Her Dear & Loving Husband
Page 26
He put his arm around her shoulders and held her close while they walked the last block. He stopped a few feet in front of the wooden gabled house, and Sarah laughed as he pulled her close. She threw her arms around his neck and pointed her face up, ready to be kissed. He couldn’t resist that look and he ac-quiesced, gladly. Then he stepped back to look at her.
“Are you certain about this?” he asked. “About being with me, now, the way I am?”
Sarah shook her head. She stood on her toes so she could take his face between her hands. “James, how many times do we have to go over this? I loved you as you were then, and I love you as you are now. I told you, I’m here and I’ll never leave you ever.”
He kneeled while he held her hand to his lips. He wanted to start their future together, all the happy nights, months, and years they would have together. It was the way it had happened then, in front of that very house, the one his father had built for them when he knew she would be his wife. A few hours earlier it all could have ended for another century, or millennia, or forever. But that night he was there, he was willing, and he was asking her to marry him. He knew how lucky he was then to marry for love, and he knew how lucky he was now.
“Yes, yes, James, of course I’ll be your wife. You’re my dear and loving husband. I love you.”
“You see,” James said, “second chances happen. If you’re lucky.”
“We are lucky,” Sarah said. “Everyone should be so lucky.”
CHAPTER 25
How long would you wait for the one you loved? James had wait-ed over three hundred years.
Their second wedding was different. The first had been an afternoon affair after harvest season, a simple ceremony where they pledged their commitment, knowing in their hearts that their love would span eternity. Their second wedding took place in the luminous warmth of an early summer night at Jennifer’s house, a Victorian-era home where the rose-filled backyard glowed with white Christmas lights, candles and incense burning all around. Jennifer presided over the ceremony like an ethereal princess in her flowing robe, her long auburn hair loose around her shoul-ders. Their guests stood in a sacred circle holding white tapered candles, sending light across the night. Sarah wore a crown of flowers, James a crown of ivy.
This was a traditional Wiccan hand-binding ceremony, and their friends had important roles to play. Martha stood to the north and held a fan to represent air since it was her connection to unseen things that helped Sarah realize all of who she was and who she could be. Olivia stood to the south and held a red candle to represent fire. Sarah’s mother, who came to Salem from Boston after all, stood to the east and held a blue crystal to represent earth. Jocelyn stood to the west and held a glass of water. One by one they put their items on the altar, which the loving couple kneeled before, their hands bound by a woven cloth rope. The rope was not a life-stealing binding as the iron chains had been. This was a warming, loving connection. It was right that they should be tied together that way. Jennifer waved a bouquet of fresh scented herbs around them to ward off evil spirits. Then, before she began the giving of the rings, she slipped the rope from their hands with the knot still intact, signifying that husband and wife would always be bound in marriage.
Jennifer said, “Now you are bound one to the other with a tie not easy to break. Grow in wisdom and love so your marriage will be strong. So your love will last in this lifetime. And beyond.”
Timothy began sweeping with a straw broom, pushing away bad luck and impurities, leaving the sacred circle fresh and new.
Jennifer said, “I take you my heart at the rising of the moon and the setting of the stars. To love and honor you through all our lives together. May we always be reborn so that we may meet and love one another again. And remember. May we always remem-ber.”
To end the ceremony, James read Anne Bradstreet’s poem. Sarah couldn’t stop the happy tears as she heard the words that expressed their love, then and now:
…Then while we live, in love let’s so persever
That when we live no more, we may live ever.
After the ceremony, Sarah pointed out that it was just like the end of a Jane Austen story since Austen’s novels end with the happy couple getting married.
“Is this the end of the story?” James asked.
“Of course not,” she said, smiling that smile he loved to see. “This is only the beginning.”
The only pause of the night was when he saw his wife looking over the top of Jennifer’s fence, scanning the empty street. She seemed anxious somehow, almost frightened.
“What are you looking for?” he asked.
Sarah shook her head. “I’m still expecting to see Kenneth Hempel jump out at us from behind the bushes. I keep thinking I see him there. My imagination must be getting the best of me.”
James brushed her curls from her face, leaning close and wallowing in the sensuous joy of strawberries and cream. He kissed her forehead, both of her cheeks, her lips. He lingered on her mouth a long time.
“What was I worried about again?” Sarah said.
James laughed. “I don’t think you need to worry about Ken-neth Hempel right now. He won’t be bothering us again any time soon.”
Sarah looked at their guests, saw them happy and laughing. “What do you think he would say if he could see us tonight? Do you think he’d change his mind about his hunt?”
“I doubt it. His vengeance is not against those like Timothy, Jocelyn, or me. He wants retribution against the wild ones like the one that killed his father. But you can’t tame unruly vampires any more than you can tame unruly humans.” He kissed his wife’s lips again. “In just a few short weeks Kenneth Hempel has become a distant memory, like a story told ages ago.”
“Like a fable or a legend.”
“That’s right. Tonight I remarried the only woman I have ever loved. In over three hundred years there has been no one in my heart but you, and that is all that matters now.”
“And if Hempel comes back?”
“As long as we’re together, everything will be fine. Remem-ber, I’ll never leave you ever.”
“And I promise you the same.”
As their guests mingled, James introduced his wife to others who came to celebrate the night, friends he had known, some for generations, and she was happy to meet them and know them. He even invited Geoffrey, who seemed pleased to be there, proud of his vampling. James laughed when he heard Geoffrey boasting to a white-skinned friend: “I turned James. That’s right, I turned him. He’s my vampling.”
When Sarah stepped away to speak to her mother, Geoffrey grabbed James by the arm and pulled him to the far end of the yard. “When are you going to turn her?” he asked.
“Who?”
“Don’t be daft, James. That perfectly nice little human person you’re married to, that’s who. If you leave her be she’ll die.”
“Tonight?”
“Of course not tonight. But soon. A human life is like a snap of our fingers.”
James watched Sarah. Sweet Sarah. Beautiful Sarah. She was laughing, joyful, stealing glances at him. He closed his eyes and savored the sweetness of strawberries and cream. She was perfect. He didn’t want her to change.
“She doesn’t want to be like us,” he said.
“You don’t need people’s permission to turn them.”
“I’m well aware of that. But I would never do to Sarah what you did to me. If this isn’t what she wants then I’m not going to force her to it.”
“James.”
“We have time before we have to worry about it.”
“Humans always think they have time. Then before they know it they’re eighty-five years old, eating through a tube, shitting in a diaper, and what do they have to show for it?”
“A lifetime of memories.”
“Will that be enough for you when she’s gone again?”
James clutched Geoffrey’s shoulder. “It’s my wedding, Geof-frey. Give us this one night to be happy. You can sing
your tale of woe for us some other time.”
James stepped away, shaking aside the hollowness he sud-denly felt. But he refused to dwell on the sadness Geoffrey’s words could bring. There would be only joy and light that night. He and Sarah had decided. And as for the rest of their time together, they would take each night as it came, appreciating what they had while they had it. They would know not to take their love for granted this time. There were no guarantees in a human’s life. They were not guaranteed health. Or wealth. Or time. Or happi-ness. But right now, that night, he and his wife were married again, caught up in the bubble of joy they could find only with each other. They were fulfilling their destiny with the only person they could. When you love someone and cannot exist in any form, human or otherwise, without her, when you’re sure you were created for her and she for you and no one else, you will always love her. No matter how many centuries pass, despite whatever comes, you will always love her. And, if you’re lucky, you will find her again. Even in Salem. Especially in Salem.
He found his wife, grabbed her hand, and led her across the yard to introduce her to Howard Wolfe, a biology professor at Salem State College and Timothy’s guardian. She seemed happy to meet him.
“I’ve seen you in the library near the human physiology sec-tion,” she said.
As they chatted James waited for her to make the connection between the wolf that howled for Timothy and the man they were speaking to, but she needed some prompting. After Howard was called away, James pulled her close.
“Have you noticed how he always cancels classes the night of the month when there’s a full moon?” he asked. He saw the recognition in her eyes.
“Timothy called that wolf Dad,” Sarah said. She watched Howard as he laughed with his vampire son. “He’s a werewolf?”
“Yes, but he won’t be any trouble tonight.”
Sarah looked at the slice of the crescent moon hanging above them. She didn’t look worried, James thought. Perhaps a bit apprehensive.
“Are you sure there’s no such thing as Frankenstein?” she asked.
“There is no such thing as Frankenstein. That I’m aware of.”
Everyone moved from the backyard into Jennifer’s house, drinking or eating and talking and hugging each other. Through the window, barely visible against the shadows of the night, James saw a wisp of streaming light that beckoned him. When he looked again he was certain he saw his father standing there, looking him in the eye as he had done so many times before, smiling, his hands pressed together as if in prayer, joy in his kindly eyes. He seemed happy for James and his new bride just as he had been oh so many years before. As if no centuries had passed since his death, James ran outside to greet him.
“Father!” he said. But his father was no longer there.
Sarah followed him out the door. “James? What’s wrong?”
“I just saw my father standing here. He was smiling.”
“Your father was always smiling.”
James put his arms around Sarah and pulled her close. He thought he was hallucinating again the way he did the day he was in the sun.
“Do you think he was really here?” he asked.
“These days I’ll believe anything.”
He held his wife even closer and kissed her.
“You’re right,” he said. “Anything is possible.”
The next night James was shaken awake by his wife. She stood over him, Sarah, just as she did when he called her Lizzie, poking his shoulder, shaking his arm, laughing.
“James? Jamie? It’s been dark for over an hour. It’s time to wake up.”
She walked to the window, threw aside the blackout curtains, and raised the blinds. The sky was well dark, the moon clearly visible, the stars winking at them from the distance. They had seen this dance between James and Sarah many times before in years gone by. James was awake, but he loved how she was playing with him and he didn’t want it to end. It felt right for them to be that way again.
She pulled the blanket from him. “James Wentworth, it’s over three centuries later and you are still the laziest man ever born!”
He pulled her into bed with him and kissed her. They dis-solved into each other like no time had passed and they had been together that way every night for three hundred and nine-teen years and they would be there still for three hundred and nineteen years more.
Some things never change.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I remember the day, three years ago, when one of my students handed me Stephenie Meyer’s Twilight and told me how much she loved it. Having never been one for vampire stories, I read the book solely on her recommendation. While the student shall remain unnamed, I thank her.
Diana La Fontaine, who read the story and loved it. Thank you for being James and Sarah’s first fan.
Laurin Wittig, who read an early draft of the novel and pointed me in the direction this story needed to go.
My mother, who has always supported me in my endeavors.
The editors and staff at Copperfield Press.
The contributors, authors, and devoted readers of The Copperfield Review. I hope CR continues for many more years.
As I said in an earlier work of historical fiction, I am not an historian, though I ride on the coattails of talented historians who do the hard labor digging through layers of the past to find the facts. While my intention was to remain true to the history of the Salem Witch Trials, and to the town of Salem, Massachusetts itself, in the interest of full disclosure I admit to taking some creative license in the representation of both. As a former history teacher, my hope is that readers will become intrigued enough by the Salem Witch Trials that they will seek out historical accounts of the era. The Salem Witch Trials: A Day-by-Day Chronicle of a Community Under Siege by Marilynne K. Roach is a good place to start.
As to the history of vampires, I'll leave that for Book Two, Her Loving Husband's Curse, to comment on…
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Meredith Allard received her B.A. and M.A. degrees in English from California State University, Northridge. Her short fiction and articles have appeared in journals such as The Paumanok Review, The Maxwell Digest, Wild Mind, Muse Apprentice Guild, Writer’s Weekly, Moondance, and CarbLite. She has taught writing to students aged ten to sixty, and she has taught creative writing and writing historical fiction seminars at Learning Tree University and UNLV. She is the executive editor of The Copperfield Review, an award-winning literary journal for readers and writers of historical fiction. She lives in Las Vegas, Nevada. You can visit Meredith online at www.meredithallard.com. She is also on Twitter @copperfield101.
Her Dear and Loving Husband is Book One of The Loving Husband Trilogy. Book Two, Her Loving Husband’s Curse, will be available 2012. Look for more titles from Copperfield Press coming soon.
Table of Contents
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25
>