“My hair?”
“Yes. Does it give you a headache to put your hair up?” Alex came straight to the point, and Marcail blinked at him.
“Yes it does, but how did you know that?”
“Because every other evening you’ve seemed to be upset about something or in some type of pain. And tonight you weren’t, so I figured either your job is very stressful or you get headaches from putting all of this on top of your head.”
Alex’s hand came out and brushed back the locks that had fallen over her left shoulder. “Marcail,” Alex continued, “why do you wear your hair up if it hurts you?”
Marcail was surprised he didn’t know the answer. “It’s part of my contract with the school,” Marcail explained softly. “I must wear my hair up at all times.”
Alex was stunned. What a bizarre rule, he thought incredulously. The next instant he realized why she always wore such dark clothing.
“Your dresses, I should say the dark color of your dresses—are they a part of the contract too?”
Marcail nodded, and Alex could only look at her. He asked himself just how badly he wanted to take on the Willits school board.
“If you’re thinking of going to Mr. Flynn, please don’t.” Marcail had accurately read his mind. “I’ve learned to live with the situation, and I knew the terms of the contract before I signed it.”
“So before you taught here, you would normally wear your hair up, and just live with the pain?” Alex just barely managed to keep the speculation from his voice.
“No, not exactly. I seldom had occasion to wear my hair up, and when I would get a headache, I didn’t relate it to my hairstyle. Such a thing never occurred to me until I moved here.”
“So you didn’t actually know it would be a problem?”
“No, I guess I didn’t.”
“Before we were married, did you go home each day and take your hair down?”
“Most days, yes. As long as I knew I was home for the day.”
“Did that help?”
“Yes. I mean, I would still get a headache, but it would be gone before bed.”
It occurred to Alex that they could cut her hair, but the thought made him cringe, and he mentally shook his head no.
“You need to come home each day and take your hair down. Lie down if that will help. If you find that still doesn’t alleviate the pain, then we’ll have to think of another solution.”
Marcail didn’t reply. She was again thinking how different he was from her original view of him, and that most of the time she didn’t even remember his title of “doctor.”
“You’re looking rather pensive,” Alex commented softly. “Want to share?”
Marcail gave a small shrug. “You’re just different than I first thought.”
“Good different, or bad different?”
“Good.”
Alex nodded, feeling satisfied and thinking absently how lovely she looked in the lantern light. “Have you started to feel married yet?”
“Not yet. I mean, I wrote my family and all, but even after seeing it on paper it’s still pretty unreal in my heart.”
“Would it help if I kissed you good night, or would that scare you?”
Marcail hesitated.
“You can be honest,” Alex encouraged her.
“I think right now it would scare me, but I’m afraid if I say no, you’ll never offer again.” Marcail could hardly believe she’d been so open with her feelings.
Alex was thrilled with her answer and chuckled softly as he left his place on the sofa and stood before his wife. The sound of his laugh, as well as the way he stood looking at her, sent a chill down Marcail’s spine.
“Make no mistake, Marcail, I will offer again—I will definitely offer again.”
Marcail sat very still as he turned and moved on bare feet out of the room. She had wanted to get some extra sleep, but as it was, it took some time before she found her rest.
twenty-nine
Marcail, usually a morning person, exercised great effort to haul herself from the sofa the next morning. Her nose lifted toward the smell of coffee coming from the direction of the kitchen, and almost of their own volition her feet moved to the table. She sat in a kitchen chair, yawning and looking very fuzzy around the edges.
Alex, having been up for nearly an hour, placed a mug of hot coffee in front of her, took a chair opposite, and worked at not laughing. He’d never seen Marcail this way—without her robe, her hair a disaster, and struggling to focus on the cup before her. Alex realized then that he’d never seen her anything but cheerful in the morning. He wondered which Marcail he liked best.
“Good morning,” Alex finally spoke when she looked a little more lucid.
“Good morning.” Marcail attempted a sleepy smile. “I can’t seem to wake up this morning.” Alex watched as she took another sip of coffee, propped her elbow on the table, and leaned her chin into her palm.
“Did you sleep well?”
“Once I got to sleep, yes.”
Alex was tempted to ask if his question and their discussion the night before had upset her, but he kept his thoughts to himself.
“How did you sleep?” Marcail said without blinking as she stared at some spot over his right shoulder. Alex wondered if she was headed back to sleep.
“Fine.” This time he could not keep the laughter from his voice. Marcail, even in her sleepy state, noticed.
“You’re laughing at me.”
“You’re right,” Alex chuckled.
“If you keep it up, I’m going to go back to bed.”
“If you do that, we’ll be late for church.”
Marcail sat up straight, sobering instantly. “I’d completely forgotten it was Sunday.” Marcail, who never gave up or hid from any task, was tempted for the first time to tell Alex she was not up to going.
“This first Sunday will be the hardest.” Alex accurately guessed her thoughts. “And don’t forget that families like the Austins, Vespermans, and Whites will be there. You’ll also see Allie, who has shown you her loyalty.”
Marcail nodded, trying to convince herself of his words. “Are you not at all bothered about going this morning?” For some reason she had to know.
“Not for myself,” Alex told her simply.
His real thoughts, thoughts of protecting her no matter what, stayed quiet within him. He knew that if anyone so much as looked at her cross-eyed, he’d champion her like a mother with a hurting child.
Alex rose from the table to start breakfast, all the time wondering if anyone in town knew what a sacrifice she’d made. She had been threatened, humiliated, frightened, rejected, and nearly forced into marriage so she could stay in town, teach the children, and possibly tell someone of Christ’s love.
Alex didn’t for one instant fault her motives or feel used. In fact, he agreed with her and praised God that she consented to marry him. But part of him wanted people to praise her, to understand her commitment and love for the children, and to put her on a pedestal because of it.
Then Alex’s thoughts went to Jesus Christ and His life on earth. No man was more misunderstood, no man had suffered more humiliation and rejection than He had. The “pedestal” He was put upon was a cross, to die for sins He could not possibly have committed.
Alex glanced back at the table to where Marcail still sat. She’d retrieved her Bible and sat reading quietly. He might be able to share his thoughts with her someday, but for now, he prayed. He knew God would show her in His special way that she’d done the right thing, and that He was going to honor her obedience.
By the time church was over, Marcail was convinced that rejection would have been easier to take than everyone’s self-satisfied looks over their belief that she was no longer a “fallen woman.” It was enough to make Marcail’s blood boil, and she tried hard to keep her emotions in check.
They were eating lunch at Austins when Kay noticed Marcail was about to explode. Intending to give Marcail and Alex some time alone
, she sent the girls on an errand after the meal.
“Talk to me, Marcail,” Alex said as soon as he’d shut the parlor door.
“Two women I don’t even know actually offered to have the party at their house when our baby is born!”
Alex was not at all surprised. He’d tried to keep her at his side as much as possible, but it seemed the people at church were determined to separate them.
“Honestly!” Marcail continued. “It was almost easier to take the cold shoulders I received last week than those ridiculous, speculative glances on the faces of certain people.”
He was silent as he watched her flushed face. Marcail stood shaking in the middle of the room, her arms crossed over her chest and one small-booted foot tapping an angry tattoo on the rug.
A few minutes of silence followed, and then Alex watched as Marcail’s shoulders slumped. She moved to the sofa and sat down heavily. Her body was still now, her hands limp in her lap, her foot motionless. Alex joined her on the sofa. She turned her head slightly away from him, but not before he’d seen the tears gathering in her eyes. He waited for her to bury her face in her hands and sob loudly, as his first wife had done so many times, but it was not to happen.
Alex watched her profile in fascination as silent tears streamed down her cheek. Marcail turned back to look at him, the tears still flowing. Not even when she spoke did she sound like she was crying, just slightly out of breath. It was the most heartbreaking thing Alex had ever witnessed.
“I know it’s my pride, Alex; that’s all it is. But I feel so hurt, so wounded that everyone believes the worst of me.”
Alex put his arms around her, and Marcail allowed herself to be pulled against his chest. An occasional shudder ran over her frame, but other than the hot tears seeping through the fabric of his shirt, he’d have never known she was crying.
“Can you hear me?” he said softly after some minutes. Marcial nodded against his chest, but did not lift her head.
“It’s going to take some time, but everyone will soon be used to our being married, and no one will think any more of it. I’m sure some of the older women in town think this is all very romantic. In their own clumsy way, they’re trying to show you support.”
Marcail raised her head to look at him. Alex, still one arm around her, gently wiped the tears from her face with his free hand. The action made Marcail feel cherished. He looked down at her with tender eyes, and Marcail found herself wanting to cling to him.
“You’re not embarrassed about our marriage, are you, Alex?” The thought had just occurred to her, and her voice held a hint of wonder.
“What a silly question,” Alex spoke softly and pressed a kiss to her forehead.
I like you, Alex, Marcail thought to herself. I like you a lot.
“Are you going to be all right?” Alex spoke into her thoughts, his voice warm and caring.
“Yes,” Marcail answered, thinking his arms felt wonderful. “Thanks to you, I think I’m going to be fine.”
Her words gave Alex a very satisfied feeling, although neither one spoke again for some time. The girls eventually came back, and the Montgomery family was joined by Dean, Kay, and the girls. The remainder of the afternoon was spent in good fellowship and fun.
thirty
Marcail stood across the kitchen from her husband, her entire being radiating frustration. It was Friday morning, and they were leaving for Fort Bragg in just an hour. They were also having their first verbal disagreement.
It had started ten minutes earlier while they were still getting ready to go. Alex noticed Marcail was putting up her hair. He questioned her, and the argument ensued.
“Marcail, I don’t think you should put your hair up for the train ride.”
“I admit it would be more comfortable down, but I don’t really have a choice.”
“I disagree. If you just put your coat on, and keep your hair inside, it will never be noticed.”
Marcail stared at him in amazement.
“Or,” he continued, “you could put your hair up now and take it down as soon as the train leaves town.”
“I will not take my hair down on the train.” Marcail’s voice was adamant.
Alex figured as much, but at this point he was willing to try anything to save her from a headache, including the risk of angering her.
“Well, I will not have you suffering with a headache all day,” Alex told her without force. “Now I could ask you, and then leave the choice to you, but I’m not going to do that. I do not want you to wear your hair up today.”
Marcail opened her mouth and closed it again. He had not raised his voice an octave or made her feel at all threatened, but she suddenly knew that every one of Dr. Montgomery’s patients took their medicine when they were told. Still, everything inside of Marcail balked at the idea. Her chin rose a notch.
“And if I put my hair up anyway?”
“I’ll take the pins out on the ride into town,” Alex stated quietly, feeling pain for having to argue with her.
“Marcail.” Alex’s voice had not changed, but this time his words got through to her. “I have no desire to start our trip with an argument, nor do I wish to deceive anyone in town, but your headaches concern me. We are leaving town, so no one will be offended.”
Alex had thought to have this discussion with her on Wednesday before Bible study. He knew she would want to keep her hair up even though they would be going to and from the Austins after dark. But Alex had been called out, and Marcail had stayed home.
“Did you figure I’d wear my hair down the entire weekend in Fort Bragg?”
“Yes, I did. I rather thought you’d enjoy the change.”
I would enjoy the change, Marcail thought. I’m just being stubborn because I don’t like being ordered around.
Marcail was on the verge of telling Alex her thoughts when he disappeared into the bedroom, giving her time alone. She stood for a moment in indecision, and then continued with her packing, leaving the pins behind. She figured she would have hours on the train to apologize and explain.
The scene from the train window on the way to Fort Bragg provided one surprise after another. The tracks wound their way west through hills and valleys, forests and plains. Alex and Marcail rode for the first hour in silence, just content to take in the scenery.
“Still mad at me?” Alex was the first to break the silence, and Marcail turned from the panorama to face him.
“I don’t know if I was actually mad, but I was frustrated. There are times I don’t like to be ordered around.”
“I’m afraid I didn’t handle it very well. Maybe it comes from being a doctor, but I can’t stand to see suffering. We both know how miserable you’d be at the end of the line if your hair was up.”
“I don’t need to be so obstinate,” Marcail admitted and then suddenly smiled, “but up to now, I believed that all the dictators were in other countries.”
“Dictator?” Alex tried to sound outraged, but there was laughter in his voice.
Marcail laughed with him, and then watched his face turn serious. “I know this will seem like an abrupt change of subject, but there’s been no opportunity for me to talk to you about my folks.”
“Your folks?”
“Right. Their situation is a bit unusual, and I want to prepare you as much as I can.” Alex searched his wife’s face and then began his story. “My mother is completely bedridden. She has been since I was little more than a baby. I was too young to remember what happened, but they tell me she fell from a small ladder and injured her spine. My father found her almost immediately, but even though several specialists came to see her, they said nothing could be done. She has no use of her legs at all, and at times her arms grow numb and she can’t move them.”
“Does she ever get out of bed?” Marcail’s face mirrored her compassion.
“No. She’s propped against the headboard of the bed for most of the day, but she never gets up.”
Alex fell silent for a moment, a
nd Marcail’s mind ran with images of a woman being bedridden for 30 years. “How does she do it?” Marcail finally whispered.
Alex smiled before answering. “She lets God use her right where she is. In fact, you won’t be able to spend more than 30 minutes with her before she praises Him for her condition. She writes about ten letters a day, and she knows if she wasn’t in that bed, she would never have been a letter writer.”
“Letters to whom?”
“People all over the world who have heard about her or come to the house to meet her. She never talks about herself, but writes Scripture and words of encouragement to those who hurt or have not yet found the Lord.”
“She sounds wonderful. How does your father handle all of this?”
“He tells people she’s the light of his life,” Alex told her with a tender gleam in his eye. “He teases her about never going dancing with him, but when we get there you’ll see how well they manage. Their bedroom is on the first floor and set up with all the conveniences. Dad takes all his meals with Mother, and they sleep in the same bed every night.”
“Is there someone who comes in to be with her during the day?”
“Yes, her name is Ida, and she’s been coming for years. She cleans and prepares supper every afternoon.”
“What about mornings?”
“Well, mother usually sleeps late, and she has Danny.”
“One of your brothers?”
Alex chuckled at the thought. “No, Danny is a dog—a big dog. You’ll meet him as soon as we get to the house. He’s huge, but there isn’t a vicious bone in his body, so don’t let him scare you.”
Alex fell silent once again and let Marcail have her thoughts. Alex’s parents did indeed sound wonderful. It suddenly became clear why he was a thoughtful, caring person—he’d learned from godly people. Marcail’s mind moved to his siblings.
“Tell me about the rest of your family.”
“I think I told you I’m the youngest of five.” Marcail nodded and Alex went on, “the oldest is my sister Dorothy, she’s 39 and doesn’t live in Fort Bragg. She’s married to a man named Stan Crandall, and they live in Eureka with their four kids.