Once Charity accepted my marriage proposal, I saw no reason to wait—life is too short to waste time just getting to know one another when you're sure and I was sure. "We'll get to know each other better once we're married," I said. "I don't need to spend a year or more courting you—I know you're the woman for me already."
"How can you be so certain, Adam? I'm not as wonderful as you seem to think I am." I had just laughed at that. I was going to marry her and no one was going to come between us.
Things had smoothed over with Mariette. She had been more than civil whenever I brought Charity over for dinner as I often did during those two weeks. I doubted the two of them would ever become good friends but one evening, about two days before the wedding, Charity and Mariette were like two schoolgirls as they pored over a lady's magazine full of hairstyles and dresses; they giggled and oohed over some of them and my father smiled. Now that Mariette had agreed to live with us, at least for a few months, Hoss always checked her mail as well as ours and had brought the magazine back from his town run.
"I tried this one," Mariette said as she showed Charity the picture in the magazine, "but the pins just stuck out all over and it looked atrocious, it's that roll around the edge. I was hoping to wear my hair this way for your wedding."
Charity blushed. She was shy about the wedding and I wasn't sure why. She didn't mind discussing it with me and talking about our future together but in front of others, she was diffident and reserved. We had decided that it would be a small affair—just a few close friends—and one would be Mariette. Charity had asked upon my urging, if Mariette would be her matron of honor; Hoss was to be my best man. Mariette had agreed but I wasn't there so I don't know if she had agreed wholeheartedly or begrudgingly, agreed for my sake or because she wanted to share our joy. But I had no time to be concerned-with only two days before the ceremony, Hop Sing was in a fluster.
"There are only going to be 10 guests," I assured him. He was in a lather about the cake and the menu and having enough food. "Need lobster—good luck food. Can not find in Chinatown." There were so many of Hop Sing's cousins and various relatives helping out in the kitchen that there was barely room for the food and the loud voices giving orders and arguing over certain dishes became the background noise to daily life.
"Hop Sing, the food is a minor thing—it's more the atmosphere, that everyone has enough to eat and enjoys themselves."
"No. Mistah Adam marry—number one son most important. Wedding banquet tell of man's importance. Must have fish—fish eggs good—mean bride have many children. And roast pig—suckling pig. Good sign for bride." I told him that I hoped there was no relationship between a skewered, crispy-skinned roast pig with a curly tail and my bride-to-be but Hop Sing smiled. "You trust Hop Sing. Good sign—good luck."
But it was the cake that had Hop Sing—and Hoss—the most excited. According to Hop Sing, the cake could make or break a marriage and so his sister's cousin's number two son who worked in a bakery in Chinatown was going to arrive the day before and help Hop Sing make a "double happiness" cake. It was going to have four layers and be decorated with the Chinese symbols for happiness, wealth and health. I just let Hop Sing loose to do as he pleased and was glad that he was accepting Charity as a member of the family. That meant she had his devotion as well.
"I can help you with your hair," Charity said, as she looked at the magazine. "Then it'll be easier for you. This doesn't look all that difficult…" Charity reached out and touched Mariette's hair. "I see the problem, your hair's so fine. Let's see what we can do. Let's go try it now before dinner." She and Mariette went up the stairs together and I felt a sense of relief and Pa called out after them that dinner would be ready soon.
"Looks like they's gonna be good friends," Hoss said. "From what you told us, Adam, I didn't think Mariette would ever forgive 'er—'bout Jason and all."
"Well," Joe said as he yawned even though it was still early. He had been in town late the night before and dragged his ass up the stairs at 2:00 in the morning only to meet Pa waiting for him. I enjoyed hearing about the aftermath. "I guess since Charity signed off on the mining shares, Mariette feels more charitable. Hey." Joe said as he sat up. "I made a joke! Get it—more charitable—Charity?"
I groaned and Hoss punched him in the arm.
"Well, I'm pleased that peace has finally reigned," my father said. He wasn't the only one. I had asked Charity to be indulgent of Mariette, to understand her grief and that no matter what, to please not say anything derogatory about Jason. Jason may have been many unfortunate things but of one thing I was sure, he had loved Mariette and was good to her. Through all their sorrows, the death of their son and her miscarriages, Jason was supportive and kind and helped her survive her devastating grief; he had given her a reason to live and for that I would always be grateful. But Jason was dead and I hoped that Mariette would be happy for me; I had found someone to love and in time, I was sure Mariette would love her as well.
I was also satisfied that my father accepted that I was going to marry Charity. I told him we would go to Carson City if marrying here would embarrass him or upset Mariette too much. You see, I had told my family some things about Charity—her loan to Jason, her acquaintance with Murdoch but I left it at that. None of them needed to know she had been Murdoch's mistress, least of all, Mariette. She would have then reminded me that she had pegged Charity as a whore from the very beginning. And then there was my family. Hoss and Joe would have never been comfortable around her had they known and my father, well, he may have accepted the marriage because as he said, I was "set on her." But in the back of his mind he would always have the idea that she was using me for our wealth. He would constantly be watching her but I would have done the same if the tables had been turned.
I have to admit I considered it too, that Charity was a mercenary who relished the idea of marrying into the wealthiest family in the Nevada territory. Falling on her back for me would be no greater hardship than selling herself to Murdoch had been and there was respectability in marriage. She would be a winner all around. Charity would come out of this marriage well-off with a grand house and money to burn. I had fallen desperately in love with her but that didn't make me stupid and not entertain other possibilities. When Charity and I would talk, I would listen careful for any nuance that might indicate a lie or a fleeting expression but they was never there. I'd been duped before—I admit that-not seen people for who they truly were but when I think about it, there were always signs I noticed early on but brushed off. So I would lie in bed each night and think about Charity and all that had transpired—each word of our conversation and all I ever felt was a burning desire for her. That had been the most difficult part—the waiting for her.
Whenever I would return Charity to town, I never went into her hotel room—that would have started rumors which I didn't want. Nor did I pay her hotel bill or upgrade her room although I thought she should live in luxury. When I apologized and told her that people might think I was keeping her if I asked for a better room, Charity laughed.
"What makes you think I would even want that, Adam—you keeping me—paying for me before we're married? Or that I would accept it no matter what?"
I couldn't answer that question. What I truly wanted was for her to stay at the Ponderosa but Charity would have none of it. I couldn't really get a reason from her except that she said it wasn't right. I asked her why but I couldn't pin her down—she was going at wriggling out of an unpleasant conversation. Since there was no porch to sit on at the hotel except the very public front porch, to court Charity, no parlor to sit in and make small talk and then to perhaps kiss, nothing like a normal courtship—and yes, I thought of it as a courtship—I had no recourse but to take her out on buggy rides or on picnics whenever I could get away from the Ponderosa.
The weather was warming up a bit but it was still cold and I would bring a blanket and we would sit together, the blanket wrapped around us and kiss. It would have been so easy for me to seduce Charity, to have her submit to me—she was more than willing—not that she said anything but that she never stopped me from touching her or unbuttoning the bodice of a blouse to kiss her smooth skin. Whenever I ran a hand beneath her skirt, she would close her eyes and sigh in pleasure, relaxing into my caresses. She was like a cat who raises and moves to meet your hand as you run it over its lithe, supple body. And since Charity never protested, never stopped me, I had to stop myself because as I told Charity, anything—or anyone—worth having was worth waiting for. And I would wait for her.