A half hour later it was heavenly for Marcail to finally take her hair down and crawl onto the sofa for the night. As she fell asleep with a dull headache, Marcail wondered if she should try to explain to Alex about her hair. As she pictured herself trying to do just that, the image caused her to blush all over again. Marcail told herself she was going to have to suffer through the headaches.
twenty-six
The next day Marcail sent a note home with Erin Vesperman in regard to Alex’s birthday present. Marcail prayed that there would be enough time to order the new black leather satchel she’d spotted in one of Rigg’s catalogs when she was home for Christmas. Why she’d been looking at the medical supplies, she wasn’t sure, but she knew what she wanted and could only hope that Mr. Vesperman dealt with some of the same suppliers as Rigg.
Alex was a little late in claiming Marcail, but she had some work to do at the schoolhouse and didn’t miss him. Their evening was much like the previous, with a quiet supper and talk across the table. Again, Marcail went to bed with a dull ache around her forehead, but as always, she slept soundly and woke up refreshed and ready to take on the day.
Alex had made the coffee that morning, and when Marcail was enjoying her second cup, he surprised her with a question.
“I don’t want to put you on the spot, Marcail, but I was wondering—how do you feel about Dean and Kay Austin?”
“I think they’re very nice.” Marcail was a little taken aback by such a question.
Alex nodded. “The three of us have been meeting for Bible study on Wednesday nights for a long time, and I was wondering if you’d be interested.”
“Alex,” Marcail thought she understood, “you don’t have to ask me. I know you have things you want to do that don’t include me.”
“That’s just it—I want to include you. I want you to join us, but I don’t want you to feel like you should.”
“How do the Austins feel about my joining you?”
“Kay was in yesterday, making sure I planned on bringing you.”
Marcail warmed with his words. It had seemed the majority of the town was against her. Then both Mary Vesperman and Cindy White had talked to her in the bank, telling her how much they appreciated her stand. And now knowing that the Austins wanted to include her in their Bible study meant more than Marcail could say.
“So you’ll come?” Alex had seen the look of pleasure in her eyes.
“Yes, I’d love to.”
“Great,” Alex too was feeling very pleased himself. His Wednesday night study was important to him, both spiritually and emotionally, and he’d have definitely felt the void if Marcail had stayed home.
When Alex picked her up from school that afternoon, he surprised her with the news that Kay had asked them to supper that evening. He told Marcail when he would be back for her, and she took advantage of the time to do a little baking.
By the time Alex returned, Marcail was flushed from her baking efforts, but the cookie tin was full. Marcail also had a basket to go to the Austins.
“You’ve been busy,” Alex commented with pleasure as his nose tested the air. “What is that I smell?”
“Probably the peanuts. I like cookies with peanuts in them.”
Marcail held one out to her spouse and waited for the verdict. Her smile was triumphant at the look of rapture on his face.
“I take it you like them?”
Alex quickly schooled his features into a blasé mask. “They’re pretty good, but it’s hard to tell after just one. I’d better try another.”
He started toward the basket, but Marcail neatly scooped it up with one hand and held it behind her back.
Alex’s brows rose, along with the corners of his mouth, at her impertinence, and he came to stand very close to his wife. When Alex leaned very close and put his arms around her, Marcail began to wonder if she should have hidden the basket. He seemed to take an inordinate amount of time stealing a second cookie, and Marcail’s face was a dull red by the time he finished.
Alex never took his eyes from his wife’s face as he reached around her slight form and retrieved the cookie without ever touching her. As she watched him, Marcail had the sudden impression that Alex was not all that interested in the baked goods. The idea scared her a little and caused another emotion, one she could not define.
Alex kept his place by Marcail as he ate the second cookie, and did nothing this time to hide his pleasure.
“These are really excellent, did you know that?”
“I’m glad you came to that decision after only two; one more and you wouldn’t want any supper.”
“Now you sound like a teacher,” Alex told her as he wiped the crumbs from his hands.
The smile Marcail gave him was brilliant. “I do, don’t I?”
Alex only laughed, shook his head, and escorted his wife out the door.
Kay Austin said little to the new Mrs. Montgomery when she first walked in the door. Not until they were in the kitchen, and alone, did Kay give any hint as to what was on her mind.
“Are you all right?” Kay asked the question while looking directly into Marcail’s eyes, and Marcail suddenly felt tears stinging her own.
Marcail nodded a little. “Why do you ask?” she whispered.
Kay hugged her before answering. “Because there was not one bit of color in your face when you were here on Sunday to marry Alex. I know Alex well enough to know that he’s a very gentle and compassionate person, but this can’t have been easy for you. So tell me, are you really okay?”
“It doesn’t seem real yet,” Marcail admitted softly. “And you’re right, Alex couldn’t be more kind, but he’s still—” Marcail hesitated.
“A stranger,” Kay finished for her. Marcail nodded. The older woman reached out and gently squeezed Marcail’s arm.
“You can talk to him about anything,” Kay told her. “He’s very understanding, and he’s also a man who really strives to obey God every day of his life. I know he prayed about marrying you and believed it to be the best thing, or he never would have asked.
“Maybe you think I’m being too optimistic, but years ago my older sister Addie was widowed suddenly while she had four children under the age of five. So her children could eat, she married a near stranger three months later. She and Hank have had a wonderful life together. In fact, Hank is a lot like Alex, with his gentle ways and quiet humor. As hard as it must be for you to believe this, I really think that the two of you will make a go of it.”
Her words did much for Marcail’s spirits, and the evening proved to be both relaxing and refreshing. After supper, Marla and Daisy went off to bed, and the adults gathered around the kitchen table for the Bible study. As they studied in the book of James, Marcail found out in a hurry that Alex, Dean, and Kay were serious about knowing God better and dedicating their lives to His glory.
twenty-seven
Alex had been in his office for two hours on Saturday morning before Marcail stirred from her sofa-bed. Sleeping in seemed almost decadent, but as tired as she’d been on Friday night, Marcail needed the extra rest.
There was cleaning to be done, clothes to be washed, and baking to be tackled. Alex had told Marcail he would not return until midafternoon, and Marcail took advantage of the privacy to bathe and wash her hair. She luxuriated in the water a little longer than she should have, but it felt so soothing that after scrubbing every inch of herself, she just wanted to relax.
Fifteen minutes later, Marcail was dressed in her undergarments and looking over her dresses. They all needed to be washed, but she wouldn’t have anything to wear if she got all three of her dresses wet. She wished she’d brought a couple of work dresses from Kaitlin’s until she suddenly remembered the several dresses hanging on the far end of her wardrobe. Marcail opened the second door, something she hadn’t needed to do as yet.
Marcail had given little thought to the previous Mrs. Montgomery, but now as her hand went to the fabric of the dresses, her mind began to wander. What had
she been like, and how much did Alex miss her? How long had she been gone? Did Alex know where she was spending eternity? And many more questions.
There were five print dresses and two solids. Marcail looked with some envy at the bright calico and gingham cloth, and then noticed the sleeve of the blue gingham was torn. Marcail pulled this dress out and saw in an instant that it was different from the rest. It was faded and the top button was missing. Marcail knew by looking at the other gowns that this one was a wash-day dress.
Without giving herself much time to think, Marcail pulled the dress over her head. It had barely settled on her shoulders before one of Marcail’s questions regarding Alex’s first wife was answered—the dress was huge on her. Marcail suddenly remembered the nightgown Alex had given her the night they’d been snowed in, and wondered how she could have forgotten.
“Well, Marcail, what are you going to do?” the small brunette asked herself as she looked down at the way the dress hung on her frame. She knew she was wasting valuable time thinking about how she looked when her only plans were to wash and clean. Marcail swiftly buttoned the front that bagged enough to hold another person, and rolled up the sleeves that hung past her fingertips.
Her hair was still very wet, so after pulling the heavy tresses away from her face with a comb, she let the back hang free and went to work.
Alex was glad to leave the office for the day. He knew the bell could ring at any time, but he was looking forward to seeing Marcail and was anxious to discover how she had spent her day. It was incredible how often she was on his mind. After stabling Kelsey, Alex’s step was swift to the front door.
Marcail had just taken two loaves of bread from the oven when the door opened. Thinking she’d heard Kelsey’s hooves, she wasn’t at all surprised when Alex walked in the door.
“Hello,” Alex spoke as he hung his coat. Still wearing the workdress, Marcail was standing near the stove, bending over a pan of cookies. She missed the way he turned with a ready smile that died abruptly on his lips.
“Hi.” Marcail spoke without turning. “I’m just about to put these cookies in so you’ll have some dessert to eat after your lunch. You must be hungry, since you—”
Marcail didn’t finish the sentence. She’d finally turned to find Alex staring at her, his face holding an expression she’d never seen before. They stood in silence for a moment, and then Marcail watched his gaze slide over her dress. A sinking feeling settled around her heart.
“I’m sorry about the dress, Alex,” she said softly. “I wanted to wash all my dresses and just acted without thought. I should have checked with you before wearing one of your wife’s dresses. Please forgive me. I won’t do it again.” Marcail could tell she was babbling, but he seemed so pensive.
“I never thought of Linette as being big,” Alex finally said, “but that dress swallows you.”
“I’ll change just as soon as something is dry.”
Alex shook his head and smiled. “There’s no need. You should wear them if you can. As you said, they are my wife’s dresses, and you’re my wife.”
Marcail nodded, but because he was still watching her, she was not convinced.
“I wouldn’t have believed that you were hiding so much hair in that bun you wear.” Alex’s eyes took in the way her hair, so black it was almost blue, hung to her hips, each strand falling in a glossy wave and curling of its own accord at the end.
“I’ll put it up,” Marcail spoke, unable to keep the disappointment from her voice. It was the first time in days she didn’t have a headache. She turned to find her box of pins.
“Don’t pin it up on my account. I like your hair down.”
Marcail turned back, afraid to believe what she’d heard. “You don’t mind my wearing it down?”
“Not at all.” Alex’s voice was matter-of-fact.
“And you don’t think I look 16?”
Alex smiled. “Sixteen,” Alex let out a slow whistle. “That would make you roughly half my age, and that scares me a little. Right at the moment, you look like a girl playing house in her mother’s dress, but no, Marcail, you do not look 16 with your hair down.”
Marcail’s relief was so obvious that Alex smiled again and wondered for an instant why she wore it up if she didn’t want to. When she continued to smile, he wondered if she would still be smiling if she knew how much he wanted to hold her, letting her fill his arms the way she already filled his heart, or if she knew how badly he wanted a real marriage, and not just a marriage of convenience to salvage her testimony before the townspeople.
As he constantly did these days, Alex prayed for patience. He believed that if he could just give this woman time, court her, and tenderly care for her, they would someday have a marriage in every sense of the word.
That Marcail was unaware of his thoughts was obvious in the way she went about her business in the kitchen as though they’d been married for years. Alex silently congratulated himself for keeping the emotions he felt from showing on his face.
“How did things go at your office today?” Marcail asked as she poured Alex a second cup of coffee.
Alex was so surprised by the question that he didn’t answer for a moment. He realized then that no one in Willits ever asked him that question. Linette had been burdened with a weak stomach and never wanted to talk about his work. His parents checked with him on a regular basis and nearly picked his brain dry when he went home, but that was only a few times a year. Alex suddenly recognized that he’d been lonely before Marcail, and that he’d missed someone taking a personal interest in his work.
“Things were fine. Saturday mornings are usually pretty hectic, but today was quiet. I was able to restock my bag, so if I’m called out, I’ll be all set. Oh,” Alex said abruptly, “I made some lotion for one of my patients who suffers with dry skin. I added some fragrance after filling her bottle and brought you some.”
Alex went to where his coat hung by the door and returned to hand Marcail a glass bottle filled with a thick yellow fluid. Marcail pulled the cork and inhaled the fragrance. It smelled like summer flowers, and she smiled as she held the bottle beneath her nose.
Alex watched as she rubbed a small amount on her arm. That she was more than pleased with the gift gave him tremendous satisfaction. Acting as though he’d given her a diamond instead of a small bottle of perfumed lotion, Marcail thanked him in her soft voice.
In that instant Alex wondered what type of home she’d grown up in, where she had obtained such an appreciation for small things. His thoughts made him realize, not for the first time, how little he knew about his wife.
twenty-eight
The rest of Saturday flew by in a buzz of activities. Alex was not called away, so he chopped wood and worked in the barn. Marcail finished the baking and worked on her school lessons for the following week. At one point Alex came in to find Marcail standing on a chair, putting dishes away.
Before she could take another breath, he was taking the dishes back down, and telling her he was going to lower the shelf. Marcail tried to explain that she didn’t mind using the chair, but he had become a man with a mission and didn’t even answer her. When she saw how determined he was, she worked with him for a time, but as he began to pull the shelf from the wall, nails creaking and dust flying, she moved into the living room to get out of his way.
By the time Marcail was ready to start supper preparation, the shelf and dishes were back in place, and she went to work on the evening meal. Alex washed up and helped her. In no time at all, they had put a filling meal on the table.
As the evening progressed, Alex noticed that Marcail was more animated than he’d ever seen her. He wondered how stressful it was for her to teach. On the other evenings they’d spent together, she’d been communicative but not enthusiastic. He then pondered if her bubbly mood had anything to do with the lotion he’d brought. He told himself with an inner smile that if this was the effect he could expect, he’d bring her a different bottle every night.
; Alex took a bath in his bedroom after supper. Marcail helped him heat the water, and then to give him as much privacy as she could she took herself off to the living room to a book she was reading. An hour later, when Alex was still behind closed doors, Marcail decided to get ready for bed, telling herself she could use the extra sleep.
Alex took an unusually long time with his bath that night, but not because he was overly dusty or wanted to put space between him and Marcail. Once away from Marcail, he found his mind trying to work through the puzzle of the change in her that night. His mind lingered on the fact that she hadn’t taught school that day, but then he put that idea aside. Marcail never seemed beaten down or tired when he picked her up in the afternoon.
Alex dried off and sat on the edge of the bed. He let his mind see her as she’d been when he’d come home from work—bent over the stove, looking adorable in that huge dress, her hair falling in thick waves down her back.
Her hair! Alex realized with a start. He jumped up, pulled on his pants, and opened the door as he slipped into his shirt.
“Marcail,” he called before rounding the corner into the living room.
“Yes?”
“May I come into the living room? I need to ask you something.”
“Sure,” Marcail answered from her place on the sofa. She was already in her nightgown and robe, but was sitting on the sofa with her Bible. She watched as Alex came in and sat beside her, even though the sofa was already made up for the night.
Alex had not carried his lantern from the bedroom, and Marcail’s was turned rather low. Alex reached and increased the flame before he spoke.
“I need to ask you about your hair,” Alex began, watching her face closely in the lamplight.