Laurey
Laurey lay on the sofa, the Shakespeare book propped up on her knees. She was grateful her father had insisted on bringing the entire collection from their home in Missouri, said a girl needed more stories than the ones in the Bible. Engrossed, she almost didn't notice when the kitten, whom Jud christened Sunny, jumped up by her feet.
She drew her knees in, irrationally worried it would start climbing up her legs and into her overalls, and sink its claws into her.
"Jud, hey, the cat's on the sofa, can you get it down for me?"
He unhurriedly emerged from the kitchen. "He ain't gonna hurt you, Laurey. Just likes sittin' on a comfortable spot."
"Yeah, I know, but—"
"Here" he took her hand in his and started petting the creature's fur, gentle and slow. "See? Chose you a sweet one." The cat rolled onto his back, and Jud pulled their hands away. "Now, he might try to bite you when he does that. Just gotta pay attention."
"Thought you just said he was sweet."
"Cats are like people. Can't make 'em like you, and even if you do, they ain't gonna like you all the time."
"They why have one as a pet?" She grumbled, still mistrustful, even as the cat resumed its upright position.
Jud shrugged, then scooped up the kitten in his hand and sat on the chair behind her. "They're awful cute. And if you do get one to love you back, they can be real nice, mostly". He pointed to the book propped up on her knees. "What's goin' on there?"
"Oh, this feller, Malvolio, put on these yellow stockings because someone said the girl he's sweet on would like it. But of course she don't, so he gets humiliated."
"Sounds awful mean of 'em to lie like that."
"I guess. It's mostly funny, though. I can give it to you when I'm done. Got no books of your own, and all my books belong to you now."
"Nah" he focused his attention back on the kitten, stroking it between the ears while it closed its eyes and purred. "I can't read much."
"Oh. Sorry." She flushed, unsure of what to say so as not to embarrass him. Prideful as he was, she knew it would be easy to say the wrong thing.
"D'you…think maybe you could teach me?"
"'Course," she turned around to face him, imagining the two of them spending long afternoons reading by the fire like her parents used to do. Besides, there was something a little shameful in a wife's being more educated than her husband. "Teach you writin' as well. That's easy once you know how to read, just gotta know the way to make the letters." She bit her lip. "I got some paper for letter writin'. Next time you go to Claremore, you can get some chalk and a chalkboard. Gimme one minute" She dashed upstairs for her stationery and her father's fountain pen.
"Right" she sat at the kitchen table and he joined her, the kitten hopping off his lap and finding more interesting places to explore.
Jud's eager face dispelled any worry that she wouldn't be much of a teacher. "You know any words?" She tried to keep her voice as neutral as possible in case he didn't.
"I know all the letters. And I know my name, yours too. And, well, you know: 'and', 'cat', 'the', all them easy ones. Just don't know enough to read a big book."
"That's fine. Seems like you already know a lot. So maybe" she tried to think fast, not having had any little siblings to practice on "we'll go over the letters, then I'll write down words and you try to guess them."
"Sounds just fine."
They worked until two pages had been filled with words. He was a quick learner, spotting patterns and rules as she wrote, how an 'e' at the end of a word changed it from pin to pine, how an 'ing' meant you were actually doing something at that moment. They worked until it was time for her to make dinner, and he hung around in the kitchen.
"I've only got Shakespeare and the Bible. But Shakespeare wrote a lot, so we'll have plenty of things to read."
"That's good" he leaned against the counter. "You read all of 'em by now?"
"Oh, sure. Couple times. Ain't much else to do in the winter, you know? 'Sides, it's nice knowin' my parents loved the plays too, helps me feel close to them. Does that make sense?"
"Yeah."
She thought about asking him about his own family, everyone had parents after all, but she'd always gotten the sense that he didn't want to share anything about his past. Aunt Eller implied it was because he'd done something wrong, but Laurey knew that couldn't be true. His life had probably just been too sad for him to want to talk about. Too lonely for him to get to know how to behave around other folks. But now he had a wife and it was her job to teach him what parents and friends couldn't. "Still got some cornbread leftover from last night, wanna put it out for me?"
"Sure" he wrapped his arms around her and kissed the top of her head. She leaned into his embrace, the luckiest girl in the Territory.
