Their muted voices came and went, and the quiet periods lengthened as fewer words were required. Then Aaron and Mary let their bodies do the speaking, and they celebrated each other once again.
“Let’s go to bed, love,” Aaron murmured.
“You can’t stay, Aaron.” Mary’s sleepy voice came from some buried spot in his shoulder.
“Oh, Jesus, don’t turn me away again,” he begged.
“I have to if you want our neighbors to respect our marriage. There’ll be enough raised eyebrows as it is.” She couldn’t resist a chuckle. “If only they knew.”
“Who’s to say I didn’t bunk in the loft over at Volences’ with the overnighters after the wedding?”
She shook her head slowly, pivoting it on a spot just under his chin where her hair was warm on his chest. Then she turned in his arms.
“No, my love, you’ll not have your way with me again until the deed is done. I want to have a wedding night to cherish.”
He held her from behind, an arm around her middle, another over her shoulder.
“You told me a little while ago that you could never say no to me.”
She moved his hand beneath her own, feeling its warmth and protection on her breast. “I’ve not said no, my love…only prolonged saying yes.”
In the end, she had her way.
But he was back in the morning, and he caught her sleeping, long after the sun had risen. Sarah slept soundly, too, after the tiring day before.
Aaron watched them for a long time before his gaze awakened Mary. She opened her eyes to him, and a thrill of remembrance whipped through her, arousing her body with sudden intensity.
He came to sit beside her on the bed and leaned above her, an elbow on each side. “I came for my breakfast,” he whispered, smiling and nuzzling. She could smell the fresh air in his hair as he bent to kiss her throat. He pulled at the covers, pushing them down, away from her. He lay his face in the softness of her breasts, and Mary felt his warm breath through her nightgown.
Not wanting to wake Sarah, she whispered, pushing at his shoulders, “Aaron, I told you last night, no more till we’re married. Now behave yourself.” But there was such a natural goodness about his coming to her like this, finding him here in the sun. “We seem to work so well together without even trying. What if I get pregnant as easily as the first time? What will the good people of Moran say then?” And it worked. He backed away from her a bit.
But there was something she’d never told Aaron that she thought he ought to know now. “Aaron, I said we work together without even trying, but that’s not exactly true.” She hesitated uncertainly, then went on, “Doc Haymes told me a woman has a right time that comes every so often, and she can plan it by the days of the calendar.”
He gazed steadily at her but didn’t reply.
“When Jonathan went on his trip, I knew my time was right, Aaron.” Still, he hadn’t said anything. “I mean, I thought I could conceive then, and I did.”
“And you came to me, anyway?” he asked, and she feared he might be angry.
She said, “Yes. Are you angry?”
“Angry?” But there was jubilation in his word. “Don’t you see it makes Sarah all the more precious to me? She was what you wanted, and I could give her to you, and I never knew till now anything about what you and Doc Haymes talked about.”
“I thought if you knew, you might think I just used you, but I didn’t, Aaron. Honest.”
“I know,” he said, kissing her neck again.
“We really do work well together, don’t we, Aaron?” she asked.
He raised his head and looked into her girl’s face, loving every plane and curve of it, not wanting to stop. “Yes, we work well together,” he agreed, charmed by her simple way of saying it, “so well that I’ll be wanting you morning, noon, and night for the rest of our days. And what will you think of that?”
“I think I will love it,” said Mary.
He felt smothered in happiness and closed his eyes, loving the graze of her touch on his face. His eyes remained closed as he kissed a finger that slid past his lips. “My God, girl,” he whispered hoarsely, “how I love you.”
She leaned to his bronzed face and laid her mouth lightly on his, knowing at last the fullness of their mutual harvest as she whispered with tears in her eyes, “We love you, too.”
The days that followed were a heady beginning, harbingers of joys to come. For Aaron there was the pleasure of Sarah as well as Mary. He indulged in all the foolish, fatherly things he’d thought of, giving free rein to the love he felt for her.
For Mary there was an awakening of pride such as she’d never known before. He was so natural with Sarah and with her, although she held him at bay, his hands, arms, and mouth constantly wanting her.
He bought a tractor with the money he got from selling Vinnie. Aloysius Duzak bought the bull, and the sale was recorded under the animal’s registered name, Vindicator. Duzak admitted he’d probably call the animal by his old nickname, then became self-conscious after he’d said it, remembering that the bull had killed Jonathan.
There was money left over after buying the tractor, and Mary used it for new curtains and wallpaper for Aaron’s bedroom, informing him with an innocent look that Sarah would sleep better if she had the old front bedroom to herself.
Aaron couldn’t resist teasing, “It’ll be quieter there for her, too,” loving the blush that came to Mary’s cheeks.
As Mabel Garner so often said, weddings come in threes. This one was the third, and the most unexpected.
They were married in November. It was a small ceremony, but all the Garners were there to admire Mary in ivory satin, trimmed in seed pearls.
Mabel Garner told everyone later, “Damned if she wasn’t the prettiest bride I ever seen!” Rumor had it that Mary had worn a lovely ivory gown of quaint design, but nobody knew where it had come from. Surely if it were an heirloom, she’d have worn it at her first wedding.
It gave the women of Moran Township food for a whole winter’s gossip. They recalled Mabel Garner’s telling them how she and Garner had found Aaron wandering the roads in shock after his brother’s death. They recalled how he’d given up his home to Mary and Jonathan more than once, how he’d worked the land after Jonathan died, asking nothing in return. Long before spring, their husbands had tired of hearing the merits of “that boy” and how he’d married the girl, providing for her—with that young baby and all. They never failed to say, “What would Mary have done without Aaron?”
On their wedding night, after putting Sarah to bed, they tiptoed down the hall by lantern light. At the doorway Aaron picked up his bride and kissed her before carrying her into his old room, which wore a new look. When he saw the room, colorful and clean, he thought how Mary loved this house, how she felt so right in it and in his arms, and how neither of them would ever have to leave it again.
Setting her on her feet, he asked, “My darling, what would I do without you?”
“You’ll never have to ask again,” she replied, pulling him toward the bed.
And their lantern burned brightly, long into the night.
About the Author
The name LAVYRLE SPENCER means outstanding romantic fiction. A perennial national and New York Times bestselling author, she has captivated readers from coast to coast with her stirring, lyrical tales of love and hardship, peopled with complex, sensitive and unforgettable characters whose trials and triumphs become our own.
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Praise for THE FULFILLMENT
LAVYRLE SPENCER
“SPENCER knows how to tug at readers’ heartstrings.”
Publishers Weekly
“SPENCER writes so well it leaves the reader breathless.”
New York Daily News
“SPENCER’s strength is in depicting complex familial ties and in amplifying the romantic struggle in pursuit of ha
ppiness.”
Kirkus Reviews
“SPENCER redefines love in gentler and kinder terms.”
San Antonio Express-News
“SPENCER brings an added dimension to her stories. Call it grit, call it warmth, call it whatever you like—it works.”
Atlanta Journal & Constitution
“SPENCER is a winner and the reader is no loser.”
San Antonio Express-News
Copyright
This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination or are used fictiously. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of either the author or the publisher.
THE FULFILMENT. Copyright © 2002 by Elizabeth Boyle. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
ePub edition November 2005 ISBN 9780061744099
40 39 38 37 36 35 34 33 32 31 30 29
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LaVyrle Spencer, The Fulfillment
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