Chapter 44: Something Blue
"What has this man done to me?" Edie murmured in the morning, as had become her custom, after waking and dressing in work clothes, then splashing water in her face to keep the warmth from taking over. Each dayspring, it seemed, her head filled with spinning thoughts and wild ideas of happy times to come, accompanied by hopes and dreams which experience told her could not come to pass. Evenings were filled with flurrying feelings like she'd never felt before, making sleep difficult and itself exhausting, until the mornings were anticipated not for chores to keep her hands busy. After the sun rose and the substantial morning meal passed, she stared at her reflection in her day clothes and wondered how another day had passed so seamlessly when the minutes dredged by as molasses. She pulled on her day dress, and a hem slipped under her finger and the rings.
Her hand adjusted to the new weight quickly, as the simple silver band weighed little. She feared taking it off, even when snagging fabric snuck between her skin and the metal, that he would sense a shifting wind, many miles away, that some invisible power watched her movements and wanted to blab on any inconsistency in feeling. She'd give them no such satisfaction and stuck to it. It'd be an inhibition, she was sure, in the middle of an altercation or if a need for sudden action arose, to carry around the promise.
So be inhibited, she decided, and a burst of determination hurried her to hinder him. The surge occurred as she wrote Jamie of the upcoming nuptials and begged him to plead with his superiors to give him the leave. It would be nearly impossible, for the recruits were supposed to have complete and total distance from their families (their midnight rendezvous remained a tight secret with the cadets, she was told), but perhaps they would be convinced by his stellar track record and surpassing performance, she wrote. She and Hajule had agreed to keep him out of the loop regarding the month's split between her and the captain, so the announcement would read right in line with a normal course of events. He needn't be any wiser about their awkward times, and Levi surely wouldn't be privy to telling her initial reasons for refusal (not even to her mother, if her conversation was any indication). As she'd sealed up the letter, Edie checked her allowance purse, counted carefully, and took it all down to Mr. Solway's.
"Well, if it isn't the shortly to be Mrs. Captain," Mr. Solway teased, the moment she walked inside. One neighbor, elder Mrs. Dormaunt, was browsing the back shelves, and her laugh carried throughout the shop, mingling with the storekeepers. "What can I do for you?"
"Two things," Edie replied, setting the letter on the counter. "And I want a ring."
"A ring?"
"Yes."
"Isn't he supposed to supply that?"
"He already did." She held up her hand, and he peered at it. "I want to get him one similar to it."
"Can't say I've ever heard of the husband wearing jewelry," he mused, "but I'm not a young one in love. What's the material?"
"How should I know? I'm no blacksmith. It's light looking, though."
"I'll check with Freidrick. He does the welding for my barrels and might be able to whip something up. Check back in a week."
She grimaced. "Well, don't wait too long. The ceremony's in two."
"I'm not the one cutting it close!" He threw his hands in the air. "Talk to your mother about that."
It was true—Hajule pushed for a quick ceremony, and Larmie had been happy to oblige. Between their connections, her parents orchestrated every last detail, sparing no reasonable expense. Some friends volunteered a spacious tent in case of rain, and another family volunteered their several children and some young workers to pick flowers for the occasion (with an emphasis on sunflowers). Mr. Solway insisted on providing substance for the meals, and Hajule's neighborhood friends divvied up preparations (roast chicken was the special delicacy and a guarded secret, in case some uninvited guests decided to show up). Mrs. Solway prepared tablecloths in sage green and, for the head table for the bride and groom, sewed curving designs in forest green. Free of close female friends to call bridesmaids, Edie instead prepared a cordial for Jamie to wear on his lapel, should he attend, and if not, to show they left a seat empty.
The captain kept himself out of preparations and quite busy. Shortly after their engagement, the regiment engaged him in their own long-term event, a string of council meetings which leading members in the various branches were required to attend, forfeited only by a death in the family. While Larmie offered to fake his death for a few months to get the date moved closer, Hajule reasoned that walking his daughter down the aisle might give that away.
His daughter. The thought gave Edie pause. In some passing conversations, people had mentioned parts of the ceremony, but that detail had gone beyond her notice. She hadn't been to weddings much before, perhaps one or two in a home lasting no more than five minutes, finished with the couple retreating in to a neighboring bedroom, but the whole community came together for this event, beginning with the beautiful lady being led down the aisle by her father. No wonder Hajule mentioned so often that they would spare no expense, for when else would they do this. If Jamie survived the Scouts and fell in love, the wedding's cost and planning would be borne by her family, not theirs. The image of Corini's wedding flashed before her eyes and sent a warm shudder down her back.
She hadn't seen her lover often, given his schedule and tasks. He'd ridden into town twice in the past month, stayed for the hour he'd stolen, and left a kiss on her cheek and a squeeze of her hand. They were passing moments, she knew, and expected quite a few more. He had reason to be distant, with the audiences and necessities required by marriage. Perhaps he didn't know how much went into planning the wedding, negotiating with guests, and preparing a house for them to live (or, rather, her to live while he was on assignment). For he'd bought a small home only an hour's walk from the Cartwell farm, and a forty minute leisurely horseback ride. The long days without a husband in the home would be borne well with work and neighbors, but the short times in his return would be enjoyed far away enough from the company of others. Levi had plenty to do, putting up with councilmen and fixing up their home, to be bothered by family frivolity. They had years and years to put up with that, and only a week now to get married.
"We'll be together and alone soon," Edie told herself as she straightened her undergarments in the mirror. "He might as well be steering the country and setting up a mansion, with all that's on his mind. But you know him, and when you're alone, all will be well."
With that in mind, she joined Hajule in the wagon to travel to the market, both to deliver that week's batch of mattresses and get her mother's wedding dress adjusted.
"Seems like only yesterday you were here, getting fitted for those first few dresses," Katra as she took Edie's measurements. "You were so dirty, remember?"
"Was I?"
"Filthy. Absolutely. Of course, you're not too much better on the whole, living on a farm and all, but you clean up so nice. You snagged the Captain Levi, after all."
"I suppose I did."
"Quite an accomplishment, I hear. The city ladies inside Sina talk about him from time to time, when the wealthy and eligible bachelors come up. He's not too wealthy, from what I can gather, compared to those snot-nosed brats from monopolistic families, but so…eligible. Handsome, well-built, and a survivor, the kind of man you dream about at night. I mean, if he can lay a titan low, just imagine what he's like in bed!" Katra laughed to herself. "You won't have to for much longer, that is."
"You're unbelievable."
"And you're thinking about it," the craftswoman sang. "I can see it in your crimson cheeks."
Edie ran her fingers against her burning temple and swallowed.
"Oh, Katra, hush. You're embarrassing only yourself."
"Morsels of gossip are customary when getting new clothes. Why else do young ladies come to me? For company?"
"We're not here for anything new."
"Yes, yes, your lovely frock, Julie. Speaking of which, are Karmen and Lana coming?"
"Mm hmm. They offered their smaller cabin, the first they lived in, as a honeymoon retreat, too. She and Levi are heading there after the reception and should arrive around midnight. I've already sent up their things, and the cabin's three hours closer than Lana's." Hajule paused for a moment, and Edie thought she was considering her cousin and the company they would keep. But Hajule raised her eyes to her daughter, and Edie felt a careful analysis of her figure sweep tip to toe. She looked away, focusing instead on slipping the loose dress over her head and breathing as she was told. Hajule was still looking at her, she knew, and she struggled to ignore the scrutiny.
"Oh, goodness. I forget how tiny you are, dear. Did they not feed you as a baby?"
Edie blinked and stuttered for a few moments before Lana replied, "Well, we've fed her plenty since she came to us," and Katra continued.
"Hajule, I may need to trim off a hand length and a half from the bottom—is that alright? I know some couples like to don their wedding clothes now and again, and this would be a bit of trouble to reattach."
"Oh, my dear friend, I'm so pleased that you think I could squeeze my waist in that dress as is. Jamie took a beauty with him that I could never attain again, no matter how little I eat and how much I run."
"At least you kept your beauty longer than most," Katra said, and she gave a resolute nod indicating that this was a compliment. "Too many girls get married and get pregnant immediately. Some on the wedding night, if you do the math, or even before!" She gasped, and her hand flew away from the dress, a pin narrowly missing Edie's arm. "This one gentlewoman came in not more than six months ago with her teenage daughter and bought wedding clothes in addition to a new wardrobe—marrying some military official's son or other—except when I took her measurements, there was no doubt about it! She was nearly three months along."
"The young man was right to marry her," Hajule said. "Young mothers ought to be taken care of."
"Not you, though, dear," the dressmaker kept on, as if Hajule hadn't spoken. She gingerly patted Edie's belly. "You'll be well along soon, I think. Those military gents, they like to keep their line going as soon as they can. Who knows what will happen in the line of duty, and all? You remember that bastard of a fiancée that I dealt with..."
Katra retold the history, one recalled at every dress fitting, and added on many more statements meant as pleasantries until the dress was sufficiently cut and pinned, ready to be finished.
"Now, I'll have this finished in four days' time and brought over in time for the ceremony. I'll be staying with Hestia until the wedding's over, so if anything goes wrong, if a stitch breaks or you get cold feet, so call at any moment."
"Katra!" Hajule scolded.
"Only offering, light and cheery." She hugged the dress close to her chest. "Oh, Edie. You'll look like a dream. I'll add a few spruces here and there, plus warm the white to match your complexion. What a wonderful beginning you'll have!"
They purchased warm brown cloth for drapes, bed coverings, a shower curtain, pillow covers, and the millions of miscellaneous things fabric is used for in homes, then turned the cart toward her second home in this countryside. The two rode in quiet for a while, saying hello to neighbors and enjoying the autumn breeze.
All of a sudden, Hajule swung her leg up on the seat to better face her daughter. "So, we've only a week until you're wed."
"Mercy doesn't know which way you're taking her," Edie said, taking the reins to Hajule's new mare. "She needs a steady hand these days, until we know her thoroughly."
Her mother continued. "There are some things we ought to…discuss, so you're not taken by surprise. Things we haven't talked about before because…well, because Jamie was around, and then we hadn't really the reason, unless you cared to engage in certain activities, but I'm…well, it's a silly thing to assume you haven't given the obvious affection you both have for one another, but you both also exhibit an incredible level of self-control and intent upon following the rules, leading myself—and your father—to assume that the two of you decided early on that you would abide by typical traditions concerning courting couples, if you gather my meaning."
"Hajule—"
"And it isn't only the beginning portion that we really ought to discuss, but rather, how the days progress after you've been married for a month, a year, five years, and so on. Of course, we can and shall still talk, as much or as little as you wish regarding marital things, because I don't want you to feel confused or embarrassed by anything that happens. And, surely, if something happens that is harmful to yourself and communication becomes rocky, your father will speak to Temul in town and borrow his shotgun for an evening—"
"Good gracious!"
"Edie, I adore your intended immensely, and Larmie does, too, but young men can be…unpredictable. Their desires may seem mild outside of the institution of marriage and rapidly change once the law provides permission for certain activities."
"Oh, seven hells," Edie huffed. "I know what you and Larmie do when you're alone, if this speeds this conversation up."
"Edie, of all things!"
"Well, you seem so intent on speaking of my time with my…intended, so why shouldn't we be honest?" The word 'husband' stuck in her throat, and she veered away from the verbiage. "We live on a farm, too. Procreation isn't some guarded mystery."
"No, I suppose not. But I didn't want you to be surprised, or hurt. While he loves you and is certainly marrying you for your wonderful qualities as a woman and wife, he is most definitely looking forward to your wedding night. As he should, for you are a beautiful girl."
"It's all right." Edie sighed. "Thank you. I know you mean well."
"One thing that I struggled with, especially early on when we weren't intent on having children due to the farm's demands, was when I wanted to be intimate, and Larmie wouldn't take a hint. We were both busy, of course, but I ended up exploding on him, without proper reason, since I hadn't done more than wear a lowered frock and talk to him in a seductive voice, or so I thought. But if you want something, then ask. He wants to satisfy you as much as you want to satisfy him—or, at least, I assume you are at least interested in the prospect of…but if you are not, then that is alright. And your family will be perfectly content, no matter what you and the captain look to accomplish in your marriage. It's none of our business how you spend your days, to be perfectly honest, and tell me if I or Larmie ever impose on that. He and I had a terrible time explaining to people why we didn't have children."
Edie wrapped the reins around her palms and squeezed a little, watching the veins close to her skin flee from the pressure. "I thought you both were…I don't know, just preoccupied."
"He and I had no trouble having Jamie when we wanted to. But for the longest time, I was frightened of the whole idea, and your father respected that. He wanted to have children with me when I was ready to be a mother, and not a moment before. But others wanted a different reason, something medical or mental. Love wasn't enough. That explanation wasn't sensible to most, so we said we were preoccupied."
"I can't hardly picture you and Larmie as not being parents, much less newlyweds."
"Talk to Mr. Solway. He was there for the whole thing." She huffed a laugh. "No wonder he took so long to marry."
"He must've courted others."
"Not him. He was certain that when he married, he would be certain. And he is." Hajule pried the reins out of Edie's hands. "One more piece of advice, and then I'll be silent on the subject. But take care of him. Your husband."
"He can take care of himself," she dismissed.
"Most certainly he can. And in matters of cooking, cleaning, taking care of the home, he can and should do his share. But I mean in other matters. Look after his mind. Tend to his soul."
Edie blinked. "I…don't…"
"It'll come to you, it will. Love causes it to come to you, so as long as love is alive, the heart of a gardener is living. The wonder of marriage is togetherness, of two becoming one, and vowing to be with one another until death separates them. But you will see him and know him as none others do, even his oldest friends, for the two of you are bound in a way novel to any other covenant. It will take time, but you will be his caretaker, his close eye. And he will be yours. So watch for the weeds, and never let anything settle too close that would choke him."
"Wouldn't he know to watch for those himself?"
"Of course. And this is not a diminishing of that intelligence and care, only that marriage puts you both in a place to care half for yourself and half for another, and in that division, you become whole, fuller than you were before."
"That's ludicrous math." Edie put her hand over her mother's and squeezed. "But thank you. I'm sure I'll understand."
"You shall."
In late afternoon, they arrived at the little cottage and began working straight away, measuring windows, curtain rods, the couch's size, and the dining table's area. Hajule buzzed from space to space as Edie quickly wrote the numbers on the back of a market receipt. As her mother moved, Edie looked around the home, a good choice on the part of her fiancée. They had two bedrooms, a small guest and a larger master, with a tiny indoor bathroom and an open kitchen, separated by a counter space from the adjacent kitchen and living area. A small porch overlooked the fields, with a cluster of trees within walking distance. She imagined a small table she could build for summer picnics, and a covered stable for the horses. While Hajule stepped outside to search for the plumbing connection, Edie stood in the center of the living room.
A blank wall separated the guest room from the sitting room, and she studied it. Something could cover the barrenness. A painting, perhaps, or a mirror. Maybe she and Tinnul could sketch a few landscapes and pin them against the wood. Something to look at, in the long weeks of missions when she would live here, alone, and sleep in that great bedroom in solitude.
"I've slept by myself for twenty-seven years," she murmured. "I'm sure it won't be any trouble to continue that."
She sunk so deep in her thoughts that she didn't hear clusters of chatter just outside, creaking footsteps up the winding porch, or hear the door swing open. Her body jerked away at a touch on her shoulder, and all the clenching sorrow melted away when she recognized the visitor.
"Levi," she said with a smile, and wrapped her arms around his neck. "I didn't know you were coming today."
"Surprise." He returned an equally warm smile, then stepped away. "Hajule told me of the day's events."
"All of them?"
"And more."
"Sounds like my mother."
"It's earing."
"Well, she's got all the details ironed out."
"And what do you want?"
"Sorry?"
"From my interrogation, we've got brown curtains, two chairs coming, and a dining room table." He rapped his knuckles on the wall. "So which of those decisions were yours?"
"None of the above."
It must be my imagination, Edie said to herself, that whenever she took a step closer to Levi, he gently moved around the room, further away, that as she touched him on the shoulder, he took her hand off and held it for a while, then released. She stopped approaching him for a moment, to consider the question, and turn it back on him. "What would you like to see?"
"I've lived in barren rooms my whole life. Besides, I want you to be comfortable here. Say the word."
Edie narrowed her eyes and surveyed once more. The wall would have to wait, but it would be lovely…she bit her tongue. "It's a bit too expensive. We'll save up after a while, and maybe—"
"Try me."
Ooh. She swallowed, then stepped forward and took both his hands. "A green rug, rectangular, forest green. Like your uniform."
"Like your dress."
"You remember?"
"Impossible to forget."
"Mm."
They stared at one another for a moment, swimming in bliss. She felt it brimming over, unbelievable happiness, the kind she thought only really existed for the rich and free. Yet here it was, and here he was, and they were to be married, despite all her doubts and barricades. He was here, and he would kiss her, and all would be well.
Levi squeezed her hands, lifted both to his lips, and kissed them quickly. He let both go. "If I don't see you before the week's end."
"Yeah."
"Get home safe."
"Is that an order?"
He paused at the door, tilted his head, and laughed. As quickly as he'd come, he was gone.
The moment, one of three in the time between engagement and wedding, replayed in her mind as she stood before the mirror, six days later, in the fated dress. As tart as her tongue, Katra was an expert at her work, and the dress flowed like a river around her body, form fitting at her chest and spilling from her waist on. The sleeves, one of her special requests, parted as blooming flowers at her elbows, and, she imagined, would rise with the evening breeze. Preparations would begin at eight in the morning, giving all the farming folk a wonderful chance to sleep in, as visitors from out of town took care of milking the cows, feeding the animals, and tending to garden crops. Karmen and Lana were next door, snoozing after a late entry, her mother and father were cuddling on the couch and reminiscing, and the captain was tucked safely away at Mr. Solway's house, she was told, with bolts on the windows and door.
She twirled once, smiled briefly at the lifting skirts, then sat silently on the bed. Her hands folded in her lap, and her thumb circled the place where his lips had pressed.
He was standoffish, she was certain, and knew exactly why. He'd been caught up in the moment in the forest and hadn't thought about her reasons. But now that time had passed and the proposal set in, he'd realized what a match it was, and what a life they'd lead. The house would never be filled with children's laughter, with aunts and uncles, with company. Each Scout mission would end in a single person's company, hers, and while she knew they could have some moments of happiness, he would get tired of it. He was already tired of it, and melancholy for a life they could never share. In the midst of that wistfulness, he was dutiful, dedicated, and when he made a promise, he stuck to it. He'd proposed, she'd accepted, and they would be married. She knew it was what he felt, though the words weren't proper to say. She felt the same.
She took the ring off the nightstand, cursing her courage in the prior weeks. What use was making a house a home? Marriage just took him away from wherever the single Scouts bunked, away from friends who already made his life happy. The metal turned over and over in her fingers. He'd make her happy, in those brief weeks. At what cost?
Her hands dropped back in her lap, his unknown ring gripped tightly. "What have I done to you?" she whispered to the dark.
