Tessa McDermid - Family Stories (10 page)

When she woke up dusk had fal en. She raised herself on one elbow and studied Frank's sleeping body. She had never known a man could be so beautiful. She traced the strong contours of his face, the firm jaw, the straight nose, the line of his eyebrows. He opened one eye; a corner of his mouth rose in a lopsided grin.

"Hel o, Mrs. Robertson," he said sleepily.

"Hel o, Mr. Robertson." She boldly let her lips trace the line she'd just drawn along his face, laughing at his sharp gasp until he rol ed her under him and brought a gasp to her own lips.

Darkness had come when they next awoke. She sat up in bed, a pil ow behind her back and Frank resting comfortably against her stomach. "Do you realize, Frank, we haven't eaten a thing since breakfast?"

"Hmm. We had cake at the wedding."

She pushed at his shoulder. "That doesn't count. I only had that one little bite you fed me." She'd been too excited to put anything else in her stomach.

She slid away from him and out of the bed. "I'm hungry. Is the restaurant stil open?"

He squinted at the clock. "We could try."

The hotel understood newlyweds. A table in the corner was set, and the waiter politely ushered them to their seats. He apologized for the slim selection at that hour but Marian was too hungry to care. She smiled at Frank and ignored his shock when she ordered sandwiches, cakes and soup.

"I need my energy," she whispered suggestively. She felt a sense of power surge through her when his eyes dilated.

They moved back to his parents' house the next day. She was sure that everyone knew what they'd been doing al night, and it took an enormous amount of effort to hold her head high. Alone in their hotel room, making love had been the most beautiful experience of her life. Under his mother's critical gaze, she felt as if she needed to take a long bath to cleanse herself.

Frank gave her a quick kiss before they left his room to go down for supper. "It'll be fine."

She nodded, determined to try for his sake to get along with his mother.

His sisters talked constantly during the meal, Rebecca reliving every moment of the wedding and Clara adding insights about the guests. Once Marian felt a pang of guilt at the sadness in Clara's eyes but she pushed it away. Clara didn't need her pity; she needed action. A resolve to help her new sister-in-law find her own happiness took shape while dessert was being served.

Clara left after dinner to visit friends. Rebecca had homework and she vanished up to her room. The two couples sat in the living room, the conversation revolving around the shop and changes that Mr. Robertson planned now that Frank was home.

When the clock chimed nine, Frank stood up and reached down for Marian's hand. A familiar churning began in the pit of her stomach.

"Good night, Mom, Dad," Frank said. He bent down to kiss his mother's cheek.

"Good night," Marian echoed, fol owing him into the hal .

Her foot was on the bottom step when she heard his mother. "I don't like it, I tel you. Rebecca shouldn't hear those noises. She's too young."

Flame burned Marian's cheeks. Inside his room, Frank pul ed her against his chest but she pushed him away with her fists. "Frank, no."

"Yes." He brought her closer, trapping her fists between their bodies. "She wanted you to hear her. Are you going to let her stop me from doing this?" He kissed the tip of her ear. "Or this?" His lips slid down her throat, to the top of her blouse. "Or this?"

She moaned at the onslaught of sensation from his touch. "No," she agreed, her fingers uncurling and wrapping around his neck. "But we have to be quiet."

"Al right." And then his fingers were skimming silently across her skin, his breath whispering along her jaw, his touch saying louder than any words how precious she was to him, how much he cared. She melted into his arms, the world outside their room disappearing.

The next morning, she sat on the bed and watched him knot his tie. "We need our own place," she said.

"We wil . As soon as I save enough."

She walked over and smoothed his jacket over his shoulders. "Frank, do you want to walk downstairs every morning, knowing your mother and father heard us making love?"

"I thought we were pretty quiet. At least, I was."

Her skin heated. He'd been tender the night before, but she'd been unable to stay quiet, biting the pil ow to stop her moans from being carried throughout the house.

She swallowed at the memory, then narrowed her eyes at his smug grin. "I just don't think I can handle the embarrassment every day. Maybe we should sleep apart until we have our own place. I could move back in with Rebecca. "Your mother would be thril ed, she added silently.

His eyes widened. She knew she'd never be able to make good on her threat but it was satisfying to see his grin disappear.

"Marian, you wouldn't."

She stood on tiptoe and kissed his chin. "No. But I would like our own place. I'll check the paper while you're at work."

She asked Clara about the area while they cleaned the living room. Clara mentioned that a friend of hers had recently vacated a smal garage apartment. "I think it's stil empty," she added. Marian kissed her cheek and ran al the way over to look at the place.

A few hours later, she was sitting on the front stoop, waiting impatiently for Frank to come home. Sounds of supper preparation could be heard from the kitchen. His mother had made several pointed remarks about not running a boardinghouse but Clara and Rebecca had soothed her by agreeing to cook the evening meal.

When Marian final y heard Frank's whistle, she jumped up and raced down the sidewalk to meet him.

"Guess what happened today?" she asked at the same time as he said, "You won't believe what happened."

She stopped and caught his arm. "You go first."

"No, you."

"Frank..."she started, then laughed. "Clara told me about this darling little apartment. I went to see it and talked to the landlady. It's available if we want it, the rent is reasonable, and we can move in right away. She said we can have two days to make a decision but, Frank, it's perfect! We don't need two days."

"You found a place?"

She nodded. "Now you."

"I have a new job."

She stared at him. "A new job? But what—what about—?"

He laughed, pul ing her into his arms and swinging her around. "Dad and I agreed he doesn't have enough work to keep me busy. And I didn't want to take money from Mom and the girls. Joe Wilson needed help and he hired me. I already sold a suit and two pairs of shoes today."

She slipped her arm through his. "So we both had a productive day. Come on, Mr. Robertson, let's go have supper and tel your family."

"Tel my parents? Right now?"

She nodded, bubbling over with happiness. Her handsome husband was home, he had a job that would suit his temperament better, he'd see the apartment was perfect for newlyweds...

She pecked him on the cheek, wishing they could run off right then and be alone. "You'll love the apartment.

Mrs. Sul ivan will be a wonderful landlady and I can fix up the room so it's ours...."

Her voice trailed off at the look on his face. "What's the matter, Frank?"

"Let's not tel them yet. At least about the apartment. Nothing's settled and she'll be upset enough about me not working at the store. And if we don't end up moving..."

Some of her excitement melted away. "I see." She dropped her hand from his arm and moved away a step.

"You need to make a choice, Frank Robertson—your mother or me."

"Marian!"

She shook her head, refusing to be moved by the pleading in his tone or the desire in his eyes. She refused to be in the middle like this. She was his wife, and his al egiance should be to her. She'd given up her family for him. She deserved nothing less from her husband.

His chest rose and fel , and she waited silently. He held out his hand to her. "Al right, we'l tel Mom. But couldn't we look at the place first? Make sure it suits us both?"

A little ache grew in her stomach at his distrust, but she nodded. He was wil ing to compromise. She could do the same.

"Now, come on," he said. "Let's eat. I'm starved."

After supper, they helped wash up the dishes, then left by the back door—for a walk, he told his family. After meeting their prospective landlady and being shown the smal space, he agreed it would suit their current needs. Marian skipped beside him as they returned to the house, chattering about the changes she'd make.

"And it won't cost much at al ," she assured him when he reminded her that they had little money."I promise. I'll be creative and frugal. You'll see. We'l be fine."

A flicker of apprehension coursed through her when they entered the living room. His mother and Clara were mending while his father read to them. Rebecca lay on her stomach in front of the fire, a sketch pad in front of her.

"You're back." She jumped up and gave them both a big hug. "Where did you go?" Rebecca took Frank's hand, pul ing him into the room. He sat down on the sofa and she squeezed in next to him, leaving room for Marian on his other side.

Marian's courage returned when he gave her a slight nudge with his leg. This had been her idea and her find.

She should break the news. "We looked at an apartment today," she said quietly.

She glanced at Clara. Her head was bowed over the sock she was darning. Mr. Robertson had his book open in his lap but Marian didn't think he was reading. Frank's mother snipped off a piece of thread and Marian flinched.

"Did you find one?" Rebecca asked.

She turned to his sister with a grateful smile. "We did."

"A nice one," Frank offered. "We can move in anytime."

"I suggest you move now."

The venom in Mrs. Robertson's voice squeezed Marian's heart. Frank laid his hand on hers. "Mom, you don't mean that." Marian could hear the steel in his voice.

"I do." His mother stood up, snapping the shirt she'd been mending and folding it with quick, angry jerks. "I'm sure you'll both be much happier."

"Now, Mother..."

Mrs. Robertson rounded on her husband. "She doesn't want to be here. Let them go. He's lost to us, anyway, now that they're married."

Marian rose stiffly to her feet, willing her legs to keep her upright."I'm sorry you feel that way, Mrs. Robertson.

We'll leave tonight. And thank you for your hospitality. Once we're settled, I hope you'll visit us and let us repay your kindness."

She walked out of the room, her head held high. She didn't break down when she went into Frank's old room and began tossing clothes and toiletries into their suitcases. She didn't shed a tear when Clara raced up the stairs and thrust a set of bedding into her arms. "We'll see you at church," she whispered. Marian didn't show by so much as a blink that she was embarrassed when Mrs. Sul ivan came to her door in a bathrobe and handed them a key.

Not until they were alone in the tiny room did she give her emotions ful rein. She flung the bundle of sheets at the wal . "How dare she treat me like that!" Her hands bal ed into fists and she stormed around the room, kicking at the single chair, and pounding on the little dresser.

"Marian!" Frank grabbed her shoulders and jerked her to a stop.

"Your mother hates me, Frank." Her chest heaved with hurt, and she could feel her throat burning. Angry tears erupted from her eyes. She would not cry, she told herself. She would not give that woman the satisfaction.

"And her son loves you." Frank brushed his lips over her flushed cheeks. "Marian, we're in our own place now.

Maybe a little sooner than we planned but we're here."

His caresses were erasing the anger, replacing it with a shimmering desire. He slid his hands down her arms and pried her fingers apart, bringing her hand to his mouth and gently nibbling each finger. She gasped as need shot through her.

"Frank," she whispered.

"Hmm?"

"I love you."

He raised his head and grinned. "That works out fine for me, Mrs. Robertson. Because I love you, too. And right now, I have a powerful need to show you how much."

*****

"Did you find any pictures of Grandpa Frank's side of the family?" Preston spun a picture on the end of his finger until Hannah snatched it away from him.

"Don't do that! Do you realize you're touching history here?" She settled the picture on the stack she was sorting on her bed.

Her room was layered with pictures. Photo albums from the back bedroom, boxes of pictures from the attic.

Once their grandmother had given in about the attic, Hannah had forced Preston to go back upstairs with her and they'd spent the entire afternoon carting down boxes.

"Grandma won't have a party if G.G. says no," Preston said. He'd wandered over to the window and sat on the padded seat.

"Wel , I'm not giving up. Not yet." Even after her visit, she couldn't drop the idea of a party. "Come on, Preston, they've been married for seventy-five years! Shouldn't they celebrate?"

He shrugged. "Maybe. But they don't have to. I mean, they know they've been married that long. Why do they need a party?"

Hannah peered at him over the top of the pictures she was holding, caught by the logic of what he was saying, which was remarkably similar to Grandpa Frank's. "Okay," she agreed. "Maybe they don't need a party. But it would be good for the rest of us."

"Why?"

She dropped the pictures she was holding on the bed and turned so she could face him better. He wasn't the audience she had to convince but he would do for practice. And sometimes, she hated to admit, he did come up with some good ideas.

"Think about the world, Preston. Who stays married for very long anymore? G.G. and Grandpa Frank are an inspiration, a reminder that people can make a vow before God and family and keep it. Pretty impressive, isn't it?"

"Yeah." He had the cord of her curtain curled around his hand, and the curtain was hiding and then revealing the bright sunshine. "But I stil don't see why we need a party or what you're doing with al these pictures."

That part she couldn't real y explain, even to herself. She just felt compel ed to go through the pictures that had been taken over the generations, to learn more about these two people who'd met al those years ago. Details of their story had been snapped throughout the decades, and each image she found gave her a new understanding of their lives—and their love.