Once the train to Des Moines had pulled out of the River City freight depot and disappeared into the horizon, Harold finally let the friendly grin slide off his face. He and Marian had really dodged a bullet; as his grumbling guts had surmised, Fred Gallup was aiming to do some real damage this time around. Normally, Harold would have relished the sheer and dizzying thrill of achieving victory after risking everything, but now that he had a wife, a family and a town that depended on his success, he'd grown surprisingly apprehensive about such close shaves… if Harold had known just how twisted by bitterness the reporter had become over the past six months, he never would've invited him back to River City a second time.
~Triumph of the Early Bird, Marianne Greenleaf
XXX
After seeing Fred Gallup safely off at the freight depot, Harold Hill hastened to the armory, where a communal supper was being held to mark the end of the Easter Parade festivities.
To his surprise, Marian was standing outside, waiting for him. He was both delighted and touched that she went to such heartwarming trouble on his behalf, as he would have expected her to be inside and in the thick of things, surrounded by the River City-ziens who, in the absence of their beloved bandleader, would not have hesitated to fawn over his lovely wife.
And the librarian was indeed lovely. As Harold approached the armory, he thoroughly admired how stunning and formidable Marian looked in her fitted, ivory bandleader's jacket with matching skirt that flared out at the knee and framed her figure just beautifully. The gold buttons and epaulets, along with the gold ribbon that trimmed the collar, cuffs of her sleeves, and hem of gown, glinted becomingly in the setting sun. Her ivory feathered cap was perched at a jaunty angle on her honey-blonde curls. In this uniform, she wasn't just the most gorgeous woman Harold had ever seen, she was every inch his partner and co-leader of the boys' band.
But Harold was far too rattled to engage in any flirtation or banter. The moment he reached Marian, he threw his arms around her. They were alone, but at the moment, he wouldn't have cared if they were before all of River City. And to his relief and delight, she did not balk at his effusiveness – she wrapped her arms around him and hugged him back just as fiercely. Clearly, he wasn't the only one who'd been disquieted by the reporter's latest visit.
"Is everything all right, darling?" she asked softly.
Harold nodded into the crook of her neck, still not trusting himself to speak. They had one more public celebration to get through, and he couldn't afford to break down just yet. He breathed deeply, taking comfort from his wife's sweet scent and warm embrace. Things really are okay, he reminded himself. After all, he'd won! He'd managed to defuse Fred Gallup's bitterness long enough to talk him out of whatever poison pen article he was planning to write about the Hills and the River City boys' band. Once again, his charisma and talent for persuasion had saved the day. He ought to be rejoicing, instead of trembling.
Yet the anger and alarm that the music professor had managed to restrain during the day now coursed through him, and he was unable to repress these feelings any longer. Perhaps it was because Fred Gallup was a lot more bitter and predatory than even the seasoned former swindler was expecting. While Harold wasn't surprised by the reporter's jealousy over his marriage to Marian, he couldn't help being unsettled by how brazenly and unabashedly the man eyed the librarian when he thought no one else was watching. Mr. Gallup looked not only as if he was outright plotting to wheedle her away – even knowing she was happily married and possibly expecting! – but also as if he was actually considering how best to embarrass her for failing to choose him. And if Harold had still been in the iron grip of laryngitis, he would not have been able to stop the man's nefarious plan to ruin their reputation from coming to fruition…
But Harold couldn't think about any of this right now, or he would break down. Somehow finding the strength to swallow his unease once again, he lifted his head and smiled into his wife's concerned eyes. "Mr. Gallup is no friend of ours, but he isn't going to destroy us."
Marian looked both relieved and awed. "How did you convince him, Harold?"
"It wasn't easy," he admitted. "He greatly resents the happiness and success I've found – both with the band, and with you. But I reminded him that he's a music man, too. No matter how cynical and disillusioned he's grown with his lot in life, he doesn't have it in him to destroy the music in River City." At least, that's what Harold had counted on. Thankfully, his supposition about the man's character had proved to be right on the mark!
Marian beamed at him in that warm and wonderful way of hers, the look that never failed to make his heart both soften and sing. "I knew you'd persevere, Harold. Mr. Gallup never had a chance against you – and if he didn't know it before, he certainly does now."
Bolstered by her unwavering faith in him, Harold could happily face a hundred public celebrations. Offering both a jaunty grin and his arm to his wife, he said, "Shall we, my dear?"
The music professor and librarian triumphantly but decorously entered the armory, their grins widening even more when they were greeted with cheers and applause. The mayor, who looked as if he would burst with pride, launched into a longwinded but flattering speech commending all the two of them had done for River City. Family, friends, and acquaintances swarmed around them, offering words of congratulations, praise, and gratitude. Harold thoroughly basked in the limelight, all the more because he had truly earned it. And it warmed his heart to see that Marian was also genuinely enjoying all the accolades and attention they received for their hard work.
Yet in the back of Harold's mind, the reporter's vendetta still rankled, needling at him like a small pebble in an otherwise comfortable and attractive shoe. As the evening wore on, his grin grew more and more strained, and he was starting to feel drained rather than energized by the constant crowds clamoring for a piece of Professor Hill. Fortunately, he was such an adept and practiced showman that none of the River City-ziens perceived the gradual change in his mood.
But Marian noticed. She always did. Using her own brand of cordial diplomacy, she managed to extricate them from the festivities a full hour before Harold expected they would have been allowed to get away. Even so, he kept up the masquerade of carefree cheer as they walked home together, lest they run into someone they knew well enough to have to exchange pleasantries with on the way. Once they had gotten into the front hall of their charming Victorian and Marian had closed and locked the door behind them, the grin dropped right off of Harold's face. Without a word, he pulled his wife into his arms and kissed her long, hard, and deep, not stopping until they finally had to part and gasp for air.
Surprisingly, Marian didn't press him to talk to her right away, as he would have expected – instead, she reciprocated his embrace just as eagerly and desperately. The only thing that kept him from pressing her against the wall and taking her right then and there was the possibility that she may have been pregnant. Not even the most venal of his carnal appetites could countenance putting her and their child at such risk, so he whisked her upstairs once they'd recovered their breath. Their preamble was nearly nonexistent – as soon as they removed their clothing, they pulled each other right down to bed. Harold could hardly tell who was more ravenous to have whom, and this was reflected in their lovemaking. Their embrace was as fierce and volatile as the storms that rolled across the plains – sometimes he rolled her beneath him, sometimes she got him flat on his back. Yet it wasn't a battle for dominance – it was a deeply shaken pair of lovers ardently reassuring both themselves and each other that no one could destroy them. Too overcome with emotion to speak, Harold squeezed Marian's shoulder as she rode him, and she squeezed his shoulder as she writhed supine beneath him.
When they finally stilled, gasping and spent, Harold was stunned to see the serenity and satisfaction radiating from Marian's face. While their lovemaking had done a great deal to ease his turmoil, he hadn't quite regained his own balance just yet. So he buried his head in her disheveled curls and attempted to gather his thoughts for the uncomfortable but restorative conversation they would need to have before he was truly at peace.
XXX
Harold had always been very much of the mindset, "to the victor go the spoils," but even he couldn't help feeling a twinge of sympathy when he saw the way Fred Gallup's face fell when he found out Marian was married. Of course, the music professor had promptly muzzled this pang – he could not afford to get soft. Especially as the reporter subsequently did his best to knock him off balance with his barrage of complex questions. This time around, the music professor was much more at ease in answering them. The Think System was a well-proven success, and the boys' band had delivered more than one successful concert by this point. What's more, Marian was firmly in his camp and by his side as his acknowledged wife. Unlike last August, the music professor was absolutely sure of his position in the world, and of Marian's place in his life. He could take anything the jealous reporter threw at him.
But he could not take Mr. Gallup going after Marian. Harold had expected the man to make sly little digs at him and attempt to catch him in contradictions. He had also expected the man to tail them all day and insinuate himself in their private moments whenever he could. He had even expected him to try to catch Marian alone at some point. Somehow, he did not expect that the aggrieved reporter would use his poisonous machinations against Marian herself. For all that Harold did not – could not – trust the man, he thought Fred Gallup was better than that.
Apparently, he wasn't. When the reporter approached them at lunch, his plate piled almost absurdly high with an odoriferous meat that Harold knew had the potential to make Marian retch, the music professor was not pleased, but allowed that this could have been an unfortunate coincidence. After all, the man was a nomadic bachelor and probably didn't often get to eat so well. But when Mr. Gallup's questions about the librarian's occupations grew extremely pointed and personal, despite the scrupulously polite tone of voice he asked them in, Harold realized that the far-too-clever reporter was nursing the same suspicions about Marian's condition as he did. Although the music professor's rational mind urged him to remain calm, his primal need to protect the woman he loved overpowered his sense of cold calculation, and he grew more and more incensed as the reporter deftly peeled the librarian's armor away, bit by bit, until she looked like she was going to burst into tears.
At that point, Harold's temper had nearly gotten the better of him, and he seriously considered punching the reporter in his smug face – the exact same way he'd been strongly tempted to deck Charlie Cowell last July. That second-rate salesman, who used Harold's chicanery as an excuse for his own lack of talent in convincing people to buy his ridiculous anvils, had angrily muttered aloud his desire to revenge himself on Marian, or as he referred to her, that "little dried up man-hungry doxy, round-heel fiz gig that lollygagged me around" after she'd succeeded in defusing the anger of the townspeople and proving that Harold Gregory Hill was, in fact, a genuine bandleader. In the celebrations that followed his stunning triumph, Harold was the only one who'd heard these threatening remarks, and he gave the mediocre salesman such a sharp glare that he'd quivered and fled the classroom, not wanting to face his adversary's wrath. When Harold had extricated himself from the adoring crowd to find Marian after her disappearance shortly afterward, he was relieved to find that she was completely unscathed. Which was a good thing, because Harold would not have let Mr. Cowell walk away from River City intact if he had done anything to unsettle or, God forbid, injure the lovely librarian. The music professor may have prided himself on being a man of words, but when anyone threatened the honor or integrity of the woman he loved, he ran out of the inclination to chat awfully fast.
Once again, Marian – dear, sweet, wise, wonderful Marian – saved him from doing anything to Fred Gallup that would have irrevocably tarnished his reputation in the eyes of the River City-ziens and, eventually, the wider world once it was written up in the Register and Leader. The librarian's abrupt but ladylike pardon was so perfectly timed that it had to have been purposely planned in order to defuse the storm that was brewing between the music professor and the reporter. Her subsequent fainting, however, was not planned, and Harold had forgotten all about Mr. Gallup's silly little machinations in his sheer panic over his wife's collapse. When he was reminded of the reporter's odious presence, he was pleased to see that Mr. Gallup looked suitably chastened… and then his anger flared up again, as the man was looking much guiltier than the situation actually warranted. That had to have meant his preposterous pile of ham was indeed a ruse meant to knock Marian off balance!
But the librarian was still in his arms clinging to him for dear life as she weathered her vertigo, so Harold had more pressing concerns than unloading on the reporter who'd caused all the trouble in the first place. He was gratified to see that Fred Gallup hadn't entirely lost his sense of decency – looking genuinely horrified and contrite, the man hastily removed his plate of ham from the vicinity and fetched a glass of water. This helped cool the music professor's temper enough to find the strength to leave Marian's side and finish the concert. When Harold did what he had to do and was finally able to return to the alcove, he saw a beaming untroubled librarian and a thoroughly chastened reporter, and knew that victory was his.
So why, then, had he felt the need to chase after Mr. Gallup and make sure his triumph was complete? Perhaps because, admittedly, it did rankle a little to watch another man with an unsavory agenda attempt to dismantle everything real and good that he'd worked so hard to build. Harold supposed he deserved to know how this felt, as he had done the very same thing to others in his former selfish quests to swindle and seduce. Now that he was a true giver, he rather reviled men who never progressed beyond taking and, as he'd managed to escape being imprisoned for his previous crimes, he could understand how this would vex the sense of justice of an honorable and principled man like Fred Gallup. Not that the reporter was so honorable and principled, anymore. He had grown far too embittered for that. This time around, he was clearly out for vengeance. And that was not justice, no matter what the man was likely telling himself so he could sleep at night.
Even so, Harold could deal with the fallout of the reporter's poison pen – no matter what Mr. Gallup wrote about him in the Des Moines Register and Leader, he'd still have Marian and River City staunchly in his corner. No out-of-towner with an ax to grind could destroy the deep and abiding love he shared with the librarian or the joy and goodwill he'd forged with the townspeople through his singular talent, or so Marian assured him, of bringing out the music in their sons and daughters. They would all stand by him, if the worst came to pass.
But if the resentful reporter did anything to embarrass or tarnish Marian, there would be real hell to pay. And that's why Harold went after Fred Gallup. To warn him. The former fly-by-night salesman had put his own reprobate father in harm's way to protect his beloved mother – though he'd not quite intended such a fatal outcome – and he would not hesitate to destroy any man who hurt Marian Paroo Hill, the woman he loved more than his own freedom. Even as a conman, Harold had protected the people he considered his own. Now that he was a legitimate music man with a wife and a place that he loyally and wholeheartedly belonged to, he was doubly determined that no harm would befall any of his kith and kin. After decades of a solitary existence riding the rails, he'd built himself a home and a family from the ground up – he wasn't about to let someone else swoop in and destroy everything.
But how much of this could he tell Marian without letting the cat out of the bag about his suspicions as to her condition? In all likelihood, she didn't yet know she was expecting, and this was the last way he wanted her to realize her own pregnancy – an envious and bitter would-be rival goading her into discovery. And in truth, Harold wasn't entirely sure if she was actually expecting. It was certainly a possibility but, if pressed, he wouldn't have bet anything important on it. Because he didn't know the territory. And for the first time in his life, this terrified rather than excited him. He had so much more to lose if he made a fatal blunder.
XXX
"Marian, would you have loved me more if you'd met me back when I was an honest salesman?" Harold asked when he finally broke the long silence between them. It was something he'd always genuinely wondered, even if it was a misdirection from the more dicey topic presently weighing on his mind.
Her answer was swift and certain. "Harold, I fell in love you because I saw the wonderful potential of what you could be, not because I was mesmerized by your showmanship. Professor Harold Hill was exciting, but the glimmers of the unpretentious, serious, and intent man I saw looking at me from behind his mask during our most unguarded moments together – those were what really made my heart turn over."
Harold's mouth found hers for a moment, and he wordlessly expressed his gratitude and devotion to the only woman who had ever believed in and stood by him, even after knowing exactly what he was. "I was so gone over you," he told her, freely and gladly admitting the truth he'd tried so hard to deny at the time. "I still am."
Marian looked very earnestly into his eyes, fearlessly broaching the subject he hadn't quite worked himself up to talk about yet. "Fred Gallup never had a chance with me, Harold. He wouldn't ever have one, even if I was still unmarried. There is no other man like you in the world, and there never will be."
"I wasn't worried about that, not this time," Harold confessed, forcing himself to continue meeting her gentle but penetrating gaze. "I was worried that he would try to hurt you for choosing me. The poison pen article he was planning before I managed to talk him out of it wouldn't have tarnished only my reputation."
Her eyes widened. "So that's why you went after him. I had wondered… "
Harold wasn't sure whether to be relieved or chagrined that she understood him so completely. "You considered this possibility?"
Marian let out a sigh that was sad but resigned. "After what I experienced at the hands of the River City gossips and what I endured from Ed Griner and men like him, how could I not be aware of the kinds of horrible things one person could do to another in the name of spite and jealousy?"
Harold's arms tightened both protectively and possessively around her. "That is not knowledge you should ever have had to learn, my dear little librarian."
"As painful as it was to learn, it is far better to be aware than naïve," she said sensibly. "Lack of worldly knowledge can be very dangerous, in certain circumstances."
Harold nodded. He supposed that if and when they had children – especially if they had daughters – they would need to teach them these things, in order to prepare and protect them from those who would not hesitate to take advantage of their innocence. As he continued to gaze steadily at the rare pearl of a woman he was so lucky to call his wife, he realized just how badly he wanted to build a family with her. Although he'd first been taken by the notion of Marian being the mother of his children when she'd comforted Winthrop the night the music professor was unmasked as a fraud, he hadn't dared to hope that this would be a possibility for them.
Even after they were married, he couldn't bring himself to explicitly share this hope with Marian, outside of the occasional sly remark – it was too dear and tenuous a dream to risk putting into words just yet. While Harold wasn't familiar with pregnancy, he knew something about the loss of it. His mother had suffered one miscarriage after another as his father rebounded in and out of their lives, and he saw the way each loss ate away at her soul, until she was a mere shell of the vibrant and vivacious woman she once was. Given that her husband was conveniently never around to pick up the pieces after each tragedy occurred, it was left entirely to Harold to help his mother cope. Even though she never breathed a word of complaint or displeasure, he saw how much she suffered – deeply, quietly, and alone. It was yet another betrayal he would never forgive his father for.
For all that he had turned out to be a reprobate himself, Harold steadfastly refused be the sort of man who left such despair in his wake. If a woman was a maid or widowed or otherwise unattached to a man, he never finished in her. (Luckily, the sadder-but-wiser gals he preferred were staunchly opposed to falling pregnant, and sophisticated enough to employ additional prophylactic methods of their own.) He also tried to avoid finishing in married and affianced women, but on the rare occasions when they begged him to do just that or he got too carried away by his own passion to withdraw, he figured that if a child resulted from the union, he would have a readymade father to either raise him or help endure the sorrow of loss. Admittedly, Harold had secretly worried about a basket or two being dropped on his doorstep after settling down in River City, as he had been a bit more reckless in Illinois than was prudent. But as time passed, it seemed less and less likely that such a life-shattering event would occur.
Even now that he was a happily reformed and married man, these were very difficult subjects for Harold to think about, let alone discuss with Marian. For one, she would not have appreciated the stark reminder of how exactly he had gained all the experience he now used solely to pleasure and delight her. And now that his conscience was in proper working order, the guilt that consumed him whenever he contemplated the possibility of there being a child of his somewhere out there was not something he could endure for long. Which is why he rarely allowed himself to ponder too deeply about having children with Marian, despite his wanting them so badly.
But tonight, Harold could think of nothing else. If Marian wasn't carrying his child right now, he wanted to make absolutely certain she would be, as soon as he could arrange it.
"You deserve everything that's good and wonderful, Marian," he said earnestly. "And I want to give it to you."
She beamed at him. "You already have, Harold."
"Well, I plan on continuing to give it to you," he promised. Banishing all burdensome thoughts of the past and his previous transgressions, he focused entirely on the magnificent future he was creating with Marian by rolling her beneath him and giving her a suggestive grin that implied he meant this sentiment in a lot more ways than one. More than implied – he had grown hard again, and she was so closely entwined with him that she could not fail to notice.
Her response was just as encouraging as he had hoped for. "And just what is it that you're planning to give me, Mister Hill?" she asked, grinning impishly at him in return.
He pressed his hips against hers. "Another maypole ride, of course."
She arched an eyebrow at him. "For how long?" she said, her tone both challenging and inviting as she parted her thighs to welcome his advances.
He gave her a smoldering look. "For as long and often as I can manage to make you come until I do."
"And how many times do you suppose that will be?" she asked, her words far more colored by desire than coquettishness as he slid inside her.
"For as many times as you want me," he groaned as he felt her tighten around his cock. He leaned in and nipped at the side of her neck. "If I do finish too fast, we can always try again… and again… and again… " He punctuated each again with a love-bite until she was moaning and writhing heedlessly beneath him, all further flirtation forgotten as they started moving together in earnest.
But the librarian's heated words, along with the naughty wordplay she had engaged in with him yesterday, kept running through Harold's head as they made love. The way Marian had talked to him was something else. And it wasn't just what she said that got him all lathered up, it was how she said it. He'd talked dirty with women before, but never with a woman he loved. He'd taken a huge chance in what he said about maypoles and, instead of cutting him down to size, she had flirted back just as licentiously. He never thought he'd hear those kissable crimson lips say such electrifying things so early in their marriage, and he looked forward to the deliciously wicked words he would eventually teach her to say, as well as the clever phraseology that she would no doubt dream up to delight and drive him wild.
Yet for all their heated banter, the pace of their lovemaking this time around was slow, sweet, and tender. It was almost as if it was their wedding night again – he led, and she followed. Of course, there was a delectable ease and self-assurance in Marian's demeanor that she had lacked back then, being a modest maid at the time. In all likelihood, she only trailed him now because her energy was flagging – he could tell from the increasingly ragged tenor of her gasps that she was growing tired. Out of concern for her health, Harold let himself go over the edge a bit sooner than he'd intended. It was a good thing he did, for not long after he came – he held Marian close for a few moments afterward, remaining inside of her to further increase her odds of conceiving – her stomach rumbled against his.
As the librarian had already eaten quite heartily throughout the entire day, Harold took this as another encouraging sign that the future he longed for was already in progress. Marian, however, remained sweetly unaware of what her increased hunger could mean, and blushed adorably crimson. Before she could so much as apologize for her body's indiscretion, he had kissed her into dreamy silence, leaped out of bed, and hastened to bring her a snack. That did just the trick – once they had both eaten enough to satisfy their hunger for food, the librarian turned the music professor over and mounted him with such a fiercely renewed enthusiasm that he was surprised the bed didn't collapse beneath them.
Much later, as Harold lay there, still wrapped around Marian but thoroughly sated in both body and soul, he was far more disposed to be charitable toward Fred Gallup. Sure, the man had threatened them, but he was still a decent fella at his core, and he had ultimately departed from River City on an amicable note. The reporter just wanted true companionship, and his wanting had warped him. Fortunately, Harold had succeeded in untwisting him a bit. It would have been a real shame if, in his frustration and loneliness, the reporter went down a path of corruption. For the music professor hadn't lied when he said that all men paid for what they did, regardless of whether or not they were imprisoned for it – the demons did eventually catch up to a man once he stopped running.
But, Harold reflected as he gazed at Marian's blithely slumbering form, he no longer had to fight them alone. And they were a small price to pay, in comparison to the glorious contentment and joy he was experiencing with the woman who loved him so truly, deeply, and devotedly. As he drifted off to join his beloved in untroubled sleep, he hoped Fred found similar happiness someday.