Waking Lucy

by Lorin Grace

  Samuel remembered the other thing he wanted to do when Lucy was out of the room. He pulled down the family Bible and opened it to the back, where Grandfather Stickney had kept the family records. He found Lucy’s mother and Mr. Simms’s marriage. Lucy’s name was not written where he expected it to be. When he found it, he recognized the same hand from his own family’s Bible—his mother’s elegant script. Surely his mother had made an error. Lucy was listed as a Stickney, not a Simms. But her birthday of December 12 fell three months after Anna’s wedding date to Mr. Simms.

  Samuel stared at the page. He’d heard unkind things about Anna and Lucy from an old gossip or two. When Mr. Simms died, there had been comments made by even the more pious members of the congregation, but he’d thought little of it. So general was the dislike of Mr. Simms he thought it natural.

  Anna Stickney Simms Marden was his mother’s closest friend and not the type of woman who would bear a child out of wedlock. She’d married before Lucy’s birth. Traditionally Lucy should bear Mr. Simms’s name. And publicly she had. He’d never heard her called by any other. A few people did call her Miss Marden, but they’d moved here more recently and would assume she had her stepfather’s name. His mother must know something about it as she’d written it in the Bible. He wondered if Lucy knew. She’d never corrected anyone when they called her Simms.

  He turned the page to where he’d written in their marriage information and read it several times before it dawned on him. He’d married Lucy Simms, not Stickney. The reverend had used the name Simms. Was their marriage invalid? Lucy must not know her name was listed as Stickney or she would have used that argument. He didn’t know who to ask about the legality. An incorrect question to Reverend Woods could start a series of embarrassing sermons to both of them. Magistrate Garrett could not be approached for fear of Elizabeth learning of the conversation. Perhaps he would corner his mother tomorrow.

  More pressing, the twelfth was next Tuesday, which left him precious little time to complete his birthday surprise. Samuel went out to the barn to work on it.

  Supper was more relaxed than dinner, mostly due to the subject revolving around tomorrow’s church meeting and all the friends Sarah hadn’t seen in weeks. Both Lucy and Samuel reassured her she wouldn’t need to tell anyone of her parents’ deaths as Reverend Woods would have taken care of the announcement.

  After hauling out the tub and preparing Sarah’s bath, Samuel headed to the barn and made himself scarce. By the time he returned for Bible reading, Lucy sat brushing through the last of Sarah’s snarls as the little one’s hair dried near the fire. Lucy sent him a quizzical look when he emptied the tub, but she made no comment. She wasn’t about to bring up the subject of Samuel’s needing to bathe.

  Sarah had no such qualms. “Samuel, aren’t you going to take a bath too?”

  “Later,” he mumbled.

  “Is Lucy going to help you wash your hair and back?”

  Mortified, Lucy shook her head. “No!” she blurted the same time as Samuel.

  “Samuel is a big person. He can do his own hair and back,” Lucy explained not daring to look at his sandy hair or broad shoulders.

  “But Mama used to help Papa. I would hear them laughing up in my room.”

  Lucy closed her eyes and breathed deeply, hoping an answer would come before her face turned as red as a cherry. Mama and Papa Marden’s habit was to take their baths locked in their room late Saturday nights, and more than once Papa’s rich laughter had floated down from the room.

  Again, Samuel came to the rescue. “Lucy has already helped with your bath tonight. I think she will be too tired to help with mine.”

  Sarah accepted the answer and dropped the subject.

  “Shall we read?” Samuel asked, getting the Bible down and opening to the last chapter of Ecclesiastes.

  “Can I help you read? You point at the words, and I will tell you the ones I know.” Sarah bounced as she asked the question. At Samuel’s nod, she climbed into his lap.

  Together they read the chapter. After two or three verses, they fell into a rhythm, with Sarah reading all the small words and Samuel filling in all the words in between.

  “Remember…

  “… now thy”?

  Samuel nodded at her pronunciation before continuing. “Creator”

  “… in the… ”

  “…days of thy youth, while… ”

  “… the… ”

  “… evil days come not, nor… ”

  “… the… ” Sarah beamed.

  “… years draw nigh, when thou shalt… ” Samuel smiled at Sarah as she scrutinized the next word.

  “… say”

  “I have… ”

  “… no… ” Sarah almost shouted the familiar word.

  “… pleasure in them.”

  When they got to the end of the chapter, Sarah pointed to the large words at the top of the next page. “The S-song of—What’s that word?”

  “Solomon.” Lucy noted the color rising in Samuel’s face as he answered.

  “So tomorrow we are going to start the Song of Solomon? I didn’t know they wrote songs in the Bible.”

  “No, I think we will skip to”—Samuel turned the pages—“the book of the prophet Isaiah.” Samuel pointed to the title.

  “But you said we would read everything as long as there were not any begats ’cause they are long and boring.”

  “Well, the Song of Solomon is all about the begats, so that is why we are skipping it.”

  “Oh, all right, then.” Sarah patted Samuel’s arm. “Tuck me in?” she asked, jumping off his lap. Samuel followed her up the stairs.

  Lucy scooted over into the seat Samuel had occupied earlier and turned back several pages. Curious, she began to read the Song of Solomon. She paused at the second verse. She’d tasted wine several times. The first time was at Mama and Papa Marden’s wedding. It had tasted like vinegar and grapes, and she’d spit it out. Samuel’s kiss tasted much better than the wine. Why would the Bible say love was better than wine? Maybe they didn’t press fresh apple cider in the fall to compare it too. Samuel’s kiss tasted much more like fresh-pressed cider than wine. But how did love compare?

  Lost in her musings, she did not hear Samuel come down the stairs or walk up behind her. Her index finger rested at the side of the second verse. Straddling the bench next to her, he covered the hand on the Bible with his own. Startled, Lucy lifted her head, her mouth hanging open slightly, unsure what to do. She looked down at the Bible and tried to extract her hand while shutting the book, but Samuel’s hand prevented her from doing both.

  “What are you reading, Lucy?”

  “Nothing,” she lied.

  Samuel used his free hand to lift Lucy’s chin and turn her face to his. His eyebrow quirked, questioning her integrity.

  “I mean, I was just reading the Bible.” She trailed off, seeing the twinkle in his eye. No use lying. He knew.

  “You know the Song of Solomon is pretty heavy reading for a woman who claims to be unwed.”

  “I was just… ” Lucy fidgeted, no excuse coming to mind. She met his eyes for a moment longer before dropping her gaze to his lips. The verse filled her mind.

  “I believe you were reading ‘Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth: for thy love is better than wine.’”

  Lucy’s eyes bounced back up to his as he closed the distance between them. Lucy knew she should jump up and leave, and he was giving her enough time to do just that, but her body wouldn’t listen. Instead, she heeded the Bible verse and let him kiss her, leaning into him to make it easier. Her eyes fluttered closed. Definitely better than new cider.

  When the kiss ended, she found her hand resting on his shoulder, her heart betraying her mind’s command. Samuel rested his forehead on hers.

 
“Until you are resolved that we are married, I suggest you don’t read any further.” The huskiness of his voice resonated all the way to her toes. Lucy pulled back and shut the Bible.

  “I think you are right. It should not be read by someone who is unwed.”

  “But are you?”

  “Am I what?”

  “Unwed?”

  “I think so,” she answered shakily, for at that moment she wanted to be wed.

  “You are no longer sure?”

  “Samuel.” She drew his name out the same way her mama did when she was exasperated. “I can’t trap you. I won’t have your life ruined because I took sick and you chose to save my life.”

  “Do I seem trapped to you?” Samuel held out both arms, a grin brightening his face.

  Lucy studied him. He still sat close, though no longer touching her. She would need to move two or three inches to rekindle the connection and place her lips back on his. Samuel looked much more relaxed than she felt.

  “No, you don’t seem trapped now, but what about next year? What happens when you realize you made a big mistake?”

  Samuel raised his hand and cupped her cheek. “Lucy, you are many things, but never a mistake.” He placed a kiss on her brow and stood to leave.

  Lucy grabbed his hand. “You are sure?”

  “Yes, sweetheart, I am sure.” Samuel walked out the lean-to door without his coat.

  Lucy stared at the vacant doorway, feeling more confused than ever. He seemed determined to maintain their sham marriage. Maybe he would change his mind after going to church tomorrow. Elizabeth was sure to be there. She would make him see the mistake he was making. The thought of church reminded Lucy that Samuel had yet to bathe, so she hurried to the bedroom and shut the door. Noticing the slide bolt, she decided to use it. Not so much to keep Samuel out as to keep her in. After that last kiss, she wanted more, but she suspected that, just like drinking too much cider at pressing time, too many of his kisses would cause a stomach ache. Or worse.

  Samuel needed to cool off. Sitting inside, he’d had to fight the urge to pull her into his lap for a better kiss. Lucy needed to come to her own conclusions about their marriage. Too many kisses would press an unfair advantage. Or one exceptionally good one. He’d pressed her as far as he dare tonight. If she were smart, Lucy would go to bed while he was outside and would lock the bedroom door.

  Twenty-two

  Elizabeth Garrett flounced into the little white church. She timed her entrance perfectly, as usual, making sure she had the maximum audience to admire her new dress. She opened the frog on her cloak, resting the fabric as far back on her shoulders as possible. The deep-red block print drew every eye. She knew the ladies were eyeing the delicate rose print. The single men, and perhaps a few of the married, were wondering if their good fortune would include witnessing Elizabeth removing her fichu from the daringly low neckline. Her gaze slid to the Wilson pew. Samuel was not there—again. She knew he would be back to church, and for her, soon. Her brother had told her and her mother all about his ridiculous marriage.

  Elizabeth rolled her eyes. No one would take it seriously. Her father said that he heard Lucy hadn’t even been completely awake, but since the intentions had been properly posted, he could not find legal fault with the nuptials. More than once, Mother had insinuated that Lucy had been born on the wrong side of the blanket. “Like mother, like daughter. Trapping some innocent man.” Her mother’s exact words echoed through her mind. Of course, Lucy would need to live to catch Samuel permanently. Her father doubted she would. The wedding was of little concern. There had been eleven deaths so far this winter attributed to illness. Perhaps Lucy had passed. The reverend would announce her passing along with the others.

  What an evil thought to think while walking down the aisle in church! She didn’t wish Lucy dead—well, not genuinely dead, as that would be unchristian of her—just not married to Samuel dead. Movement caught her eye as she passed by the Marden pew. The little Marden girl bobbed with excitement as her father whispered to her to calm down.

  Wait! Mr. Marden was dead.

  She swiveled her head in a most unladylike manner. Samuel?

  Apparently, he was taking his role as head of the household seriously. Lucy was not there. Perhaps Samuel was a widower. It would be her Christian duty to console him. The little Marden girl wasn’t a bad sort. She could even be nice to her. She was old enough to help with chores. Or Samuel’s mother might take in the child. Elizabeth’s smile widened a fraction.

  Elizabeth gave the slightest shake of her head, letting the lone ringlet bounce, and slowed a bit to make sure Samuel had time to admire her new outfit before slipping into the Garrett pew across the aisle.

  Sarah quieted down, and Samuel turned to the front of the chapel just as Elizabeth settled into her pew. She flashed a smile in his direction—the same smile she’d used at the cider pressing. Her boldness struck Samuel. She must have timed her entrance solely to show off her new dress—a rather vulgar affair that promised to show more of her assets than acceptable at church or most places respectable people frequented. Had she always been so vain? Why hadn’t he run like Joseph from Potiphar’s wife when she’d approached him?

  Next to him, Sarah stuck out her tongue and crossed her eyes. Samuel gave her a frown and shook his head. He doubted Elizabeth had seen the face she’d made, but he didn’t want to encourage Sarah, even if he agreed. At the same time he wanted to laugh. He could picture Lucy making that very face in Elizabeth’s direction more than once when they were school age. He was sure Lucy would applaud Sarah’s actions.

  He turned his attention to the announcements, knowing Lucy would want to know who had been born and who had passed. He was surprised to hear his name called and his recent marriage recognized along with the fact that the Marden pew was now the Samuel Wilson pew on the tithe rolls. A hushed murmur went up at this; whether in response to his new marital status or the inheritance of one of the prized front pews, he could not be sure. He concentrated on looking straight forward, pretending not to notice. Sarah tugged on his sleeve.

  “Samuel, they’re talking about you.” Her whisper echoed, and some heads turned in his direction.

  Samuel nodded and patted her arm, glad she was not tall enough to see over the pew without standing. The reverend moved on to list those who’d died this week. Samuel sorrowed for the three families who’d lost members. Thankfulness filled his heart that Lucy was not among those mentioned.

  The start of the hymn signaled the end of the hushed gossip. Samuel sighed, the worst part of the meeting concluded. No one would think of him from here on.

  The sermon was benign enough, one of dozens given at the beginning of Advent, making it both easy to focus on and let his mind wander at the same time. Samuel couldn’t see his family sitting three pews back, but he wondered what type of mischief his brothers were concocting. Rare was the Sunday that at least one of them didn’t earn a reprimand from Pa on the way home.

  Sarah leaned her head into Samuel’s arm and kicked her feet in an unidentifiable rhythm. Samuel wondered how it would be to have Lucy on his other arm. Perhaps next week.

  The closing hymn was sung. Families gathered children, Bibles, and hymnals so they could dash out of the cooling church and into the warmth of their own homes.

  After the prayer, Samuel scooped a sleeping Sarah into his arms. Elizabeth Garrett and her mother halted his exit from the pew. Elizabeth leaned close, presumably to give Samuel ample opportunity to admire the dress framed by her unfastened cloak.

  “Oh, isn’t she the sweetest?” Elizabeth gushed. “It is so good of you to help the Marden’s in their time of need.”

  Samuel ignored the blatant flirtation and kept his eyes above her head, searching for his parents. He shifted Sarah in his arms, hoping to avoid further conversation.

 
; “Is Lucy… She hasn’t passed, has she?” Elizabeth made a show of looking around and rested her hand on her bodice.

  Samuel kept his eyes above the height of her hair, discovering that the best part about a short woman was not having to look at her at all.

  “My wife,” he emphasized the word, “is recovering nicely. We felt the strain of riding into the church may be too much for her still.”

  Behind Elizabeth, Mrs. Garrett raised her brows. “My son told me of your marriage.” She twisted the word into something ugly while continuing to smile. “He said the ceremony was rather unusual.” Samuel knew her Nathan had been up on the hill filling in the grave along with the other spies. He would have not been able to see or hear anything from that vantage point.

  Samuel did not volunteer any more information. He nodded and attempted to pass them to meet his waiting parents. “If you will please excuse me, ladies, my mother is waiting.”

  Mrs. Garrett let out a huff and stepped back. Not so easily deterred, Elizabeth laid a hand on his arm and batted her eyes at him.

  “If you ever need anything, Samuel, you know you need just ask.”

  “Miss Garrett, as your mother has acknowledged, I am a newly married man. I ask you to please address me as Mr. Wilson and kindly remove your hand.” The last part of his statement was delivered in a low growl.

  Elizabeth dropped her hand, stepped back, and pulled her cloak closed. In a voice disguised as a whisper but meant to carry, she addressed her mother. “Well, I never thought I would see the day Mr. Samuel Wilson would be rude to a lady.”

  He bit his tongue so hard he was afraid he would draw blood, lest he respond there was not a lady present beyond the one sleeping in his arms. As he passed his parents’ pew, his father stepped out beside him, his mother close behind. He did his best to ignore the Garretts and the gossiping friends who followed them out of the church. Still, snatches of the conversation reached his ears. Samuel was thankful Sarah slept and could not hear the cutting remarks made about her sister. He kept his jaw locked tight enough a headache started to form. He wondered if the good reverend had heard the slanderous comments and if they would soon listen to a sermon on gossiping.