The redheaded woman laughed, a short, startled burst of noise that made her cover her mouth with her hands in the next second. Eddie looked at her sharply, waiting for an explanation as she fought to speak normally.
“Why don’t you ask her yourself?” she asked. The woman spread her arms out on either side of her body and bowed. She giggled as she straightened, and covered her mouth again at the look of shock on Eddie’s face. Young, pretty and smart-mouthed. Apparently kind, too. Besides being much shorter than described, she seemed every bit as lovely as her letter. He tried to imagine driving her away with his raucous behavior or sordid past, as he’d briefly planned, and was annoyed to find himself overcome with guilt at the prospect.
Now this is punishment, Eddie thought. He couldn’t believe his luck.
After Martha stopped laughing, Eddie picked up her trunks and carried them wordlessly to the street. He’d rolled up his shirtsleeves, and several women shot his bicep covetous looks as he strolled past with Martha trotting behind him, unable to walk at his speed. Eddie was six feet tall, and Martha was only about five three; it was no wonder he’d mistaken her for a young girl.
“I didn’t mean to embarrass you,” Martha hissed at him as they headed past Evan’s house. Evan had retreated into his home, probably to feed or bathe one of his twins.
“You didn’t,” Eddie said. He started up the steps just as his muscles started to groan from carrying the heavy trunks. Martha had her duffel slung over one shoulder; she’d insisted on carrying it herself. “I’m just…not sure how to behave right now.” He shot her a weak smile before he opened the door. “I’ve never been married, or even had a girlfriend, and this was never my idea. You should know that.”
“Okay,” she answered, apparently bewildered as she lowered her gaze from his. Eddie wanted to feel bad, but he was still strangely numb. The sensation had fallen over him as soon as he picked up Martha’s trunks, and it hadn’t let go.
Martha was silent as they entered the house, but her mouth fell open when she saw the wide kitchen with its gleaming floors, and she let out a soft ooh at the sight of the wide bed in the bedroom.
“This place is so nice,” she said softly. “Your uncle said you built it yourself…is that true?” Her green eyes fell on him, and he nodded mutely. “How long have you been building things?”
“Long time.” Eddie sat on the bed and stared at his hands, trying to sort through his thoughts. She was beautiful---that he hadn’t expected; he also hadn’t expected her youth or energy. He wasn’t sure why, but he’d been so stuck on the idea that Martha would be an unsuitable bride that he was more shaken by the fact that she was more than suitable. Her normalcy nagged him, scratching at his confidence until a hole opened up and he started to sink into the waters of panic.
“Are you okay?” Martha asked, but her voice seemed far away. He felt the bed move, so he knew she’d sat next to him, but he couldn’t bring himself to look at her when he spoke again.
“No. I think you should leave.”
The short sentence was followed by a lengthy silence so pregnant with tension that Eddie nearly expected to faint even though he was sitting. Martha laughed again, a bitter burst of sound that stabbed at his heart like a knife. When she spoke, her icy tone was even worse.
“Decided I’m not good enough for you?” He finally looked up, and was startled to find her green eyes were swimming with tears.
“No,” he said, shocked. “Not at all. “ Her emotion made him uneasy, and triggered an avalanche of feeling within him.
“Then what is it?” Her voice was laden with strife, and she was struggling not to cry. “What could I have done already? What did I say?” She stood, and he almost laughed; she was barely taller than him, even while he sat. “And what’s so funny?”
“It’s me,” Eddie barked, his voice raw with pain. He stood suddenly, and she gasped, but didn’t step back. He could feel the press of anguish against his heart and knew tears would come if he kept going, but he couldn’t stop. “It’s me that’s not good enough, not you. My damn uncle should have told you I was a mess. I don’t know what he told you to get you here, but it was a lie. You’re young, and you’re clearly too good and too smart for the likes of me. I was planning to turn you away or drive you out…but I can’t do that to you. So please…” he begged, and his voice starting to crack as a single tear slid down his cheek. “…please, just leave. You’re going to anyway. Lola was right. I’m too broken.” Eddie sagged forward under the crushing weight of his self loathing and grief, and Martha stepped forward just in time. She caught him and guided him gently to the bed, surprising Eddie so much that his tears stopped immediately.
“Ssssh.” Martha whispered in his ear as she placed his head gently on her lap, stroking his black hair softly as his sobbing quieted. “Hush, you silly thing.” She smelled like cinnamon, and the cool skin of her hand relaxed him more than her words. He could feel the warmth of her thighs against his cheek, and the heavy muscle there surprised and comforted him further. When she spoke again, her voice was low and sweet, pouring over his body like honey. He imagined she used this tone with children.
“Don’t you think your uncle told me about you? Does he really seem the type to leave me---or any woman--- in the dark about your history?” She placed one hand on his brow. “And I really hope I don’t seem like the sort of person that would…fall for some sort of scheme.” She wrinkled her nose, then smoothed her face out and smiled.
Eddie pulled his head from her lap and sat up, wiping the moisture from his face as she continued to speak.
“I’m not going anywhere.” Martha took one of his hands and squeezed it between both of hers. “I came here because your Uncle spoke very highly of you, and you sound like exactly the sort of person I need.” Eddie laughed at that, and Martha frowned.
“See, this is what I mean,” he said exasperatedly. He pulled away from her and stood, pacing by the side of the bed in agitation. “You’re so…romantic. I saw that in your letters. And that’s not a bad thing,” he said hurriedly in response to the pain in her eyes. “But there ain’t nothing romantic about me. If you know about me, then you know about my…problems. And you know there’s no solution. I can’t be who anybody else wants me to be. I can put on a mask, but I can’t change.” He met her eyes as forcefully as he could. “That’s why I think you should leave. I’m sorry, Martha.” He sighed, feeling lighter for having spoken his mind. Eddie watched Martha for a reaction, but her face was blank and unmoving. Finally, she stood again and walked up to where he stood. Her eyes were sharp and sober, and it occurred to him that no other woman had ever faced him so aggressively.
“You’re wrong.” Her tone was sure, and her words cut through him like a hot blade through butter despite her low voice. “Every problem has a solution. And you should trust a teacher’s word. Just like I trust the word of a painter if he tells me blue is blue.”
Martha inched closer and put both of her hands in his. They were close enough to kiss now, and Eddie had to fight with every ounce of will in his body not to close the space between them and devour her mouth with his. When she spoke, he could feel her breath on his lips.
“And you may think you’re broken, but every break gets mended. Every gap gets filled by something else. I know.”
“How?” Eddie asked softly. He caught her hands in his, hypnotized by her heady scent and the softness of her skin.
Martha laughed, and it was more of a sigh than a sound.
“Isn’t it obvious? I’ve been…broken, too.” Her lips curled upward into a sad smile, and Eddie’s heart clenched in response. He couldn’t imagine how she could possibly be broken, but he was too consumed turbulent emotion to form a coherent question.
“I’m not going anywhere,” Martha repeated. “Okay? Can we agree on that?”
Eddie’s heart was in his throat, but he wanted so badly to believe her that he decided to do something he never did. “I’ll take your word for it.”
&
nbsp; Her smile was so brilliant that Eddie had another urge to kiss her, and he was astounded he held himself back while they stood so close. As if on cue, Martha pulled her hands back from him and walked around the bed to begin unpacking. Just like that, their moment of profound intimacy was over; Eddie felt both better and worse. He gazed at Martha as she hummed to herself and pulled clothing and shoes from her trunks, fighting with the contradictory feelings within himself. He was intrigued and charmed by her, and more than a little attracted to her; he was also afraid to get any closer, and suspicious of her motives. Eddie had no idea how to suss out her thoughts and plans, and he was in the middle of trying to figure it out when she broke his train of thought.
“Can you show me where I can put my silver?”
Eddie realized that for the first time in his life, he was going to have to try. He had never been more terrified.
The first thing he did after Martha went to sleep was get rid of the alcohol in his house. He’d been weening himself off, remembering the violent shakes his father had whenever he stopped drinking. He knew his body would depend on it, but his withdrawal symptoms were far more manageable now. He was ashamed of being addicted at all; for years he’d avoided thinking about it by simply never being completely sober. He wondered how it would affect his mood. Eddie kept one bottle of liquor in the smallest bedroom, next to the one Martha was using for the first week.
They’d decided to sleep separately until Eddie was more comfortable with her. It had been her idea, and Eddie found himself annoyed at her level of consideration. She was far more considerate than any stranger---or indeed, many of his friends---had ever been to him, and it made him suspicious and sad at first. For the first week, he hardly spoke to her at all beyond trading tiny bits of information about themselves--- where they’d grown up, what their friends were like, favorite foods and colors. Martha proved to be an accomplished cook, something that made continuing to freeze her out incredibly difficult. On her fifth night, she made a succulent roast with garlic mashed potatoes and jellied cranberries, all while he’d been out doing repairs to the Widow Davis’ gazebo. He’d been gone three or four hours and returned to find the house smelling of tender beef and herbs. His stomach growled as the scent wafted over him, and he tried to walk straight back to the bedroom, but he caved when he saw her setting the roast on the table. Her hair cascaded around her shoulders in gentle waves, framing her delicate oval face and bringing out her striking green eyes. She pushed the heavy dishes around with such ease that he was again impressed by her strength; as far as he could tell, she simply liked to exercise, and it certainly showed. Martha looked up as she set the last dish on the table, and the look of happiness that illuminated her features hit Eddie like a punch to the gut.
I’m in trouble, he realized as he returned her warm smile and felt the icicles around his heart loosen.
“Just in time!” Martha said cheerily. She took off her white apron and smoothed her simple house dress down around her hips, though it hadn’t been wrinkled. She disappeared into the kitchen and came back into the dining room with a glass of beer. Eddie gasped.
“Where did you get that?” He thought he’d poured all of the alcohol out.
“The store,” Martha answered dryly. “You didn’t have any, and I know you like beer. It’s ok to have a drink once in a while,” she said gently, seeing the panic in his eyes. “My father went through the same thing after my mother passed. I can help. But please be honest with me. It’s the only way I can help.” She sat down in her seat and waited for him to join her, smiling pleasantly from the table.
Her bluntness shocked him. He felt rage swell in his brain, but it was quickly punctured by the sharpness of his shame. He shuffled forward and dropped in his seat, avoiding her gaze as he picked up his fork.
Unlike the baked chicken and carrots she had made earlier in the week, the roast was a dish Eddie had eaten so many times in his life that he often taste slight alterations made to any recipe he encountered. He’d mentioned the dish to her without expecting her to know or even care how to make it. He paused after the first bite, and then started to eat so quickly he thought he might forget to chew and choke, except the meat was so tender and juicy Eddie didn’t quite believe it was possible. He could feel Martha watching him, and he didn’t care; for the first time during her stay, he felt completely unselfconscious. He forgot that she knew more about him than he’d planned to reveal, more than he even thought his Uncle knew, it turned out, and focused only the taste of the food in front of him. When he was finished, he ripped a chunk from a warm bread roll and used it to soak up the last remnants of sauce and potatoes. Martha chuckled as he set the plate down and sat back, setting one hand against his stomach. She caught his eye, and finally returned her gaze. He was surprised to find it was easier than before, even easier than that very morning; he thought it might be the food, or how pretty she looked smiling at him over the roast.
“Do you want seconds?” she asked, reaching for the carving knife. He stopped her with the wave of one hand.
“You gave me so much, I’m already stuffed.” Eddie said amiably. Martha’s body had tensed up when she grabbed the knife, but now she relaxed and smiled again. She returned to her plate of food, hesitating before she took a bite.
“Do you mind?” she asked, and Eddie laughed.
“Don’t let me stop you.” He watched her eat, and it struck him that the food was almost identical to the way he imagined it every time he tried a new recipe. That was odd, but he let the thought go before he could read into it too much.
“Are you getting a lot of work done?” Martha asked between bites. Eddie thought he detected a smirk, but he couldn’t be sure.
“Plenty,” he answered cautiously. “Had a lot of renovations, some new additions to plan. I’ll be busy for a while.” He dropped his eyes, suddenly unable to meet her naked gaze. “Have you been…doing much at the house?”
“Lots,” she said brightly. “You’re handy, but a lot of things needed cleaning. I am running out of things to do, though. Perhaps I could tag along with you one day? I’m stronger than I look.”
“I know,” Eddie said, remembering Martha catching him in her arms a week before. He blushed a brilliant red, and Martha put her fork down.
“Sorry,” she said softly. “I didn’t mean---“
“It’s fine,” Eddie cut in. He was happy to find that he meant it; his embarrassment wasn’t nearly as cutting as it usually was. Maybe it was a week of good meals, or getting used to seeing her face in the house, but he felt lighter and somehow softer than before. It was like she’d rubbed at his jagged edges while he wasn’t even looking.
“Actually, the neighbor did say something to me today,” Martha said off-handedly. “Something about inviting us for dinner? His wife’s name was Cheryl, they have the cutest twins.”
“Evan,” Eddie realized. “I haven’t talked to him since you got here, he’s probably eager to see if you’re---“ he stopped, and Martha laughed.
“Let me guess, he was expecting a hippo, or a crazy person?” Martha laughed until her eyes swam with tears. Eddie joined her, and his stomach started to hurt from the force of his guffaws. They eventually calmed down, and they grinned at each other foolishly over their empty plates.
“I guess we are due for dinner,” Eddie said sheepishly. Then something stirred in his mind; he was hesitant to bring it up, but the atmosphere was so easy he had a feeling this was the right moment. “What did he ask about us…getting married?” He knew Evan was too bold not to mention it.
Martha flushed a bright pink and smiled shyly. “He asked what the hold up was; he said I’d come here to do it, and we might as well get a move on.” She laughed nervously, watching him for his reaction.
Eddie nodded, turning over the week’s events in his mind. She had come to marry him; she had even said she wasn’t leaving. He’d come to terms with the fact of the marriage before she had even arrived, so why was the idea making him so uncomforta
ble now? Then the answer struck him, hard as a slap in the face: he actually wanted her around now. He felt fond of her, and the chemistry between them scared him. She was so kind and warm, but he was expecting her to turn on him any moment. He knew why, but he didn’t want to address it. Martha could sense his hesitation: she frowned, her eyes darkening with pain.
“You still don’t want to.” She sounded so limp and resolved that Eddie immediately regretted his silence, and sought desperately for the right words.
“It’s not that I don’t want to.” He reached across the table, holding his hand open in request for hers. She hesitated, then put her smaller hand in his; a ripple of electricity shot through his arm, and he saw Martha shiver. “I want to…I’m just so afraid that I’ll mess it up. I wasn’t made for marriage.”
“No one was,” said Martha angrily. “It’s about finding the right person.”
Eddie groaned. “You’ve known me for a week, Martha, you can’t say that I’m the right person for you!”
“Then how can you say I’m wrong?” she challenged. He fell silent, absorbing the truth of her words. When she saw the contemplative expression on his face, her anger softened. “You won’t know until we try. Let’s try.” Her eyes connected with his, and he felt another charge pass between them. He wanted to say yes---the words were right at the tip of his tongue---but he couldn’t bring himself to say it.
“Who’s Lola?” Martha asked suddenly. Eddie’s heart stopped, and his mouth dropped open.
“What?” The word came out like a cough, short and rough. He didn’t remember saying the name.
“On the first day we met, you said that ‘Lola was right’. You were too broken. Who is Lola?” Martha’s voice was soft and uncertain.
ROMANCE: His Reluctant Heart (Historical Western Victorian Romance) (Historical Mail Order Bride Romance Fantasy Short Stories) Page 2