Chapter 11
MARA
Surprising both of us, I launch from the chair and throw my arms around him.
“Hey, now…it’s okay. I’ve got you.” Warren’s hands lightly grasp my sides as if he doesn’t know where to put them. I don’t even care that our fronts are completely pressed together as I flatten my ear to his chest, needing—this.
The comfort of his heartbeat.
Ba-bum. Ba-bum ba-bum.
It speeds up before settling into a slow and steady cadence as he rocks us back and forth. Just like he did all night.
“Don’t worry, Mara, I won’t let them come inside. Not if you don’t want them to.” The calmness in his promise chases away my anxiety, allowing me to think more clearly. I can’t handle strangers in the house. So will everyone just stand around on the porch to talk?
But they’re not strangers. Not to him. And I can’t keep them out forever. It’s not like they won’t be visiting Warren anymore just because he’s married now.
“No,” I say softly. And I can’t keep my ear here forever, either. I gather what bit of control I can find and look up to see whiskey eyes pinned to mine. “Let them in.”
“What?”
It’s incredulous, I know, given my reaction just now, but Lord knows what his parents think of me from the last time they were here. I should at least try to be a good wife. “Let them in,” I repeat a bit louder but no less shakily. “But…maybe have your father and brother not get too close?”
“Whatever you need.” Warren’s voice is low and husky now as his arms secure me to his chest. “You’re so brave. So damn brave I’m fighting the urge to kiss you to show you how proud I am.”
I stiffen, dropping my gaze to the crooked smile on his lips.
Of all the things men have done to my mouth, a kiss has never been one of them.
How would my husband kiss me? With lazy softness like the young couple I once spied behind a barn when I was a child?
Or with roughened frenzy like some men did to the other girls they paid for?
Conversation and horse snorts from outside break the silence. His family’s made it up the long driveway now. “A shirt, wife,” he murmurs thickly. “Please.”
I back away, his fingertips falling to my hips until I’m beyond reach. Unsteady feet carry me back to our room where I blindly grab a shirt and bring it back to him. He shrugs it on and methodically works the buttons through each hole. “Ready?”
Not really. “Yes.” I intend to follow behind him, but he snakes a long arm around my middle instead. Breathe.
“Don’t worry, wife. I’m right here with you.” Warren gently squeezes my waist before unlatching the door. “Mornin’, everyone.”
To my great relief, both of the men stand behind their wives a small distance away as Warren greets his family.
“Mara, you remember my parents. And this here’s Jed, one of my older brothers. Dove’s husband.”
“Welcome to the family, Mara.” His brother offers a kind smile, one much more friendly than the last time I saw him. Then again, I suppose he didn’t have much reason to smile when he was busy rescuing his wife.
“Hello, Mara. It’s so good see you again,” Dove says warmly, skipping over a word just like she’d done in the wagon. She seems happy with the man towering over her, even threading her fingers through his as he presses a big hand to her slightly curved belly.
Oh, that’s right. My baby’s here, she’d said, determined no matter what to make it back to the man holding her now. I wonder if her baby will have her dark curls or her husband’s lighter hair.
Now four sets of eyes focus on me, and the weight is heavier than I would have imagined. At least the kindness in their gazes doesn’t seem tainted with pity. I don’t know what else to say except a quiet, “Hello.”
A half beat of silence follows, then Mrs. Shay beams at me.
“Mara, dear, I have hems that need mending, and I thought to myself this morning that three sets of hands are better than one, so I threw them all in a trunk and brought them here. Would you mind helping these old fingers of mine? With you and Dove, we’ll get it done in no time at all. ”
My gaze darts first to Mr. Shay and then his other son as I sink closer into Warren’s side. “I…”
Mrs. Shay continues brightly, “And after the men bring the trunk in, we’ll send them all out so we women can have the house all to ourselves and get to know one another better.”
“One second, Momma.” Warren closes the door on them and rests one forearm above me. “What do you think? Will you be okay with just her and Dove?”
Her fingers don’t look as old as she claimed, but I see through her request for what she really wants—a chance to learn more about the girl and baby her son took on.
Maybe even to ask me how I managed to trick him into marriage.
Although I haven’t been a mother myself for very long, I imagine I would feel the same.
“I can try. As long as it’s just them,” I answer just as quietly. “I know they’re your family, but…”
Warren tips my chin up, and the patient understanding in his gaze helps to quell my anxiety. “Hey now, don’t apologize for how you feel. I hope one day you’ll understand that they’re your family now, too, but even I can admit that five of us is a lot to handle.”
I smile weakly. Yes, five is a lot when I can barely handle one.
“When you get to where you’ve had enough, just say so. They’ll understand. And I’ll check in on you from time to time, too.”
I nod and square my shoulders. He’s right. If I managed to overcome everything that happened to me before in the last four years, I can do this for a few hours. The worst they can probably do is hurt me with words. But maybe they won’t. Maybe they’ll surprise me like Warren did. “I can do this.”
“That’s my good wife.” He leans down, slowly inching his hand down the door behind me.
Closer.
Closer.
The wood presses into my spine, barring any further retreat.
“What are you doing?” Mrs. Overstreet would no doubt berate me for sounding so breathy, but my husband is just so…so male. And so close. Surely he doesn’t mean to kiss me while his family waits just outside?
A playful smirk tugs at his lips. “Opening the door.”
Oh.
Pull yourself together, Mara.
The house feels empty in the absence of Warren’s protective presence, and without him to hide behind, I tuck my nervousness behind a stoic face as Dove approaches. Perhaps not the most welcoming of expressions, but how on earth am I to carry on a conversation with these women I don’t even know?
Except for Dove, and only somewhat. But being this close to her brings back a rush of desperation and envy just as fresh as when we first met—desperation for my bleak future and bitter envy that I didn’t have someone to chase after me.
“Mara,” she breathes out, tucking a dark curl behind an ear. “I’m so glad here. You’re here. You’re safe.”
Safe. A small crack forms in my resentment. “I am.”
“Can I hug you?”
She knows what happened to me. Knows the reeking stench of despair and body odor that clung to me as I prepared to die. Knows how I lashed out at her for her undying hope that she would be rescued. Yet she still wants to comfort me.
“Yes.” My quiet answer catches her off guard if her shaky smile is any sign.
Honestly, I’m rather shocked myself as I awkwardly lean into the smaller woman’s embrace.
Her arms tighten around me, and my lungs empty with a rough noise.
As small as she is, strength radiates from her.
A different sort than what Warren’s broad shoulders and muscular arms offer.
No, her strength comes from within, and I squeeze her petite frame tightly as if to steal some for myself.
Dove leans back, and when I lock eyes with her kind, hazel ones, more resentment chips away.
Fear and despair were no stranger to either of us in that wagon, even if for different reasons.
I can’t hold jealousy toward her simply for the fact that her husband came after her.
Now I have Warren, and part of me thinks he’d do the same for me.
At least out of duty, because it’s too soon for him to love me.
Isn’t it?
Emmaline coos, stealing the attention. “Oh, your baby,” Dove says softly, pressing a palm to the slight curve of her abdomen. “Can we see her?”
After a beat of hesitation, I nod, and she and Warren’s mother follow me to the cradle.
Will they be ashamed to claim her as family?
Or think less of her for her birthmark? She was tightly swaddled when Mrs. Shay saw her last so it didn’t show, but it’s in plain sight now as she waves her fist. “This…this is my daughter Emmaline.”
“So beautiful, Mara. She’s so beautiful,” Dove says almost reverently as they come up beside me.
“Isn’t she, though?” Mrs. Shay pats my hand. “Such an adorable little girl, and a much needed blessing to the Shay family. I love all my grandchildren, but we’ve been long overdue for a girl. Oh, and look at her little hand! Ephraim, my oldest, had a similar mark on his neck.”
“He did?” Something loosens in my chest. Had, she said. “Does he still have it now?”
“No, it went away on its own. It began to fade when he was almost a year old, then it continued until it was finally gone by the time he was five.”
I rub Emmaline’s mark, daring to hope just the slightest bit. Maybe hers will do the same. Life will already be difficult enough for her simply because of her heritage. But not as bad as it would have been without Warren Shay.
“All right, girls.” Mrs. Shay rubs her palms together. “Let’s get to work.”
Emmaline has different plans, though. I can tell by the way her nose scrunches and her legs grow restless.
“I’m sorry, she’s ready to nurse again. I fed her before breakfast, but she always seems to want a little more throughout the morning,” I ramble, scooping up my baby and moving to the rocking chair.
And I didn’t expect company either, but I keep that thought to myself.
“I’m the one who should apologize, Mara,” Warren’s mother says remorsefully. “I should have sent word beforehand, but I suppose I was just too excited for the chance to visit.”