Deborah tried to remember the first time she’d seen Nathaniel as he took her hands in front of everyone at Ma and Pa’s cabin. Today was fifth month, fourteenth day, 1841. Their wedding day.
His eyes were the same shade of blue, same brown lashes and brows, but today his wide grin and easy laugh made him seem like a different man. He was no longer angry and proud or pale and sick. Now he was healthy and strong, sober and honest. Deborah and her family were convinced that he would be a good husband.
All around were family and neighbors. Levi and Katy Coffin came as witnesses. They joined her parents, brothers and sisters and their families, the Coffin girls, Nathaniel’s aunt and uncle, and many of Nathaniel’s horse-shoeing customers in back. Some of the worldly ones stood respectfully in the very back but fidgeted and raised their heads to see to the ceremony. When they sensed it had started, the worldly men removed their hats; the Friends left theirs on.
The Friends looked sober in gray, brown, and black, but their eyes twinkled. Mama had made Deborah a new brown dress, white cape, apron, cap, and bonnet for this sunny spring day. The weather was clear and mild, an answer to many prayers.
Nathaniel repeated the words of the promises as she looked up at him. He never looked more handsome, wearing a wide-brimmed black hat, white shirt, and gray suit. His jacket had no lapels, and his waistcoat buttoned almost to his throat with plain dark buttons—so different from his brave, bright-colored apparel earlier.
“I, Nathaniel Fox, take thee, Deborah Wall, to be my wife. I promise with the Lord’s help to be a loving and faithful husband until death should separate us.”
She knew he meant every word. Deborah’s hands trembled, and her voice shook as she repeated the same promises to him.
The ministers had the certificate ready for them to sign. Nathaniel’s handwriting was neat and steady. She hardly could hold the pen as she signed her new name, Deborah Fox.
The Friends lined up to sign the declaration as witnesses.
Nathaniel pulled Deborah aside. “Tell me this is not a dream, Deborah Wall.”
“Fox. Deborah Fox,” she reminded him. She was still explaining when he gave her their first married kiss, wrapping his muscular arms around her, and pressing her to his warm, solid chest. His lips were soft against hers, and for a long moment, she felt like she was melting.
She stood on tiptoes and put her hand at the back of his neck. She rested her other hand on his cheek, smooth shaven and warm, then gave him a kiss in return.