‘Why ain’t God said a thing about husbands going off to war?’ I say under my breath, making Betsy giggle and Mama give me a look.
‘… for although Eve led Adam astray, he did not forsake her, but was cast out in sorrow and in pain with her, to create a new home out of adversity. This same sorrow and pain and adversity strikes within our nation now, taking so many away from their communities, their homes, their wives, breaking apart our unity. I say to you that as a wife must submit to her husband and remain loyal to her husband, so must a state with its nation.’
Once Preacher says that, there is a stirring in the pews. I twist and crane my neck to look across the aisle and behind me and there is Jeremiah, jiggling his knee, sitting so straight and looking so handsome, like a man I don’t hardly know in a fresh brown suit and his hair all neat. I am willing him to look at me when Mama clamps my thigh.
‘Without Love,’ Preacher says, ‘there is nothing, and that is why I charge you to take the love you bear for each other and build a new Union …’
I don’t hear a word else that Preacher Bowers says. Instead I tug at the tips of my fancy lace gloves over and over, until Mama clasps my hand tight in hers. She only lets go when Papa reaches out to help me stand.
Preacher asks my Papa, ‘Who gives this woman to be wedded to this man?’ and there is Jeremiah standing right across the aisle.
And then Papa leads me forward and with the whole church at my back he puts my hand on Jeremiah’s elbow. Jeremiah looks at me and before he walks us to the altar he whispers in my ear, ‘You look so pretty,’ and it is different than when Mama says, ‘You look prettiest when …’
Preacher is still talking but not one bit of it stays in my mind. There is just Jeremiah taking a deep breath. His hands shaking. His eyes meeting mine: my something blue.
When it is my turn to say the vows sealing me to him for the rest of my days, I barely hear my own words until Jeremiah gets that soft, hungry look of his as I promise to be his faithful and loving wife. Then Preacher says we can kiss and Jeremiah’s mouth is hard on mine. I hold him fast even with the whole church of people watching because at least for now he is mine.
AN ICY SNOW covers the churchyard, but Jeremiah steadies me through the gate and across the schoolyard, every step crunching until we climb the schoolhouse steps and there is the hollow sound of wood beneath our feet. That schoolhouse don’t hold good memories, nothing but Miss Riggs’ ruler or Eli Snyder telling everyone I had hair full of nits, or Carrie Jewett singing songs about my cow-stink. I haven’t stepped foot in here since Papa got Mama to let me quit schooling and Jeremiah keeps his hand at the small of my back, pushing me forward, like he knows it’s no place I’d choose to be.
The woodstove inside is already burning, but I am shivering with cold, my leather boots soaked through. Jeremiah closes the door behind us and then he comes to me.
‘You’re so cold,’ he says. ‘Maybe we ought to stand by the stove …’
‘Maybe you ought to come and keep me warm,’ I say, and smile up at him, at this thing we can do now that what we are to each other ain’t a secret.
We stand right inside the door, Jeremiah at my back, his arms around me, waiting for everyone to come give us their congratulations and best wishes.
The desks are pushed back along the walls and the churchladies have all laid their best tablecloths and set out cookies and sweetbreads made special. At the front, on Miss Riggs’ desk, is Mama’s linen embroidered tablecloth, and sitting there is our wedding cake, a ginger cake from my new sister-in-law Sarah.
‘You all right?’ Jeremiah asks.
‘I just want to go home,’ I say, turning into him. ‘It’s too much, all these people looking at us, talking about us.’
‘It’s only nice things they’ll be saying.’
But I know how those churchladies talk, and their daughters judge, and I don’t tell him how I already heard Mrs. Jewett saying if people wanted to make a fuss over something they ought to be baking for soldiers’ boxes instead of some farm girl’s wedding.
Jeremiah takes my hands, holding them out wide as he takes a step back. ‘I ain’t missing this for the world,’ he grins. ‘When else do I get to show off my pretty new wife?’
My cheeks flush but I look from under my eyelashes at him, trying not to think what he means by when else.