by Sara Dahmen
He gives me a grateful glance and squeezes my fingers.
She frowns a little. I know she wants to enjoy a bit more fuss, just like her friends do, and I have a suspicion they will throw just as much compacted energy into this quick affair as they can anyway. Then her face clears and she smiles.
“I’m sure we can make it work. In the meantime, you’ll stay here with me.” She directs this to Doctor Kinney.
“Thank you kindly . . . Aunt Mary,” he says, and the title makes her chuckle.
“You’ll want to wire her father,” she instructs. “And we’ll want to go to Essex for a dress for you, dear.” She looks at me and I shake my head.
“I don’t need a dress, and there won’t be time to make one up.”
“Nonsense,” she scoffs. “I do not have any children, and I’ve always wanted a little family wedding. I’ve enough to do something for my favorite niece.”
“Thank you again,” Doctor Kinney says, speaking for me. I can tell he is as touched by her generosity as I am.
“I don’t know what to say,” I pipe up. “I feel so fortunate on all corners.”
We stand. I need to get back to the house for the meals. Now that things are settling, I find I am eager for the week to move forward so I can finish my time in service and marry. I want to be married. Apparently, I was very wrong when I’d sworn off the idea of it.
“Stay back, Doctor. Patrick.” Aunt Mary puts a hand on his arm and looks up at him merrily. She says his front name with more comfort than I expect. “You can help me open up the bedroom, and then go get your things from the inn. Jane can come tonight for a spell to see you.”
I smile at them. They look like two kindred spirits
already, but as I move to open the door and head back to the market, he breaks from her arm and moves to me. Unapologetically, he puts a hand about my waist and presses his forehead to mine before releasing me.
“Have a good afternoon, Janie,” he says, his voice deep and soft. I want to melt into him.
“I’ll see you tonight, Paddy,” I say softly, using his nickname. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see that Aunt Mary looks very pleased. And as he goes back to her as I leave, I hear them plotting his stay. She will be in her element this week, and I’m so glad I can share this happiness with her.
Chapter 45
25 October 1882
Wednesday, my last day at the Chester house, I write my sister and my mother letters beyond the wire I send to Mother about the wedding. I tell them about Doctor Kinney’s two arrivals in Gloucester and his proposal. My letter to Mother is long. I finally confess what I have held so close to my heart, and I know she will understand, though she will be sad I thought to keep such heartache from her. I do not bother to wire Anne. She will only disapprove of how quickly it all is happening, and she won’t make time to come up from Boston anyway. But still, I want to share my news. I want to tell her I have found deep happiness.
The caretaker of the cottage comes in the afternoon to discuss taking my key and what furniture needs to be covered with sheets. Then I head to my aunt’s home. Aunt Mary and I will go into Essex to look for a dress today.
When I let myself in, I hear her and Doctor Kinney chatting in the kitchen. The voices echo, and I pause, taking delight in hearing how well they get on. I will miss my aunt greatly, and have thought to ask her to come out West with us, but I know she would miss the sea and her friends. It would be too much to ask of her.
“Oh, yes, of course I know all about the Eclectics. My husband, may he rest in peace, was very much interested in the workings of the physicians. It was one of his hobbies. He liked how the Eclectics took a bit from each school of thought in medicine and created their own version of practicing. It felt the most thorough branch to him.”
“He was a kind of doctor too, then?”
“Heavens no! He was just very curious and the science of the profession drew him in. Jane is like him, though she’s not his blood.”
“I had a good apprenticeship under a homeopathic doc, though he leaned Eclectic,” Doctor Kinney explains, the excitement rattling in his voice. “And good trainin’ before that too, in animals. I think most successful docs beyond the coast must manage both beast and man.”
“And Jane, too, knows something of doctoring, as I’m sure you’ve known.”
“She does,” he agrees. There is a slight pause, and then he dives into a personal question, his low voice carrying through the doorway. “But . . . you’re certain she really cared all this time? That she was unhappy away from the West?”
I shake my head. I doubt either of us can believe our luck.
“I really couldn’t figure it,” he continues. “If I’d known she cared, I would have stopped her from leavin’ Flats Junction. I nearly did try anyway, but she held herself together so well I didn’t think my beggin’ would amount to much.”
“Well, you were courting another.” My aunt’s voice is reasonable.
“True. I only . . . I was cut to the quick that she left. It was my . . . a surrogate mother who made it all a bit clearer. Later. When I was inclined to listen.”
“How so?”
I wait, too. I want to know how he came to his decision to chase after me, and I don’t know if he will reveal all this if I were to ask.
“Well, she decided to take herself to a reservation. She’s Sioux.”
My aunt is silent. I know she is digesting this. The idea of savages is one that is well-documented, usually incorrectly, here in the East. The notion of a native woman who is genteel enough for a doctor takes time for her to understand, and I know it only paints a more vivid picture of the wild West where I choose to live.
“What does that matter?” she finally manages. “How did the woman help you see your choices?”
“Esther asked me if I cared for Janie, and I admitted I thought of her often. And she accused me of bein’ a fool for not seein’ how Jane was a far better match for me than any woman in Flats Junction or beyond, and I ought to fetch her. And she was right.”
“You’ll find many women are right,” Aunt Mary says cheekily, and he chuckles.
I take this as a cue to come around the corner. “Who’s always right?”
“Women,” she announces. “Something a doctor should remember.”
“Oh, I’m quite aware of the wiles and minds of ladies.” He smiles at me as I take the empty space next to him. Handling the pot, I pour a cup of tea from the service on the table.
“Warm up.” Doctor Kinney reaches and briefly rubs my shoulder. “We’re off to Essex.”
“You’re coming?” I am surprised. “I didn’t think that was done.”
“I’ve got some shoppin’ to do,” he says. “And now that you’re free of the Chester house, I plan to spend as much time with you as Aunt Mary allows.”
“You’d think you’re not planning to marry and spend years in each other’s company,” my aunt laughs, and we join her. “Well then, you finish your tea, Jane, and I’ll go get my hat.” She leaves without ceremony, giving us time alone again, which she does artfully, but so often it’s plain and obvious.
She is not even out of the room before I take his hand. How will I show him that I really do care for him as he does me? He doubted me so fully. Thank God he thought to brave the uncertainty and ask me for my heart anyway.
“Oh, Janie,” he breathes. “Friday does not come fast enough.”
“I can’t wait to marry you,” I agree, looking up at him and smiling. “I want to go West.”
He squeezes my fingers tightly. “I’m a bit excited to travel with my wife, and to show you off on the train as mine.”
I laugh again. “I’m rather excited for that, too, and also to have you completely to myself.” I blush, but plunge ahead, determined to take my aunt’s words to heart and tell him how I feel. “I am desperately wanting to have you in my bed, my love.” It is an inelegant thing to say, and vulgar, but it is the truth. And really, I’m no shy, blushing bri
de. If anyone knows how true that is, it is Patrick.
His reaction to my words is immediate. He bends down for a devastatingly long kiss, as if my admittance means much to him. Then he looks at me pensively, as if debating to speak, before saying quietly, “I’m a bit nervous about that myself, Janie.”
“I’m all healed,” I say, dismissing the notion quickly. I am disconcerted we are talking about these bodily compulsions. I must constantly remind myself that he is a doctor and is open about the science of it all. He saw my own limbs in near nakedness, and he was not overcome with anything but how to cure my ailment. He is not lewd, at least.
“It’s not that. It’s the act itself. I’m afraid I’ll . . . well, you’ve been married before. I haven’t.”
“Don’t men visit establishments to . . . um.” My cheeks are on fire. “Learn?”
His own face burns, but his eyes are merry and trained on me. “I didn’t. It could be the old Catholicism in my blood, but mostly it’s that all the girls in the bordellos are my patients. It would have been highly uncomfortable. But you . . . Jane. You know what I’m tryin’ to say?”
“Paddy.” I touch his cheek. “You must understand what we have already shared pales anything from my first marriage . . . and beyond it. I’m nervous, too.”
His honest face breaks into a grin. “Thank the saints!”
“And what are we thanking for now?” Aunt Mary comes around the corner finishing up her hat. She has taken her time on purpose.
“For my Janie.” Patrick flashes me a devilish grin behind my aunt’s back as we leave the house. He makes me feel desirable and young with his unabashed happiness. I mirror it, for I feel the same joy flooding my marrow. How can I ever repay those saints for my good fortune?
Chapter 46
27 October 1882
The pale, dove-grey dress has lace on the bodice and along the hem. My aunt and her friends pulled together a few late-fall flowers for my hair and a little posy for my bouquet. They cooked a small spread of food, now waiting for us at Aunt Mary’s parlor. Jean, Rose, and their menfolk join my aunt and parents as witnesses. It is not much, and I almost feel guilty that Doctor Kinney does not get to experience the whole wedding extravagance I know Aunt Mary would have liked to do for us. Though as I stand next to him, and he holds my hand, staring down at me while we echo the vows, he seems to only care that I am marrying him, and happily forgets about ribbons and bows.
My mother and father arrive for the nuptials as well. It was a breathless surprise. She can see I am beyond happiness, so she is mollified for the moment, though likely she aches to know more. My father says little, his dark eyes taking in the tableaux, but he is placated knowing I wed a doctor who has proven he can support me.
When the priest says we are wed, I am filled with so much happiness I do not know what to do with the emotion. Doctor Kinney is smiling at me with glittering eyes, so I reach up and kiss him. My family and friends follow us over to the little luncheon, where more of my aunt’s friends are waiting. The Angus family was invited, but they do not attend, and I do not blame them. A part of me is sorry to not have a chance to say goodbye to Andrew and his children.
Doctor Kinney does not know the people here, so Aunt Mary is gracious enough to keep the party small. He keeps a hand on my elbow as much as he might, and it is all I can do to remember how the older ladies would not take kindly to me kissing the groom whenever I like. Are all newlyweds in love matches so happy and bursting? I feel as though I might wake to find this all a dream.
I’d thought we would take the evening train out, but Aunt Mary had other plans. She will stay with Ada and Jean Baker tonight, and Patrick and I will have her little house to ourselves. I want everyone to leave now, but instead the usual conversation swirls. Doctor Kinney discusses the West with Jean and Rose’s men, who seem genuinely interested in the gold often discovered in the Dakotas.
“Jane.” Jean is at my elbow, balancing a glass of champagne. “I’ll miss you so much.”
“You ought to visit,” I tell her warmly. “We’d love to have you.”
“Clark and I should honeymoon there in the spring.” She smiles and takes my hand. “You know I’m very happy for you.”
“Thank you. We will write,” I say.
As the afternoon wanes, people depart in groups. Mother comes and embraces me, her eyes wet. This wedding means I am leaving. A wide distance will spread open between us again. I share her sadness, but I am too excited about my future to dwell on it.
“I’m very glad for you, Janie,” she says quietly, as she and Father prepare to return to Rockport. “I expect you will explain everything in your letter.”
“Everything,” I promise her, and hug her again. In a way, spilling my heart in a letter to her is best. I was more eloquent on paper than if I were to tell her over tea.
Aunt Mary and her friends tidy up, and both Doctor Kinney and I help. They think he is only drying dishes to hurry them, though I know he genuinely enjoys people and conversation. So much of that happens in the kitchen. But maybe he is helping to hurry them just the same.
“I’ll see you off at the train tomorrow, my dears,” Aunt Mary says, picking up her satchel at the door. “And there is cold chicken for supper in the larder.”
The moment she shuts the door, my new husband comes up behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist. “You look perfect and lovely,” he murmurs into my hair. “But I want to see less lace and more of you.”
I turn in his embrace and cock my head at him. “You’ve seen plenty of me, you know.”
He knows innately what I reference. “That was different.”
We kiss, as if reaffirming life. I find I’m nervous and yet utterly desirous. The sun has not even set, but the door of the Patrick’s room beckons us.
My aunt is not a flowery person, so the bedroom is decorated as most austere, proper New England homes ought to be: pale blue walls, painted wood, bare furniture, and an iron bedstead. Patrick pulls the curtains, though no one can see in through the garden and trees in the backyard. I gaze at him; his loose frame, strong arms, and vivacious health. Need drops down through my shoulders, stomach, and loins. He is mine, not Kate’s, and he says he loves me.
“What is it, Mrs. Kinney?” He comes to me, grinning.
I laugh. “I am indeed Mrs. Kinney. Jane Kinney. My heavens. I never thought it would happen.”
“And I’m a married man, now,” he says happily. “It was worth the wait.”
He falls to kissing me again, and we press tightly together, the hardness of his body against the softness of mine.
After a long while, when my lips are swollen, he pulls away, his eagerness barely masked. “Might I see more of you, Janie? I have been achin’ . . .” He pauses, and restarts. “I have spent many nights dreamin’ about seeing you just so, even when I didn’t think you’d ever be mine. And now to have you like this, I'm afraid I've become even needier.”
“Well, it’s a bit early in the evening to think of this, but yes,” I say with more confidence than I feel. “Yes, please.”
The stays loosen, with the camisole and petticoats falling to the floor. His eyes feast on the sight of my skin, the lines of my form hazy and muted through the watery paleness of my chemise. Henry and I only ever had intercourse in the dark, and Theodore and I never used more than a candle, so to have someone see me in this half-golden shadow of lamplight is disconcerting. I forget briefly that my love is a doctor, has seen many a body, even my own, in the most intimate way.
“You are . . . well. Glorious. Is that too much to say?”
“It’s romantic,” I admit, my heart hammering.
“Good.” He frees my flesh completely but for my shift, eventually picking me up and reclining next to me on the bed to help peel off my stockings. I am unable to stop touching him, and I am suddenly glad we do not wait for full night to begin.
He reaches up and unties my hair, slowly withdrawing the pins. When it falls out and down my back, he
rakes his fingers through the strands, pulling my head up and kissing me as if he never plans to stop. I hope he does not, until I find myself unable to end it here, and I am untucking his shirt and loosening his tie. I’ve seen a naked man before, but not a man I desire so entirely. I want such closeness with him, and I say so, forcing myself to be emotionally vulnerable. He complies without a word of protest, stripping down so quickly my breath disappears.
He has a light dusting of brown hair across his chest, and his skin is pale, as I would expect of the Irish in him. I lean forward and kiss his shoulder, where it rounds into his arm, and taste his cheek while running the back of my hands along his skin, amazed at his vitality. I drink in the strength of his thighs, the broadness of his chest, and the sinewy lengths of his arms. We intertwine our legs, all while I marvel that he is mine, that he desires me, that his hands are everywhere, tugging off the last of my clothing.
“Patrick, I never want to leave you,” I say playfully, running a finger along his jaw and down his neck.
“No. You’ll stay with me always.” He loops his hands low on my waist, pressing his palms into my hips. “No more leavin’ after supper, no Bern to take you off for an evenin’ walk.”
“Did that bother you?” I ask, burying my face into his skin, our bareness rubbing deliciously together. I never knew the act of love could be prefaced with so much passion!
He nods. “It was very difficult to say nothin’. I wanted you to stay as my housekeeper, not go off and marry some cowboy because he was the only one who made a pass. And then I wanted you for myself in an entirely different way.”
“What way?” I know the answer, but gasp a little as he flips me under him, melting us into the mattress.
“I wanted you this way, here in my bed, in my arms.” He bends down and kisses me hard. We stop talking so we can focus on each other. Soon enough he is holding me, and I can hardly breathe. I must have him. I ache for him so much that when we finally join, I flow up and down, unable to stop from crying out. It is no matter that I am quite lusty, because I feel his body responding likewise, and we lay panting in short order.