The Teacher and the Preacher

by Victoria Phelps

  Sven pulled Micah in for a hug. “Ready, little man?”

  Micah patted his father on the cheek and pointed a pudgy finger. “Oki,” he said before planting his thumb in his mouth.

  “Yup, Loki,” he laughed. “Come,” he snapped his fingers and the big dog came to his side.

  His mouth dropped to his chest as he entered the church. The women of the town had decorated for a Christmas wedding. Boughs of greenery lined the aisle that his bride would walk down. A red bow adorned the side of each pew and candles formed a little circle where the wedding party would stand. He blinked back a tear and swallowed heavy emotions.

  Caroline would be his wife. Today. Against all odds, he had found her and won her heart and hand. He whispered a little prayer into his son’s wispy blond hair.

  The church filled with friendly faces and bright smiles. A wedding was an event not to be missed, especially this one. The teacher and the preacher – he’d heard the murmurs. Two important figures who led and nurtured old and young alike. The town blessed the union, and Sven’s heart gave a little leap.

  As the crunch of wheels came to a halt in front of the church, Sven took his place beside Reverend Smythe. He held Micah in his arms, and Loki sat by his side straining a bit against the unfamiliar ribbon. He dropped one hand, ran his fingers through the rough fur, and Loki stilled.

  The congregation stood. All eyes focused on the doorway, anxious for their first glimpse of the bride.

  Marcie stepped through first. December in Texas was not a land of flowers, but she carried a small bouquet of greenery tied with white ribbon. Her curly hair framed her face like a halo, and joy in her friend’s happiness shone like a lighthouse beam from her leaf green eyes.

  She took her place to the minister’s left.

  Sven shifted Micah on his arm. The baby laid his head on his shoulder and popped his thumb into his mouth. What was taking so long? She’d changed her mind. Yes, that was it. John would appear in the door and apologize to the congregation. There would be no wedding. “Please, Caroline, please.” The words swarmed through his mind in a circle of hellish trepidation.

  Caroline appeared as if in answer to his prayer. She wore a dress of deep rose trimmed with white lace. He loved her in this color. She’d remembered. He blazed a smile down the aisle, and she reflected it back. Her black hair was brushed off her forehead and accentuated her widow’s peak. The length of it swung free and fine down her back.

  John Wayne held her hand on his arm and patted her fingers as they made their way past the eyes of the town. When they reached the front, John placed her hand in his before moving to his side. Sven sighed. The transfer had been made. She belonged to him-almost. He squeezed her hand, and the three of them, Sven, Caroline and Micah turned to face the minister.

  “Dearly Beloved,” he began. “We are gathered here in the presence of God to join Sven Nielson and Caroline Connors in holy matrimony. If there are any here who object to this union, speak now or forever hold your peace.” When the moment of heavy silence passed, the minister continued. “Let us pray.”

  Sven faced Caroline so that Micah was nestled between them. He circled her waist with his left arm and pulled her close. When they bowed their heads over the baby his forehead touched hers creating an arc, a rainbow, over the child. A rainbow of love, protection and trust. Under the protection of that arc, Micah could grow and explore, safe in the arms of his family. Caroline and Sven would swear to be true in a few moments, and Micah would thrive in the warmth and security of their union.

  Time was ticking, and Sven realized he hadn’t heard the minister’s prayer so lost was he in the emotion of this moment.

  “Amen,” the congregation said before settling in the pews.

  Marcie took Micah from his arms, and Sven grasped both of Caroline’s hands in his own.

  “Sven, repeat after me,” the minister ordered.

  Sven nodded with such force his blond hair tumbled onto his forehead. He listened with great care before embarking on his vows.

  “I, Sven Nielson, take you, Caroline Connors, to be my lawfully wedded wife. I promise to love, comfort, honor and keep you for better or worse, richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, for as long as we both shall live.” Sven’s voice, clear and strong, rang like the peal of a bell throughout the church.

  “Caroline, repeat after me.” The minister provided the lines.

  “I, Caroline Connors, take you, Sven Nielson, to be my lawfully wedded husband. I promise to love, honor and obey you. I take you for better or worse, richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, for as long as we both shall live.” He locked his eyes with hers.

  The reverend waited before breaking their spell. “Do you have a ring, Sven?” he prompted.

  Sven dropped one of Caroline’s hands and fumbled in the pocket of his coat. He frowned as he searched until his hand wrapped around the gold band that had belonged to his mother. He handed it to the minister.

  “Lord, bless this ring, she who wears it, and he who gives it. May their lives be filled with love and faith.” He settled a gentle look on the baby held in Marcie’s arms. “May their children bring joy to their home.” He handed the ring to Sven. “Repeat after me.”

  Sven lifted Caroline’s left hand and followed the minister’s directive. “With this ring I thee wed, and with all my worldly goods I thee endow.” He slipped the simple band onto her left hand and wiped a tear from Caroline’s cheek.

  “You may now kiss your bride.” The minister gave a command he was only too happy to follow. He pulled his wife into his arms, lifted her off her feet, and sealed his mouth around hers. Later, well, later he would take more kisses, better kisses, deeper kisses, but this was all that would be allowed for now. They were, after all, in church. He lowered her to the ground and reached for Micah.

  Man, wife, and child faced the gathered witnesses. Sven’s grin split ear-to-ear and Caroline blushed a pretty pink. Micah sucked his thumb while Loki rose to stand by Sven’s leg. Hallelujah. She was his. Legally, physically and with God’s blessing. Sven leaned down to drop another kiss on top of his bride’s head when the door to the church swung open with such violence it bounced off the back wall.

  A big man with white blond hair and transparent blue eyes staggered into the church. Heads swiveled from Sven to the intruder, back to Sven, a few glances were spared for the light-haired baby before returning to the glowering Vikings.

  “Well, if it ain’t the fallen woman of Cold Spring and my jailbird brother. Finally got hitched. I’ll be damned.” The invader’s bloodshot eyes swept the congregation. “Bet you didn’t know my golden brother was most recently a guest at the territorial prison. Well, he was. Accessory to armed robbery. That was the charge, wasn’t it, Sven?”

  “Lars,” Sven croaked. “What are you doing here?”

  “You didn’t think I’d miss your wedding, did you?” He pointed a finger at Caroline. “Sven always wanted to marry her. Even when we were boys, he had his mind set. But he didn’t wait to bed her, and I’m pretty damn sure that’s a sin. Ain’t it, Sven? Fornication, I mean. It’s a sin. Makes your preacher a sinner; your teacher a trollop, and that boy,” he pointed at Micah, “a bastard.”

  Gasps, loud and outraged, surrounded them. The hot displeasure of the town burned into his chest.

  Sven tightened his grip around his wife’s waist. Her trembling vibrated through his body, and he feared she would collapse. The blush drained from her face and left behind pasty white. Micah sensed the distress. His thumb came out of his mouth with a pop, and he screwed his face into a tight ball of fury. Loki surged forward with teeth bared and emitted deep, deep growls of warning. Sven grabbed the wedding ribbon tied around the dog’s neck and held him tight.

  John Wayne and the sheriff surged down the center aisle. They each took an arm of the intruder and hustled him toward the exit.

  “I think you better come with me, young man.” The sheriff’s gruff voice echoed through the church before
the door swung shut.

  Sven stood stunned, immobilized. Marcie rushed to their side. “Come with me, Caroline. You too, Sven. We need to sit down for a few minutes.” She turned toward the staring, dumbfounded crowd. “Why don’t you all head on over to the reception. We’ll be along.” Marcie made a shooing motion as if the congregation was a flock of chickens. They began to disperse albeit with stolen glances and whispered comments.

  “Let me get you some water.” Marcie fetched the glass and pitcher kept under the pulpit for the minister’s comfort while delivering a sermon. She filled the glass with water and handed it to Caroline.

  “So, that’s your brother.” It was a statement. No question mark in sight. “John told me about him. How he let you take blame for something you didn’t do.” She gave a disgusted, “Huh.”

  Now that the shock had worn off, tears fell relentlessly down Caroline’s face. “What can we do, Sven? He called Micah a b…b…bastard,” she wailed.

  “Anyone dares call my boy that.” Sven waved his fist in the air in menace to this unknown insulter.

  “Let’s take a breath,” Marcie began. “The people of this town are good hearted, and they know the both of you are fine people. We’ll wait a bit and join them at the reception. If we have to, we’ll explain that your brother is a mean-spirited snake.”

  Caroline’s voice was shaky and small. “Except what he said was the truth. Ugly and unvarnished, but the truth.” She sniffled. Sven reached into the pocket of his best coat and handed her a clean handkerchief. He had come prepared for tears, but he’d expected them to be ones of happiness and not shame.

  “Come on, Ava and Adam. Put your coats on and help Katie. We’re going to a party,” Marcie declared. “Pa will be coming right along.” She smiled encouragement at the newlyweds.

  Sven placed a gentle kiss on his bride’s temple. “Marcie’s right, darling. It’s our wedding day. Let’s not let Lars completely ruin it.” He held his hand out and was grateful when Caroline placed her tiny hand in his.

  The little group marched down the street with determined stride. Sven pulled open the big door to the Livery, and they stepped inside. Stoves burned bright around the room, but the chill sent shivers racing down his back.

  The food tables that had groaned with the town’s best offerings were nearly empty.

  Marcie’s sister, Amanda, hustled over. “Those biddies,” she began. “Once old Elvira Peterson picked up her dish, turned up her nose, and left, others followed. Darn them. But Jeb MacGregor and his boys are here, the Blake family, you,” she pointed at Marcie, “and us. We can still celebrate.” Her voice quivered, and she peeked at Caroline uncertainly.

  A single man dangled a violin from his hand. The rest of the band had decamped. “Want a wedding waltz, ma’am?” he asked.

  “Oh, Sven,” Caroline sobbed. “Take me home.” She turned her face into his chest and sobbed, shoulders shaking.

  Marcie held her hands out for Micah. “This little man is going home with us as planned. You two deserve a little privacy on your wedding night.”

  John Wayne entered the barn and shook his head at the dispirited group. “I’ll go get the wagon. You wait here.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Amanda said. “I guess we’ll all head home.”

  Sven put his arm around Caroline’s shoulders, and they slipped into the dusk. When they reached the door to his house, he scooped her into his arms and carried her over the threshold. “My beautiful bride,” he whispered.

  He removed her coat, sat in the rocker he had made just for this purpose, and lifted her into his lap. This would not be the wedding night he’d imagined and reimagined. Lord knew he wanted her. He feared she probably felt his stiffness through her clothes. But Caroline was wilted, withered, lifeless. She leaned against his chest limp as a sawdust doll.

  Sven rocked until his bride slept in his arms. Rising from the chair, he carried her to the bedroom and laid her on the bed. He gave a rueful glance at the plump pillows and clean sheets.

  As he turned to leave, Caroline’s hand shot out and took fierce hold of his sleeve. “Stay with me, Sven,” she begged.

  “I’ll be right back. I need to talk to Lars,” he said.

  “It’s always Lars, Lars, Lars. He’s always come first with you. I hate him,” she sobbed.

  “Sweetheart, he’s my brother,” he explained the obvious. “I’ll be back shortly. I have a few questions that need answering, and then I’m done dancing to his tune.” Sven placed a gentle hand on her waist. Caroline turned her back and refused to speak.

  “Refusing to talk to me is damaging to our marriage, sweetheart. Normally, I’d spank you for it, but you have just cause. I can’t deny it. Lars has caused us plenty of heartache, but after tonight I’m done with him. You and Micah are my world.” He waited. Caroline’s back remained resolute.

  “All right. Don’t leave the house. I’ll lock the door behind me.” He paused for another moment hoping she might relent and speak. When the wall of silence still hung in the air like a Minnesota snowstorm, Sven rose to his feet.

  “Loki.” He pointed at the floor next to the bed that held his silent wife. “Guard.”

  Sven buttoned his coat against the December cold and strode to the sheriff’s office.

  “Evening, Sheriff,” Sven said as he closed the door behind him. He peered toward the single cell. His brother sat on the cot. Lars had his elbows on his knees and stared with interest at the floor between his boots. “What are the charges against my brother?”

  “I had Max, the barkeep, come take a look at him. He’s not the one who beat Belinda. He didn’t break anything, either, but he sat and watched while his two buddies did. Max said he left money on his table before they left. So, I suppose he ain’t guilty of anything except keeping bad company. Lord knows if that were a crime most of us would be in jail one time or the other,” he scowled. “I’ll just keep him overnight so as he can sober up. Besides, I can’t put him out in the cold with nowhere to go even if he is a lowdown skunk.” The sheriff gave his head a rueful shake and threw a log into the black stove. “Say, Sven, I’m mighty sorry about what happened at your wedding.” The sheriff aimed the disgust-soaked words at the prisoner. “That was a damn shame.”

  “Thank you, Sheriff,” Sven replied. “Mind if I have a few words with my brother?”

  “You go right ahead.” The sheriff reached for his coat and hat. “I think I’ll have another look around town. Be sure those other two haven’t returned.”

  When the door clicked shut, Sven stared at Lars through the bars. “Why aren’t you still in prison?” he asked. “Your time’s not up.”

  Lars continued to examine the floor. Well, damn, was the whole night going to be one silence after the next? The air threatened fireworks, lightning, explosions. Lars rose to his feet.

  “I got out early,” he snorted, “for good behavior.” He approached the bars, and the two brothers hurled daggers through the bars. “Then I moseyed up to Cold Spring. I knew Mama had passed, but I was curious about the old hometown. Townsfolk told me you sold the farm.” His statement held a pesky question.

  “I did,” Sven replied. “The money is in the bank and half of it is yours. I didn’t figure you’d want to settle there, seeing as how the townsfolk were so glad to see your back. I couldn’t stay either.”

  “Yes, well, that would bring us to the lovely Caroline Connors. Those old gossips were only too happy to tell me she left town in the family way. Only as good as she should be. Pride goeth before a fall, all that malarkey.” Lars shifted his weight and brought his hands to his hips. “It didn’t take a genius to figure who the father would be, but I got a good look at the kid yesterday. He’s yours all right. Can’t figure how the good people of this town didn’t know. It’s plain as the nose on your face.” His mouth turned down in an ugly sneer. “Not so high and mighty now, big brother?”

  “How did you find me?” he queried.

  “Well, seeing as how you’d sold
the farm, I had time to wander around. Remembered the name John Wayne, and how he stuck up for you at the trial,” he said.

  The memory sent hot waves of anger pulsing in a wave of fury. John Wayne, a stranger, had taken his side when his own brother hadn’t. Lars would have let the court believe Sven equally responsible for the robbery. Hell, he’d only arrived in time to get swept up in the mess. He’d not been any part of it. The memory scalded like boiling water on bare skin.

  “I made a few enquiries. John Wayne is a famous fella – ex-Ranger and now breeding the best horses around.” Lars paused and took a step closer to the bars. “Followed a hunch, and there you were. Respectable and about to get hitched. Landing on your feet like a cat with nine lives.”

  The two men strained toward one another, muscles flexed, and hands curled into fists.

  “Why?” Sven’s voice was deadly, dangerous.

  “Why what?” Lars shrugged a shoulder in a pretense of disinterest.

  “Why did you ruin our wedding? What possible excuse could there be for such meanness?” Sven asked. “My whole life I’ve tried to take care of you. Keep you out of trouble.”

  “Well, that’s just it, ain’t it?” Lars snarled. “Sven the golden boy, the favorite, always having to rescue bad boy Lars. Don’t you ever get tired of being so goddamned holy?”

  Sven stuttered, “You’re jealous? Of all the stupid…” Disbelief writ large on his astonished face.

  “Not jealous. Just tired to my very bones of playing second fiddle to the wonderful Sven Nielson. I could never live up to you. Why, sainthood is damn near impossible. Saint Sven,” Lars snorted. “Anyway, you ain’t no saint. Got that little virgin in the family way and skedaddled.”

  “I didn’t skedaddle. I followed you. Mama asked me to find you. Keep you out of trouble, but I arrived a mite too late,” Sven said. “After I got out of jail, I went looking for Caroline. It was pure luck that I found her and Micah here in San Miguel. First I knew I had a son.” He cleared his throat. “We both worked hard for a second chance. Thought we could live a good life in this town, but you did your best to destroy it. Pretty sure that second chance is gone. Caroline always said you were plain mean. She tried to get me to stop chasing after you, fixing your problems, pulling you out of one scrape after the next. Damn if she didn’t have the right of it.” Sven heaved a sigh that held years of regret.