Chapter Forty-eight
A small lantern glows softly from the nightstand, throwing muted light onto the framed landscape and horse sketches looking out from the pale blue walls of the upstairs guest bedroom. In the center of the room, a full-sized bed sits beneath a thin summer blanket of soft lavender splashed with streaks of turquoise blue. The pretty headboard matches the large washed-oak dresser and armoire, where a black duffel bag lies in a pale puddle of light in the corner between the two pieces of furniture. Like the aching scrape of an old man's bones, the well-worn floorboard creaks beneath Erin as she shifts her weight from one knee to the other. With her red tee shirt hanging from one hand, she rifles through her duffel bag in search of something else to sleep in. Something… nicer. Or at least something different from the same old shirt that Rick has seen her in just about every night since they'd met.
She glances at the dresser a few feet away, and wonders if Maggie might have anything in her own drawers suitable for a honeymoon. She is tempted to dash down the hall for a quick peek, but she would never invade the woman's privacy that way. It's too bad they aren't scavenging an empty house where discretion and scruples take a back seat to the first-come-first-serve rules of survival. But the Greene's have been extremely generous, allowing her and Rick to take the guestroom while Carl sleeps in Beth's bedroom next door, and that's a trust she will not betray, especially since Maggie was the one who'd talked her father into bestowing such generosity.
If only she had the guts to ask Maggie for something outright. But she had never been one to brazenly approach an intimate subject and she isn't about to start now. Especially since they hadn't even told any of the others about their newlywed status, wanting to keep it to themselves for just a little while.
They had spent the afternoon on horseback, checking the perimeter fences and keeping an eye out for Nellie, a horse that had apparently run off a few days earlier. Hershel hadn't been too worried about the mare, telling them that she would find her way back eventually, as usual. But they seized the opportunity to spend a little quiet time together while doing something useful. So they'd mounted up and headed out, Rick on a big black stallion and Erin on a creamy gold mare with the bandana that had joined their wrists now looped loosely around her neck.
It may not have been a traditional wedding reception, but it was peaceful and perfect and she enjoyed every moment of it. Rick had even given her a little taste of romance when he drew his horse close to hers and leaned over from his saddle to kiss her tenderly. She had broken it off quickly, as her palomino had started to move away, but she threw a grin of seduction over her shoulder that promised to continue the conversation later, when she wasn't straddling a moving hulk of horseflesh. Which brings her back to the garment in her hand; the completely unsexy garment dripping drearily from her fingertips. She lifts her head with a start, a trickle of guilt warming her cheeks as Maggie's voice rises with the footsteps ascending the stairs.
"Beth, don't forget Daddy wants you to bring up those extra towels from Patricia."
Beth's short reply ricochets off the front porch railing in the exasperated tone of a teenager on the brink of being embarrassed in front of her friends. "I know!"
The friends in this case, Erin believes, are Rick and Daryl, standing on the porch at the end of their shift – after convincing Hershel that it would be unwise not to keep a constant guard. She had seen Beth earlier on her way in from the barn, and couldn't help but notice the way the teenager was smiling at Daryl with a touch of yearning in her youthful expression, which her father would surely disapprove. Thankfully, the quiet hunter didn't seem to know that the girl existed. Erin can imagine him now, down on the porch with Rick as they talk to Aaron and Jesus before turning the night watch over to them. He'll be listening to the voices of the men, focused on the protection of his pack, and completely oblivious to the young girl sitting on the porch swing with teenage notions of romance in her eyes.
Like the romantic night Erin herself is dreaming of having with her groom… if only she had something remotely romantic to wear.
Another step creaks near the top of the staircase.
Oh what the hell, don't we deserve a proper wedding night? With the clock ticking away the minutes until Rick comes up to bed, she scurries to the hall before she can rethink her decision. "Uh, Maggie?"
"Yeah, Erin. What's up?" Maggie replies, her green eyes smiling under the light of the ceiling fixture at the top of the staircase, one of the few light fixtures still hooked up to steal a bit of juice from the gas generator behind the farmhouse.
While most of the house sits in shadows after dusk, a few strategically placed lamps are kept in service to keep the darkest of nights from closing in.
"Well, first, thanks again for letting us sleep up here. I don't know if I could take another night on the floor next to Carl's bed."
"No problem." Maggie places an armful of folded blankets inside the linen closet next to the bathroom door. "It'll be like the sleepovers that Beth and I used to do when we were kids, except that she'd always insisted on staying in her room. It'll be fun to have her in my room for a change."
"Oh, I hope she doesn't mind."
"Not at all. Did you find the sheets okay? There are flannel ones in the other closet if you'd rather have them. But it may be too warm for those tonight."
"No, the purple sheets are fine, thank you. But can I ask you for something else? Something kind of… personal?" Erin asks softly as her shoulders lift in a slightly awkward shrug, her cheekbones growing warm once again.
"Sure," Maggie replies quietly, her face suddenly etched with concern. "What is it?"
"Um, I was just wondering if you had something I could… sleep in. Something kind of… pretty. If not, no big deal," she adds quickly, immediately regretting her decision. "I'll just use my tee shirt again. Never mind."
"No, no, no, I've got a drawer full of stuff that I'll probably never wear again, seeing how the world is spinning these days. Seems kind of frivolous now."
"Yeah, I know what you mean. Forget I mentioned it."
"You want to wear something for Rick? He's your boyfriend, right?"
Erin stifles a nervous chuckle but she can't help the deliriously happy smirk that lifts the corner of her mouth. "Actually, he's kind of my husband now."
"Kind of?" Maggie asks, giving her a look of incomprehension.
"Well, we sort of got married today," Erin admits, confiding in the dark haired girl.
"What? Here? Oh, my God!"
Erin laughs at her new friends excitement, then proceeds to tell her about the private ceremony that she and Rick had shared just hours before.
"Holy crow, that's the most romantic thing I've ever heard. And no, you cannot wear a worn out tee shirt to bed on your wedding night. Let's see what I've got in my bag of tricks. Come on."
Erin follows Maggie into her bedroom and kneels at her side as she pulls out the bottom drawer of a white lacquered dresser. She watches the young woman rifle through garments of satin and lace of varying colors, mostly made up of bright vibrant hues that match her personality. Seeing a swatch of deep burgundy lace that she thinks Rick will like, Erin reaches down to pull it from the drawer when Maggie suddenly stands up, thwarting her goal.
"Here it is," Maggie exclaims, holding the thin straps of a very pale pink nightie.
Erin rises to her feet and Maggie holds the pretty garment up against her frame, letting the smooth satin fall to the middle of her thighs. She takes the straps from Maggie's fingers and lets her guide her toward the full length mirror on the back of the closet door. Studying her reflection in the glass, she can practically feel Rick's hands gliding over the satin covering her hips to reach the hem swaying against her thigh. She can feel the hot moisture from his mouth as he suckles her breast just below the lace trim that will reveal several inches of cleavage. She can feel the whisper of the soft material against her belly as he slips the nightie from her shoulders to pool at her feet. "It's perfect," she breathes, still lost in her erotic thoughts until Maggie's voice pulls her back to the woman's bedroom.
"He's going to love it, Erin."
Erin smiles brightly and then embraces her new friend, surprising them both at first until Maggie gives her a squeeze that feels as natural as if it had come from a close relative. "Thank you."
When she releases the woman, Maggie steps back and grabs her left hand, holding it up between them. "What did you do for a -, you don't have a ring?"
The question comes out as a statement at the obvious lack of a band on her ring finger.
"Well, no. It was kind of a spur of the moment thing and we didn't have anything to exchange."
"Hang on."
Erin watches Maggie's retreating form as she darts into the hallway. A minute later the woman returns with a dark cherrywood jewelry box about fourteen inches long and eight inches deep. Considering the masculine look of the box, Erin assumes it belongs to her father.
Maggie sets the box on the dresser and lifts the rectangular lid, revealing a tray of ten small compartments holding an assortment of items, both masculine and feminine. The pieces clink against each other as she seems to search for something specific. "Here," she finally announces, holding her opened palm out to Erin and revealing five shiny bands; three silver and two gold.
"Where did they all come from?" Erin asks, reverently tracing a fingertip over a narrow sterling silver band with a well-worn design that resembles the thin branches of a familiar tree.
"That one belonged to my mom. The others were from my Daddy's parents and my aunt and uncle."
"It's beautiful."
"See if it fits."
"No, Maggie, I couldn't."
"Please, Erin. She'd love you to have it. I want you to have it."
"Maggie, your father wouldn't want to part with it. Thank you, but I can't."
"He told me once that I could have it when I got married, that he didn't need it because it's just a piece of metal in a box. It's not the original one he gave her on their wedding day. She'd lost that one and he replaced it with this on their anniversary one year. He was never happy with that one because it scratched so easily, especially working on the farm."
Erin leans down to get a better look at the ring and realizes that what she'd thought was part of the design was actually a series of scratches in the metal, widening the original pattern of interwoven lines that create a string of connected vees. The scratches just give it a more intricate look.
"Daddy told me," Maggie continues, "that he didn't need it but I should keep it."
"And you should."
"But I'd rather have my own wedding band, a gold one. Though it doesn't look like I'll be in the market for one anytime soon," Maggie says with a soft roll of her eyes. "But your friend Glenn is really cute so feel free to put in a good word for me," she adds with a hopeful smile and Erin sees that it is her friend's turn to blush. "Honestly though, you'll be doing me a favor if you took this ring now. Really."
"I don't know, Maggie."
"Tell you what, try it on and if it fits, it was meant to be."
Erin looks down at the ring, still pretty despite the scratches. Without lifting it to her finger, she already knows that it will fit.