After Wes’s departure, JoBeth stretched out on the sofa and tried to rest. But she was too excited, too nervous, to sleep. She lay there looking around the unfamiliar room. Everything seemed unreal. Pictures of the last forty-eight hours flashed in her mind like images in a stereopticon. Everything that had happened since they fled through the night came back in vivid detail.
Too restless to lie still, she got up, inspecting the rest of the apartment. She went into the adjoining bedroom, pleased it was so nicely furnished and tastefully decorated as was the parlor.
She did not want to bother Mrs. Hobbs to ask for hot water for a bath. So she poured water from the pitcher into its matching pink china bowl and, using the lavender-scented cake of soap she was delighted to find in the dish on the wash-stand, bathed as best she could. Afterward she soaked a small linen hand towel with some precious cologne she had brought with her, patting it over her neck, shoulders, and arms.
Clean and refreshed, next she brushed out her hair until it crackled, then sat down at the dressing table to wind it into a figure-eight chignon. As she started placing the tortoiseshell pins into her hair to secure it, she saw herself in the mirror. Her brush still in hand, she stared at the girl in the glass as if at a stranger. In the unfamiliar setting, she hardly recognized herself.
The chimes of the ormolu clock on the mantel began to ring. Two-thirty. In an hour Wes would return. I must dress. Wes will be here soon, and then we will go to the church, and then—her imagination took her no further. Everything seemed unreal. She was here by herself, with no loving relatives to get her ready for her wedding. She pushed away any regrets. This was what she had chosen to do. This was what she wanted.
She unpacked the jade taffeta dress, made from the beautiful material given to her by Aunt Josie, who had never dreamed it would be worn as a wedding gown—to marry a man of whom they do not approve! JoBeth thought guiltily.
She shook out the tiered skirt and stepped into it. Then she slipped on the bodice, which was embroidered with darker-green soutache braid. Starting to fasten the tiny hooks cleverly concealed under a narrow placket, she recalled instructing the seamstress to put the hooks down the front. She had known there would be no one to help her dress on her wedding day.
Lastly she slipped in her small pearl pendant earrings, then got out her hatbox and opened the lid. Unwrapping her bonnet from the tissue paper in which it was swathed, she took it out. She held it in front of her for a moment, admiring it. It was the prettiest one she had ever owned. Lined with fluted pink chiffon, it was trimmed with green velvet leaves in which nestled a single pink silk rose. Aunt Josie had selected the trimmings herself at her milliner’s, declaring it perfect to wear with the green dress. Tying the wide green satin ribbons under her chin, JoBeth fervently hoped her aunt would eventually forgive her for eloping.
She was just buttoning on her gloves when a knock came at the door. It had a jubilant sound, as did Wes’s voice announcing, “JoBeth, I’m here.”
Her taffeta skirts swishing, she crossed the room to open it to her smiling husband-to-be.
The interior of the church was dim and drafty. To JoBeth it had a strange, almost mysterious aura with its curved nave and shadowy arches. Entering, she felt the full impact of this solemn occasion. Wes covered her trembling hand with his, smiled down at her while they walked together down the long aisle. In the vestibule, JoBeth had been introduced to Major Meredith and to the regimental chaplain’s wife, who were going to serve as their witnesses. Major Meredith was exactly as Wes had described him. His face, with its strong features and determined expression, revealed much of the qualities and character Wes had attributed to him. There was also an unexpected compassion in the deep-set eyes as he looked at them. Why? she wondered as they took their place and the chaplain opened his prayer book to begin the ceremony.
It was certainly not the wedding of her girlhood dreams. There was no organ music playing the traditional marches, nor was there a chosen soloist to sing her favorite hymns, nor did she know the clergyman who officiated. He read the ritual in what Wes told her later was a New England accent.
The ceremony was brief, but they both gave their responses in clear, sure tones, gazing happily at each other. JoBeth felt slightly delirious, as if her head were floating somewhere up over them and she were looking down on the scene. The words of the ceremony seemed natural to her. She had memorized them by repeating them each night after her bedtime prayers. She used to take out her pledge ring, hold it, and say the same promises she was making today. Ever since Wes had told her about betrothals in the olden days, she had cherished the idea. Speaking the words out loud “before God and this company”—although the church was empty except for them—was only a confirmation of the promise she had already made in her heart. Of course she would love, cherish, and obey Wes, in sickness and in health, for richer or for poorer, keeping only to him however long they both should live. There was no question, no doubts. All the uncertainty she had felt earlier had disappeared. This was a sacred moment. These were sacred promises, to be kept forever.
Exchanging their rings was only a repetition of what they had done in the Hillsboro churchyard, the fulfillment of all their hopes, prayers, dreams.
After they had all signed the register, Wes and JoBeth thanked the chaplain and his wife, then left the church with Major Meredith. As they came out onto the steps, they saw that a light drizzle was falling. The late afternoon sky was dark, heavy with clouds. Standing on the church steps, Major Meredith said, “You have a few more days of leave coming, don’t you, Lieutenant? If I weren’t required to report back to duty, I would insist on treating you two to a wedding supper at one of the city’s finest restaurants. As it is, I have done the next best thing. I’ve taken the liberty of ordering a catered hamper from that same restaurant to be delivered to your address with my compliments. Perhaps it is even better this way. I know you both have waited a long, worried time to be together.” He gave a brisk salute to Wes and bowed to JoBeth. “So I will not delay you. I admire your bravery and render my best wishes for a long and happy life together.”
He saw them into their hired carriage waiting at the curb and bid them good-bye. By the time they arrived at Mrs. Hobbs’s house, it was raining steadily. Wes held his military cape over JoBeth to protect her bonnet, and they ran up the steps. They had been given a key to the front door, and they let themselves in, then went quietly upstairs to their apartment.
JoBeth moved to the center of the room and stood for a minute, idly picking up a porcelain bird figurine, examining it. She could hear the rain pounding on the roof, giving the cozy little parlor a feeling of sheltered intimacy. Slowly she turned around and smiled.
Wes walked over to her, placing his hands gently on her shoulders, then very carefully untied her bonnet ribbons and removed her bonnet. He tossed it on the nearby table, then smoothed back her hair from her forehead, regarding her with infinite tenderness. Cupping her face in both his hands, he said softly, “Welcome to our home, darling wife.”
“Oh, Wes, wife! That sounds so wonderful, so special.”
“It is wonderful, and you are special. I thank God for you, JoBeth. I want always and only to make you happy, make you glad that you went through all you did and married me.”
“Married. It hardly seems possible.”
“But it is, my darling,” he said, then kissed her. It was a long kiss but very gentle. “I love you, JoBeth, more than I can ever tell you.” He took her hand and led her over to the sofa, eased her down to sit beside him, took her into his arms, and began to kiss her.
His kisses were slow and sweet, as if they had all the time in the world. He whispered her name over and over, kissing her again and again. An unspeakable joy surged all through JoBeth. The promise of their dream had been fulfilled. Their pledge had held, their wait had not been in vain, their faith had been rewarded.
Just then a discreet knock sounded at the door, and reluctantly they moved out of their embrace. They looked at each other questioningly. Then Mrs. Hobbs’s voice came from the hall. “Lieutenant Rutherford!” Wesley gave JoBeth a helpless shrug, then got up, went to the door, and opened it to an apologetic Mrs. Hobbs.
“I wouldn’t have disturbed you, but this was just delivered.” She held out a wicker basket, its handle tied with a silver-edged white satin bow. There was a card on which was written, “Best Wishes to Lt. and Mrs. Wesley Rutherford.”
“Thank you very much, Mrs. Hobbs. We were expecting it. A gift from my commanding officer.” Wes took the basket from her.
Mrs. Hobbs peered around Wes at JoBeth. “Is there anything more I can do for you? I thought perhaps Mrs. Rutherford might not be used to our Northern weather—a hot water bottle, maybe?…” Her voice trailed away as if she suddenly realized the ridiculousness of her statement.
“That is most kind of you, Mrs. Hobbs. JoBeth—Mrs. Rutherford—is tired, of course, but we shall be just fine. Thank you.” Wes stepped back, ready to close the door, but she stood there for a few seconds longer.
“Good evening, Mrs. Hobbs, and thank you again,” he said firmly.
“Ah yes, Lieutenant. Well, if there should be anything—”
“That is indeed most kind—” Wesley again made an attempt to shut the door and this time succeeded. He turned around, made such an exaggeratedly bewildered face that JoBeth smothered her giggles with her hand. However, the ludicrous incident somehow broke through whatever stiffness either might have felt. As they unpacked the wonderful gift basket of delicacies—roasted squab, shrimp salad, dinner rolls, pears, grapes, chocolate eclairs, and a split of French champagne—they laughed and talked like old, carefree times.