‘‘What are you still doing here?’’ Gabe asked. These days when he questioned Isobel this way he did it almost breezily.
‘‘I live here, didn’t you know?’’ she replied cheekily, licking a spoon.
Gabe slung an arm loosely around Roberta’s neck and said to his daughter, ‘‘Know something? You’re going to. Tell ’em, Roberta.’’
She took a relaxed grip on his wrist and let her arm dangle from it. ‘‘Your father and I are going to get married.’’
‘‘Heck, we knew that,’’ Isobel replied, still sucking.
‘‘Sure, we knew that,’’ Becky seconded.
‘‘We just didn’t know when,’’ Susan added.
‘‘When, Mother?’’ Lydia asked.
Roberta deferred to Gabe. ‘‘When, Gabe?’’
‘‘When do you want to?’’
‘‘When should we?’’
Isobel answered, ‘‘Sooner the better so we can all live together.’’
Roberta turned to Gabe again. ‘‘Where we going to live?’’
‘‘Here,’’ he replied, as if he’d known all along. ‘‘Gonna knock a hole in that wall over there and add on a bedroom for us, and the girls can share the two rooms upstairs.’’
‘‘I get Isobel in my room!’’ declared Susan.
‘‘Mother, does she?’’ Lydia whined. ‘‘I want her in mine.’’
Rebecca dipped two spoons, which she handed to the adults. ‘‘Here, try some. Better get used to it, Mr. Farley, ’cause sometimes that’s all you get for supper around here.’’
‘‘Oh, Becky, honestly,’’ scolded Roberta, amused. ‘‘Don’t tell him stuff like that. He’ll believe you.’’
‘‘And don’t call me Mr. Farley anymore. How about Gabe?’’
‘‘All right, Gabe. How’s the divinity?’’
‘‘Mmm . . . not bad.’’
‘‘Who’s going to stand up for you, Mother?’’
‘‘Who wants to?’’
Three hands went up. ‘‘I do, I do, I do!’’
Susan immediately disparaged her younger sister. ‘‘Don’t be silly, Lydia, you’re too little to be a bridesmaid.’’
‘‘No, she’s not,’’ Becky defended. ‘‘Why couldn’t she be the bridesmaid just as well as you?’’
‘‘I know. We’ll draw straws,’’ Roberta decided.
‘‘I’ve got a better idea,’’ Rebecca said. ‘‘Let’s draw spoons. Everybody lick your spoon off, and only one of us dips ours in the candy. Then we put them all in the clean kettle and you hold it above your head, Gabe, and the one with the divinity gets to be mother’s attendant or bridesmaid or whatever you call it.’’
Gabe said to Roberta, ‘‘Is this what life is going to be like all the time, living with you four? Making a game out of everything?’’
‘‘Ever a game,’’ she told him. ‘‘Always going for the fun in life so that when you take the deep six you do it with lots of memories.’’ To the girls she said, ‘‘ Somebody dip that spoon.’’
Lydia dipped. Gabe raised. And everybody drew.
Rebecca got the candied spoon, and Roberta felt a secret spark of pleasure: It was right that Becky stand up for her; after all, she’d been predicting and encouraging this union for some time. Everybody got a hug, though, along with an invitation to plan something special for the wedding ceremony, and to talk about where it should be held. It seemed natural to say yes when the girls asked if Isobel could stay overnight so they could begin the planning.
Minutes later, Gabe and Roberta were back out on the front porch in the dark, saying good night.
‘‘You really are going to let the girls plan your wedding?’’
‘‘Well, sure . . . some of it, anyway. We do everything together.’’
He took hold of her arms and pulled her toward him. ‘‘Roberta, you’re something,’’ he said, bending his head.
It was different, kissing as an engaged couple. Betrothal removed certain restrictions. His hands moved over her as if she were a fine piece of wood he had sanded and polished and was checking for smoothness. He stood between her and the yard, in the deepest shadows at the opposite end of the porch from the swing, getting more and more reckless as the seconds stretched into minutes with his open mouth plying hers and his hips riveting her against the wall.
Her arms were raised, her hands on his neck and hair until their breathing became labored and he began making inroads into her clothing. He had never done that before.
With her mouth and hands she pushed him away and whispered, ‘‘Stop, Gabe.’’
He freed her abruptly, sensing her rising fear. He could barely make out her face in the blue-black shadows.
‘‘I’m not Elfred, Roberta. I won’t hurt you.’’
‘‘I know . . .’’ she whispered, then as if to convince herself, ‘‘I know.’’
‘‘But he’s scared you, hasn’t he?’’
‘‘Some. Maybe.’’
He thought awhile, damning Elfred and fearing for the blight he might have left on his own and Roberta’s future.
‘‘Okay, well, listen . . .’’ He stepped back, catching her hands, holding them. ‘‘You’re right. Best thing to do is wait with everything, prove the Benevolent Society wrong, eh?’’
She kissed him on the corner of the mouth and said, ‘‘Thank you, Gabe, for understanding.’’
Though they tried to pretend a small wedge had not been driven between them, it had. Though they tried to pretend it would not be driven deeper on their wedding night, they knew it was a distinct possibility. Necking on the porch swing or in the shadows of the backyard with all their buttons closed was one thing; facing a marriage bed was another. He wondered if she’d delay their wedding interminably to avoid facing her own fears.
‘‘So when can we get married?’’ he asked.
‘‘Oh’’—she let out a puff of breath—‘‘I don’t know. How long will it take you to get an addition on the house?’’
‘‘Is it all right if I do that? We haven’t even talked about it.’’
‘‘Of course it’s all right. I’d love to stay here, and your plan makes perfect sense. After all, Isobel has spent so much time here, and so have you, that it practically seems as if it’s been our home already.’’
He thought about his work schedule. ‘‘Seth and I have got some jobs we’ve already agreed to do, so I can’t start here for a couple of weeks.’’
‘‘Well’’—she thought for a moment—‘‘what about mid-November? We could set the wedding date for then.’’
It seemed light years away, but Gabe hid his disappointment and said, ‘‘Guess that’s all right.’’
‘‘That’s it then. Mid-November.’’
‘‘Roberta, I’d like to give you something—an engagement ring or a brooch. Should have had it for you tonight, but I thought you might like to pick it out yourself.’’
They both realized how different this second time was from their firsts, when breathless anticipation held no clouds, and proposals were delivered with the proper trappings. They wondered what had happened to the carefree couple who had entered the house to announce their intentions so jauntily less than a half hour before.
That couple reappeared on Friday when they went to pick the engagement ring—a modest diamond surrounded by four smaller diamond chips—and got back to Roberta’s house to find it empty, for once. He took her to the living room settee and started kissing her, and hauled her across his lap, and bent her back into a corner against a loose pillow.
This time she stopped him immediately, dragging his hand away from her breasts the moment he made a move toward them, gripping him in a tight hug that forced his arms around her back, while willing her desire away.
Hugging so, like two in peril, they counted the weeks till their wedding, wondering if by then she would have overcome her aversion to being touched.
Afterward, and at other times between then and their wedding, he went away to
wonder what ultimate damage Elfred had done, for she would go only so far before overt temptation became intrinsic fear. It ran through her sometimes when he least expected it, and he realized that as a groom, he had been given a more delicate second bride than first. Roberta would need an inordinate amount of patience and understanding on their wedding night, and perhaps for many nights to follow.
The girls had something to say about waiting until mid-November. They wanted the wedding to be held on the front porch, and there was a good chance that by mid-November it could be covered with snow.
So they moved the date up to October fourteenth, and Gabriel got busy with the addition. The bedroom wing was weatherproof but still shy of being finished when their wedding day arrived.
Roberta awakened early, rolling her face to the window where a perfect roseate dawn was ascending into a sky of flawless, unbroken blue.
We must live right, she thought. It’s going to be a perfect day for a wedding. Nevertheless, she curled deeper into her rumpled double bed, staring at the color outside, realizing that tonight she’d be sharing a bed with Gabe. She suppressed a shudder at the thought, then pressed a hand to her trembling stomach.
Roberta Jewett, you love Gabe, and he is not Elfred, and you’re being silly, so just get these ridiculous fears out of your mind and act like an eager bride.
How could a person want something and fear it, too?
Sometimes the day seemed to crawl, sometimes fly toward four o’clock. When she was dressing, with the girls traipsing in and out of her bedroom, asking for last-minute items, exclaiming over her dress and her hair, seeking approval of their own, her nerves were as on edge as if she were seventeen and a virgin.
The girls all had new dresses, and though they all looked adorable, Rebecca, in a very adult ankle-length dress of apricot satin, looked quite breathtaking. And so grown-up! Roberta thought.
Shortly before four Lydia called, ‘‘Gabe and Isobel are here!’’ and she heard them knock below. She’d never have believed she’d have butterflies in her stomach from meeting a man at the door, but on her wedding day, she did.
When she saw him standing on the porch, spit-shined and wearing a spiffy new black wool suit, the toes of his new boots gleaming like onyx, she thought, Why, I love him more than I loved George. Certainly I know him better. I would never in a million years have anything to fear from him.
She could tell immediately that he was far from calm. His freshly shaved cheeks were as rosy as the dawn had been, and he didn’t seem to know where to hang his hands.
He said, ‘‘Hello, Roberta.’’
And she said, ‘‘Hello, Gabriel,’’ very formally. Then they both laughed nervously as she pushed open the screen door.
Isobel said, ‘‘Gosh, Roberta, you look so pretty!’’
Belatedly, he said, ‘‘Yes . . . yes, you certainly do.’’
She was decked out in ivory, an Austrian-draped dress that fell in layers from beneath her breast and showed her high-top shoes. Her hair was swept up in back around a white silk rose, much as she wore it with her nurse’s cap.
‘‘And you look very elegant. You bought a new suit.’’
He cleared his throat and glanced down briefly, his chin catching on his high white collar and thick, black, knotted tie. ‘‘Ah . . . yes.’’
Not even when they’d first met had they been so formal and stiff with each other. Yet, ridiculous as it seemed, neither of them could stem their nervousness, which made the children whisper among themselves.
‘‘I thought we’d wait outside on the porch,’’ Roberta said.
‘‘Oh, certainly!’’ Gabe replied, as if he’d done something wrong by stepping into the living room.
Some guests began arriving: Seth, who would stand up for Gabe; Aurelia and their children; Gabe’s mother, Maude, whom Roberta had met on two occasions and with whom she’d forged an uneasy peace; the Du-Mosses and their children; Mrs. Roberson and Miss Werm; Eleanor Balfour from the regional nursing office and Terrence Hall, who clerked for the Farley boys.
And, of course, Myra.
Grace was conspicuously absent, though Roberta really hadn’t expected her to attend: Grace was living in her insular sphere, pretending as she always had that the rest of the world was misguided and her marriage was made in heaven.
Elfred wasn’t at the wedding either, of course. Word around town had it that his business wasn’t doing particularly well. He had been overheard saying he was going to be forced to take out a second mortgage on his house.
The minister from the Congregational church suggested they get started.
Because it was to be a very informal wedding, there was no wedding march, only a shuffling and placing of the wedding party up on the porch, with the children trailing down the steps.
While the mothers of the bride and groom were watching the wedding party assemble, Maude remarked, ‘‘Your daughter looks quite lovely today.’’
Myra’s mouth formed a doughnut of disapproval. ‘‘I told Roberta not to wear white, but she’s never listened to me. Grace told me that’s just what Roberta would do, and sure enough, look at her! A woman never wears white on her second wedding!’’
‘‘I’d call that ivory.’’
‘‘Well, it’s white enough to be disgraceful!’’
Maude shot a surprised glance at this woman who was about to become her son’s mother-in-law, and decided he’d need all the kind, thoughtful mothering he could get from his own mother if he was to be saddled with Myra Halburton on his wife’s side.
The ceremony was ordinary by any standards, except for the fact that the bride accompanied her daughters on a piano rolled up to the living room door while the trio sang ‘‘Oh Promise Me’’ in three-part harmony; and Rebecca recited an Indian verse.
When she turned at the porch rail, she discovered that her Spear cousins, who had been ordered to stay home by their mother, had appeared across the street and were watching the proceedings from there. Rebecca stood proud and tall and let her resonant alto carry clear out to where they stood.
‘‘As unto the bow the cord is,
So unto the man is woman,
Though she bends him she obeys him,
Though she draws him, yet she follows,
Useless each without the other!’’
Ethan Ogier, who had ridden up on his bicycle, stood beside the Spear girls and whispered reverently, ‘‘Wow, doesn’t Becky look pretty today?’’ And in his sixteenyearold heart he vowed, I’m going to marry her someday.
On the porch, Reverend Davis asked the groom, ‘‘Do you take this woman?’’ and when Gabe answered ‘‘I do,’’ four girls mouthed the words along with him. They did the same when Roberta gave her response. And when Gabriel kissed his bride the three youngest girls flashed smiles back and forth at one another while Becky sent a prolonged gaze across the street to Ethan.
The kiss was brief and self-conscious on Gabriel’s part. He had come some distance toward being comfortable with demonstrations of affection, but kissing before an audience definitely rattled him. When he lifted his head, Roberta saw that his face was ripe as a peach, and she thought how peculiar that they should have survived the first stages of courting with relative ease, only to become uneasy with each other on their wedding day.
All the girls swarmed around and gave him kisses on his cheek, too, which added several degrees of heat to his cheeks. And the guests came forward, too, with hugs and congratulations, and separated the bride and groom for a while.
The wedding feast was all finger food, passed around by the four new stepsisters, who had helped their mother make it. Among the cold sandwiches were fudge and snow-white divinity (no spoons required this time) and Gabe’s favorite sour cream cookies, which his mother had volunteered to make.
Roberta found Becky midway through the soiree and suggested, ‘‘Why don’t you take a tray of sweets and offer them to your friends across the street. That way they don’t have to break any rules.’’
Becky looked up at her mom and got misty-eyed. ‘‘Know what, Mrs. Farley?’’ she said. ‘‘I’ve got absolutely the best mother in the world.’’
As Roberta kissed Becky’s cheek Gabe strolled over and stopped beside them. When Becky headed away with the tray he asked quietly, ‘‘What are all the tears about?’’
Roberta watched Becky go and said, ‘‘Oh, Gabe, I’m so happy. We’re going to make such a wonderful family.’’
He dropped an arm over her shoulders and they stood side by side as Becky reached the group across the street. Marcelyn glanced over and saw them watching . . . and waved.
Gabe and Roberta waved back.
‘‘Poor Grace,’’ Roberta said. ‘‘She will stick with that man till death do them part, and never know what kind of happiness she missed.’’
Gabe could think of only one reply: He gently kissed his wife’s temple.
Roberta smiled up at him. ‘‘Well, look at you,’’ she said, pleased by his very prim kiss, ‘‘the man who was so afraid to show affection.’’
‘‘I wish it were evening,’’ he replied. ‘‘I’d show you a lot more.’’
She quickly glanced away, and he wondered how many times she had said no to him since they’d been engaged. She’d even insisted on no honeymoon, her excuse being that she’d had her job for only six months and didn’t want to ask for any time off. Also, she argued, the girls shouldn’t be left alone, though he didn’t see why either Maude or Myra couldn’t stay with them for a week.
‘‘No,’’ Roberta had said again.
So he’d left the business to Seth and tried his best to get the addition finished by tonight.
And this was it . . . it was shortly after 6 P.M. and their guests were leaving . . . and the girls were going off to sleep at Gabe’s house with Grandma Maude . . . and the new bedroom wasn’t quite finished but it had a new bed, and the bathroom had a claw-foot tub and a real water heater run by electricity . . . and Gabe had no idea how to approach the next couple of hours.