he hung the moon itself.
“Thank you, Charles. I love the dresses. Both of them. They’re what I would have wished to pick out for myself. Wait, what do I spy? Ribbons? Rose soap? I declare, you’ll spoil me so that salt won’t save me!” She hung the second dress over the first, and picked up the ribbons and soap.
“You’re welcome, it’s not much,” he said. “The, ah, rest of the things, well, I just told Mr. Barney to add whatever a lady would need. I didn’t know.” He shrugged uncomfortably, seeing Rose set down the soap and ribbons and look into the box.
She began to pull out the next item, and she froze. “Oh,” she said, blushing furiously. She quickly tucked it back under some of the brown paper. “Oh!”
“Shucks,” Charles said, moving away to lean against the porch railing. “I hope they’re all right. Like I said, I just gave Mr. Barney free rein.”
Rose turned slowly to face him, biting her lip. Then she squared her shoulders. Charles was reminded of the first moment he had seen her. She had stiffened her spine and stepped off the train, into her new life, not knowing what she would encounter. She did that while feeling so sickly and maybe having a weak heart, as well. He felt as though he could cry, just for a second, thinking about it. He felt a surge of tenderness that was painful in its intensity.
“I thank you,” she said softly. “I’m sorry I got… bashful. You’re my husband, after all.”
Husband. That word, in her voice, thrilled him just as much as when she said his name. Why was that, he wondered. What was happening to him?
“Well, it’s new to both of us, I reckon,” he said, smiling at her. “Being married.”
She ducked her head, smiling. “Yes.”
“I figure, we skipped all the preliminaries, didn’t we?” Something about her shyness made him feel bolder, as though he needed to make her feel a sense of confidence in him.
She glanced at him, blushing again. “Yes,” she said, smiling, playing with the twine on the box.
“Married after exchanging a few letters, barely knowing each other, and here we are. Figure we should back up a little, if you’re of a mind to do so,” he said.
She carefully put each dress into the box again, then looked at him, raising her eyes slowly. “How so?”
“Well, I’d like to ask your permission to court you,” he said. He was leaning back on the rail, braced by his arms. His demeanor was friendly, even flirtatious, he knew, but inside, he felt like a newborn calf, all wobbly legged.
Rose’s mouth dropped open before she quickly closed it. Her eyes flashing, she stared at him, blushing hard. “Court… me?” Her voice squeaked and she coughed a little.
“Yes, ma’am,” he said. “Would you do me the honor of having dinner with me this evening? Or is that too short notice?”
Rose covered her mouth with her hand, her eyes sparkling. “I would be delighted to accompany you this evening, Mr. Smith. I have no prior plans which would conflict with this lovely suggestion.”
He held out his arm and she put her hand on it. Summoning some more bravery, he slowly pulled his arm closer, and covered her hand with his. Right beside him, her arm and hand tucked so close, Charles felt like a king. Then he stopped short. “Rascal!”
Still hitched out front, Rascal blew a great gust of air from his mouth, flapping his lips. “I’ll be right back,” Charles said hastily to Rose.
“Oh, Rascal!” said Rose, sitting on the rocking chair. “It’s my fault.”
Charles got Rascal settled and fed in record time and then bounded back up the front porch stairs. He reached for the door and then paused.
“I saw that you found the bathtub, Rose. I’m awful sorry I didn’t think to help you. At the forge, I can heat up water easily and I’ve gotten accustomed to bathing there.”
“Oh, that’s quite all right,” said Rose faintly, looking down at her feet.
Holding out his arm to her again, he opened the door.
“Thank you, Charles. I love the dresses. Both of them. They’re what I would have wished to pick out for myself. Wait, what do I spy? Ribbons? Rose soap? I declare, you’ll spoil me so that salt won’t save me!” She hung the second dress over the first, and picked up the ribbons and soap.
“You’re welcome, it’s not much,” he said. “The, ah, rest of the things, well, I just told Mr. Barney to add whatever a lady would need. I didn’t know.” He shrugged uncomfortably, seeing Rose set down the soap and ribbons and look into the box.
She began to pull out the next item, and she froze. “Oh,” she said, blushing furiously. She quickly tucked it back under some of the brown paper. “Oh!”
“Shucks,” Charles said, moving away to lean against the porch railing. “I hope they’re all right. Like I said, I just gave Mr. Barney free rein.”
Rose turned slowly to face him, biting her lip. Then she squared her shoulders. Charles was reminded of the first moment he had seen her. She had stiffened her spine and stepped off the train, into her new life, not knowing what she would encounter. She did that while feeling so sickly and maybe having a weak heart, as well. He felt as though he could cry, just for a second, thinking about it. He felt a surge of tenderness that was painful in its intensity.
“I thank you,” she said softly. “I’m sorry I got… bashful. You’re my husband, after all.”
Husband. That word, in her voice, thrilled him just as much as when she said his name. Why was that, he wondered. What was happening to him?
“Well, it’s new to both of us, I reckon,” he said, smiling at her. “Being married.”
She ducked her head, smiling. “Yes.”
“I figure, we skipped all the preliminaries, didn’t we?” Something about her shyness made him feel bolder, as though he needed to make her feel a sense of confidence in him.
She glanced at him, blushing again. “Yes,” she said, smiling, playing with the twine on the box.
“Married after exchanging a few letters, barely knowing each other, and here we are. Figure we should back up a little, if you’re of a mind to do so,” he said.
She carefully put each dress into the box again, then looked at him, raising her eyes slowly. “How so?”
“Well, I’d like to ask your permission to court you,” he said. He was leaning back on the rail, braced by his arms. His demeanor was friendly, even flirtatious, he knew, but inside, he felt like a newborn calf, all wobbly legged.
Rose’s mouth dropped open before she quickly closed it. Her eyes flashing, she stared at him, blushing hard. “Court… me?” Her voice squeaked and she coughed a little.
“Yes, ma’am,” he said. “Would you do me the honor of having dinner with me this evening? Or is that too short notice?”
Rose covered her mouth with her hand, her eyes sparkling. “I would be delighted to accompany you this evening, Mr. Smith. I have no prior plans which would conflict with this lovely suggestion.”
He held out his arm and she put her hand on it. Summoning some more bravery, he slowly pulled his arm closer, and covered her hand with his. Right beside him, her arm and hand tucked so close, Charles felt like a king. Then he stopped short. “Rascal!”
Still hitched out front, Rascal blew a great gust of air from his mouth, flapping his lips. “I’ll be right back,” Charles said hastily to Rose.
“Oh, Rascal!” said Rose, sitting on the rocking chair. “It’s my fault.”
Charles got Rascal settled and fed in record time and then bounded back up the front porch stairs. He reached for the door and then paused.
“I saw that you found the bathtub, Rose. I’m awful sorry I didn’t think to help you. At the forge, I can heat up water easily and I’ve gotten accustomed to bathing there.”
“Oh, that’s quite all right,” said Rose faintly, looking down at her feet.
Holding out his arm to her again, he opened the door.
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