by B C Yancey
He turned to her with a smile, "No, what?"
"I don't know what you look like."
His heart thudded in his chest, and he slowly took her walking stick from her to rest it against the wall. Then, taking her hands in his, he whispered, "Would you like me to show you?"
A sweet smile bent her lips, and she nodded, sighing at the first faint touch of her fingers against his faintly stubbled jaw. "Do you shave every day?"
He swallowed, murmuring hoarsely, "Usually."
Holding her breath, Elyria trailed her fingers over his cheekbones to the bridge of his nose, and across his thick brows. "Where did you get this scar?" She asked quietly, her right hand hovering at his left temple.
"M-my dad," he whispered, "when I was ten. He took exception to the way I polished his shoes and threw a marble paperweight at me."
Her eyes softened with sympathy, "How awful."
He shrugged. "It taught me a valuable lesson."
"What was that?"
"To duck. It's why I've never cared for sports. I got so used to having things thrown at me; I'd duck or move to avoid them."
She kissed his jaw and continued her exploration, threading her fingers through his hair, "Curly?"
"In parts; most days it's a bit confused."
"What color?" She laughed.
He smiled. "Did you ever see a coffee bean?"
"I think so," She nodded. "Aren't they dark brown?"
"That's the color of my hair—according to my cousin Thomas at least," he said with a laugh.
"I've always liked the smell of coffee," she murmured, "even though I don't care for the taste of it."
A soft sigh escaped him as her hands caressed their way down either side of his neck to his chest, coming to rest at the base of his throat just over his leaping pulse.
"Do I pass inspection, wife?"
Chuckling, she wrapped her arms around his neck, rising on tiptoe to press a tender kiss to the scarred cleft in his chin. "You do indeed, husband."
His stomach started doing somersaults, and his heart hammered against his ribs. "Even with all my dents and dings?"
"Especially with those…"
He tried to think of something romantic or poetic to say, after all the books he'd read over the years it should have been easy. But all that came out was, "I'm glad."
She placed soft little kisses along his jaw and smoothed her hands over the swells of his shoulders and down the front of his chest, before settling them over his pounding heart. A smile curled her lips, and she took one of his hands and held it to her chest, whispering, "Do you feel that?"
He clenched his eyes shut and smiled, "They're the same."
A few minutes later, she whispered, "Everett?"
"Hmmm?" His eyes opened in a fog of desire, wanting more than anything to wrap her in his arms, but worried he'd scare her if he rushed the moment.
She cradled his face in her hands and pressed a kiss to the corner of his lips. "I'm not so nervous anymore…"
"Neither am I." He sighed, closing his eyes and allowing her to tease him with kisses.
"Will you help me undress?"
His eyes shot wide open and his lips curled in a slow wolfish grin. "If only you knew how long I've waited for you to say that to me."
She chuckled and turned to give him her back. "You may regret being so eager when you see how many buttons there are."
He scoffed, then bit back several curses while he set about undoing every last one of the thirty-two satin covered buttons down her back.
But after releasing the last button, the material gaped away to expose her skin and delicate unmentionables to his view. With hushed reverence, Everett pushed the satin sleeves from her shoulders, then off her arms.
Her skin felt like the softest of silk against his fingers and lips as he caressed and kissed his way across the creamy expanse of bare flesh; the dress slithering down her body until it caught on the flare of her hips.
Pulling her flush against his chest, he wrapped his arms around her middle and breathed deeply of her soft scent, bathing his senses in the essence of roses warmed by the sun mixed with an undertone of vanilla.
The dress lost its tenuous perch on her hips, falling to the floor around her ankles with a soft whoosh. He pressed his lips to the back of her neck and nipped and kissed a path along her sensitive skin up behind her ear, then smiled when a ragged gasp escaped her.
He turned her to face him and threaded his fingers through her hair, cupping the back of her head. Not waiting for him to initiate contact, she leaned forward and brushed her mouth against his.
Sighing in pleasure, he plied her lips with soft, gentle kisses and smiled when her mouth claimed his, moving their exchange from unhurried and tender, to demanding in mere seconds.
She tasted of the sweetest ambrosia and his need to drink his fill of her took over, quickly igniting into a heady and sultry promise of the night ahead.
Bracing his feet wide, and ignoring the twinge of pain in his right thigh, he clasped her to his body and drank from her lips with a desperate urgency. In answer, she locked her arms about his neck, meeting and returning his devouring kiss with equal enthusiasm.
Even if he drowned in her passion, he would never be able to quench the thirst she awoke in him. Without breaking contact, they stumbled toward the bed and left a trail of clothing in their wake.
Thirty
Every moment of their week and a half long honeymoon in Atlantic City passed by in a blissful blur. Elyria had never been to such an awe-inspiring place before, filled with so many different smells and sounds that by the end of their first day, she became dizzy from trying to sort it all out.
They stayed at the Hotel Chelsea and walked all along the boardwalk, or spent days at the beach swimming in the ocean.
Several times while there, they went to the Steel Pier to take in the horse diving show—a forty-foot tower a horse and female rider would jump off of to dive into an eleven-foot pool below.
The brass band nearby punctuated the hooves stomping along the ramp as the horse raced to the end where the rider jumped on the back of the horse—a heartbeat before they leaped from the platform. A strange, eerie silence followed.
The very air changed, pulsing with electricity and tension. The entire crowd held their collective breath, then broke out into wild cheers, clapping when horse and rider emerged from the pool unscathed.
No matter how often they attended the performance, it proved to be spectacular and thrilling every time.
But while more excitement than she'd ever experienced before filled their days, their nights were magical and filled with joy. Their last night, while lying in bed, she smoothed a hand across Everett's well-muscled and naked chest.
Mapping out the scars and learning their stories had become a nightly ritual of hers. Nearly all of them along his right side were scattered remnants of war. But there were four hidden amongst the others, noticeably different in texture, that he'd received from his father.
They painted a clearer picture of her husband, one that brought tears to her eyes for the injustice he'd suffered, and the vulnerability in his voice when he spoke of the man.
She almost wished he was still alive, or that she could travel back in time, just to give him a piece of her mind.
Knowing such thoughts were nothing more than pointless fancy, she made a silent vow to spend the rest of her life doing everything in her power to ensure Everett never had cause to doubt her love for him.
And he did a more than adequate job of reciprocating, bathing her daily with love and adoration the likes of which she could never have dreamed of knowing.
From the moment they'd reunited at the train station two weeks ago, she couldn't remember being so full of happiness.
Ever since their wedding, it had deepened, growing and evolving into such incandescent joy that the emotion now frightened her.
"You've grown quiet," he murmured, brushing his right hand gently up and down her arm.
She adjusted her cheek against his chest and pressed a kiss to the scraggly shaped ‘v' scar marring the upper swell of his left pectoral. "Are we too happy?"
"What do you mean?"
"It's something my brother used to say," she whispered, "don't let yourself get too happy, El, or something's bound to go wrong…I used to think he said it only to annoy me when Daphne and I would get too boisterous; but what if he was right?"
Everett remained silent for a minute, then said softly, "How else are we going to appreciate the happy, if something doesn't go wrong? It's like when you have a cold and can't breathe through your nose."
She poked him lightly in his ribs. "So, you agree with him?"
"I dare you to admit that the last time you had a cold and were congested, you didn't vow never to take the luxury of being able to breathe through your nose for granted again."
Shaking her head, she bit back a smile and sighed. "You're right."
"We've had a similar conversation before if you'll recall. You rebuked me."
"When?"
"You told me happiness isn't a commodity to be bartered for. And you were right." He cupped her jaw and tilted her face to look at him. "I don't agree with your brother. My life should be proof that bad things don't happen as a consequence of being too happy. It's taken me a while to realize it, but you've helped me see that the bad parts are just a natural and necessary part of life."
Raising on her elbow, she cradled his face in her palm and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. "Everett Monterose," she sighed, trailing kisses along his jaw, then down to his neck, "you are a wise man."
"You're only saying that because I'm quoting you."
She laughed, "No, I said it because it's true."
He chuckled, then sighed. "Remind me to get that carved in stone; I'll display it in class. That way if anyone ever questions my intelligence, all I have to do is point to your decree."
Elyria placed nibbling kisses down his chest, smiling when the muscles flinched and flexed beneath her lips. A ragged hiss escaped him when she repeated the actions in the same sensitive spots a second time on her way back to his mouth.
The instant their lips touched, he rolled her to her back and plied her mouth in a long, languid kiss that made her toes curl with pleasure.
"Pegleg?" He whispered, nipping lightly at her bottom lip with his teeth.
She threaded her fingers through his hair and tugged his mouth closer, "No more talking, just kissing."
"So bossy," he grinned, stealing her breath with a heated kiss before pulling slightly away. "Only kissing? Isn't that a bit like going to a candy store only to leave with a small tootsie roll when you could have had an entire bagful?"
Chuckling, she cupped the back of his head and brought his mouth back to hers, "Well, when you put it that way…"
Thirty-One
Upon returning to DC, they spent their days packing up Elyria's belongings and shipping them ahead to Idaho, visiting and sharing meals with Daphne and her family and walks to Elyria's favorite spot in the park if time permitted.
When the day arrived for their departure to Idaho, Everett found himself fighting back tears while Daphne and Elyria hugged farewell.
He had dreaded this day, this moment, from the instant he'd awoken that morning and couldn't help but feel guilty for ripping her away from her home.
The train whistled, and the conductor hollered for the passengers to board, prompting the two women to break their tearful embrace.
Daphne wiped moisture from Elyria's cheeks and sniffled. "We'll write and visit as often as possible."
Elyria nodded and stepped away, "I love you."
"I love you too," Daphne called out behind them while Everett helped Elyria onto the train. "I'm going to miss you dreadfully."
With a wave goodbye, they entered the passenger car and found their seats just as the train lurched into motion.
They sat in relative silence for the first hour before Elyria removed her hat and rested against his right shoulder. "Everett?"
"Yes, love?"
She sighed and wrapped an arm across the front of his waist. "You've been so quiet I thought you might have fallen asleep."
He turned and kissed the top of her head. "I've just been thinking."
"Me too…what about?"
"Oh" he murmured, with a small shrug of his shoulders, "just rambling thoughts for the most part— how I hope you'll grow to love our home, and if you don't, will you resent me for taking you away-"
She covered his mouth with her hand before he could say more. "I knew from the moment I told you I loved you that there'd be changes in my life, some I may not even like at first, but I will never resent you."
"You may change your mind."
"I will gladly spend my life anywhere provided I get to be with you." She settled back against him and let out a contented sigh. "Even if someone tried to tell me Malad is the ugliest valley in the world I will never believe it. The description you wrote is what I see, and to me, it is a veritable paradise."
He leaned against the cushioned headrest and stretched out his sore leg. "What were you thinking about?"
She hid her face against his sleeve and giggled. "I knew you were going to ask me that." Tipping her face up to meet him, she smiled. "Now that we're married, do you think Marcus will miss your nightly visits?"
A bark of laughter escaped him. "He mentioned those?"
"He said they were the reason he bought you the train ticket."
"I knew he had an ulterior motive," Everett chuckled. "And to think I actually believed him when he said he couldn't bear to see my heartsore face anymore."
"That's probably true, just not the reason behind it."
Everett laughed and shook his head. "Would we still have ended up right where we are—I wonder?"
"If you hadn't left, you mean?"
He nodded. "I would have been home when you showed up, possibly even watched you walk up the path and wondered who the beautiful redhead was on my doorstep."
She brushed her thumb across the back of his hand. "Would you have been surprised to see me?"
Everett closed his eyes and let the picture form in his mind. "Without a doubt, but no more so than when I first saw you that night at the train station." He smiled, his voice lowering to a hushed whisper, "I heard the tap tap tap of your walking stick, and when I turned and found you to be its source, my world shifted and righted itself. I couldn't believe it."
"I'm not what you'd pictured?"
He turned and looked at her. "Not even close. What I envisioned you to be is a pale shadow to the reality of you. You are beautiful in every sense of the word."
A pretty blush warmed her cheeks and then bloomed to encompass her entire face and chest. "Thank you, I've heard that I favor my mother."
"You don't like compliments I take it?" He teased with a gentle kiss to her brow.
She shook her head and tucked a lock of hair behind her right ear. "It's one thing to be praised on a neat row of stitches I've sewn, and quite another to be flattered on something completely out of my control and owed entirely to my parents."
"Well, in that regard, you and I are alike."
Elyria pulled away and grinned, "You mean to say you get complimented on your looks? Daphne told me you were handsome underneath your bandages, but I never—is it more awkward for a man than it is for a woman?"
"To be told they're beautiful, do you mean?"
She nodded and adjusted her position so she could cradle his face in her hands. Silence hung in the air between them. She removed his spectacles and placed them in her lap, then brushed her fingers over the ridges of his cheeks, nose, and eyebrows in the same way she'd done before.
Only this time, her movements were slow and measured—allowing herself a moment to fully bring his image to mind.
"I don't get anywhere near the number of compliments as I did before the war, and it's quite pricked my vanity. Do you think it's my new scars or my spectacles
at fault?" he murmured, finding it difficult to focus on anything other than the desire to kiss her.
Her lips bent in a smile that hit him straight in his gut. "You don't sound too worried about it if it is."
He tightened his hold on her waist and leaned forward, "It wouldn't matter if everyone thought me to be a hideous, one-eyed ogre now, so long as you loved me."
Threading her fingers through the hair by his left ear, she cupped his jaw in her palm and pressed a tender kiss to his lips. "We make a fine pair, don't we?"
He nodded and kissed her again before pulling slightly away, "A blind beauty and her hideous ogre."
"No," she whispered with a smile, "Pegleg and her Captain Rattlesnake, whom she loves and adores beyond measure."
Thirty-Two
6:00 pm Thursday, August 28, 1919
Malad City, Idaho
The train whistle pierced the air, followed soon after by the screech of grinding metal when the brakes were engaged, slowly bringing the locomotive to a crawl before it pulled to a stop at the small station.
Elyria's stomach was aflutter with nerves and her palms were sweaty. But for the life of her, she didn't know why. The past two days on the train had been uneventful and at moments boring.
After all, a person or married couple could only do so much to occupy themselves without scandalizing everyone else aboard, regardless of Everett's many attempts to convince her otherwise.
He had quickly established himself as an attentive and loving husband, never far from her side. Sometimes he managed to anticipate her needs, and while for the most part, she found his behavior endearing, there were a few moments it became irritating—walking her to and from the lavatory, once she became aware of its location from their seats, to name one.
A warm breeze greeted her, blowing wisps of hair into her face to tickle her nose when Everett guided her off the train to the wooden platform.
She brushed the offending strands away and tucked them behind her ears, trying to concentrate and get her bearings.
The station seemed a veritable hustle and bustle of activity, more so than the last time she'd been there.