Hearts
Page 33
Jake did as she told him and nearly tripped. “Forget it. I look stupid.”
“Nobody’s watching.”
“You’re watching.”
“I’m your wife.”
“I’m your husband.”
That brought a wide smile to her mouth—a mouth he would never tire of kissing. And he’d told her she had a body he would never tire of making love to.
They’d married in Harmony three days earlier and had come to Boise to tell Truvy’s students and employer that she’d no longer be teaching. Jake saw firsthand what she was giving up for him. The St. Francis Academy was no slouch outfit. It was a nice school, solidly built and well respected in the community.
He’d met the headmistress, Miss Lucretia Pond, who’d been surprised when Truvy brought him into her office with her. But she’d listened with an understanding and compassion for the situation Jake immediately respected.
Plans would be made to hire another economics teacher, but the fate of the sporting program at St. Francis would be undecided for now. There were few women who could talk politics and whack a tennis ball. Truvy had the market on that. She was one of a kind.
She had shown him her room, and together, they’d packed her things in trunks to be taken back to Harmony with them at the end of the week. She also introduced him to her students. He’d felt clumsy and awkward around all those young ladies. They’d swooned and gushed over him like fountains. They were sad to hear Truvy wouldn’t be coming back, but they’d told her they couldn’t be happier for her.
As for Jake, he’d never been more content in his life.
Truvy scissored her willowy legs, completely at ease on the ice. A soft pink touched her cheeks. She wore those tunic pants of hers that melded next to her body and revealed every luscious curve. “Push out, left and right. Left and right. Slow and steady.”
He tried. Then tried harder. He hit a nub in the ice and fell, a sprawl of long, muscled legs. He swore.
His male pride hurt worse than his butt when she skated to him and knelt down on one knee. The seriousness on her face didn’t foreshadow the playfulness to her question: “Are your cheeks cold, Jake?”
“Positively numb.”
He laughed, then whipped out his arms and captured her in an embrace. She came down on top of him with a shriek. They lay there, horizontal on a bed of ice, on a cold February morning, a husband and wife. In love.
“I’m done,” he said in defeat.
Propping her elbows on his chest, she pursed her lips. “You haven’t gone around one time.”
He grinned. “I’ll go an extra round with you tonight.”
She knocked him on his shoulder with a gloved fist. “You’re horribly wicked.”
“Maybe that’s why you love me.”
“Maybe.”
Her eyes danced; the frosty air put color on her cheeks. She dipped her head and kissed him. He held onto her tighter, tracing her lips with the tip of his tongue. She murmured an “Mmmm” that he caught on his mouth.
“Your glasses are steaming up,” she mumbled, gazing into his face.
“You steam my glasses up.”
He’d been wearing the peepers since they’d been married and the world had taken on a whole new clarity. Except for when his wife got him hot and bothered and the lenses fogged up from their breathing.
“So when do we go back to the hotel?” he asked in a purposefully low and seductive tone.
“You are so terrible.” She lifted her head, a lock of hair falling over her brow. Pushing at his chest, she stared at him. “You really mean it? No more skating?”
“No more. My butt’s cold. I need to warm it up. In the bathtub.With some of that lemon verbena of yours.”
“You’ll smell like a woman.”
“I’ll smell like you.”
She smiled. “All right. We’ll go back.”
“We’ll read more of Madame Bovary.”
“Yes, I was quite certain that’s what you had on your mind,” she said, teasing him. Actually, they had been reading the book. Rather, Jake was reading it aloud to her. “But Jake . . .” She toyed with the end of her scarf, then met his gaze. “It’s not the right time for me on that contraception table . . . and in fact . . . it’s more a time for me to have a baby.”
Jake cupped her soft cheek, and she nuzzled his hand. “Do you want to have a baby, Tru?”
“I wouldn’t mind if it happened, Jake. Elizabeth is the sweetest thing.”
“Could be a boy, you know.”
“I know . . . and maybe—well, there’s something I didn’t tell you.” She fingered a button on his coat. “Twins run in my family. We could have two boys or two girls. Or a boy and a girl.”
“I could handle that. You think I don’t know how to change a diaper?”
“Do you?”
“Well, no—but I could do it if you showed me how.”
She smiled. “Let’s go back to the hotel.”
He unbuckled his and Truvy’s skates, and then they stood.
Walking off the pond, arm in arm, she said, “I’ve been thinking about something.”
“What?”
“Now that we’re married”—she bit her lower lip and gave him a quick glance—“it’s not ungentlemanly of you to answer a certain question.”
Jake held a pine bough out of her way so she wouldn’t have to duck. As he stepped around it, he asked, “What do you want to know?”
She wrinkled her nose. “How do you get that fig leaf to stay on?”
The roar of Jake’s laughter filled the clearing.
“Shushh!” she insisted, putting her wool-covered fingertip over his mouth. “This is serious. I’ve been pondering how that leaf could possibly stay on. I know how you’re put together . . .”—she blushed a deep crimson—“. . . down there. And no fig leaf is sticking to that.”
Holding her closer to him as they walked, Jake gazed skyward and knew that life could never get better than this. “Well, the thing of it is, you have to have just the right leaf.”
“Imported from Europe?”
“No, they’re leaves from floral catalogs.”
“Good heavens! Somebody could be decorating their arrangements with the same leaves you’re putting next to your—”
“Yep.” His smile broadened as they left the clearing and made their way to the Idanha Hotel. “As for getting them to stay on, you take them by the front and then you . . .”
Dear Readers:
I hope you enjoyed reading Hearts and fell in love with Jake and Truvy.
I had fun writing about a bodybuilder and gymnasium owner from 1902. Eugen Sandow was a real strongman around the turn of the last century.Modern bodybuilders press and lift much more than the two hundred and fifty pounds mentioned in Hearts. It seemed a minuscule amount to have Jake be known for lifting. But in the early 1900s, there weren’t the vitamins, power drinks, and steroids of today’s modern bodybuilders, who would scoff at a two-hundred-fifty-pound weight. I like to think of Jake Brewster as being all natural male and muscle.
The Mr. America competition was the forerunner for the Mr. Olympia and Mr. Universe competitions, for which Arnold Schwarzenegger is famous. I used to think bodybuilders were a bit mentally dense. But try reading Arnold’s New Encyclopedia of Modern Bodybuilding and you’ll discover what a truly intelligent and savvy businessman he is.
Frederic Remington did indeed study art at the Art Students League in New York around 1885. Bodybuilders really did pose for the budding artists. Strongman On A Horse was inspired by Remington’s bronze The Bronco Buster. I’d like to think that Jake’s statue in Harmony’s town square was what gave the residents of Philly the idea to put a life-size image of Rocky Balboa on their courthouse steps.
Florenz Ziegfeld Sr. did indeed have an act at the World’s Columbian Exposition in Chicago. In actuality, the featured “Strongest Man on Earth” was Eugen Sandow.
The “Fig Leaf Rag” wasn’t published until 1908. I couldn’t help
myself—I had to use it. And as for that fig leaf . . . if you really want to know, write me and I’ll tell you.
Hearts is my last book in the Brides for All Seasons series. I’m going to miss Harmony, Montana, and its residents. They’ve been a part of my life and yours for four books now. But it’s time to move on to a new setting and new characters, which is very exciting for me.
I enjoy hearing from my readers. Drop me a note and be sure to include a self-addressed, stamped envelope. And when surfing the web, visit my site at:
http://www.stefannholm.com
Stef Ann Holm
P.O. Box 1206
Meridian, ID 83680-1206