Chapter 21
Lilly startled a bit when he opened the master bedroom door a crack.
“Can I come in?”
“Jah, of course.”
She’d taken off her cloak and shoes, and now she stood in the light of two lamps, surveying the wedding gifts which lined the bed and decorated the floor of the room.
“So, what did we get?” he asked with a smile, hoping the residue of his tears didn’t show. She returned his smile. “Many wunderbaar things. I especially love the painting … no guessing who that’s from.” She lifted a small watercolor of the schoolhouse in winter from the foot of the bed and held it out for his admiration. None of the gifts had labels on them; they were meant to be given to the bride and groom as representations of the goodwill of the community as a whole. But the painting could have been done by no one else.
Jacob nodded at the art. “I guess you’re officially in the family now if Seth’s letting you see his work.”
“I’m honored.”
Jacob bent to admire a new leather bridle on the floor while she put the painting back and fingered the clean steel of a teapot. “There are linens too and a lot of canned goods. And I’m not sure, but I think that the leather tooling kit is from Sarah and Grant Williams. I saw her entering the bedroom before the wedding with something about its size.”
Jacob nodded, not speaking, and she went on in a hurry.
“Ach, and the schoolchildren, or perhaps their mothers, made this.” She held up a square of fabric.
“A square?” he asked with good humor.
“No … not just a square.” She moved closer to him and displayed the quilt square which had all the children’s names embroidered on it with a delicate border of hearts and vines and the wedding date. “There was a little note with it. I’m to use it when I have my wedding quilting … I mean … if I do.”
“Is a wedding quilt that important to you? Isn’t this one beautiful enough?” he asked, placing his hand on the quilt Edith had brought the day before.
“Well, yes, but …” Was it wrong for her to long for a wedding quilt? For something made especially—and only—to cover her and her husband on a cold winter’s night? Something done together with other women as a gift of love for her and an encouragement for the marriage?
“I guess we missed some things in all the hurry. If it’s really that important …” He looked at her with seriousness.
She shook her head. “Nee, I have everything I need.” She realized, as she spoke the words, that she badly wanted for them to be true. She wanted to find complete contentment in the belief that Derr Herr had given her Jacob to stand by her in life. For what more should she ever want? She was ashamed that she longed for the validation of a wedding quilt. How could it be so important? She swallowed and glanced at the bed.
“I guess we should clear things off so that we can get some sleep,” he remarked casually.
“Jah,” she agreed and moved to help him start placing the gifts on various bureaus and side tables. When the bed was clean, and Edith’s angel quilt folded back, they both stood and stared at what now seemed like a very small space of pillows and linens. Jacob cleared his throat and then regarded her directly.
“All right, so we’ve talked about this before. No expectations of a real wedding night until we’ve had some time to—um, court. I think I can trust myself to stay on my side of the bed. What about you?” He grinned and she flushed, looking away.
“Of course,” she said in a prim voice.
“Gut. I’m tired.” He reached for the opening of his wedding coat and slid it down his long arms while Lilly tried to concentrate on the stitching of the quilt’s edge. Did he mean to simply undress in front of her? What was she to do?
“Just my shirt, Lilly. Is that all right?”
She turned at his question to see his suspenders about his waist and his fingers poised at his collar. She nodded and watched him from the corner of her eye, unable to contain her curiosity. His chest was well tanned and deeply muscled. She let her gaze slip up to his shoulder and was surprised at the minimum of puckered red skin left from the gunshot wound. He must have felt her watching because he half turned.
“It’s worse on the front—the exit wound, you know. Grant Williams took out the stitches awhile ago.”
She was once more amazed at his perception and looked fully at his broad chest, marred only by what looked like a starburst of sore tissue on the splay of his arm. He moved toward her to give her a chaste kiss on the cheek. She longed to turn her head to meet his lips.
“Goodnight, Mrs. Wyse. I’ll turn off the lights and you can do whatever you usually do for bed. I’m so tired that I’ll probably be asleep before you’re done. I’ll take the side nearest to the window.”
She watched as he walked to the dresser and extinguished the lamp, then sensed him as he felt cautiously for the bed and slid in. The room lay in utter darkness; she couldn’t even see her hand in front of her face. She stood frozen, not sure what to do, until the deep, even sound of his breathing told her that he was asleep. She put her hands out to feel for the edge of the bed, stubbing her toe on something and swallowing a squeak. She decided she’d sleep with her hair up and her clothes on and make sure that she was awake before him so he wouldn’t know. She didn’t want to appear overly shy, but she wouldn’t have been able to find her brush or nightgown in the deep dark anyway.
She slipped beneath the mound of linens and quilt and turned away from him, but it was difficult not to feel the warmth that seemed to radiate from his body. She closed her eyes with reluctance, not wanting to accidentally touch him, and certain that she’d get little to no sleep on her wedding night.
Jacob turned in the bed, still half asleep. He wondered how far he could actually stretch out without touching his wife. He let a cautious hand trail across the bed and came in contact with her hip, then jerked his hand back. Stifling a sigh, he fell back to sleep. Soon he was dreaming, and it felt comfortable and familiar.
He was walking across a newly plowed, sunlit field and Sarah was beside him. They were talking, just like always, easy talk that came as naturally as the rain. But something pulled at his consciousness, an awareness that across the field there was a deep copse of trees. He felt drawn to it for some reason, but when he turned to go there, Sarah walked on ahead without him. He stopped in confusion, then returned his attention toward the trees. A tall, slender girl with long dark hair danced in the shade of the woods. He could only catch glimpses of her. He hurried his steps, drawn with irresistible attraction to the dancing girl. He turned back to call to Sarah, wanting her to know about the beauty of the dancer. But Sarah kept moving ahead, and he let her go.