Sweeter Than Wine (35 page)

She would feel better once they were truly married under heaven. He would
ask her in the morning. A brief fantasy of Alice, sweetly smiling, raising her face for
his kisses, was interrupted by a very real, anxious question.

"S-Siegfried?"

He turned back to her. She looked so woebegone, frightened and defiant and
lonely,
that his heart went out to her. "No, Ah-lees, you are right. I have no
wish to impose myself on you if you are not willing."

Something flared in her eyes before she veiled them, lowering her lashes in a
parody of submission.

"But I am sleeping in this room!"

She sniffed, as if she did not care, stood up, and brushed past him to gather
her nightclothes and disappear into the bathroom.

While she was gone he finished settling his few things in amongst hers, filled
with a delight that threatened to curl up the corners of his mouth. He felt like
shouting in triumph, laughing out loud, dancing all night long. It was almost as
good as making love to her would have been.

He replayed the memory, and another grin was born. That flash in her eyes
had been
disappointment
.

He climbed into bed, happily anticipating his next move.

He would
beg
her, in the morning.

And she would say yes.

* * *

Siegfried rose early to bathe, shave, and dress himself in Opa Roye's old suit.
As he came down to the kitchen, Maria's eyes widened. "Morning, Mr. R."

Peter was hunched over the table, gulping down a forkful of hashed brown
potatoes. He chewed furiously, and swallowed. "What are you all dressed up
for?"

Alice, in the act of pouring herself a glass of water, turned and saw him. One
eyebrow quirked before she smoothed away her expression. "Church?"

But he had seen that spark of her true nature, before she hid it. "Indeed. It is
past time that I came with you, Alice," he said, bowing slightly.

"Well past," she agreed dryly.

Siegfried looked longingly at the big breakfast Maria had made for Peter.
Fasting in penance before Mass was harder now, since he had known real hunger.
But he would do it for Alice. "Shall we go?"

Maria nodded as she hastily untied her apron, and settled a wide-brimmed
straw hat on her head.

"Are you sure you feel well enough to go with us?" Alice asked her with
concern.

"I'm fine now," Maria assured her, putting a hatpin through the back of her hat
to secure it. "Really, I am."

As they went out on the porch, Peter's voice rang from the kitchen. "Pray for a
son, Maria
mia
. Remember--tell God that He doesn't see me again until we
have another son."

* * *

St. Francis de Solano church hadn't changed since his grandfather's funeral. It
had overflowed then with
Opa
Roye's friends and colleagues. Tati had been
so very brave, tiny and frail in black silk, refusing to lean on Bill's arm.

Siegfried held Alice's hand as he followed her to her accustomed pew, and
only relinquished her when she genuflected before seating herself. He bent his
own knee to the Presence on the altar, then joined his wife, pointedly oblivious to
the stares directed at him. His neighbors deserved to enjoy their astonishment at
seeing him.

Alice knelt, moving her lips in prayer. Maria, sliding in on the other side, knelt
too, her hat brim brushing Siegfried's sleeve as she bowed her head.

Siegfried sat stiffly. The wooden seat was hard, and his old injury ached more
than it had in weeks. He scowled, remembering his denial when the shrapnel tore
through flesh and bone. There had been no pain at first, only horror.
I am
dead
. He had not called on God then, either for mercy or for help. He had
known too many comrades whose prayers had gone unanswered. Only Siegfried's
own vigilance and determination had preserved his limb from the saws of the army
doctors.

The congregation rustled, then stood, as the young priest appeared, flanked
by altar boys.

Siegfried went through the old familiar motions, standing, sitting, kneeling,
responding to the Latin prayers, conscious that he was not alone. Alice was with
him. And their child.

He did not pray. He only hoped his plan would work.

* * *

Alice was annoyed when Siegfried towed her out of the pew the moment Mass
was over. Unable to discreetly disengage herself from his grip, she stood on the
porch outside the church. The sun reflected blindingly off the whitewashed stucco,
and sparrows chittered in the arbor lining the eastern side of the building.

He had been sleeping when she finally went to bed last night, a small, secret
smile softening his face. She didn't trust him at all. What mischief was he up
to?

Young Father Byrne, who had replaced the mortally ill Father Moran, took up
his position at the foot of the steps, awaiting the exodus of the congregation. He
caught sight of them, and nodded, smiling.

Siegfried went directly to him and shook his hand. "Reverend Father, I am
Siegfried Rodernwiller. You may know that Alice and I were married in a civil
ceremony--"

The first few people trickled out through the double doors, blinking against the
bright daylight.

"...my grandparents were active in this county for many years, and my
mother's fondest memories were of Montclair. I came here, seeking a new
home..."

Oh goodness, more people were outside the church now, and all of them were
listening, fascinated, as Siegfried spun out his story. Alice had an inkling now of
what Siegfried planned to do, and knew he was waiting for the maximum
audience. She could not free her arm from his grip. He looked at her, briefly, his
eyes pleading.

"I hope you will be my witness here..."

Alice felt a tide of heat wash upward from her heart as Siegfried went down on
one knee before her with the whole congregation watching.

"My dearest Alice, please do me the very great honor of solemnizing our
marriage in this church, as soon as may be possible."

"You know I can't refuse." Her voice was a little louder than she had intended,
but she was strangely pleased. He didn't
have
to do this. He'd already won
Montclair.

The young priest beamed and patted their joined hands. "What a wonderful
plan. We can post the banns next Saturday! I
love
weddings."

Alice was startled as a ragged cheer rose from the crowd on the steps.

"Well, I'm glad they're doing the right thing," Gertrude Breitenbach
commented.

"She'll be such a beautiful bride!" Adele Livernash sighed.

"They're getting married during
crush
?" a masculine voice asked in
disbelief.

Alice met Siegfried's eyes and saw joy there, mixed with a healthy dose of
awareness of how foolish he must appear, kneeling at her feet.

He had done it again: made his decision and left her no option but agreement.
She wanted to hate him for his high-handedness, but she couldn't, not when he
grinned at her like that, boyish and so pleased to have given her an unexpected
gift.

As Siegfried brought her hand to his lips and brushed her knuckles lightly with
a kiss, she smiled back tremulously.

Maybe he did love her at least as much as Montclair.

* * *

It took all Alice's courage to prepare for bed that night. She spent an hour in
the bathroom, brushing out her hair, trying not to remember Siegfried's glances
during supper. The pleasant shock each one had caused her. The way he had
looked at her.

She recognized lust when she saw it, but Siegfried's attitude had been more
like...worship. It left her feeling vulnerable, and very unworthy. He plainly wanted
her, and yet seemed to feel as if she were something he dared not aspire to. As if
she were too good, too pure for him. What a joke that was!

And it terrified Alice, how much she wanted him too. Wanted to feel his weight
over her, his mouth everywhere. She wanted to show him all the things she knew
about, to bring him as much pleasure as he had given her. Even if he discovered
how unworthy she truly was.

She was leaning sleepily on the door, too tired to move, not yet ready to face
going to bed, when the wood under her ear gave out a series of explosions. No. It
was Siegfried, knocking firmly.

"Ah-lees! Are you all right?"

"Yes. 'M fine."

"Come to bed, then." He sounded patiently amused, as if he understood very
well exactly what she was doing. "I will not eat you."

She answered him with frosty silence.

"Unless you wish it," Siegfried coaxed.

She threw open the door. "How dare--!"

He grinned at her, then put on his serious face. "Ah-lees, you are exhausted.
You must come to bed. You know I will do nothing to you that you do not like."

She was just tired enough to let slip the truth. "That's what I'm afraid of."

His grin reappeared, and he took her hand, gently leading her to the bedroom.
Their room. She wobbled and he put one arm around her waist to steady her,
bringing hip and thigh into close contact. Every place he touched her tingled and
she wanted him to kiss her. No. She wanted to kiss him, but she couldn't risk it
because...because...

He had pulled back the covers for her, and he helped her sit down on the bed.
Tenderly, he lifted her feet, then drew up the sheet. It was pleasantly cool tonight,
but that wasn't why she shivered.

He turned off the lamp. Soft moonlight washed through the curtains. He took
off Bill's robe, laid it carefully over a chair, and got into the other side of the bed.
The springs groaned and then adjusted.

She knew he had worn nothing under the robe. She knew what he looked like,
moonlit in silver. The image tormented her.

"Good night, Ah-lees," he whispered.

She tried to hold herself very still, but her hand moved of its own volition. She
reached over and found his arm, softly furred, muscles at rest, his skin cool. She
ran her fingers lightly down his arm, electricity leaping up from his skin to hers
everywhere she touched. She wanted to touch him everywhere. Across the
breadth of his collarbone, down his chest to the small, smooth nipple, back along
the midline of his body to his flat belly, finally encountering what she sought.

Siegfried groaned. "Ah-lees, I am not made of stone!"

"No, but you're certainly hard," she whispered, glad that the darkness hid her
smile. "I want you." She squeezed lightly, luxuriating in his exquisite
resilience.

"I had hoped you would say that!" he gasped.

"I know," she said, just before she closed the gap between them and kissed
him, forestalling any other speech.

And in the bliss that followed, she forgot all her reservations.

* * *

In the foggy morning, Alice awoke worn out and disgusted with herself for
feeling so...satisfied. She only had three weeks to prepare for her church
wedding.

After breakfast, while Maria cleaned up, she sat down at her desk with paper
and pencil, and listed all the tasks she had to do. She filled two sheets of paper,
then stopped, defeated. It was more than humanly possible.

She would not cry. She would
not
. This pregnancy of hers had already
brought too many easy tears. She had to keep a clear head now, and
think
.
What were the most important things to complete? Alice pulled out a fresh sheet of
paper.

If they had to marry again, she would have preferred a private wedding, but
Siegfried had already invited the whole church. Where would she find the money
for invitations, the reception, the fees for the priest and the organist?

By the time she finished calculating the cost of the reception, she was in
despair again. There went her hope of solvency at the end of this year.

Setting her teeth, she bent to her task again.
Flowers for the ceremony:
Montclair's garden.
After a pause, she noted:
'phone Tati--and
Hugh.

Alice sighed. She missed Hugh's friendship. He had been such a support to
her after Bill's death.

More notes:
Food. Cooking. Transport the food. Bridesmaid and best man:
check with S. if Maria and Peter can serve. Wedding dress?

Alice put her well-chewed pencil down, feeling slightly heartened. She still had
her first wedding dress. Relieved to escape her depressing list of uncompleted
tasks for a little while, she left the office and went upstairs.

The dress came out of the linen closet with the rustle of silk and the pungent
scent of camphor and cedar. The heavy messaline skirt slid through her fingers
and pooled like cream on the carpet until she spread it across the bed. The bodice
was relatively simple, a fichu-like wrapping of one swathe of fabric over another,
finished with a five-fold silken girdle. But there were layers upon layers of lining,
interlining, silk, lace, beaded braid and trim applied to the skirt and sleeves until
the whole thing was as beautifully decorated as a wedding cake.

She pulled her middy over her head and unfastened the waist of her skirt so
she could try on the dress. It had been over four years since her marriage to Bill,
but she remembered how excited she had been to wear it.

The skirt stuck a bit, going over her hips, but it wasn't until she tried to fasten
the tiny button at the waist that Alice realized how impossible everything had
become.

A two-inch gap remained no matter how tightly she sucked in her stomach.
And no corset could correct that, even if she had been willing to wear one in her
condition.

She tugged the skirt back off and slumped onto the bed. She was numbly
counting the number of seams which would have to be picked out and re-sewn to
successfully alter the dress when Maria knocked apologetically on the door
frame.

"It's dinner time, Mrs. R. When you didn't come down--" Maria stopped, and
her kind face filled with concern. "What's the matter?"