Tessa McDermid - Family Stories

by Tessa McDermid

  "Does he do that every night?"

  Rebecca and Clara both nodded. "Right after he eats," Clara added. "Sometimes, if we have company, he'll invite the men in. Frank might get to go with him now that he's grown up."

  Marian dried the dishes careful y, wondering if this was what men did, even though it wasn't real y part of her experience. Her father liked to be left alone when he was working on a sermon but most nights he sat with his wife and daughter in their cozy parlor. And Adam Bates never went off by himself, always spending the evening with his large family playing games or singing around the piano.

  After the dishes were done, they joined Frank and his mother in the parlor. Mrs. Robertson had a basket of mending next to her and she was replacing a pocket on one of Rebecca's skirts. She smiled at her daughters, her eyes cold when she looked at Marian. "You can sleep in Rebecca's room while you're here."

  "Thank you." Marian smiled at Rebecca. "I hope I won't be in the way."

  "Oh, no. I have twin beds, so you'l have your own."

  Mrs. Robertson snipped off the end of her thread. "And, Frank, you can have your old room. We haven't changed a thing since you left."

  Frank laughed. "Nothing? I was sure Dad would move al my stuff right into the street."

  His mother's hands paused over the striped skirt. "Frank, I won't al ow you to speak about your father like that.

  It was hard when you left. I know you were upset because he wouldn't let you work more hours in the store, but you needed to finish your education. He wanted you to have a better life than he did."

  Marian sat very stil . Frank ran away because his father wanted him to stay in school? Ever since she'd met his father, she had wondered about the few references Frank had made to the man. She had assumed he'd beaten Frank or been cruel in some other way. But if his only sin was wanting his son to have a better life...

  His mother rol ed up the skirt she'd mended and tucked it into the side of her basket. Then she stood up. "It's time we al went to bed."

  "I'd like to talk to Marian for a few minutes," he said.

  His mother shook her head. "No, Frank." She held out her hand to Rebecca. "Come along, young lady. You have school tomorrow."

  Marian lingered so that she left the room with Frank. His mother waited at the bottom of the staircase, her thin lips pursed. "We're coming, Mom," Frank said, a note of amusement in his voice.

  "It's not funny," Marian hissed. "Are we never going to be alone again?"

  He squeezed her fingers. "It's only for a month, honey. Besides, we'll be able to find a few private moments."

  At the door to Rebecca's room, he slipped his arms around her shoulders and bent his head toward her lips.

  When she heard his mother gasp behind them, she pushed at his chest. "Frank!"

  "A guy can kiss his girl good-night," he growled. His lips moved over hers in a long, slow kiss that drained her of al protest. When he released her, she staggered, then stepped into her new bedroom.

  "Good night, sweetheart."

  Marian couldn't look at Mrs. Robertson. She was glad when Rebecca skipped into the room and shut the door.

  "Wow!" the little girl said. "I didn't know my brother could kiss just like Rudolf Valentino."

  Marian giggled. "Don't tel Frank that. He'll get so puffed up we won't be able to live with him."

  Rebecca plopped down on the edge of her bed. "Marian?"

  "Hmm?" Marian opened her smal bag and dug through the jumbled contents for her toothbrush.

  "What's it like to be in love? I mean, real y in love, not like in books or movies."

  Marian stared at the toiletries shed grabbed before she left the house and snapped the bag shut. She sat on a narrow wooden chair, tucking her feet around the lower rung. How do I explain this to a ten-year-old? she wondered. I can't very well tel her that you want him to kiss you, that you want to be alone with him in a room and stay for at least a week. Maintaining her virtue on the train had been the hardest thing she'd ever done.

  She might have run away, but she was determined that no one would be able to say she had to get married.

  She chewed on her lower lip. "You have to remember that I'm new at this, Rebecca. I've never loved anyone before."

  "Did it happen just like that? I mean, did you see him and you fel in love?"

  Marian remembered that first moment on the steps, when she'd opened the door, when she'd seen the tal , handsome stranger smiling at her. She had tilted her head back to look up at him and then his smile had disappeared. Something had come into his eyes, something that had touched her deep inside.

  "I did, Rebecca. I didn't realize it was love theft, but after a while, I knew I couldn't live without your brother in my life."

  Rebecca flipped over on her back and sighed. "That's so romantic. Mama said you're too young to get married but I think you're just right. I can't wait to get married."

  Marian counted to ten, afraid she'd make some remark about Mrs. Robertson that would get back to the older woman. A moment later, when she could speak calmly, she answered, "Don't rush it, Rebecca. You're stil young. Your sister's older than Frank and she's not married yet."

  "Pooh. Clara's never going to get married if she keeps going around with Sam Johnson. She's been going with him since before Frank left and she's stil not engaged. He keeps tel ing her he has to wait because of his mother. I'd tel him either to marry me or leave me alone."

  "Rebecca, there's probably some other reason."

  "No, there isn't." Rebecca sat up, resting her chin on her bent knees. "Clara told me so one night. 1 could hear her crying, and when I went into her room, she said she loves him and that he said he loves her, but his mother doesn't want them to get married yet. Why does his mother have to be involved?"

  "Because she's his family," Marian said. If Frank hadn't come after her, would she be sitting in her bedroom crying, hating her father for stepping between them?

  She unpacked her nightgown and a cotton dress. They were both rumpled from being crammed in the bag.

  The dress she was wearing was wrinkled from the train trip, which meant she'd have to ask Mrs. Robertson for an iron in the morning.

  "Rebecca, you need to get ready for bed. Your mother won't be happy with me if I let you stay up late on a school night."

  "Al right." Rebecca rol ed off the bed in a fluid motion. Her nightgown and a flowered robe under her arm, she opened the bedroom door and then paused, her hand on the knob. "If Frank came in here while I'm in the bathroom," she whispered, "I wouldn't tel anybody."

  Marian shook her head at the impish expression on the girl's face. The Robertsons were going to have their hands ful when she was older. "No, Rebecca. I'm going to finish unpacking. I'll use the bathroom after you're done."

  "You don't want to see Frank alone?"

  Her fingertips tingled at the idea of being alone with Frank but she was afraid to even imagine his mother's reaction if they were caught. Her father's outburst at Frank's proposal would seem mild by comparison. "Not tonight, Rebecca. Now go."

  She scampered off, a frustrated look on her face. Marian shook her head again, grinning, as she pul ed the rest of her wrinkled clothing out of her bags.

  She heard the door open behind her. "That was quick, Rebecca."

  "Quick? I thought she'd never leave."

  "Frank!"

  Marian whirled around. Frank leaned against the door. She backed away from him as he came into the room, his eyes a dark silver. "You shouldn't be in here," she whispered. "Your mother."

  "Is downstairs with my father. Rebecca's in the bathroom and I heard her running the tub. Clara is no doubt in her room wishing Sam had come over or at least cal ed." He stepped closer and she took another step backward.

  She bumped against the wooden dresser. He twined his fingers around a lock of her hair. "Your hair's so soft,"

  he whispered, his breath warm against her cheek.

  "Frank, you shouldn't be in here. Please..."

  "
I haven't been alone with you for hours. Just one kiss good-night."

  "You did kiss me good-night."

  One finger tilted up her chin. "Yes, I kissed you good-night. But you didn't kiss me."

  "I couldn't! Not with your mother and your sister standing there."

  "Now we're alone." His head lowered and his hand cupped the nape of her neck under her hair. He gently tugged her forward and she closed her eyes, parting her lips slightly.

  The kiss lasted only a few seconds. When he drew away, she opened her eyes. "Frank?"

  His chest was heaving and he didn't meet her gaze. "You're right, I shouldn't be in here." He jammed his hands in his pockets. "Good night, Marian. From now on, we'll say good-night in the hal way, with my mom and sisters around us."

  She stared at the closed door. Had she said something wrong? Done something he didn't like? She hadn't meant to complain but his mother made her nervous.

  She was in her nightgown when Rebecca came back into the room, her face shiny from her bath. Rebecca got into bed and hiked the covers up to her neck. "You can use the bathroom now."

  "Thank you." Marian draped a crumpled dress around her for a robe. On impulse, she bent down and kissed Rebecca's forehead. "Good night, sweetie."

  "G'night," Rebecca mumbled sleepily.

  The month passed quickly. Mrs. Robertson made list after list of wedding plans, ignoring Frank's pleas for a smal , simple event. "You're the first one to get married," she stated in a no-nonsense voice one night at dinner. "We're not going to have your wedding a matter of speculation."

  Marian bit her lip. His mother disapproved of the way they'd arrived at the house, and her hints about inviting Marian's family were getting broader. But Marian refused to send them an invitation. She couldn't risk her father's fury. Until she had a wedding ring on her finger, she wouldn't sleep easy. Her father could stil find a way to stop the marriage from taking place and she lived in a state of uneasiness, worried that Frank's mother would invite them against her wishes.

  Except for Frank's clandestine visit to the bedroom, they were never alone again. Sometimes Marian wondered if Mrs. Robertson spied on them, showing up in the parlor or on the stairs as soon as they were alone, her lists in her hand. She would click her teeth together and send Frank off on an errand before enlisting Marian's help with some household task.

  Frank left each morning with his father. One afternoon, Clara took Marian to the store while Rebecca was in school and Mrs. Robertson was meeting friends for lunch. Marian found it hard to reconcile the quiet young man who was fil ing an elderly woman's grocery list with the debonair salesman who'd appeared at her house.

  "It's not forever," Frank told her that night when she mentioned it. "This is just a stop, on the way to our bigger plans."

  She hoped he was right, that her arrival in his life wouldn't some day cause him regret.

  She lay in bed that same night and listened to Rebecca's even breathing. A slight breeze rustled the curtains at the open window. A bird cal ed to its mate from the trees outside and a car rumbled to life down the block.

  She couldn't get used to the noise of the city at night and wished for the quiet of her smal vil age.

  And what would you be doing back there? she asked herself. Would you be dusting the bookcase for the hundredth time? Or would you be getting ready for a wedding to Mr. Applethwaite instead of Frank?

  She shifted onto her side and rested her cheek on one hand. The soft glow of a streetlight lit up the room.

  Rebecca's clothes were tossed carelessly on her desk chair; Mrs. Robertson would snap at her when she came in the next morning, upset that she hadn't put her clothes away before going to bed. Moving quietly so she didn't wake the little girl, Marian folded them neatly and placed them near the dresser. At least one of them would stil be in the good graces of Frank's mother.

  She crawled back into bed. Two more days. Two more days and I'll be married. Calmer now, she smiled as she drifted off to sleep.

  Chapter 6

  August 1929

  Her wedding day dawned bright and clear. Rebecca presented her with a light blue handkerchief edged in delicate white lace. "Clara tatted the lace," she said. "I embroidered your new initials on it. It's for your something blue."

  As Clara helped her into the plain white dress she'd sewn during the long evenings, she blinked back tears at the absence of her parents. They made their decision, she reminded herself. They didn't like my choice of husband so they don't need to see us get married.

  Her heart ached when she walked into the smal parlor and saw the strangers sitting in the chairs. A few faces were familiar to her from the neighborhood or church but they weren't her family or friends.

  Frank stood near the fireplace, a huge grin on his handsome face. A warm glow fil ed his eyes as she walked down the makeshift aisle. She had to clutch the bouquet of roses to keep from dropping them. Her whole body felt like a quivering mass of nerves. She was marrying Frank. It didn't matter if they were surrounded by the entire vil age of Winston or on a desert island. She was giving her heart and her soul to this man.

  Afterward, she didn't remember much of the ceremony. Frank introduced her to the guests and they al chatted while Rebecca and Clara served cake. She couldn't stop touching Frank, wiping a cake crumb from his chin, brushing against his arm when he mentioned his job, leaning into him when he told a funny story. His mother watched them with a frown but Marian didn't care. She was Mrs. Frank Robertson and nobody could take that away from her.

  Frank had reserved a room for them in the fanciest hotel downtown. When the last guest walked into the afternoon heat, he squeezed her hand. "I guess we'l be going, too," he said with a catch in his voice that endeared him even more to Marian.

  "Now?" His mother glanced at the clock. "I thought maybe you'd stay for supper."

  "Now, Mother, I don't think we'l miss them tonight," his father said with a big wink at the couple. "They've been anxious to get away al afternoon."

  Marian felt her cheeks flush. "Wel , heavens," said his mother, fanning her own cheeks. "I never expected to hear such talk in my own parlor."

  Marian ducked her head but not before she saw her new father-in-law pat his wife's hand. "We were young once, Mil ie. Go change, you two."

  When they left, they walked downtown, their hands linked together. "It's real y true?" Marian asked.

  The bel hop had barely closed the door of the room before she was in Frank's arms. She clung to him, her limbs weak from their frenzied kisses. "I love you, Frank, I love you!" she whispered over and over, gasping with every new discovery. When he carried her to the bed, she helped strip their clothes away, a sense of urgency driving her forward. Her fingers flew down his body, memorizing his muscles, his skin, his strength, making him her own. His hands explored each part of her. Marian's insides jangled with excitement and anticipation.

  His lips nibbled along her jawline and she reached for him, tugging him closer. She sucked in a breath at the sharp jab of pain and he paused, his hand stroking her hair. "Marian?"

  "I—I—" She gulped in air. "I'm okay, Frank. I love you." She did, and if this was what she had to do to make him happy...

  He kissed her forehead. "Relax, sweetheart. It's only temporary."

  He moved slowly within her. The pain was ebbing, replaced by that sense of urgency again. Soon she was moaning his name, clutching his shoulders, repeating her words of love with each motion.

  When he groaned and col apsed beside her, his breathing ragged, a wave of tenderness flowed through her.

  She brushed a hand through his damp hair.

  "I love you." His barely audible words hummed along her skin and her arms tightened around him. They were bound together now, bound by forces stronger than any she'd ever experienced before. Enfolded in his arms, she closed her eyes and slept.

  When she woke up dusk had fal en. She raised herself on one elbow and studied Frank's sleeping body. She had never known a man could be so beautiful. Sh
e traced the strong contours of his face, the firm jaw, the straight nose, the line of his eyebrows. He opened one eye; a corner of his mouth rose in a lopsided grin.

  "Hel o, Mrs. Robertson," he said sleepily.

  "Hel o, Mr. Robertson." She boldly let her lips trace the line she'd just drawn along his face, laughing at his sharp gasp until he rol ed her under him and brought a gasp to her own lips.

  Darkness had come when they next awoke. She sat up in bed, a pil ow behind her back and Frank resting comfortably against her stomach. "Do you realize, Frank, we haven't eaten a thing since breakfast?"

  "Hmm. We had cake at the wedding."

  She pushed at his shoulder. "That doesn't count. I only had that one little bite you fed me." She'd been too excited to put anything else in her stomach.

  She slid away from him and out of the bed. "I'm hungry. Is the restaurant stil open?"

  He squinted at the clock. "We could try."

  The hotel understood newlyweds. A table in the corner was set, and the waiter politely ushered them to their seats. He apologized for the slim selection at that hour but Marian was too hungry to care. She smiled at Frank and ignored his shock when she ordered sandwiches, cakes and soup.

  "I need my energy," she whispered suggestively. She felt a sense of power surge through her when his eyes dilated.

  They moved back to his parents' house the next day. She was sure that everyone knew what they'd been doing al night, and it took an enormous amount of effort to hold her head high. Alone in their hotel room, making love had been the most beautiful experience of her life. Under his mother's critical gaze, she felt as if she needed to take a long bath to cleanse herself.

  Frank gave her a quick kiss before they left his room to go down for supper. "It'll be fine."

  She nodded, determined to try for his sake to get along with his mother.

  His sisters talked constantly during the meal, Rebecca reliving every moment of the wedding and Clara adding insights about the guests. Once Marian felt a pang of guilt at the sadness in Clara's eyes but she pushed it away. Clara didn't need her pity; she needed action. A resolve to help her new sister-in-law find her own happiness took shape while dessert was being served.