7

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

NOTHING GOOD EVER came from bitterness, but Willa couldn’t do anything except stew. Julian banged around in the kitchen while she rubbed salve on her ankle in the bedroom. His single room log cabin was smaller than a hole but cozy and well kept considering a single man lived there. Well, single no more. Unfortunately for them both.

She looked out into the main room from the bed. A wood stove heated the home from the middle, and an old leather recliner was pushed into a corner. A massive quilt spanned the length of one wall in a rainbow of yellow, red, and various shades of brown. The kitchen was partitioned off to the left, a lavatory to the right, and the master bedroom all the way to the back. She bounced on the edge of the mattress. Comfy yet firm.

Then it came to her.

Would she have to bed him? It was the last thing she wanted to do. Or was it the first?

Willa couldn’t decide and let out a tiny groan. Why did everything have to be so complicated?

Julian rushed into the bedroom carrying a cold pack. “Here,” he said out of breath. “Oh, boy it looks swollen.”

She lifted the hem of her wedding dress and revealed her petite, svelte foot and wiggled her toes. Her flesh was red. Throbbing. Prickling. It annoyed her.

“I can pull some extra pillows out of the loft,” he said, helping her ease back on the mattress. “It would be better if we lifted it.”

“Okay.” Was all she could manage in a peep of a response.

He frowned. “Damn it. I’m sorry. What an awful way to get married. Those crutches are probably driving you nuts, huh?”

She nodded and gulped back the rising tide of tears.

“It’ll feel better with the pack. Hold on, I’ll be right back.”

He rushed out to the main room again and she heard him climb up to the loft. Moments later, he returned with an armful of pillows.

“I can sleep on the cot tonight,” he said in a low voice, trying not to look her in the eye as he assisted her.

“So we won’t—” Willa cut herself off and turned away from him.

He fluffed up the pillows underneath her head. “We can talk about it later.”

“We’re husband and wife.”

Julian beckoned her up to a seat. “Are you wanting any water or anything?”

Willa hardened. “Don’t change the subject.”

“I’m not. I just want to know if there’s anything you need.”

“Suppose not.” She struggled to unzip her gown.

“Will you be wanting help with that dress?”

She squared her gaze with his. “Whatever for? Won’t you be thinking of your sweet and precious—okay. Just forget it.”

Julian’s jaw tensed. “It’s not what you think.”

“But you love her.”

“Willa...”

“I don’t want to hear your excuses.” The zipper caught up in the lace and no matter how she strained and twisted her arm, she couldn’t budge it. “Dern. Such a pain. This awful dress.”

“It’s nice,” he said and climbed on the bed behind her.

Her stomach fluttered a little when his fingers brushed her back and gently unhooked the zipper. It seemed like forever as he unzipped the dress the rest of the way. She tried to steady her breath. Getting her hopes up would take her nowhere. Or would it?

“Thank you,” she said.

“Of course.”

Willa turned to look up at him, and the dress slouched over her shoulder revealing bare skin. He stared back at her, so close, right there, his lips hovering, and just as she leaned in to initiate a kiss, he moved away.

“I’ll start a fire so we can talk a while,” he said and hopped off the bed.

She groaned in disappointment and threw herself back on the pillows. This sealed it. He truly spared no interest in her as his wife.

When he went outside to grab more firewood, she tossed the ice pack down on the floor, grabbed her crutches, and made her way into the main room.

On second thought, the cabin wasn’t so bad. She rather liked the quaintness of it, the quiet intimacy it held, and the fact that she no longer had to live at home with her parents. Seemed like a proper place to make a home. At least, a little bit of her still hoped so.

“What are you doing out of bed?” Julian asked upon entering. “You should be resting that ankle.”

“I was bored,” she answered nonchalantly.

“Didn’t Dr. Claywood order you to bed rest for another week?” Julian shoved a pair of logs inside the stove. “Besides, getting you well is a priority so you can help out at the bakery.”

“Why don’t you get Emily to help you?”

Julian tensed. “I ain’t entertaining that sassiness of yours.”

“Huh.” Willa crutched her way to the recliner. “I like the view out the window. Nice and dark just like a certain someone’s heart.”

“Do you enjoy provoking me or something?”

“It’s merely payback for shattering my illusions.”

“Figures.”

“You should’ve just kept quiet.”

“I’m not a lying man.”

Willa plopped down on the soft leather and imagined she was drifting away in a cloud. “Maybe it’s the ankle talking smack.”

She peered out of one eye and kept the other shut, holding her breath.

Julian slammed the top of the stove down. “Would some wine shut you up?”

She exhaled loudly. “It’s possible.”

He pulled a bottle of wine out of the cupboard and poured them each a glass. The man had a tremendous amount of patience, she had to hand it to him.

“I know you’re upset,” he said and sat on the floor in front of her. “Not gonna fault you there.”

Willa sipped on the wine, savoring the tart grape flavor.

“You ain’t talking to me now?”

“And what should I say? It’s okay that you...that you...”

Julian raised an eyebrow. “Pray continue, Mrs. Reed.”

He said it. Mrs. Reed. She was his by law. And there was nothing more she wanted than for him to be hers. But the words wouldn’t come out, only a stinging pain spiked its way up her throat.

“Why didn’t you tell me about her sooner?” Willa asked, working hard to choke back the tears.

“Because I didn’t know how things would really go with us.”

“And how’d they go?”

“Better than I expected.” Julian drank from his glass. “I never meant to hurt you.”

He paused, leaving her eager to understand. But she didn’t want to seem desperate either.

“What do we do then?” she finally asked, breaking the silence.

Julian swiveled the wine around. “You’re free to be with other men if you’d like.”

Nothing could have prepared her for such a horrible suggestion. Her entire body stiffened like a board.

“I...” She sucked in a breath. “Think I’ll head to bed now.”

Embarrassed, she set the glass down on the window ledge and crutched her way past him. He called after her. She came to a halt.

“Please, let’s keep this between us,” he said. “No one’s business but our own to deal with.”

“All right,” she said, her voice breaking. “Goodnight then.”

“Goodnight, sweet Willa.”

 

***

 

Julian lamented he couldn’t take Willa on a proper honeymoon with her ankle all sprained. He tossed and turned in his cot on the dirt floor, unable to fall asleep no matter how hard he tried. Guilt weighed on him again. She didn’t deserve to be sleeping alone on her wedding night.

All of this was Emily’s fault.

In the privacy of his own thoughts, late in the night and deep in the dark, he finally allowed himself to process what she had said to him at the cafe.

She still loved him. And—

“Julian?”

He stirred under a wool blanket. “Yeah?”

Willa sat up in bed and rubbed her sleepy eyes. “My ankle really hurts.”

“Did you put more salve on it?”

“I’ve used it all up.”

“What about the ice pack?”

She sighed. “It’s melted.”

Julian thought for a minute. “Willa, you’ll have to numb the pain with alcohol. It’s all we have.”

He heard her moan about something and shift under the sheets. Poor girl. She couldn’t sleep either.

“Hold on,” he muttered and went into the kitchen where he dug out a bottle of whiskey from the cabinet. “I’ll take you to Dr. Claywood tomorrow.”

Moonlight streamed into the bedroom from the far window. Silver illuminated the red in her hair, tousled and long past her shoulders. He admired her from the doorway for a moment, watching as she rubbed on her ankle swollen to the size of a melon.

“It doesn’t look good,” he commented.

She wrinkled her nose. “Maybe it’s broken.”

He chuckled. “No, no, sweetie. You’d know for a fact if that were the case.”

“Standing wouldn’t be likely.”

“Nope.” He sat next to her on the bed and set the bottle on her lap. “Now, normally I wouldn’t encourage a lady to get drunk for any reason but it’ll kill the pain.”

Willa looked down at the bottle, her bottom lip quivering. She traced the decorative lines on the label. “You ain’t so bad sometimes.”

“Hm.” He grinned. “I’ll help if you want. I can’t sleep worth a darn.”

She scrunched her face as if she were sucking a lemon when her lips touched the mouth of the bottle. After a fit of coughing, she pushed the whiskey in his hand. “Your turn.”

He complied.

Admittedly, the burn helped him forget some of his confusion and pain. At least for the moment.

“Maybe soaking that ankle in the creek might not be a bad idea,” he said, wiping his mouth with his sleeve.

“It should be cold enough.”

“Let’s do that before heading to the doc’s.”

Willa took another swig but she was quiet. His eyes traced the fine outlines of her chin and neck, smooth like a drawing, and stopped at her collarbone. He reached out and rubbed the silky red of her hair between his fingers.

“Quit your staring,” she said. A nervous laugh laced her words. “I’ve never cared for whiskey much.”

“Is it helping at all?”

“A little.”

He passed the bottle back her way. “How long ‘til it’s better anyway?”

“My ankle?” She shrugged. “Doc said another week but I think it’s getting worse.”

“We should get it taken care of soon...” His voice trailed as he drifted back into the pillows. It was so comfy up here on the bed. “You don’t mind if I doze off, do you?”

Willa hiccuped. “Oh, come on. You’re really going to leave me all by my lonesome?”

Whiskey churned in Julian’s belly. “I’m sorry, sweetie. There’s always tomorrow.”

She muttered under her breath and turned over on her side. He breathed in her warmth and apologize to her in his head. Morning would bring them a fresh start.