The Endless Forest
Page 112

He pressed deeper and deeper still and Martha cried out not in pain so much as welcome.
He moved inside her, and the dance began.
When the clock struck eleven Martha startled awake. Daniel, sitting cross-legged beside her on the bed, watched it happen.
His own sleep had lasted maybe a quarter hour, and then the pain had roused him as effectively as a sharp stick to the ribs. It was the way of things, and any vague idea that this time might be different had to be put away.
While he waited for Martha to wake he tried to sort through the logistics of getting back to Paradise and the problem of the weather, what the best way would be to come face-to-face with Jemima, where they would live, if Martha would want to be so far from the village. These things occupied his mind but it was the sight of Martha asleep that eased him as the pain ebbed.
Her plait had come undone and her hair was spread around her and over one breast. The rise and fall of her breathing was enough to make his flesh stir, impervious, apparently, to both pain and common sense. At least when it came to Martha.
He had had many years’ practice subduing his natural urges and he drew on that now. It would be brutish to expect more of her, as tender as she must be. Hours in the saddle would only make that worse. It might be days before he could touch her again. Long after they were back in Paradise and had taken up housekeeping.
When he woke in the morning she would be there, and when he came through the door at the end of the day, she would be there. For as long as they lived they would sleep in the same bed and eat together at the same table.
On the long ride to Johnstown Daniel had asked himself if he was sure about what he was doing. If maybe he had a picture of Martha in his mind that had nothing to do with the truth, out of loneliness and the need to have a woman in his bed. But then, he knew where to find companionship when the need was unmanageable. Twice a year, at most, he had sought that kind of release. At Good Pasture there was a woman who welcomed him warmly, a woman he liked, but one he rarely thought about in the long months between visits. The time they spent together had never been anything like the last few hours with Martha, who was unschooled and anxious but who came to him without hesitation. She had been through a lot in the past weeks, but she always held tight to her courage and her wit.
A cucumber through a buttonhole.
He pressed his mouth hard, determined not to wake her by laughing.
—
Martha woke and was immediately aware of her surroundings. Daniel was sitting beside her, naked, which brought to mind what had been going on in this bed. Tentatively she flexed muscles to see which of them could be relied upon.
Everything was sore, but the worst was the deep burning itch that reminded her of the obvious: She was well and truly married.
She sat up. “You’ve been watching me again,” she said. “Second thoughts?”
He leaned forward and kissed her. “Not me. You?”
“Of course not. But then I got the better deal. I got you and all the rest of the Bonners, and you got—well, you know who you got.”
She was babbling, but he dealt with that by kissing her again. The weight of his arm around her shoulders was so comforting, she could almost hear the unspoken words.
I’m here. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.
He said, “I’m not worried about the baggage that comes along for the ride.”
“Oh, Jemima would like that, being called baggage.” She tried to hold on to her smile but it faltered.
Daniel touched his forehead to hers. He said, “She can’t hurt you anymore.”
Martha wanted to believe it was so, but she would need time before she could trust her good fortune.
They were having a conversation about what came next when there was a pounding at the downstairs door. It was at that moment Martha realized that the storm wasn’t going away. In fact, the sky flickered with lightning.
Daniel raised one brow and inclined his head to say she should stay where she was. Then he pulled on his breeks and went down the stairs three at a time to answer the door. Martha, wrapped in her night rail, came out onto the landing.
The boy who stood there was perhaps Birdie’s age. He wore an old wool tricorn that was too big for him, water rolling off it in a steady stream. He was saying, “A message from the old Mrs. Allen, sir. She said it was important.”
“Go on, then, I’m listening.”
The boy straightened.
“Mrs. Allen says, don’t you think about setting off for home in the middle of a storm. She says that Michael will stay put in Little Falls until it’s safe to travel, and so should you. Stay here, not Little Falls. At least I think that’s what she meant. Why would she tell you to stay put and go to Little Falls as well?”
“I understand what she meant,” Daniel said. “Go on.”
“There’s food and firewood enough, and you aren’t to worry about the animals because Henry will take care of all that. She wants you to stay another night so you can meet up with Michael tomorrow. And I’m to take back word what you want to do but hurry if you would, Mr. Bonner, I saw a cow struck dead in a thunderstorm last spring and I don’t care to find out what it felt like.”
Daniel glanced up at Martha. The idea of staying another night appealed, certainly more than going out into the weather. She nodded, and Daniel sent the boy on his way with his answer.
Before he could close the door, the boy was back again.
“I forgot something. Mrs. Allen says I should say about the hip bath in the workroom. Please help yourself to towels and whatever else serves.”