malinda knocked on the door, waiting patiently for someone to come. She hoped no one was home, but knew she was being silly. She didn’t really want someone to invite her over and then not be home when she got there.
After a moment, Mrs. Pickering
came to the door and opened it wide. “Mrs. Harris, come in! None of the other ladies are here yet, but they should be any moment.”
“Thank you for having me.” Malinda stepped inside and looked around the house, admiring the way it had been decorated. Mrs. Pickering didn’t have the kind of décor she’d admired at Harriett’s house, or even at Patrick’s house, but it was still very tastefully done. It seemed much homier than the other houses. The curtains were made of a pretty blue gingham cloth, and the pillows on the sofa matched. Looking around, Malinda saw several things she would like to duplicate in her own home if Wesley didn’t mind.
“I thought we’d sit in here,” Mrs. Pickering told her. “I only invited two other ladies because you seemed a little shy in church on Sunday. Is that all right?” Mrs. Pickering remained standing while she invited Malinda to take a seat on the sofa.
Malinda nodded. “That’s perfect.” She looked down at her hands for a moment. “I do have trouble meeting new people. I’m okay one on one, but a big group at once is hard for me.” She smiled at the older woman, thankful she’d been so attuned to her feelings that she had only invited two people.
“I thought so. Excuse me.” Mrs. Pickering hurried from the room at the sound of a knock on the door.
She led two other women into the room, both of them around Malinda’s age. Malinda breathed a sigh of relief that she wouldn’t be in a room with several older women. She would be much more at ease with women her own age. “Mrs. Harris, I’d like you to meet Joan Smith,” she indicated a short blond woman, “and Beatrice Brown. They’re both new to our town as well.” Beatrice was a tall willowy brunette with sad eyes.
Malinda nodded at the two. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“Make yourselves comfortable. I need to get the refreshments.” The three younger women sat down together while Mrs. Pickering hurried out of the room.
Malinda looked at the other two, wondering what she should say to them. She felt drawn to Beatrice because her eyes were so sad, so she started with her. “What brings you to Gammonville?”
“My husband and I were on our way through here, heading to California with a wagon train, when I lost the baby I was carrying. We stayed on because there was a doctor here, and I needed care.” The woman looked down at her hands, her eyes filled with tears.
Malinda reached out and took the other woman’s hand. “I’m so sorry. How long ago was that?” She couldn’t imagine how hard it would be to lose a child and her heart went out to Beatrice.
“Just a month.”
No wonder her eyes look so sad. “So will you be continuing on to California once you’re recovered or are you planning to stay here in Colorado?” Malinda hoped she’d stay, because there was something about the other woman that made her feel as if she’d make a good friend.
“My husband is a blacksmith, and the town needed a blacksmith, so it looks like we’re staying.” Beatrice shrugged as if she didn’t care whether they stayed or moved on to California.
“How do you feel about that?” Malinda asked.
“Oh, fine. At least I know people here. California would be strange and new. I’m not good at meeting new people.”
“Neither am I!” Malinda exclaimed. She turned to Joan. “What about you? How long have you been in town?” She felt bad she’d left Joan out of the conversation, but she didn’t feel as drawn to her as she did to Beatrice.
“I’ve been here close to a year. I came here with my parents because my father had some work to do for the railroad. I met my husband and just stayed. They moved on about nine months ago.”
“Do you like it here?”
Joan shrugged. “It’s fine. I was tired of traveling, and my husband is a sweetheart.”
Mrs. Pickering walked back into the room then, carrying a tray loaded with a teapot, cups and several different kinds of cookies. Malinda jumped up to help her. “I’ve got it,” Mrs. Pickering told her as she lowered the tray onto the small table in front of the couch.
Mrs. Pickering took the seat beside Malinda on the couch because the other two women were sitting in the arm chairs. “We’re having a church bake sale in a month. I hope I can count on the three of you to bake up some treats to help raise money for our new church bell.”
Malinda nodded. “I can help with that. What’s needed?” Maybe doing some baking would make her feel more a part of the new community.
Mrs. Pickering poured out tea for the three younger ladies before jumping up to run from the room. “I’ll get my list.” Malinda blinked. She certainly was spry for a woman of her age. When she returned, she read over the list. “We have cookies and a few cakes. Can any of you bake a good pie?” Mrs. Pickering looked between the three younger women, waiting for one of them to volunteer.
“I can. What kind?” Malinda asked.
“Why don’t you do a cherry and an apple? Would that be too much?”
Malinda shook her head, getting the impression it didn’t matter if it was too much or not. “That’s fine. Just give me the date before I go so I’ll know when to bake them.”
The talk for the rest of the afternoon centered around the bake sale, which Mrs. Pickering was organizing. When it was time to leave, Malinda breathed a sigh of relief. That hadn’t been nearly as bad as she’d expected and she now knew three women at the church she could talk to. There was a slight spring in her step as she hurried home to fix dinner. She was glad that was over.
*****
Malinda and Wesley had been married for two weeks when she realized she’d need to make a trip to the mercantile to get more staples. They were almost out of beans, rice, flour and sugar. She’d never asked him for money for anything, so she was hesitant to go to him. Their marriage was better than it had been in the beginning, but he still seemed sad about something. She wondered if they’d ever get past the bad start their marriage had.
On Sunday evening, she said, “I need to go to the mercantile in the morning. We’re almost out of food.” She stood in front of where he sat on the couch, wringing her hands nervously.
He glanced up. “No problem. I got paid yesterday.” He stood and dug some money out of his pocket and handed it to her.
“How much can I spend? All of this?” He’d handed her several dollar coins and she would happily use them all, but not if they would be destitute if she did.
He dug into a box underneath the small table that sat next to the sofa. He handed her the paper which had “Household Expenses” written across the top. She looked down at the list. Rent, milk and egg delivery, and groceries. He had given her a five dollar a month budget for food and miscellaneous items.
“So if I need a new dress, the money needs to come out of this five dollars a month?” she asked, knowing there’s no way she would be able to make that work for anything more than food, if she could stretch it that far. She briefly wondered how he’d feel if she took his rifle and went out and shot a deer to give them more meat. She sat down beside him on the sofa as she tried to figure out how she’d stretch the money she’d been given.
He nodded. “If you can fit it in that amount, then you can have it.”
“Okay.” Her mind was spinning as she snuggled into his side. How was she even going to be able to feed both of them on five dollars a month, let alone be able to buy other things they needed, like kerosene for the lamps? He was asking her to be extremely frugal which she didn’t mind, but she’d hoped to be able to put some money away for a rainy day.
The five one dollar coins were clenched in her fist. She really needed to put them up where she wouldn’t lose them, but she was too content sitting beside him. There’d be plenty of time to worry about finances tomorrow when he wasn’t home and couldn’t watch her do it.
Before bed that evening, she tucked the coins away on the dresser wrapped in a clean handkerchief. She’d carry that to the mercantile with her the next morning. Maybe she should think about what Angela had said about sewing for the miners. She didn’t want to make Wesley feel like h
e didn’t make enough money though. She’d think of something.
She removed her dress and climbed into bed beside Wesley. When winter came, she wouldn’t be able to sleep without a nightgown, but for as long as she could, she’d make him happy this way.
After they’d made love, she laid awake long into the night, trying to figure out how she was going to make the small household budget be enough, while still saving money for a rainy day. She wouldn’t be able to be content in her marriage as long as she was panicking about money, and she wouldn’t be able to stop panicking about money until she had some saved.
*****
After Malinda had finished doing the breakfast dishes, she left for the mercantile the following morning. Ellen still came over to see her frequently, but she was busy now that she’d started volunteering at the orphanage and didn’t make it over every day.
It was a short walk, and she enjoyed wandering slowly through the streets of the small town. She passed both the bank and the sheriff’s office, looking over at them. She wondered if it would bother Wesley if she popped in during the day. She looked at the building where Wesley worked for a minute before wandering in.
Wesley was sitting at the desk in the office, and there was a man lying on the cot in the single jail cell sleeping. Wesley looked up when she walked in. “Well, hi there!”
Malinda smiled and walked over to him, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek. “Hi.”
“What brings you this way?” Wesley’s grin told her he was happy to see her.
“I was on my way to the mercantile and when I saw the jail, I thought I’d stop in and see you for a minute.” She looked around. “I’ve never actually been in a jail before.”
Wesley laughed. “That’s a good thing.” He looked around him. “Not much to see really. There’s the jail.” He pointed to the cell. “This is my desk.” He shrugged. “You’ve had the entire tour now.”
Mail Order Mistake Page 9