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ANYBODY COULD UNDERSTAND being tired at the end of a long, stressful day. Heck, Johanna had understood that exhaustion on her wedding day too, so she hadn’t thought it odd that Nelson wanted to wait before they were intimate. By the end of their first four days of marriage, however, she was beginning to wonder if they would be doing anything at all. Each night they had gone to bed together and Nelson had done little more than kiss her briefly and say goodnight. Each night she had to convince him to let her touch him, had to coax him into letting her suck him. Each night he spilled himself down her throat and then promptly fell asleep without touching her. Each morning she woke up wondering what was wrong with her.
She arose that morning, not surprisingly, well after her husband. Johanna had yet to acclimate herself to the hour at which farmers usually got up, which was a tad earlier—by only a few hours—than she was accustomed to.
When she was dressed, she went to the kitchen and found that Nelson had left her a small bouquet of cornflowers in a drinking glass. It was a sweet gesture, and it brought a smile to her face, but at the same time she couldn’t help but wonder about it. It almost seemed like she had married two men: one who brought her flowers and one who constantly turned his back on her in bed. She didn’t understand it, but there was one person who might. Mom.
~ ~ ~
IT FELT STRANGE TO be home again, sitting on the porch with her mother, enjoying a warm spring day along with tea and ginger snaps. Strange, but nice.
“How have things been going?” her mother asked.
“Fine,” Johanna said. “Better than fine. They’re terrific. He’s a good man, a really good man.”
Alma beamed. “You sound happy.”
“I am,” Johanna said. She sipped her tea and then set her cup down before taking a deep breath. “Mom, there is one thing, though. Have you ever heard of a man wanting to wait?”
“Wait for what?”
“To, you know...make things official?”
“Oh,” her mother said, as her eyebrows shot up. “You haven’t....”
“No. Not yet.”
Alma sat back in her chair. “Well, no, I haven’t heard of that,” she said. “Usually it’s just the opposite.”
“That’s what I thought.” Johanna was about to reach for a cookie, but changed her mind. She had the feeling that it would only be bitter in her mouth. “I knew something was wrong.”
“Honey, don’t worry about it,” Alma said, patting her daughter’s hand. “This is a big change for both of you. Sometimes these things take time.”
“He must be having second thoughts about me.”
“I’m sure he’s not. Have you cooked for him yet?”
“Mom, the problem isn’t in the kitchen,” Johanna said. “And no, I’ve been busy.”
“Have you tried talking to him?”
“No, not about this,” she said.
“Well, there you go,” Alma said, wiping her palms together as if the problem were solved already. “Cooking and talking go a long way.”
Johanna shrugged. “I don’t think that’s really going to help.”
“Honey, let me tell you, I’ve been married a long time,” Alma said. “Men aren’t particularly complicated, for the most part. If you want to find out what’s bothering him, you have to get him talking. To get him talking, he has to feel comfortable. And to feel comfortable, there are worse ways to start than with a full belly.”
“Maybe I’ll try that,” Johanna said. “At this point I’m willing to try anything. I couldn’t bear it if there was something really wrong, something that he didn’t like about me.”
“It sounds like you’re starting to love him.”
“I would,” she said, “if he would let me. Anyway, I suppose I should get to the office. Papa will be wondering where I am.”
Alma hugged her before she stepped down from the porch. “Just be patient with Nelson,” she said. “I’m sure everything will work out.”
“Thanks, Mom.” As she walked the few blocks to the newspaper office, she thought about what her mother had said. Cooking and talking. I guess it couldn’t hurt.
~ ~ ~
BY THE TIME HE CAME in from the fields, Johanna had almost everything prepared. It had taken her half the afternoon to get it all ready, but in the end she had finally prepared a decent supper. She glanced out the window and saw him at the pump, washing away the dirt that he’d spent the day accumulating. Well, washing away the first layer, at least. It sometimes seemed that he carried a little around permanently. Not that I’m one to talk, she thought as she glanced down at her own ink-stained fingertips.
“What’s all this?” he asked as he stepped inside and saw the unusually laden table. Johanna had set out roast chicken, a basket of hot biscuits and a tray of pickled vegetables. She had opened a jar of strawberry jam for the biscuits, and she’d brought tea cakes from town for dessert.
“Oh, just a little supper I threw together,” she said, wiping her hands on her apron. “Are you hungry?”
“Starved. But this is not just a little supper,” he said. “This...this looks amazing.”
“Well, sit down and let’s eat while it’s hot.” She took his plate and served him a bit of everything on the table, then she moved to the stove and reached into the skillet with a spoon.
“What are those?”
“Kartoffelpuffer,” she said. “It’s my mom’s recipe.”
“Kartoffel poofer?”
“It’s like a potato pancake,” she said. “You’ll love it.” She returned to the table and gave him his plate, then sat down and served herself.
If Nelson had been wondering about her cooking, the meal seemingly quashed any doubts. He practically inhaled the food she had given him, pausing only to compliment her after every other bite.
“This is honestly the best meal I’ve had in...well, a heck of a long time, that’s for sure,” he said, taking in half of a kartoffelpuffer in one bite. “And these poofer things are terrific.”
She laughed. “I’m glad you like them,” she said, then went to the stove to set the coffee to boil. “Nelson, I want to talk to you.”
“Sure thing. What about?”
She returned to her seat and reached across the table to take his hand in hers. “I’m just a little concerned about how things have been going,” she said. “You know, maybe there’s something about me that you’re not happy with.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Have I been doing something to upset you?”
His brow furrowed with confusion. “Not at all,” he said. “Why are you asking?”
“Well, it’s just that we’ve been married for several days now...and we still haven’t, you know, been together,” she said. “At night.” She watched as his cheeks grew red. “Tell me honestly. Are you sorry you married me?”
“No, of course not,” he said. “There’s nothing wrong with you at all.”
“Well, then, is there something wrong...with you?”
He let out a long breath and stared at the table. “Yes,” he said. “Yes, there is.”
~ ~ ~
NELSON LEANED FORWARD and rested his head in his hands while he rubbed his eyes. It certainly wasn’t surprising that she was wondering what his problem was; in fact, the only surprise was that she had waited so long to ask. The whole thing had felt like a blade hanging over him, ready to drop at any time.
He sat back in his chair and looked at her. Her eyes, those beautiful hazel eyes, were full of concern, which only made him feel worse.
“What is it, Nelson? What’s wrong?”
“Johanna, I never thought I’d be so lucky to find a girl like you,” he said. “You’re beautiful, and sweet, and charming...you’re attractive in more ways than I can count.”
She half-smiled at him, though the concern remained in her eyes.
“The problem is that I can’t stop thinking about Virginia,” he said.
Johanna sucked in a breath, as if startled to hear his first wife’s name. Nelson closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. It seemed like he’d had the same headache for days now. Still, any pain that he was feeling probably paled next to the pain he was causing Johanna. She must feel betrayed, angry, hurt...or all of those together, most likely, he thought.
When she spoke, however, her voice revealed none of that. “Nelson, I think that’s entirely normal,” she said.
He opened his eyes. “You do?”
She nodded. “I think that anybody would feel the same way in this situation. I’m sure that this week has brought up a lot of memories for you. Some nice, some probably not so nice.”
He nodded. “I’d be lying if I said otherwise. But I never meant to hurt you, much less make you think something was wrong with you. I’m real sorry.”
She shook her head, as if to deny it was even something to be concerned about. “Don’t worry about that,” she said. “You’re sure you don’t regret marrying me?”
He reached across the table and took both of her hands. “I don’t regret that for a moment,” he said. “I would do it again today, tomorrow, every day. I’m happy and proud to be your husband. I guess I just need...I need a little while to get used to the idea.”
Johanna’s eyes narrowed as she looked at him, like she was considering something. “Maybe you should tell me about her.”
“Are you serious?”
“I am,” she said. “I don’t even know how long you two were married. How long was it?”
“Three years.”
“That’s a time in your life I don’t know anything about,” Johanna said. “And as your wife, I think that I should.”
“What kind of things do you want to know?”
“Anything. Everything,” she said. “For example, how did you two meet?”
Nelson leaned back in his chair and a smile crept onto his face. “I stole some apples from the tree in their yard,” he said.
“Seriously?”
“I did,” he said. “This was when I was probably about ten or so. She’s actually the one who caught me; I was up in the tree trying to get this one apple at the top, and next thing I know, I look down and she’s standing there with her dad.”
“What’d they do?”
“Her dad marched me home and made me confess to my mom,” he said. “But the next day, I was right back over there.”
“I didn’t know you liked apples so much.”
“I don’t,” he said. “I just wanted to see Virginia again.”
“It sounds like love at first sight.”
“For me, it was,” he said. “It took me a while to wear her down, though.”
Johanna went to the stove and took the boiling coffeepot off the fire, placing it on the table atop an iron trivet. She brought two cups from the cupboard and then retook her seat. “Now tell me,” she said, “what did you two like to do together?”