Page 90 of The Formation of Us
“What are you doing?” Rebecca asked, from behind him.
Startled, he dropped a rock against his knee, but refused to wince at the bloody scrape. He glanced upstream where everyone was still splashing and hollering. “My family is embarrassing.”
“So is mine,” Rebecca admitted. “They’re all playing charades and laughing like they’ve had too much wine.”
“Are they drinking?”
“No, just acting silly.” Rebecca dug up a rock and stacked it on the pile. “My dad says we’re cousins now.”
They were not cousins.
“I don’t think we are,” she said. “But maybe my dad will let us be friends now.”
The ache in his chest lightened. “Did you find my note last week?” he asked, fussing with the rock pile.
“Joshua found it, but I got it away from him before he could show my father.”
Adam’s gut rolled. “I won’t leave any more.”
“There’s a better place,” she said, looking upstream to make sure they weren’t overheard. “You know the creek that cuts through our apple orchard?” At his nod, she continued. “Under the little wooden bridge there’s an old bird’s nest on the side nearest my house. I’ll check there for notes.”
He remembered the bridge from when he’d chased Rebecca through the orchard at Faith’s wedding. His stomach was all tight and odd feeling that day. And when he’d caught Rebecca around the waist and she’d brushed against his thighs it made him ache in an embarrassing place. He didn’t touch her after that, but thinking about the way she felt against him made his body start feeling odd and achy again.
He sank lower in the water. “You better go before your dad gets angry.”
But it wasn’t her father’s voice that boomed down the gorge. It was Duke’s. “You two get up here where we can see you. I don’t want you floating into Lake Erie.”
Adam rolled his eyes, and Rebecca laughed, then they made their way back toward their noisy, embarrassing families.
o0o
After a month of marriage, Faith still had to pinch herself to know she wasn’t dreaming. She never knew life could be filled with so much joy and laughter, or that she—a prostitute’s daughter—would be blessed with a beautiful home and loving husband.
Each evening after chores, she and Duke and the children, and sometimes her aunts or his family, would share a filling supper, then retire to the parlor to read and play games. After tucking the children in bed, she and Duke would seek their own bed with an eagerness that both thrilled and shamed her—because she still wasn’t going to tell him the truth.
She couldn’t. He’d been wearing his sheriff’s badge on his leather vest for eight years with pride and devotion. Each morning, he strapped on his gun belt, pulled on his vest, and whistled his way out the door, sure of himself and sure of Faith. He was so content with his new family, and so proud of his new wife, the truth would crush him.
So now when she ached to confess, she kept her silence to protect her husband.
In early September, Adam went back to school with a firm warning from Duke to behave himself and stay put in the schoolroom. Adam grumbled, but did as he was told, and Faith was grateful for Duke’s help.
Although Duke was busy with his job as sheriff and working the mill with his brothers, he asked again if Faith would let Adam work at the mill with him on Saturdays. It scared her too much to let him go, so Adam continued to work at the store and help in the greenhouse when not in school.
Faith only gave massages to Duke now, and his shoulder was steadily improving. With fewer demands on her time, she was becoming the sort of wife and mother she’d dreamed of being, and she thanked Duke each night in bed for his generosity.
Her aunts seemed to be settling in, too. Dahlia spent most of her evenings at Anna’s house, helping the women who sought refuge there. Despite Tansy’s objection to Cyrus being a Yankee, she was clearly falling in love with the man. Iris and Patrick were a mystery: They obviously cared for each other, but they were at some sort of standoff that Faith didn’t understand and couldn’t ask about.
In late September, Cora got sick to her stomach, keeping Faith at her bedside for four exhausting nights. The fifth evening Cora was better, but Faith wasn’t feeling well.
The next day all was right again, and that evening, after the children were sleeping, she stole across the street in the early autumn night with her husband. Inside the greenhouse, she felt her way along the counter. “Will you light the lantern while I get some linens?” she asked.
He struck a match, illuminating his handsome face and intense, dark eyes. “Bring some of that smelly oil you like.”
She raised an eyebrow in surprise, but his attention shifted to lighting the lantern. She grabbed an armful of linens and snatched a jar of almond oil off the shelf, then followed him to the bathhouse.
“Finally.” He shut the door behind them, sealing them in, and the world out. “This has been the longest, most miserable week of my life.”
“Mine too.” She deposited her towels and the oil on the table at the end nearest the tub, and he set the lantern at the other end.
