Long Road Home

“Remember, when you wish yourselves back here, that I told you hot to go. 

            Finally, tired of his wife’s muttering, her father spoke out in exasperation.  “Our daughter is going to have a proper send off.  No one can say we stinted on her wedding.”  He lowered his chin, and with it his voice.  “After all, we probably won’t ever see her again in this lifetime.”

            The following February, after the frost left and the ground was plowable, and after the seeds were sown, the whole town gathered in the chapel.  They came in families of six  and seven, to see Sarah and Johnny married.  It was on a Wednesday, due to the preacher’s  busy itinerary on weekends, traveling as he did between congregations.  Flowers had not yet come into abundance, and the chapel was bare.

            “Doesn’t she look nice,”  a matron leaned forward in the pew and whispered in the ear her friend.  “I heard she handsewed her dress over the winter.” 

            “Hmpf, wonder if she has a right to wear that white veil?”

            “Shush.” hissed her husband.

            “Well, she wouldn’t want to be in a family way while they’re traveling a hard road.”

            The matron touched a hanky to her eyes.  “Just think, leaving her folks in a lurch like that.”

            Reverend Hughes strode to the chancel rail and raised his arms, the wedding couple stepping forward to face him.  “Who gives this woman in marriage?”

            Sarah’s father stood, briefly, his shoulders still slumped.   “I do,” said Pa, his voice forced through the lump in his throat.

            “Is there anyone present who knows of any just cause that this couple should not be married?”

            The silence was disturbed by rustling as people in the congregation looked around.

            “Do you, John Butler, take this woman, Sarah Parker, as your lawfully wedded wife?  And by placing this ring on her finger promise to love and protect her?”

            “I do.”

            “You, Sarah, do you promise to love, honor and obey your husband, and, forsaking all others, keep you only unto him so long as you both shall live?”

            “I will.”

            Johnny took Sarah’s hand and placed a plain band of gold on her ring finger.

            Not a breath of air moved.  “I now pronounce you man and wife.  You may kiss the bride,” continued the minister.

            Johnny lifted Sarah’s short finger-tip veil and kissed her, a chaste toucing of lips before all this company.  She dreamed of more.         She longed for the strong pressure of his mouth to draw her forcefully into his dream.

            Out of the church, past Braun’s General Store and Post Office, past the Dexter twins’ boarding house, Aunt Helen led the party on a brief walk through town to her house, her tall, stout, figure parading up the steps and inside to where a table was spread with sandwiches and cookies.  In the middle stood her best milkglass pitcher containing lemonade.  Aunt Helen frowned on drinking. For anything stronger, the men retired to the outside porch and  added whiskey from their pocket flasks to their cups while the ladies were busy crowding around the bridal gifts.

            Sarah fixed a smile on her face, postponing the thought of leaving all these friends.  Jo