Chapter Five
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Damien turned up his collar and drew his coat tighter around himself. The wind howled and pressed into him, like a wolf determined to rip every warm piece of clothing from his body. It was an especially cold night. But then again, it was nearly Christmas. A storm was blowing in soon. The dark clouds gave off an ominous disappearing act for the otherwise lovely night-time sky. Stars peeked out every now and then, and the moon was nothing more than an eerie glow behind the bulbous shapes that threatened to dump snow and a lot of it.
What a way to introduce his new bride to Oregon. Louisiana, he was certain, never had snow like Oregon. Would she even have a warm coat? If he knew her size, he would have bought her an off-the-peg coat for when she arrived. As it was, he had bought a fur-lined cape and hoped it was neither too big or too small. But it had to be better than nothing. The mercantile, which traded with the reclusive fur trappers, had matching fur mittens. Mittens were a safe choice since the size of the wearer ’ s hands didn ’ t matter as much as gloves.
He vowed to correct her wardrobe as soon as possible, once she was up to shopping. He could certainly imagine how tired she ’ d be when the boat docked. He ’ d made this trip a time or two and experienced the insides-bouncing, dust-choking, stagecoach portion of the jaunt. Not to mention the nearly two week-long train ride from Louisiana.
Married by proxy, they still needed to get to know each other, even if Pastor Thomas had said an affidavit to confirm consummation needed to be filed as soon as humanly possible. But… it didn ’ t have to be filed tomorrow… or the next day. His bride would need time. Frankly, so did he. In fact, his plan tonight was to take her to a boarding house and let her live there until she was ready to come live with him.
Mr. and Mrs. Clarence Leachman didn ’ t actually own a boarding house, but as Mayor of Silverpines, and living in the largest estate in town, they were willing to open their home to Damien ’ s bride and allow C è dez to presume their home, their spare bedrooms, and their dining hall was open to tenants. The Leachmans and Damien had worked out an agreed upon white lie and would tell her if, and only if, she should ask, that she was very lucky because they were boarder-free at the moment. Come spring it would be a whole other story. Surely she and Damien could work things out before spring and she ’ d be living with him by then. Mrs. Leachman had decorated their home earlier than usual for Christmas, since it was just around the corner anyway, and would be lovely for C è dez when she arrived.
The town would soon follow. Damien chuckled to himself. The townsfolk had a competitive edge and would open up their Christmas decorations as soon as they saw that the mayor had. What amused Damien the most was that his fellow Silverpinians didn ’ t even know why the mayor had decorated before December 24. He supposed they would figure it out soon, though. The gossip lines were very active and quick to spread the least bit of information here, as they probably did everywhere.
A sharp, cold breeze snapped Damien out of his amused thoughts. He drew his coat even tighter and, not for the first time, considered wrapping himself in his wife ’ s fur-lined cape. He turned his back on the frigid fingers of the storm. Upriver he heard the sound he had been longing to hear. The steamboat whistle. The low first- and second-inversion chord using E, G, C and then G, C, and E. It was a lovely tone. Damien listened for the sequence telling the port staff whether it would stop and how many passengers would be disembarking. It blew a short, then four long blasts. He rushed to the ticket master ’ s window. “ What did that mean?”
The young man looked up sleepily. “ The boat will stop. She has one passenger,” the young man said.
Once the river boat arrived, would the man be allowed to go to bed? There would be no reason to stay in the booth overnight. This was the only boat expected until tomorrow. Damien turned slowly from the window.
“ Thank you,” he tossed over his shoulder as he turned and walked to where that one passenger would disembark. It had to be his wife. Excitement rushed through his body like an ocean wave crashing onto the beach. Would she be lovely? Or would she be hideous? All he had to do now was stand here and wait. Soon, all his questions would be answered.
Men hustled on the dock which was otherwise devoid of people. Lanterns lit the area where they worked, and the boat would stop. Soon, a trunk was wheeled onto a plank at the aft and brought down to the dock. Damien stared at it.
C è dez ’ s trunk.
The men jogged back up the platform and disappeared.
Damien ’ s eyes swept the length of the boat. A shadow moved behind the interior windows where passengers rested. A door opened.
Damien ’ s heart sped up. This was it… the moment he could lay eyes on her!
A steward stepped out.
Damien sighed. Disappointment swamped his pounding heart.
The steward stepped back inside. Soon he was at the door again and put his hand out as if he were helping someone to exit the interior room. Damien expected to see a hand take hold of the stewards, but an arm appeared instead. The steward took hold, gently, but firmly and eased the owner of the arm out to the deck. It was indeed a woman. Finely dressed in a lovely red gown that accentuated her long neck with a beaded, standup collar, billow-shaped sleeves trimmed at her mid-upper arm, then gathered to cling to her, ending at her slender wrist. The full bell skirt swayed as she… walked. Her gait was unsteady and worried him. Would she fall down? She looked… like she had been at the bottom of a bottle. Damien ’ s brow slowly pulled to the center of his forehead as he watched.
The woman stiffened, as if to regain her balance, or composure. Her eyes darted about, but she didn ’ t appear to see anything in particular. Stiffening again, she swallowed, then moved slowly, purposefully with the steward across the deck, toward the forward platform to leave the boat. She staggered, or stumbled at the steward ’ s side — Damien wasn ’ t sure of which— then she took hold of the railing that edged the plank as if it were the floatation ring and she had fallen overboard. The steward handed her a carpet bag.
A purse hung from her elbow. She pulled the carpet bag against her chest and hugged it close as if it would help keep her upright as the steward had done. Unfortunately, the platform was only wide enough for one at a time to traverse. Her other hand firmly clung to the rail as she began to tip forward, propelling herself along with the slight slant of the platform to bring her down to the dock.
No one had mentioned she drank alcohol. Had she overindulged on the steamboat for the last two-and-a-half hours? He had tossed back an ounce of whiskey on occasion when he was nervous. Had she done the same to steady her nerves before arriving and simply didn ’ t know her limit? Damien moved closer to the disembarking platform, prepared to catch her should she fall forward off the walkway.
“ C è dez? ” he said softly. “ I ’ m Damien—”
She leaned forward just as she was close enough to take his hand and wretched on his shoes and pant leg at the knee level. She looked up, mortified. “ I ’ m so sorry!” She squealed. “ It seems I get seasick even on a river.”
“ Seasick?” Damien let her words sink in. “ Oh! You ’ re seasick!”
“ Yes, she took out a hanky and wiped her mouth.” The embarrassment faded, replaced with a temper he didn ’ t expect. “ It appears I am. What did you think?” She paused, a burning glare focused sternly on him. “ Are you my husband?”
“ Yes. I ’ m Damien Alexander Burnett. ” He confirmed. “ Are you C è dez Marie Kalstone? ” He asked just because it seemed like the thing to do.
She tucked away her hanky as a sigh escaped her lips. “ No, I ’ m not. ” She swallowed with a slight sway, then staggered toward the nearest bench.
“ You-you ’ re not? ” Damien helped her to the bench because she still seemed to be struggling. He was afraid he had made a terrible mistake. This was not his wife after all.
“ No. I ’ m C è dez Marie Burnett. ” She sighed. “ Mrs. Damien Alexander—”
“ Oh, of course.” Damien felt the fool. They were already married. Her name had changed. Why hadn ’ t he thought of that?
“ Right. I ’ m sorry. This is all so new to me.”
“ Me, also. ” She tried to smile.
The green hue in her complexion seemed to be fading. “ Would you like some tea? Or water?”
“ I just want to sit here for a few minutes.” She shivered. The cold wind obviously freezing her to the bones.
“ Here, I bought you something.” He swirled the cape, letting it fall gently onto her shoulders, then he took out the fur mittens and helped her put them on her hands. “ This should help. We can go whenever you are feeling better.”
She looked over the cape, gingerly touching the fur inside and the mittens. “ These are lovely… and warm.” She embraced the cape close around her. “ Thank you.”
“ You are welcome,” he said, then moved to sit beside her. Unsure what else to say, he let his eyes rove over her while he waited, and she wasn ’ t looking at him. She was lovely. When he helped put her mittens over her hands, he had noticed how slender and agile her fingers were. Could he hope she played the piano? He stood and walked to the rain barrel beside the ticket office, dipped the ladle into the almost frozen water and brought it to her. “ Here, drink some water. It should help.”
She looked hesitant but sipped the water. “ Brrr. That ’ s cold.”
“ Yeah, we should go get you some hot tea.”
“ Or warmed, mulled wine.” She mumbled.
Damien paused, then continued. “ If you feel like walking.”
He didn ’ t want to wake the mayor or his wife to ask Mrs. Leachman to make tea… or warmed mulled wine—whatever that was. They had promised to leave the kitchen entrance unlocked so he could take her right up and settle her in the first guest bedroom on the right at the top of the stairs. They had assured him that the mayor and his wife slept at the end of the hall and would not be disturbed, but he had his doubts that they would not know he had been in their home.
However, with her seasickness, he should take her to his house and brew some tea. He even had the fixings for a smoked salmon sandwich if she was hungry. “ Listen, I reserved you a room at a boarding house.”
Her head popped up with furrowed brows.
He held up his hands as if to stop her from leaping at him. “ Just, until you are settled and we—”
“ That was very thoughtful of you,” she said. Her strength seemed to be returning to her voice.
“ You know, with this being a proxy marriage, I had a hard time imagining we… jump… into … things immediately. I know I would appreciate some time to get to know you, and I assume you ’ d appreciate the same—”
“ Yes,” she sighed. “ You are very thoughtful, Damien.”
Surprised she used his Christian name so soon, he continued. “ It ’ s the Golden Rule, as my mother used to say.”
“ Do unto others as you would have them—”
“ Do unto you.” He finished the sentence. “ Yes. ”
“ My mother still lives by that rule,” C è dez said with a misty look in her eyes.
“ So, your mother ’ s still alive?” Damien asked.
“ Oh, yes. I just miss them is all.” C è dez said as tears pooled in her eyes. She looked more sad and less seasick.
“ Well, perhaps they can come for a visit.” Damien offered.
“ Nooo! ” She blurted. “ I ’ d never ask my parents to endure what I just went through to get here. Not until the railroads improve and the trip out here gets much easier on a person.” She giggled. “ Damien, I appreciate all you did to get me here with plenty of money to eat and purchase some comforts along the way…” She swallowed as she began to shake her head. “ But I ’ d not put my worst enemy through that.” She pointed over her shoulder toward the spot where the boat had been.
Damien chuckled nervously. “ Would you allow me to take you to my house?”
She tilted her head to one side and peered into his eyes as if she were looking for the mischief that was sure to be there.
“ We can have tea,” he said quickly. “ And maybe some smoked salmon sandwiches, then I can take you to the Ma— I mean the boarding house. I ’ ll leave a note that we got in late and for them to let you sleep as late as you wish.”
She smiled. “ That sounds like a good idea. Fresh food sounds wonderful. Anything that ’ s not train food, non-perishable, or crackers, sounds wonderful! And not disturbing my landlord ’ s sleep sounds even better.”
He met her smile and for the first time locked his gaze with hers. He barely knew her, but already he was liking her very much. The desire to lean forward and kiss her overwhelmed his senses, but he fought the urge with every manner instilled in him from childhood by his mother. He cleared his throat. “ All right. Let ’ s go.”
He put out his elbow and she took it gently. She no longer swayed or staggered. Being on land had cured her ill-feeling from being on water.
“ By the way…” he dared to ask. “ What is warmed mulled wine?”