The Teacher and the Preacher

by Victoria Phelps

  Lars glared through the bars. “Welcome to the world of losers, Brother.”

  Putting his hand into the pocket of his jacket, he retrieved a key. “This is the key to rooms above Doc’s old office. Caroline lived there until today. You can stay there until you move on.”

  “Still taking care of me, Sven?” Lars laugh held a canyon of scorn.

  “I won’t have you freeze to death on the range,” Sven replied.

  “Thank you, Sven. You should have been a St. Bernard with a keg of rum around your neck. You say hello to that pretty bride of yours and your bastard boy.”

  “Micah is not a b…” Sven stopped. He would not rise to the bait. “Goodbye, Lars. I’m done chasing after you.”

  “We’ll see about that, big brother. I don’t think you can help yourself. Saving me is bred in your bones,” Lars yelled at his departing back.

  Laughter, scornful, derisive, mocking, assaulted the air.

  He returned to his bride. Caroline lay still as a corpse except for an occasional hiccup and the shaking of her shoulders. She wept still. His heart contracted into a painful fist.

  “Caroline?” Her name a question with no answer.

  “I’m done with him, sweetheart. Should have been finished years ago. I’m sorry. Please talk to me,” Sven pleaded.

  If silence had a voice, it was screaming, screeching, wailing.

  Sven hung his head. He deserved it. He truly did. But she was his wife, and they would need to figure a way forward.

  He had lost a brother on this day.

  He would not lose a wife.

  He lay down next to his bride. “I’m back, sweetheart. Are you all right?” He ran his hand up and down her spine. “Caroline, please talk to me.”

  She turned her back to him. Her breathing was so shallow her chest barely moved. Sven turned on his side and cupped her bottom with his legs. “All right, sweetheart. Sleep. Things will look better in the morning.”

  But they didn’t.

  Sven woke and visited the outhouse. He washed, dressed, and prepared a plate of scrambled eggs and toast. “Come have breakfast, sweetheart.” He entered the bedroom and peered over her shoulder. He didn’t believe she’d moved all night long. She lay on her side, eyes closed, barely breathing. “Come on. We need to eat and fetch Micah. He’ll be looking for us.” Sven placed his hand on her shoulder and gave a little pull. Caroline fell onto her back. She opened her deep blue eyes and considered his face before throwing her arm over her eyes to block out the morning light.

  “Don’t touch me.” Her voice was a razor.

  “What?” he demanded.

  “I believe you heard me the first time,” she rasped.

  Sven sat down at the table he had made with his own hands and stared at the two plates of food. Caroline was always a lively little thing, flitting here and there like a hummingbird seeking nectar. She was sunny and bright. That snarling woman lying in his bed was not Caroline – not his Caroline, anyway. He heard shuffling steps and hoped she planned to join him.

  He ate his breakfast. Each bite sticking in his throat like sawdust. He left her plate on the table and returned to their bedroom. Caroline lay on the bed. Her deep rose wedding dress was twisted and wrinkled. If they were on friendly terms, he might have teased her - looks like you slept in your clothes, he’d say. One quick look at the back she’d turned to him, and he knew teasing was a bad idea. A very bad idea.

  A chamber pot sat half-full beside the bed. Well, that accounted for the moving around. “I’ll empty this for you, sweetheart.” He carried the little bowl to the outhouse, rinsed it at the pump, and replaced it under the bed.

  Sven sat alone in his two-person rocker. His hands lay loose on his thighs. He needed help. He closed his eyes, cleared his mind, and waited. He repeated his questions. What should he do about his hurt and angry wife? How could he repair the damage done? How could he help her heal?

  A proverb floated into his mind. An answer, he was sure, to his prayer. All good things come to those who wait. Patience. He would surround her with love and patience, and she would return to him. “Thank you,” he said.

  Standing in the bedroom door, he watched her silence. She probably wanted to scream at him or maybe even chuck a few dishes his way. He understood. She was mad he went to see Lars last night, but mostly she was angry at the loss of the respectability they had earned in San Miguel, their precious second chance. Truth be told, he didn’t know how the town would take the revelations so brutally hurled at their wedding. Maybe there would be forgiveness. Only time would tell. More patience. He grimaced.

  “I’m going for Micah,” he announced. He pulled on his coat and wrapped a scarf around his neck although he didn’t have much doubt that the heat of his frustrated body would keep him warm.

  Loki trotted to the door, tongue hanging out and tail wagging. “Sorry, Loki.” He stroked down his back before pointing at the floor. “Guard.” The dog gave a whine in protest but lay down on the floor. “Thank you, friend.” Sven ruffled the fur between his ears.

  The door to the Wayne home swung open at his knock. “Morning, Marcie,” he greeted.

  “Come in out of the cold,” Marcie replied. “Micah and Katie are playing in the front room.”

  Micah sat on his bottom while Katie explained the use of her various toys. When he saw Sven, he twisted until he was on all fours and scurried across the floor. He grabbed Sven’s pant leg and pulled to a stand.

  “That boy will be walking soon,” Marcie chortled.

  Sven scooped the child into his arms. “We’d best be heading home.”

  “Is everything all right?” Marcie asked. “I don’t mean to pry, but…”

  “Caroline is tired and still a mite upset about Lars and yesterday, but I guess we’ll manage,” he said. He kept his voice calm and reassuring. No point in upsetting the little man.

  “Tell Caroline I’d love for her to come for tea and talk, as John calls it.” Marcie handed Sven Micah’s jacket.

  “I’ll do that,” Sven agreed. “Thank you for watching Micah.”

  “Any time. We adore the boy, and I mean that,” Marcie replied.

  When he returned to his house, he stood on the doorstep. Maybe he should throw his hat in first. He laughed and Micah chuckled along. He was a good-natured boy, and Sven was grateful. He entered his home and glanced about. Caroline had eaten her breakfast and tidied the kitchen. He sighed. Maybe the tempest had passed. She emerged from the bedroom in a dark gray, wool skirt and light blue blouse.

  “You look mighty pretty.” He leaned down to plant a kiss on her cheek, but she dodged his approaching lips. Caroline held her hands toward Micah who fell into her arms and nuzzled into her neck. Sven felt a little surge of jealousy. He’d like his mouth on her neck, on her breasts, on her… well, on her. He would be patient, but it wasn’t going to be easy. He wanted her.

  His manhood rebelled at the delay.

  “I’ll be in my workshop if you need me,” Sven said. “Would you like me to take Micah with me?”

  Her small back was ramrod straight. She gave no answer but walked away with their child in her arms.

  When hunger drove him back to the house for dinner, he found a sandwich ready on the table. Voices came from the baby’s room, but he ate alone, sad and sick at heart.

  Supper was a silent, surly affair. The only happy sounds came from Micah, cooing and patting the table with an impatient hand when he wanted more food. That night Caroline took up her position, back firmly turned. He sensed a quiet dare – touch me at your own peril. He didn’t take the dare.

  Three days – three long days of Caroline’s silent wall. The future stretched before him in an endless stream of defiant quiet. This was not the marriage either of them wanted, and yet he felt the vise of habit falling like a guillotine blade. This would not be their marriage.

  Sven prepared Micah for the outside. “I’m taking Micah to the Waynes’ for a bit.” He watched as Caroline struggled to keep her t
ongue still. “When I get back, we’ll talk.” He gave the usual command to an unhappy Loki before striding out the door with the baby perched on his arm.

  Sven slowed his pace on the return trip. Taking several deep breaths, he opened his mind and asked the nagging question – what should he do? He needed to be calm and reassuring. Caroline had suffered a blow. A blow to her pride, her stability, her future. It was up to him as head of his household to restore hope and establish his role as a reliable, consistent leader. This was early days for them, and he must not fail. He closed his eyes and opened his heart for an answer. Relief, cool and peaceful, flooded his body like a fresh summer breeze. “Thank you,” he whispered.

  Caroline stood in front of the sink scrubbing at a pot. From the vigor of her attack he didn’t figure that pan stood a chance. Walking up behind her, he wrapped her in his arms and stilled her frantic hands. He lifted her in his bear hug and began walking. She stiffened in his arms. “Sh,” he crooned in her ear, “relax. We’re going to work this out.”

  Sven took his place in the big rocker and set his wife on his knee. When she tried to bolt from the spot, he put both hands on her tiny waist and held firm. “No, no more ignoring me, Caroline. I won’t have it.”

  Caroline heaved a long-suffering sigh and twisted away.

  “Where did this silence come from, sweetheart? It’s a cruel weapon,” Sven stated. Tension in his voice revealed how cruel.

  She gave a huffy shrug of her shoulders. Her voice might be silent, but her body was talking. Sven kept a firm hold and waited.

  “Sweetheart, I aim to spank you before this day is done, but I’d rather talk first. Your behavior is damaging to our family. It can’t go on nor can it happen again.”

  Caroline gave a more violent jerk. She would have succeeded in breaking free if Sven wasn’t so determined she would not.

  “All right, then. A spanking now and another when we’ve figured our way through. You are my wife, my responsibility, my love. It’s my job to keep my family on even ground, and I aim to do it.” Sven hoped for compliance, but it was not to be.

  He stood her between his legs, unbuttoned her skirt, and untied the bow to her bloomers. When those garments dropped to the ground, he lifted her out of them and laid her over his left thigh. He closed his eyes and waited for the sound of her voice. Nothing.

  He lifted his hand and let it fall onto her right cheek. His handprint appeared red against alabaster skin. Damn. He enjoyed seeing this sign of ownership displayed on her bottom. He spanked her left cheek and watched for the bloom of his handprint. Then he applied himself to the job of reconciliation. He spanked right, left, left, right until her bottom glowed deep pink. He moved his spanks to the tender place where the curve of her sweet bottom swept up from her thighs. With crisp upward strokes, he set her bottom on jiggling fire.

  Caroline cried. Tears pooled on the floor. Her body jerked with each well-placed stroke.

  “Stop, Sven. It hurts,” she cried.

  “I know it does, sweetheart. A spanking that didn’t hurt would be no good to either of us,” he replied. “Are you ready to talk to me. Really talk? We must come to an understanding.”

  Her delayed response brought another flurry of upward spanks. Sven added a few to her flaming cheeks to reinforce his message. He would spank until she spoke.

  “Stop. I’ll talk.” Her voice was strangled through her tears.

  Sven lifted her carefully to his lap letting her little bottom rest between his open knees. He pulled her body into his chest and rubbed her back.

  “Tell me why you thought not talking was a good idea?” he demanded.

  “It’s what my mama did,” she stated.

  “Well, I didn’t know that,” Sven’s reply was puzzled. “Did it work?”

  “I suppose, but it was terrible. She wouldn’t answer when you spoke to her. She’d just look like she heard a ghost,” Caroline replied.

  “How long did that last?”

  “Sometimes a week. If I apologized and begged, she might give me a little kiss on the cheek, and I’d know it was over.” Caroline twisted the material of his shirt in her little hand. “I hated it.”

  “Did she do this to your father?” Sven asked.

  “Yes,” Caroline admitted.

  “What did he do?”

  “Waited for it to blow over. Went to town more often. Stayed away from the house.” Caroline listed her father’s favored responses to her mother’s cold silence.

  “You hated the punishment of silence, and yet you used it on me,” Sven mused.

  Caroline blushed. “Well, it seemed to work for Mama.”

  “I don’t believe it did, sweetheart. Nothing was solved. Your father avoided her, and her children disliked her. Is that about the truth of it?” Sven questioned.

  Caroline gave the matter some thought. “Yes, I suppose it is.”

  “Do you want that kind of marriage? Do you want to drive me out of the house? Do you want our children to fear your abandonment? That’s what she did, after all. She made you feel alone.” Sven patted her back and rocked the chair.

  “No, I don’t want that,” Caroline stated.

  “Good, because I won’t allow it. I took an oath to honor and protect you. You took one to honor and obey. We took those vows before God, and we will live up to them.” Sven pushed the rocker with his right foot a few times. “Caroline, we need to talk, discuss, maybe even argue, but never ignore, never turn our backs. I know our wedding day did not go as we’d hoped.” He snorted at his understatement. “I know you are angry about Lars and upset that the town witnessed our disgrace.”

  Caroline wiggled in his arms. “Oh, Sven,” she cried, “we’re ruined.”

  “No, we’re not. We’re the same people we were before Lars rode into town. We’ve both made mistakes, but I suspect most people have. I told Lars I’m done chasing after him. He’s still lurking about San Miguel, but he hasn’t approached me. He’s staying in your old rooms. Before you get yourself in trouble by working up your anger, he’s my brother and a soul in need of understanding. I wish I could give it to him, but he won’t accept it. If he ever comes to me with an open heart, I will welcome him,” Sven pushed the chair a little harder.

  “All right, Sven, I understand. But what about the things he said? Can we stay here after all of that? I love San Miguel. I love John and Marcie especially, but I’m afraid. I loved Cold Spring, too, and they drove me away.” She shivered in his arms.

  “I have given that quite a bit of thought and prayer. First, let’s wait and see. If the congregation accepts us after a little time, and the children return to school after vacation, perhaps we’ll stay,” Sven suggested.

  “If they don’t?”

  “Let’s cross that bridge when we get to it,” Sven said. “Just so we understand each other. You will not punish me or our children with icy silence.”

  Caroline nodded her head.

  “Words, Caroline, I need to be sure you understand.”

  “I understand,” she declared.

  “Before I finish your spanking,” he began.

  “Finish? Sven, no, I understand,” Caroline objected.

  “Before I finish your spanking,” Sven began again, “I want to make a few things known. If I ever have to spank you twice for the same thing, I will use more than my hand.”

  “What do you mean?” Her voice held concern and a touch of panic.

  “I’ll never injure you, sweetheart. Did your father never spank your mother?” he enquired.

  “No.”

  “Well, that explains quite a lot. I’ve been working on a little paddle, or I might use a wooden spoon or your hairbrush. It’s best you learn the lesson the first time. Anyway, Caroline, no one ever died from having their bottom warmed.”

  “I don’t want you to do that, Sven,” Caroline said.

  “Then don’t make me, sweetheart. It’s as simple as that. Don’t make me.” Sven paused for a brief moment. “Another thing. I decide o
n the punishment. The when, the where, and the how. Let’s finish.”

  Sven lifted her from his lap and laid her over his left thigh once more. He secured her legs with his right one. That would help her lie still and avoid injury. He inspected her bottom. It was a dark pink. He wouldn’t be too harsh. They had, he hoped, reached an understanding.

  Lifting his right hand, he brought it down with a crisp stroke. He resumed his earlier pace. When he had counted to twenty, and Caroline lay draped over his leg and sobbing, he stopped. It was enough.

  He rubbed her bright bottom and patted her back. Damn. He remembered that night by the river. The sight of her punished backside had driven reason and responsibility clear out of his mind. But she was his wife now, and, due to Caroline’s hostile silence, they hadn’t consummated the marriage.

  He dropped his hand and wedged it between her thighs. He smiled when his bride parted her legs. It was an invitation he couldn’t refuse. His fingers drifted to her center. Parting her lips, he drove a finger into her cave. When she moaned, he replaced it with two and began a rhythm.

  Removing his fingers, he sought the little nub of pleasure that lay at the peak of her entrance. He rubbed and pinched and rubbed and pinched until her movement was frantic.

  Sven lifted her into his arms and carried her to their bedroom. Laying her in the middle of the expanse, he unbuttoned her blouse and pulled it free. He feasted on her breasts, pulling, biting, massaging. He withdrew from his meal long enough to remove his own clothes before positioning himself between her thighs. Draping her legs over his shoulders, he supported her bottom with his large hands and lifted her to his mouth.

  His tongue continued the assault until he felt the waves of her passion. Caroline’s body jerked in his hands, and he laid his tongue flat and pressed. When he’d wrung every last measure from her writhing body, he laid her flat on the mattress.