Slowly, in a silent response, she nodded her assent.
Less than an hour later, Analisa found herself wondering how it had come to pass that she was standing in the small sod house on the Iowa prairie, dressed in an everyday homespun gown and apron, her hair hastily recombed and wound into a loose knot on the crown of her head. She clutched an array of wilting wildflowers, an offering from Kase, who stood in front of her and Caleb, not sure what the strange ceremony meant, but happy and excited nonetheless. Edvard stood quietly near his granddaughter’s shoulder.
Dominie Wierstra held a small, worn Bible, its once shining leather cover worn thin at the corners and showing signs of long years of use. It had been Analisa’s mother’s Bible, and it had passed through the many hands and many lives of her forebears. Analisa had quietly but firmly insisted the minister use it during the ceremony.
Caleb stood strong and silent by her side, responding to the minister’s questions in a firm, even voice that lessened Analisa’s trepidation. She forced her mind not to stray to the hours and days that would follow this moment. Even in her dreams, when she had allowed herself to dream, Analisa had never envisioned her own wedding. She had convinced herself she was unworthy of marriage. What man would want a woman who’d been soiled in such a foul manner? Yet here she stood beside Caleb Storm, a man she knew virtually nothing about, repeating the vows read by Dominie Wierstra. For all she knew of him, Caleb could be a hired killer or an outlaw on the run, the kind of gunman she had read about in newspaper serials.
The longer she was forced to stand beside him in the close air of the tiny room, the more fearful Analisa became about the outcome of her hasty decision. She studiously avoided Clara Heusinkveld’s stare and concentrated instead on the dying beauty of the wildflowers clutched too tightly in her hand.
The ceremony ended as abruptly as it had begun. Prompted by the minister to kiss the bride, Caleb firmly grasped Analisa’s shoulders and drew her toward him. His lips brushed her temple before he pressed them warmly against her mouth. Analisa stood wide-eyed, her lips closed against the kiss, unsure of the feelings he had aroused in her. Caleb released her before she had time to respond to his touch. Her face flamed with color. An awkward silence ensued while all eyes stared at the newly wedded couple.
Finally Dominie Wierstra cleared his throat and extended his hand, returning Analisa’s Bible. “You’ll want to enter the marriage.” The minister’s attempt at light conversation failed as Analisa offered no response to his comment. “I will fill out the proper certificates when I get to town. For now, I’ll just sign in the book and you can do so as well.”
While the adults tended to the business aspects of the marriage—Analisa searching for paper, pen, and ink, Mevrou Heusinkveld staring thoughtfully while Edvard chatted with the minister—Kase’s voice piped up above the babble. “What happens now?”
It was Caleb’s turn to darken with embarrassment in response to the boy’s innocent statement. He turned away from the group to collect his hat from a peg near the door.
“What happens now,” he began, his composure tightly controlled once again, “is that we get back to work. Let’s go Kase, Edvard.” As he swung the door open, Caleb turned to nod a curt dismissal to Dominie Wierstra and Mrs. Heusinkveld. “Reverend, ma’am.” Edvard shook the minister’s hand heartily and said good-bye. The door closed behind the visitors as he and Kase moved off into the yard behind Caleb.
“Well, Analisa, I’m sure you’ll be needing some time to yourselves, now that you and Mr. Storm have married. Newly-weds and all that.” The overblown woman took delight in embarrassing Analisa.
Dominie Wierstra, pushed to anger by the woman’s tone, stepped closer to Analisa, diverting the older woman’s attention. “Miss ... Mrs. Storm, I wish you every happiness in your new marriage. If you ever need anything, please feel free to come and see me.” Analisa noted that the man looked doubtful, as if regretting his actions.
Outwardly she was cool and aloof, showing no response to what had passed in the small room. Her mind was so filled with questions that she paid little attention to what was being said to her. She managed to nod in the minister’s direction. If the two townspeople thought it strange that the groom had resumed his daily chores, they said nothing to Analisa. Exchanging a look with Clara Heusinkveld to let her know he was more than ready to depart, Dominie Wierstra moved toward the door.
Rousing herself from her contemplation, Analisa followed them as far as the threshold and stood watching as they mounted the carriage and drove through the open gateway before turning toward Pella. She looked down at her hands. The Bible and the wildflowers were still clutched in her grasp. Releasing a long, slow sigh, Analisa walked to the table and lowered herself onto the end of the bench, her movements those of one walking in a dream. She stared at the flowers and the Bible for a moment before she set them gently on the table beside her. She rested her elbow alongside them and let her fingertips slide back and forth across the embroidered stitches of the linen table runner.
A chicken squawked somewhere outside, and the distant sound of hammering drifted on the air. Caleb, Kase, and Edvard had indeed resumed their duties. Should she begin the noon meal preparations as if nothing at all had occurred? Numbly, Analisa shook her head, hoping to clear her vision. She didn’t get up.
There was a quick knock on the door, but before she could open it, the wooden portal swung inward and Caleb entered. Analisa watched as he crossed the short distance between them and dropped down on one knee to look up at her. He’d left his hat outside, near the pump, she surmised from the fresh-washed appearance of his face and the slick look of his neatly combed jet-black hair. The collar of his shirt was stained with water spots. He reached for her hand. Analisa stared at the strong, dark fingers holding her own and then lifted her eyes to meet Caleb’s.
“I imagine you’re feeling as confused as I am right now.” His voice was low and steady while his fingers played idly with Analisa’s.
She smiled, thankful for his understanding, aware that his confusion was as real as her own.
“I’m not quite sure what I’m to do just now,” she began, the smile fading as she watched his blue eyes, then studied his high forehead and his nose and lips. “Am I to make dinner as usual or begin sewing or merely sit and wonder at what I’ve done this day? I don’t ever remember being so uncertain. There’s always been so much to do.”
“We can’t hide from this, Analisa. We are married, that’s a fact.”
Analisa stiffened involuntarily and immediately regretted it, for Caleb let go of her hand, as if sensing her panic.
“Hey.” He smiled again, rising from his crouched position to join her on the bench. “I meant what I said. This marriage will be whatever you want it to be.”
Analisa was silent, her eyes fixed on a point across the room. What did she want? she asked herself.
“I think the least we could do under the circumstances is take the afternoon off,” Caleb said. “I’ve set Kase and Opa to fence-mending. Why don’t you pack us a cold picnic and leave something here for them? We’ll walk down by the stream and talk things out. I told you earlier that I’ll be leaving here soon, and I need to explain some things to you. How about it?”
A day without work. A day to walk with Caleb, to talk and to enjoy a few moments of leisure. He had promised to demand nothing of her. Analisa returned her gaze to Caleb and nodded.
“I promise not to swim in front of you.”
She tried to hold back the smile, but she was unsuccessful and felt herself smiling openly while she spoke to him. “I will give you the hardest task. You shall explain to Kase that he may not join us. The picmick will be ready in a few minutes.”
Caleb threw his head back in laughter, startling Analisa. “Picnic,” he said.
Pointedly ignoring his laughter, Analisa brushed at the full skirt of her dress as she stood and began opening tins and bags of food. Caleb’s laughter filled the room and followed him outside.
“Thank you for the meal.” Caleb’s voice mingled with the sound of the stream sliding over the rocks along the bank. “And for the company.”
Analisa nodded in acknowledgment and continued to relax in silence. She fought to keep her eyes from straying too often toward the handsome figure beside her. Caleb had changed into a crisp white cotton shirt and had left the collar open. Although creased from being folded in his saddlebag for so long, the shirt was clean and made of quality material. The white of the cloth enhanced his dark skin and magnified the deep blue of his eyes. She wondered for a moment how he would look in a shirt the color of the sky.
“I’ve never seen that dress before,” he said. “I like it. Did you make it?”
Analisa blushed. She thought he hadn’t noticed her change of clothes. The dress was one she’d designed herself, a deep rose-colored cotton with simple lines, suitable for everyday wear, but ornamented with ruffles around the neckline and cuffs. The high collar that graced her long neck also gave Analisa a regal appearance and enhanced the smooth bodice, which outlined her firm, full breasts. A wide sash encircled her waist. Although it was made of inexpensive yard goods, the dress was Analisa’s best, and she was secretly warmed to hear that Caleb liked it.
“Yes, I made it. Thank you. There’s not much cause for me to own the fancy gowns the ladies of Pella order. I have never worn this dress before today.”
Caleb was at once reminded of women he knew in the East, women with wardrobes full of gowns from France, worn once and then discarded. Analisa lived a life altogether unsuited for such possessions, a life not all that different from that of his Sioux mother’s people. Indeed, like Caleb himself, Analisa lived somewhere between two cultures.
“You said you are leaving soon?” She brushed some dust from the toe of her wooden shoe and then, on impulse, slipped the clogs off and set them beside her.
Caleb pushed the brim of his hat back and unfolded his long legs, then lay back in the grass, propping himself up on one elbow.
“Tomorrow.” He lifted a sugar cookie from a round, shallow tin. Taking a bite, he let his eyes roam over Analisa’s trim form. She was leaning against the trunk of a cotton wood, her knees bent, legs pulled up against her. She reminded him of a child, the way she held the hem of her skirt tight against her ankles. The tips of her socks peeked from beneath her dress. She said nothing.
“I’ve been here too long already. I can’t put off leaving another day.”
“Someone’s expecting you?” A woman? She left the second question unasked.
“Yes.” He looked away.
Analisa felt her stomach knot. Caleb turned to face her again, and she raised her head off of her arms to look directly into his eyes.
“Analisa, I can’t tell you anything yet about what I’m doing out here. I hope I’ll be able to explain when I get back.”
“Are you out of the law?”
He stared for a moment trying to make sense out of her question. “You mean an outlaw?”
She nodded.
He could see by the fear creeping into her eyes that she was afraid he would admit that he was. “No, Analisa. I’m not an outlaw. I’d tell you all about myself if I could. As it is, though, you’ll just have to trust me. If you were worried, why didn’t you ask me anything before now?”
“It’s for you to tell me. You never asked about Kase. I’ve tried not to ask about you.”
“Today I found out about Kase.”
It was her turn to look away.
“Analisa, listen to me. It doesn’t matter to me what happened to you in the past ... Do you believe that?”
She nodded but refused to look at him.
“I’m surprised you don’t hate all Indians, after what happened to you. I wouldn’t blame you if you never wanted ...” Caleb found himself backed into a very tight corner. He picked up a blade of grass, twirled it between his fingers, and then tossed it away. “Let’s just say I’ll give you all the time you need. We can talk about it when I get back.”
She looked at him again and, seeing the questions in his eyes, tried to explain. “I can’t blame all for the acts of a few. My son is Indian. I know how deep the white hatred runs.” She was thinking of Kase and they both knew it. “Each man must be judged on his own, if one dares to judge. I can’t even remember what the man looked like. I was spared the memory when I was knocked unconscious. When I woke up, all I saw was his knife. He meant to kill me, but I struggled so hard he only cut me.”
Caleb rose and with two easy strides stood next to her. She lowered her eyes and studied the silver-gray snakeskin of his boots. When he remained silent, standing so near, Analisa looked up along the columns of his long legs, past the broad wall of his chest, to his eyes, burning with crystal intensity. He held out his hand, and placing her fingers in his warm palm, Analisa allowed him to pull her up beside him. They stood toe to toe.
A bird called out its sweet song from somewhere overhead. She was drawn toward Caleb, moving without moving, leaning into him as he leaned toward her, his head lowered to accommodate her height, drawn to her lips as a man who thirsts for water is drawn to a stream.
It was gentle, that first kiss, as gentle as the sound of the water in the creek sliding over the smooth stones. Caleb’s lips touched Analisa’s for a moment and then drew away, only to return a heartbeat later and linger this time. She let his lips capture hers without returning the kiss as yet, merely savoring such close contact with another being. He still held her hand. She could feel his fingers tighten as they laced between hers. As this last sweet kiss ended, his fingers lessened their hold until Caleb released her hand, only to wrap his arms around her, pressing his palms into her shoulderblades, enfolding her against the hard wall of his chest.
This time his lips met hers with little of their former gentleness. Hot, demanding, Caleb’s kiss forced Analisa to realize this was not a dream. As his mouth moved over hers, his tongue seeking entrance, Analisa began to feel an overwhelming need rising within her. A slow heat spread throughout her body, its origin the very core of her womanhood.
He buried his hands in the thickness of her hair and urged her head back, arching her neck as his mouth worked its magic against hers. Analisa’s lips parted, wanting more from Caleb’s kiss, needing to ease the ache that was pulsating through her with the ferocity of a summer storm. She clung to Caleb’s strong form, caught up in the fury of his passion. Feelings she had locked deep inside herself for so many years were bursting through her now, pushing out and overwhelming her from every nerve ending and every pore. The intensity of the wanting overshadowed her fear. She felt a warm moisture between her thighs.
Caleb took a step with Analisa in his arms, and she leaned against the rough bark of the cottonwood for support. His hands stroked her hair, sending the pins flying and letting the golden, sun-streaked mass tumble in disarray around her shoulders. His lips left hers, and he began to nuzzle the sensitive flesh around her ear.
Desperate to taste his lips on hers, Analisa grasped his face between her hands and urged him with her touch to capture her mouth again with his own. Caleb welcomed the invitation, pressing her hard against the rough trunk of the tree. His hands stopped their search while he pressed his length against her. Analisa felt her breasts crushed against his chest and welcomed the sensation, which heightened her pleasure.
Thigh touched thigh. Seeking to ease the thrumming, bursting need that drove her on, Analisa dared to move against Caleb, pressing her hips and groin against his, imitating his movements. She was
startled by his response, for he reacted first by meeting her thrusts and then holding himself away. A second later his lips left hers and their eyes met.
She wondered if his fevered look was reflected in her own eyes and watched as emotions moved across Caleb’s face like clouds across the summer sky.
“I want you, Analisa.”
The heat from his eyes scorched her. She turned her face away. “You’ve lost your hat.” Her voice sounded distant to her own ears.
His finger resting lightly beneath her chin pulled her gaze back to his. “I want you.”
“We should clean up the ... the picnic.” Her eyes could not leave his lips.
“You want me, too.”
“Yes.”
The word had barely passed her lips before Analisa realized that she did want what Caleb wanted. She wanted him to make love to her. She longed to experience all that life had cheated her of. She wanted him to let loose in her the emotions she’d kept locked deep inside herself for so long. If he never returned to her, if she could keep only his name for the rest of her life, Analisa knew without a doubt that the coming moments would change her forever, healing the old wounds inflicted by the act of brutality. Besides, she reasoned, he’d unselfishly given her his protection today. She could in turn give him what he craved, and what she, too, craved—the pleasure of her body. Afterward, she would let him go. They would owe each other nothing.
Caleb took her hand and led her closer to the stream. Soft, tall grass grew abundantly near the water’s edge.
“Stay here,” he said unnecessarily. Analisa knew she could not leave now even if she desired to do so.
He tossed the food hastily into the deep basket and shook out the calico cloth. Analisa watched him walk toward her with smooth, sure steps. She opened her arms, and he entered them as if it were an old habit.
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