"But ... but I've told Karl I'm sorry and I've promised I won't lie any more. Isn't that enough?"
"It is not enough for a Catholic. You know that confession is necessary, Anna, to cleanse the soul."
The priest truly didn't understand her reluctance.
She fidgeted and shifted from foot to foot, refusing to look at him while Karl, too, wondered at Anna's hesitation. With growing trepidation, Anna realized the only confession she would be making here today was the truth. She bit the inside of her lip, clasped her hands tightly behind her back, then, big-eyed and brave, admitted, "I'm not a Catholic."
Karl couldn't believe his ears. He took her by the elbow--it seemed to Anna that her elbow was certainly being over-worked lately--and forced her to look up into is face. "But Anna, you told me you were Catholic. Why did you tell me this?"
"Because you said in your advertisement that you wanted a God-fearing woman."
"Another lie, Anna?" Karl asked, dismayed anew.
"That's not a lie, that's the truth. You said you wanted the truth, so I gave it to you this time. But what does it matter anyway, as long as we're going to be saying our vows ourselves?"
Caught now himself by the half-truth he had let Karl believe, Father Pierrot suffered pangs of remorse. What was he to do? If he witnessed the union, he would be liable for excommunication should his bishop ever learn of it. At this point the priest was wishing that Long Prairie boasted just one justice of the peace, so he could send these two to get themselves legally married without all this confusion.
But the staunch Irish girl looked her betrothed in the eye and kept a stiff upper lip. "Well, if it's still all right with you, Karl, it's all right with me."
This was all too much for Karl. He had spent most of the night carefully reflecting in order to decide it was the right thing to marry Anna. Now another of his delusions about her lay shattered. He was acutely embarrassed to have this newest lie come to light in front of Father Pierrot. Karl found he could not abase himself further by standing there and arguing. And the day was moving on. So much time had been wasted already on this trip, it was folly wasting more, and there were no other churches nearby. But a godless woman! thought the beleaguered Swede. What have I gotten into?
"It does not matter," Karl said tightly, and everyone in the room could see it mattered a great deal. "We will be married as we agreed." He turned to his friend in the black robes.
Father Pierrot hadn't the heart to say, no, Karl, I cannot witness this marriage after all, nor record it in my books. The strength of the vow rests within the heart, he thought, not in witnesses nor penned words. If these two were ready to accept each other, he would not stand in their way.
Anna felt a flood of relief wash over her as the ceremony was agreed upon. Her knees were weak. Her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. She squeezed her eyes shut and silently promised the man beside her that she'd make it up to him, one way or another.
But Karl's heart was heavy as he stepped to the altar. He had, in his own halting way, achieved his amnesty with her this morning. Peace should be the feeling in a man's heart as he spoke his vows, not this resentment that now lay coldly inside. It is difficult enough to promise love, Karl thought, when the one you promise it to is a stranger. To promise it with such a feeling of foreboding is less than good.
Father had donned his surplice, alb and stole, and the time was at hand.
"James will be our witness," Anna said, wishing to please Karl in some small way. Karl, she could see, was very dissatisfied with her. He avoided her glance, and studied the distance as if ruminating the deepest of thoughts. Also, when he'd last spoken, his voice had become devoid of its usual musicality. It told her in no uncertain terms that he was displeased.
The pair stood so stiff and erect that Father Pierrot felt certain things must be said. He could sense the animosity, which had sprung up so quickly. Karl's mouth was pursed, and Anna stared at the little bouquet of lemon lilies and wild roses at the feet of St. Francis of
Assisi
.
"Anna," he began, "I speak to you first, and I speak with the hope that you will take to heart everything I say. You are young, Anna. You are taking on a grave responsibility when you marry Karl here. The two of you have a long life ahead of you, and it can be a good life if you work to make it so. But goodness must be built upon mutual respect, and this respect must stem from trust. Trust, in return, must spring from truthfulness. I believe you have done what you thought necessary to get here to Karl.
But henceforth I caution you to be truthful with him in all ways. You will find him to be understanding and patient. This much I know of him. But you will find, too, that he is rigid in his honor. I caution you once more always to tell him the truth. When you make your vow here to love, honor and obey, I ask you to add in your heart that you, Anna, will always be truthful with Karl."
She looked up at him with her girlish face and said guilelessly, "Yes, Father, I was." Father Pierrot could not help the tiny curve of his lips at her reply. He noted, too, the way Karl glanced briefly sideways.
"Good. So be it. And Karl, there are things not expressed in the vows, about which I must caution you. It falls onto your shoulders to protect Anna and provide for her. In your case, here in the wilderness, and with the added responsibility for James, this job is a far greater one than for most men." Karl glanced at the boy, and the priest saw a perceptible softening of Karl's expression. "The wilderness is new to them, and there will be much they have to learn. Patience will be required of you time and again. But you have the gift of knowledge to give them. You must be teacher as well as protector, father as well as husband, almost from the start. If at times this task falls heavy upon you, I ask you to remember that on your wedding day you silently added the vow of patience."
"Yes, Father."
"And while it is not written in the vows either, there is an old adage I firmly believe in, which I would repeat here and ask you both to remember on days when perhaps you have not seen eye to eye. `Never let the sun set on your anger.` There will be disagreements between you, and these cannot be avoided--you are human beings with much to learn about each other. But differences incurred during the day become lodged in stubbornness if held throughout the night. By remembering this, you will perhaps not cling to your opinions when it is long past the time you should have conceded or compromised. Will the two of you remember that?"
"Yes, Father," they said in unison.
"So be it. Then let us begin."
Father Pierrot began praying.
The soft tonal inflections of Latin brought back to Anna the memories of nights she and James had sheltered in St. Mark's. Nights when all the rooms above the tavern were busy and they were told to get out and not show their faces till the last customer had staggered home. Anna tried to push the hurtful memory aside, but the priest's flowing Latin brought back the anguish all over again, the anguish of huddling in the scented dusk--beeswax, incense, candlelights--vowing that she would find a way out of a life where, since her mother's death, nobody cared whether Barbara's brats lived or died.
They'd hung on, she and James, by the skin of their teeth, but all the while Anna was determined to get them away from the hopeless situation somehow. Well, she was doing it now. She and James would never go homeless again. Never would they be chased away by the "ladies" and their "gentlemen" customers. But knowing what she'd done to get here, knowing that she was duping a man who truly didn't deserve it, an engulfing guilt washed over her.
She felt her hand taken into the large hand of Karl Lindstrom, felt the calluses of labor there, felt the firm grip that told of his intensity, and she knew beyond a doubt that this big, honorable man would never, never understand a thing like she'd done. His palm was warm and dry and as hard as oak. The way he squeezed her knuckles
she thought they might shatter in a moment, but his grip told her he meant all he promised here today. She found herself looking up into blue eyes, then watching sensitive lips speaking the words from the book Father Pierrot held open upon his palms. Karl's voice came lilting, and she watched his mouth, memorizing the words as best she could.
And the long months of hoping, dreaming and planning for this day would become part of the fabric that wove Karl to Anna in the words he spoke aloud. Nor would the thoughts, which had so long lived in Karl Lindstrom, now be denied their part in all he promised.
"I, Karl, take thee, Anna ..." My little whiskey-haired Anna ...
"for my lawful wedded wife ..." How I have waited for you ...
"to have and to hold ..." Not yet have I even held you, Anna ...
"from this day forward ..." Forward to this night, and tomorrow and tomorrow ...
"For better, for worse ..." In spite of everything, I know I could do far worse ...
"for richer, for poorer ..." Ah, how rich we can be, Anna, rich with life ...
"in sickness and in health ..." And I will see this thin hand grow strong ...
"till death do us part." These things I promise with my life--these things and the promise of patience, as Father, my friend, said.
As Anna's eyes roved over Karl's face, a shaft of golden sun came through the open door, gilding his features as if nature itself bestowed the blessing Father Pierrot could not. In the tiny outpost mission of Long Prairie only wild-flowers adorned the altar. Only the cooing of mourning doves provided song. But to Anna's ears and eyes it was as fine as any cathedral hosting a hundred-voice choir. She could feel the beats of their hearts joined where her slight, pale hand rested in his wide, dark one. As she took her turn at vows, Anna felt a willingness she had certainly not expected when she'd thought of this moment through the dreary winter, waiting to come to an unknown husband.
"I, Anna, take thee, Karl ..." Forgive me, Karl, for tricking you…
"for my lawful wedded husband ..." But James and I didn't know what else to do ...
"from this day forward ..." Never again will we be homeless ...
"for better, for worse ..." I promise I will never, never tell another lie ...
"for richer, for poorer ..." Riches we do not need. A home will be enough ...
"in sickness and in health ..." I'll learn all I said I knew ...
"till death do us part." I'll make up for everything, Karl, somehow I promise I'll make up for everything.
She saw Karl swallow and detected a tremble in his eyelids.
Then, still squeezing her hand, he looked at Father Pierrot. "There is no gold ring, Father. I could not afford gold, and there was nothing else at Morisette's store. But I have a simple ring because it doesn't seem right without a ring."
"A simple ring is fine, Karl."
From his pocket he extracted a horseshoe nail curled into a circle. It was on his lips to say, I'm sorry, Anna, but she was smiling down at the ring as if it were burnished gold.
Anna saw Karl's hands shake, and her own, as she extended her fingers and he slid the heavy iron circlet over her knuckle. He had misjudged in bending it, and she had to curl her fingers quickly to keep it from slipping off. Then Karl's hand recaptured hers again. Gently, he spread her fingers and lay the banded hand upon his open palm, the fingers of his other hand lightly touching the ring as if to seal it upon her flesh for life.
"Anna Reardon, with this ring I make you my wife forever." His voice cracked faintly upon the last word, bringing her eyes up to his once more.
Then she put her free hand over his and the ring, and said into his eyes, "Karl Lindstrom, with this ring I accept you for my husband ... forever."
He looked down at her turned-up freckled nose, her pretty, waiting lips. His heart became a wild thing within him. Now she is really my Anna, he thought, suddenly timid and eager all at once.
Fleetingly, Anna's eyelids quivered, and she felt his hold upon her hands tighten a fraction of a second before he bent to kiss her lightly, forgetting to close his eyes as he brushed her lips uncertainly, then straightened again.
"So be it," Father Pierrot said softly, while bride and groom nervously cast about for something upon which to settle their gazes. Anna's turned to her brother, and the two hugged quickly.
"Oh, Anna, Anna ..." he said.
She whispered in his ear, "We'll be safe now, James."
He squeezed her extra hard. "I'll do my part." But he looked at Karl as he said it, though it was Anna's hand he still held.
"I know," Anna said, now looking at Karl.
Father Pierrot surprised her by warmly embracing her, then planting a congratulatory kiss on her cheek. "I wish you health, happiness and the blessing of many children." Then, turning to Karl with a firm handshake of four hands instead of two, the priest said emotionally, "And the same to you, my friend."
"Thank you, Father. It seems that I already have one of those things." Karl looked meaningfully at James, who smiled broadly.
"Yes," Father Pierrot said, shaking James' hand in a manful way. "Now, young man, it will be your job to see that these two do as I have ordered. There may be times it will be the hardest job of all."