THIRTEEN #2
He slid it now onto her finger, never to come off again.
“I Henry, take thee Margaret to be my wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part, according to God's holy ordinance; and thereto I plight thee my troth. With this ring I thee wed, and with all my worldly goods I thee endow: In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.”
She couldn’t stop the cascade of tears as she returned the vow.
Henry beamed at her. His eyes sparkled like the sun’s reflection on the water.
Maggie barely heard the reverend’s closing prayer, blessing them. Then it was over, and the words “You may kiss the bride” cut through the muffle. Henry held her face and firmly kissed her, sealing their vows.
They were husband and wife.
A round of applause burst out around them. Everyone in attendance was exhilarated for them. Henry and Maggie parted, laughing with joy.
The rest of the afternoon passed swiftly.
Cynthia had somehow managed to scrounge up a meal for them that they enjoyed back at the wagon.
Maggie gave her a warm hug, thanking her for all that she had done for them.
In addition to supplying the food, the Joneses, Reverend Adams, and William had all pitched in for a room for Henry and Maggie at one of the local inns.
Cynthia had taken Maggie there that morning, where a warm bath and a freshly washed gown waited for her.
It was a kindness that Maggie wouldn’t forget.
After the celebrations died down, Henry bid everyone goodnight, claiming, “I can’t eat another morsel, and my bride must be exhausted. We’ll see you all in the morning. Thank you again.”
Everyone waved them off. William whispered something to Henry, his eyes filled with mischief and Henry lightly chuffed him in jest. Maggie blushed and averted her eyes.
The walk back into the town was a quiet one, and her nerves were mounting.
Henry seemed to sense it and squeezed her hand lightly, quieting them.
She loved him fiercely, but she was terrified of what he might think.
The general’s reactions to her scar were still fresh in her mind.
After her bath that morning, she’d avoided the mirror.
What if it was absolutely terrible, like she imagined it to be, and Henry pitied her?
Or worse, found it repulsive? He might have been the one to patch her up, but a fresh wound was very different than a puffy, ugly scar.
By the time they made it to their room and closed the door, she shook slightly.
Henry cleared his throat. “Would you like me to light the fire?”
The idea of more heat made her hands sweat. “No, but thank you. It’s warm enough this evening.” The light of the candle was the only illumination in the room. Maybe if she blew it out…
“Would you like the window open, then?”
She shook her head.
Worry creased his forehead. “Something’s bothering you. You know that I’ll never hurt you, right? Or force you—”
“I know that. I trust you, Henry.”
“Then will you tell me what’s wrong? Are you nervous about our first time…?”
“No, it’s nothing. Well, I mean, maybe a little, but no.”
Not pressing her further, he paused, giving her time. “May I give you a gift now?”
Maggie looked up at him. “You didn’t have to do that. I didn’t get anything for—”
He stopped her. “It’s not really mine to give.
I’d planned to give this to you after the trial, but I got so caught up in you agreeing to marry me that I forgot.
When I remembered a few days later, I thought maybe I should wait.
Until after the wedding. I didn’t know if it would upset you or make you sad that your family isn’t here. ”
She furrowed her brows, wondering what it could be. “What—”
“Sit here, please and close your eyes.” He pulled the chair out in front of the vanity mirror.
Reluctantly facing the mirror, she sat. He placed his hands on her shoulders.
At his touch, she shivered. Slowly, he lifted his hands and gathered her hair back.
He picked up a brush from the vanity and combed it smooth with a gentle touch.
She relaxed under his hands, relishing the simple pleasure.
When he placed the comb back down, she opened her eyes.
“Not yet,” Henry lightly admonished and she quickly closed them back.
His hands disappeared for a moment, and she heard him digging in his pocket. Something came around her neck, a small weight resting on her chest. He clasped the thin metal chain together and lifted her hair, adjusting it to sit just so.
With a trembling realization, she reached up to hold something that she knew without seeing. The familiar perpendicular bars warmed beneath her fingertips.
Her mother’s necklace.
Opening her eyes, she stared at it. What was once lost has been found in more ways than one. She looked up at him in wonder.