She lay there a moment, feeling lazy, and had just decided to get out of bed when the door opened a crack. Alex’s head came in next, and he looked toward the bed with raised brows.
“Good morning,” Marcail called, and Alex took it as an invitation to enter.
“Good morning. How about a little coffee?”
“Ohhh, thank you.” Marcail spoke with surprised pleasure and pushed herself against the headboard to receive the offered cup. Alex took the end of the bed, leaning against the footboard with his own cup.
“How did you sleep?” he asked solicitously after Marcail had taken a few sips.
“Like I always do, but I suspect you already know that.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning, I never heard you come or go, so I assume I slept as usual.”
“You do sleep hard,” Alex commented softly, his eyes on her disheveled appearance.
Marcail told herself she was not going to blush. She concentrated on her coffee cup in the silence that followed.
“How would you like to have breakfast at the beach?”
The cup paused halfway to Marcail’s mouth.
“Who’s going?”
“Just the two of us.”
“What about your folks?”
“Dad’s at the office, and I think I told you, Mother sleeps late. I’m sure my family will be around for the rest of the day, so I thought this might be my only time to show you Fort Bragg. Unless you’re starved, I thought we’d take a basket and eat at the beach.”
“I’d like that,” Marcail said sincerely, seeing how much Alex wanted to leave the decision to her, but also how much he wanted to take her.
Alex stood and moved toward the door. Marcail noticed for the first time that he was dressed and ready for the day.
“I’ll be ready anytime you get downstairs.”
“All right. By the way, Alex, what time is it?”
“Almost 10:00.”
Alex grinned at the shocked look on his wife’s face before slipping out and shutting the door.
“This was my grandparent’s house,” Alex said as he pointed to a simple green house. “Quinn and Hannah live there now.”
“What did you say Quinn did for a living?”
“He’s a logger.”
“Oh, that’s right, and their kids are Amber, Jess, and Cole.”
“No. Amber, Jess, and Cole belong to Skip and Judith. Quinn’s kids are Cindy and Derek.”
Marcail nodded but stayed silent. She hadn’t needed more than a few days to know the name of every student in her class, but Alex’s family was still beyond her.
Mentally placing everyone she’d met, Marcail realized that Alex had turned the horse and small buggy down the road toward the ocean. They moved closer to the view Marcail had seen from the Montgomery house, and in a matter of minutes they were pulling to a stop beside what appeared to be a private beach. Marcail sat transfixed as she watched and listened to the ocean beat on the shore. The sound was like music in her heart.
Alex, assuming it was her first view of such a majestic sight, stayed silent and let her look her fill. The quiet moment was broken when Marcail suddenly scrambled from the carriage. Alex watched in amazement as she sat in the sand, stripped off her shoes and stockings, and dug her toes in the sand. A moment passed before he heard her laugh with delight.
Alex stepped down from the buggy and went to sit on the sand beside his wife. She was still smiling, but there were tears standing in her eyes. He watched her, a questioning look on his face. Finally she noticed him.
A faint blush stained her cheeks before she spoke. “Don’t mind me, Alex. It’s just been so long.”
“What has?”
“Since I’ve seen the ocean and felt the sand under my feet.”
Again his look was questioning, almost baffled, and for the first time Marcail stopped to think how little he knew about her. After all they’d only been married for 13 days.
“I was born in Hawaii,” Marcail told her husband softly.
“The Hawaiian Islands?”
Marcail smiled at his tone. “Right. I lived there until I was nearly nine. My parents were missionaries.”
Alex could only stare, first at Marcail, and then out to sea. He had of course realized how little they knew of each other, but this! This was so surprising that Alex hardly knew what to say.
He turned his head back to look at Marcail and found her watching him. Seeing her sitting there with her hair down her back and her bare toes peeking out from beneath the hem of her dress made it easy to envision her as a girl running on the beach.
“Do you miss it?” he asked suddenly.
“Not anymore. When I was nine, I thought I would die of homesickness, but it’s been 11 years, and I love my life here. I do miss my brother, Sean, and his family. He’s one of four pastors at the mission there, working with the village families.”
Again Alex just stared at her.
“What are you thinking?” Marcail had to ask.
“That you’re an awful lot of surprises for such a small package.”
Marcail wasn’t offended. She smiled and looked back out to sea. “Does my being small bother you?”
“No, should it?”
Marcail shrugged and then admitted, “I was never going to marry anyone who towered over me as much as you do!”
“Why?”
The question brought Marcail’s head around. “Because I didn’t want my husband to view me as a child.”
“Is that what you think, Marcail?” Alex’s voice was suddenly intense. “That I think of you as a child?”
Marcail shrugged, realizing the conversation had taken an unexpected turn. She wasn’t sure what to say next.
Alex didn’t care for the shrug, but he was at a loss as to how to tell Marcail what he really felt. To divulge that he found her lovely and desirable at this moment, while they were having to share a bedroom, could do irreparable damage. Frustration rose within him, but he prayed for calm.
They sat in silence for a few moments, and Alex knew his first premonition was right—he was going to have to let the subject drop. As he moved to the buggy to retrieve the basket and quilt, he told himself that someday his wife would know exactly how he viewed her.
thirty-five
By the time they returned from the beach, some of Alex’s family were at the house. Alex and Marcail were taken into the group without the slightest hesitation.
“Did you show Aunt Marcail where we live?” six-year-old Derek wanted to know when he found out they’d been on a drive.
“Yes, we went by your house.”
“Then where did you go?” Jess, who was 11, piped up.
“To the beach.”
“Wasn’t it a little cold?” This came from Amber, who at 14 was taller than her new aunt.
Alex, who couldn’t remember feeling cold at all, smilingly shook his head and glanced at Marcail’s feet. Her shoes and stockings were back in place now, but he clearly remembered the way one foot had stuck out from under her dress while they were eating.
A single stroke of his finger had told him that his wife’s feet were very ticklish. A fiendish glint over this newfound knowledge had entered Alex’s eyes. Seeing that threat, Marcail had scurried for the far end of the quilt and tucked her feet protectively beneath her. She informed him, in her best teacher’s voice, that he was not to tickle her feet. Alex continued to tease, but after some convincing arguments, she rung a promise out of him that he would not touch her feet while she was trying to eat.
Now, back in the living room, Alex raised his head to see that Marcail had been watching him. She knew the exact direction of his thoughts. Her look turned stern all over again, but all Alex could do was grin.
An hour or so after lunch, with nearly everyone present, news came that there had been a small fire at the hotel. The Montgomery doctors didn’t hesitate a moment before going to assist. Alex gave Marcail his usual kiss on the corner of her mouth and went o
ut with the others. Quinn also went along to help.
Susan took her four children home so that Stuart, her youngest, could get a nap. All were coming back for supper, so the children and women settled in various parts of the house for play or talk.
For the next two hours Marcail was in Helen’s bedroom with Judith, Amber, and Hannah. Marcail loved the way they included her and would have sat all day, but Jess and Cole began to argue in the living room. When Judith arose, Marcail asked if she could go instead. Judith was more than happy to allow her, and within minutes Marcail had solved the argument by taking both boys outside for a game of catch.
Marcail held her own very nicely with her nephews. Jess had a good arm, and Marcail’s hands stung on some of his harder throws. Jess was putting his all into one throw when Cole said something to Marcail and distracted her. The ball, hard as a rock, hit her on the side of the head.
Marcail’s hand came to her temple and both boys froze. Marcail’s eyes slid shut, knowing that any second her head would begin to throb. A few seconds passed, and Marcail opened her eyes. The boys had come up without her hearing, and Marcail tried to smile.
“I’m sorry,” Jess said softly.
“Me too,” Cole added.
She reached and hugged the boys, not wanting them to know how much her head hurt.
“Let’s sit on the porch and talk awhile, shall we?”
Both boys nodded with relief, thinking their aunt was fine. It was wonderful to sit down, and Marcail was able to keep her pain private. Not knowing whether she was hurt badly or not, Marcail saw no need in alarming the family and upsetting these sweet little boys.
The three were still on the front porch when the men came back from town. Marcail, feeling a little disoriented, didn’t notice them until the boys became very still.
Quinn and Samuel went into the house after saying hello, but both Skip and Alex stopped to talk with the three on the porch. Skip immediately noticed the guilty looks on his son’s faces. Alex wondered at Marcail’s strained smile, but thought he’d have to wait until they were alone to find out the cause.
“What’s up, boys?” Skip spoke gently to his young sons.
“It was my fault,” Cole began.
“But I was the one who hit her,” Jess finished for him.
Skip said nothing for a moment. “You hit Aunt Marcail with the ball?” he guessed, since the offending object was still in Jess’s hand. Alex’s and Skip’s eyes swung to Marcail simultaneously.
“I’m fine,” Marcail nearly stuttered. “It was an accident.” She hated the way they were looking at her, and when Skip suggested they step into the infirmary, Marcail came to her feet so fast she felt dizzy.
“There’s no need really,” she began to babble, her eyes wide with apparent panic. “I mean, accidents do happen and—”
Alex instantly measured up the situation and came to the rescue. He stepped forward and pulled her into his arms, effectively cutting off her flow of words. Skip saw immediately that he and the boys were not needed, so he ushered his family into the house.
Marcail, still not believing they were going to leave her alone, held herself stiffly in her husband’s arms. His hands held her gently against his chest, but Marcail was not comforted. Alex, working at keeping the emotion from his voice, began to question Marcail.
“Where did the ball hit you?”
“In the head,” Marcail answered after only a slight hesitation.
Alarm slammed through Alex, but again he hid his emotion. He moved gently until he was grasping Marcail by the upper arms in an attempt to look into her eyes.
“How long ago did this happen, Marcail?”
“I don’t know,” she said softly.
“Was it right after we left?”
“No, not that long.”
“Show me where the ball hit.”
Marcail reached for the spot above her left ear. Alex’s hand followed hers and found a huge knot. His finger probed gently, but careful as he was, Marcail moved from his touch. Alex stood silent a moment, mentally debating his next move. Had this been any of his other loved ones, he would have ordered instead of asked, but with Marcail he chose to tread lightly.
“Are you going to panic if I suggest you lie down for a while?”
The thought sounded heavenly to Marcail, but she was worried about the boys’ reaction. “I don’t want to frighten Jess or Cole, or make them feel any worse than they already do.”
“I’ll handle the family.” Alex was more relieved than his voice portrayed. “You stay right here, and I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
Marcail sank down on the porch steps as soon as he left and tried to pray. She’d put such store in this weekend; not just the break from teaching, but also the chance to get to know Alex and his family better.
Marcail’s attempt at prayer was interrupted when Alex appeared beside her. He stooped, hooked an arm beneath her knees and one behind her back, and lifted her high against his chest.
“Oh, Alex,” Marcail gasped. “That makes me dizzy.”
“Just close your eyes,” he told her calmly, and surprisingly Marcail complied, letting her head rest against his shoulder.
With her eyes closed, Marcail was unaware of the hands holding the door open for their entrance, or the compassionate, concerned adult eyes that watched as Alex bore his wife through the living room and up the stairs.
Marcail was not able to keep track of their progress as they moved though the house. She knew when Alex sat her on the edge of the bed, and that he was unbuttoning the back of her dress, but when her nightgown dropped over her head, she was taken totally off guard. Even so, that she was too tired to question or fight him.
She watched with eyes that hurt as he hung her dress on the back of the door. His hands were gentle as she was tucked beneath the covers, and the pillow felt as soft as a cloud to her throbbing head. She was going to thank him for something, but at the moment the thought eluded her as sleep swiftly crowded in.
thirty-six
Marcail woke to the calling of her name. Her foggy brain told her someone was being very insistent. Since she didn’t like the cold washcloth that was rudely calling her from slumber, she forced her eyes open and focused on Alex, who seemed to be engrossed with her face.
“I thought you were going to let me sleep for a few minutes?” Her voice was husky.
“I did.” Alex’s voice sounded hushed in the still room. “You’ve been asleep for nearly two hours.”
Marcail was silent as she digested this. She heard sounds from downstairs, and at the same time her nose detected a wonderful smell.
“How does your head feel?”
“I’m hungry,” Marcail told him.
“Well, that’s a good sign. I’ll bring you something.”
“No. I’ll come down.”
Alex nodded after a brief hesitation. “All right.” He rose from his place on the edge of the bed and retrieved Marcail’s dress from the hook.
Marcail lay still as he placed it over the footboard. “I’ll wait for you in the hall. Call if you need me.”
Marcail thought it was a little silly of him to stand in the hall and wait for her, but that was before she threw the covers back and swung her legs over the side of the bed. The room took a moment to right itself, and Marcail wondered if her injury was more serious than she realized.
Then a sudden thought occurred to her, and she knew in an instant it was correct. Alex was far more worried than he was letting her know. For her sake he was downplaying his reaction. The idea moved her to the brink of tears. She had not expected anyone outside her own family to be so understanding about her fears, and especially not a doctor, but Alex was proving otherwise.
“Marcail?” Alex called from beyond the door, making her realize how much time she was taking.
“I’ll be right out.”
The door did open soon after that, but Marcail didn’t come into the hall. She looked a bit hesitant, and then did something she n
ever expected to do.
“Alex, will you button me?”
To his credit, Alex responded as though the question was as everyday as breathing.
“Oh, sure.”
On these simple words he stepped behind her. Within seconds they were headed down the hall. At the top of the stairs, Marcail hesitated.
“I didn’t brush my hair or put on my shoes.”
“Your hair is lovely,” Alex said as he took her hand. “And since we don’t stand on ceremony around here, you don’t need your shoes unless your feet are cold.”
Marcail wondered at the lovely feeling that spiraled through her over his words, and the way his long fingers curled around her own.
Supper was another uproarious affair, and even though Marcail’s head ached, she loved it. It reminded her of meals with Rigg’s family. After the dishes had been cleared, the group converged on Helen’s room for a game of Sticks.
Marcail was unfamiliar with the game, but she learned that it was something of a family tradition with the Montgomerys. She also learned the reason it was new to her: Helen had invented Sticks herself. The family had been playing it for years.
The game consisted of bodies draped all around the room, the more the better, a huge stack of cards with questions or commands printed on each, and dozens of small wooden sticks. Marcail was rather lost at first, until someone explained that the person with the most sticks at the end of the game was the winner.
Helen was in her element as she handled the cards. The questions ranged from easy for the children to outrageous for the adults. The cards that resulted in the most fun were those with commands. The players laughed until they cried when Skip had to stand on his head and say the pledge of allegiance, but everyone had to forfeit a stick when he did so without laughing. At times it seemed that Helen made up the rules as she went along, but she was always fair.
As the evening neared an end, Skip, Alex, and Hannah had the majority of the sticks. Marcail, whose head still ached a bit, was beginning to tire when Helen called her name as the next turn.