CHAPTER ELEVEN

 

One year and two months later…

 

 

Charlotte Miller had been a beautiful bride, and she had even surprised herself, for she hadn’t cried a tear.  Sure, it would have been nice for her “mother” Pearl and her “father” Earl to have been there, but  nonetheless, it was a happy union of two people: the confident candy man and the only Bloomington lady who at one time hadn’t an umbrella to shield herself from the sun’s rays. 

The sun was brazing that day, but once in a while, when it was least expected the wind would twirl down from Heaven and toss some much-needed fresh air and relief from the heat.  She rode next to the man of her dreams in the open buggy, its wagon wheels digging deeply into the dirt road that led to the sprawling one hundred acre farm. 

He studied her locks of gold, her genuine beauty, and her heart of hope, faith, and the power to forgive, all while she chomped down on a lavender twisted stick of candy, and it wasn’t a broken one.

The clouds become dark, their denseness revealed as a heavy rain poured down.  He grabbed her and carried her into the house, and she giggled with excitement.  “It’s already fun being a new wife.  I have someone to whisk me in from the rain.  It’s dark in here.  Let’s get the lantern and egg a slice of the strawberry-rhubarb pie that won your heart and sip a black cup of kaffi!”  She requested, and he smiled as he walked over and flicked the lantern on. 

There was just enough flickering light in the oil lamp to see the outline of his strong form. She flushed with heat upon glancing at him. If she could not control her own thoughts to where Roy was concerned, how could she control her deepest hidden desired, especially in this low light.

Charlotte could see that he was handsome. But to think such things--would be a sin-- as that would be vanity. She blinked away her thoughts of him and focused on her duty-- to love and to cherish him--until death they would part... But could she put her feelings aside? She thought not. She stepped forward and placed a hand within his rough-skinned grip. Gentle he was with her, as he kissed, his warm breath tickling her palm. She flushed and ran slow fingers through his dark curly hair. His face shaven clean, she knew now that he'd grown out his beard. She'd never see his youthful face again, not after this night. She wanted to plant a thousand kisses across his chin at that moment, but again, refrained from such desires.  She was so lucky to be Mrs. Miller; life was not as perfect as it could get, and she knew it.  God, I thank you for everything.