The king, next to Tigen, nodded at her, conveying a measure of love in that small gesture. Tears filled her eyes. Had anyone told her six months earlier that she would love the overlord King Fawlin, she would have scoffed. And, yet, here she was.
The drumming began—
And stopped before Sober came out.
Provocation entered the room from the back, whisked over to the king and whispered in his ear.
He nodded.
Provocation stopped to talk to the Atwaters. They both stood and followed her out.
Repentance shot a quizzical look at the king.
He grinned.
Grinned? She'd never seen him grin before.
She mouthed the word, "What?" at him.
He stood and approached her. "Just wait. I have found—I have the best button present for you."
Her parents came back into the room, tears streaming down her mother's face.
Behind them came two boys, maybe twelve or thirteen. A little younger than Shamed.
She put her hand to her mouth. Twelve or thirteen! It was all she could do to keep from jumping up to hug them. The ceremony was about to start, though, and that was a good thing, because the boys looked overwhelmed and uncomfortable as it was.
Everyone settled back into their seats, her parents flanked by four boys.
The drums started up again and Sober came through the door behind her. Repentance saw him through a fog of happy tears. He limped—he always would—and he was leaning on a cane as he danced with his scarf, and yet he managed to look graceful. Repentance brushed her tears away and looked into his eyes thinking she might see some sorrow left over from the things he'd suffered. She found nothing but joy.
He winked at her, and she grabbed the scarf and let him pull her up.
Looking into his eyes she repeated her vows as she buttoned his scarf to her blouse.
With my heart I'll love you,
With my hands I'll serve you,
By your side, I'll abide, forever and always.
Sober hooked his cane into his trousers pocket to free his hands, and he buttoned himself to her.
With my heart, I'll hold you,
With my arms, enfold you,
Beside you, I'll guide you, for now and for always.
And then he kissed her.
She could hear cheering and hooting and hollering, but it all sounded strangely far away. Sober broke the kiss and whispered in her ear. "How soon are we allowed to leave these revelers and have some time alone?"
They were going to Mistress Merricc's farm for the Button Night. There, a small cabin stood at the end of a lake. Not a swampy lake. Not a freezing lake. A warm, clear lake where ducks and loons raised their families and otters played all the day. Repentance had never seen it, but Sober had told her about it and it sounded like the perfect place to spend a Button Night. It sounded like the perfect place to start a family.
She shivered at that thought. She'd have babies.
"Are you cold?" he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and hobbled toward the crowd of well-wishers.
She put an arm around his waist. "After that kiss? How could I be cold?"
Moonlight filtered into the cabin through the gauzy curtains at the window. Repentance listened to the night sounds—frogs singing love songs in the lake, an owl sounding off with a lonesome hoot.
Sober, snoring softly, lay snuggled against her back in the big bed, one arm wrapped around her.
She twisted under his arm and nestled her head against his warm chest. His heart tapped against her ear with a happy little stutter, sounding as familiar as the dripping of the trees in the swamp.
He woke and squeezed her tightly to his chest and kissed the top of her head.
"I'm sorry I woke you," she said.
"Don't be. I'll be happy if I never sleep again. Sleep means time lost that could be better spent with you."
She thought of her father dragging out to fish in the mornings after sleepless nights filled with squalling babes. "Just you wait until the babies come. You'll be begging for sleep."
He stopped rubbing her back. "We'll have babies?"
She laughed and pushed herself off his chest to look into his face. "Of course we'll have—Did your parents never explain how babies come to be?"
He gave a deep chuckle. "Funny girl. Yes, now that you mention it, I think my parents did tell me something about it."
She snuggled into his neck. "We'll have a son." She was sure of it. He'd be born in a soft bed in a room lit by suncloths, and he would be no man's slave. "We'll call him Gladness."
And there would come rejoicing.
"Gladness sounds about right to me." Sober kissed her head again. "Maybe you'd better show me one more time exactly how the babies come about. I might have misunderstood."
Laughing, she lifted her face and kissed him back.
Yes, there would come rejoicing.
#
Acknowledgements
This has been a long journey and so many people have fanned my writing flames; we'd be here all day if I were to mention each one. But I'd be remiss if I didn't thank Becky Miller, who has been my writing partner and dear friend, lo, these many years.
And I must mention two people who are no longer with me here—my husband, Wassie, and my mother. Many people go their whole lives with no cheerleader at all, but God lavishly gave me two. I am not unaware of how much I owe to them and to Him.
And last, but certainly not least, I am grateful to my children: Shane, with his big, generous heart, and Nikki, who has always been my sweet Comfort.
About the Author
Sally Apokedak is a literary agent, reading and writing and editing books in sticky, muggy Atlanta. She often dreams of getting back to Alaska, where the ice is sticky but the air is crispy cool. But her grandbabies are in Georgia, so she'll be staying in the heat for the foreseeable future.
Sally also teaches at writer's conferences around the United States, and she has students in 110 countries in her Udemy courses. Come by her website to learn more:
WritingCoursesOnline.com
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