Wellington Cross (Wellington Cross Series) (13 page)

“I apologize if I have offended you,” Ethan said.  “This is
difficult for me, as I’m sure it is for you, as well.”  I nodded in
agreement.  He was difficult to resist, in spite of my reservations. 
“If it helps you feel closer to me, you’re welcome to call me Wellsy, like you
used to when we were young,” he said.

I smiled.  “Perhaps,” I said simply.  That may have
been a good idea, but it was the grown-up Ethan I wanted to feel close to at
the moment, not the young one.  “How old am I?” I asked him, changing the
subject and trying to recover my nerves.  “When is my birthday?”

“You were born on April 9, and you were 20 on the last birthday
I shared with you last year, so you are 21 now.”  So, I was 21. 
Doing the math, I must have been 15 when the war started.  “As a matter of
fact, the war ended on your birthday.  You declared it was the best
birthday ever.”

“Oh, how nice!  And you’re…?”

“I’m almost 25, same as Jonas.”  That would make us almost
4 years apart, and he would’ve been 19 when the war started.  And if I was
20 last year, then I was 20 when I got married, and he had been 24.

“When’s your birthday?”

“September 15.”  He was actually 23 when we married, since
we married in June, before his birthday.

“Tell me more about…our wedding day,” I surprised myself by
saying.  I wasn’t sure we should talk about such an intimate thing yet,
but since I did have a memory of that earlier, I wanted to see if I could
remember more.  It seemed like a good place to start.  I turned
towards him, tucking my legs beneath me to one side, careful to keep my legs
hidden beneath my skirt.   

“All right,” he said, smiling.  He turned towards me,
stretching his legs out straight and leaning back with one arm bent, supporting
his head.  He looked completely relaxed.  “You wore your mother’s
wedding dress, the same dress you saw in the photograph.  It had lacy
short sleeves and a lot of lace here.”  He gestured to the bodice and
waist areas.  “You were worried you wouldn’t fit into it on our wedding
day because your mother was so thin when she married.  But you’d lost so
much weight during the war, that it was actually too big.  You sewed the
sides a bit, and it looked beautiful.”  He smiled at me and reached his
hand up to touch a tendril of my hair that had come out of my pins, gently
pushing it off my cheek and placing it behind my ear.  His hand lingered,
brushing lightly over my cheek.  I held completely still.  It was such
a tiny gesture, but it made butterflies in my stomach.  I caught my
breath. 

He retracted his hand back to his side. 

“What else?” I asked, breathlessly.

“We had the wedding outside in the gazebo overlooking the water
on a warm summer day, but by the time we finished our vows, a storm blew in,
and it got really windy.  We had to move everything inside the house, but
not before we all got drenched in a downpour.”

“Oh, no!”  I started laughing.  “That must have been a
sight to see.  I’ll bet my hair was flattened and my dress ruined.” 
Actually, a spark of a memory came into my head then.  I froze as the
memory came in.  I remembered having just made the photograph that I saw
at the house, which took quite a while to pose and wait for.  The wind suddenly
whipped my dress around, and I had to hold onto my veil to keep it from blowing
away.  Before we could get inside the house, here came the rain.  It
poured buckets.  I remember laughing about the rain, instead of getting
angry.  We got soaked quickly, and Ethan’s hair stuck to his face as we
ran to the manor’s river-front door.  My hair got wetter and wetter, and
my dress stuck close to the crinoline.  Despite all the rain being a
nuisance, I had still been happy.  It felt invigorating after the hot day
in the sun.  Once we were inside the house, Ethan lured me into the parlor
away from everyone else for a moment and took me in his arms, kissing my wet
lips deeply.  I remember running my hands through his wet hair.  The
memory ended there.

“Oh, my,” I said, touching my lips.

Ethan was watching me, looking concerned.  “Are you all
right?”

“Yes, I was having another memory,” I said, blinking and forcing
myself to come back to the present.  I told him what I saw, everything
except for the details of our kiss.  He smiled.

“This is good for you,” he said after that.  He sat back up
and leaned on one arm closer to me, his knees bent.  “Spending time with
me and talking about our times together is helping you remember, isn’t
it?  I’m so glad.”  He touched my face again, and I touched his, as
well; I couldn’t help myself.  I wanted to know when he had changed from a
boy into this man I saw before me.  His beard and sideburns felt soft.
 My stomach danced around again as I traced his face with my fingers,
searching his face for answers, trying to remember the laugh lines, the tan
skin from being out in the sun working in the fields, the amber of his eyes,
the color of rich dark honey.  His dark hair that fell over his ears felt
moist with perspiration from the ride, and my hand slipped easily through his
hair, similar to the memory I just had when it was wet from the rain.  He
stopped my hand with his own and held it, his face moving closer to mine. 
I knew he was going to kiss me, and this time, I was going to let him.  I
wanted to experience what I had in my flashback.  He slowly drew his lips
to mine, and I closed my eyes and held my breath, heart pounding.  His
lips were so sweet on mine.

It was a brief kiss and was over quickly.  I opened my eyes
to his looking into mine, as if to gauge my reaction.  I smiled
tentatively, and he kissed me again, deeper this time, his mouth moving softly
over mine.  He moaned, making me weak.  He put his arms around my
back, pulling me closer to him, and I reached up and wrapped my arms around his
neck.  His kissing was familiar.  It was wonderful and yet terrifying
at the same time.  I felt like there was another person inside of me
trying to take over, wanting desperately to take over, to experience what I had
with him in the past.  The grown-up Madeline that had been married to the
grown-up Ethan.

I stopped the kiss first, and tried to compose myself.  I
released my hands from around his neck and wiped my mouth of the kisses and the
beads of perspiration that had again gathered above my lips.  I turned to
look out over the water again.  I felt a giggle somewhere inside me but
held it in.  I couldn’t believe we just did that or how wonderful it
felt.  And yet, I wondered if it was the right thing to do.

“Ethan, I don’t know if I can do this,” I said.  “I…I feel
guilty about this.  What about Elizabeth?”  I was enjoying all of
this far too much, wanted it too much.  “This is happening too soon, don’t
you think?” I said, looking back at him again.

“Don’t worry about Elizabeth.  I told her when you arrived
yesterday that I still loved you.  I have never stopped loving you,
Maddie.  I have wanted to kiss you since I first saw you in the garden
yesterday.  You were my wife.  It has been very difficult for me to
hold back.”  He traced the shape of my elbow with his finger, giving me
chills.  “But I will give you more time if you need it.”

“Thank you,” I said, letting out a sigh.  “I just wish I
could sort this all out in my head.  I wish I could remember you and all
that happened between us.  It’s so frustrating.”  I was starting to
get stirrings of old feelings and having new feelings for him at the same time,
and it was hard to sort them out.  My stomach still felt like it was in
knots.  And there was still Elizabeth to consider.  I didn’t know if
I had a right to be having these feelings or kissing Ethan when she was still
waiting for him at home. 

And yet, I had been married to him first.

Ethan got up abruptly, and walked over to Blackfoot.  He
took out some biscuits and boiled eggs that were wrapped up in a towel from his
satchel, and handed them to me.

“A breakfast picnic, how perfect,” I said breathlessly.  I
was glad for something to eat.  I felt famished after the ride and our
brief encounter.

“I thought we might get hungry after riding.  Miss Cora
made them early this morning.”

“Did you happen to bring any water?  I’m parched.” 

“Of course.”  He went back over to his horse and brought
back a canteen, handing it to me.  I gulped half of it down and then
handed it back to him. 

“Thank you,” I said, wiping my mouth.

Ethan took a drink and then asked, “How about a swim like old
times?”

“What?  Now?  Here?”

“Yes.”  He laughed at my reaction.  “Why not? 
It’d be a nice way to cool off.”

“I couldn’t possibly swim in these clothes.”  I peeled an
egg and bit into it.

“Then take them off, leave your underwear-.”  He stopped,
seeing my shocked, embarrassed expression.  “Oh, you still don’t have
any?”

“How did you-” I trailed off, looking away.  Of course, he
would know whether I had underwear or not, since we were married.  “No, I
still don’t have any,” I said awkwardly, feeling my cheeks redden.

“I told you we should have bought some on our honeymoon, but you
wanted some new bed sheets instead.”

“I did?”  That was surprising.

“Well, we were married.  You didn’t think we, uh, needed
any.”  He cleared his throat.  “You probably don’t remember why you
don’t have underwear, do you?”  I shook my head.  “You told me you
had to tear them up to use for bandages for the wounded Yankees that came to
your house during the war.”

“Oh, I see,” I said.  That made sense, but I was still
blushing. 

“My apologies, Madeline.  I certainly don’t intend to make
you feel uncomfortable.  Perhaps we could take a carriage down to Williamsburg
instead.  I need to post a notice about needing more help on the
plantation.” 

“Yes, I would enjoy that,” I answered.  I was relieved he
stopped talking about such a private subject and would be glad to spend more
time getting to know him.  The long ride would afford us plenty of time to
talk.

“All right, then, it’s settled.  We’ll venture to
Williamsburg and pick up some goods at the mercantile while we’re there,” Ethan
agreed.  We finished our eggs and biscuits, then got back on the horses
and rode back to the house.  

On the ride back, I enjoyed the seclusion of being alone with
Ethan and looked forward to more of it.  My mind reviewed all that we had
gone through so far, and that kiss we’d shared kept coming to the foreground of
my mind.  I was also thankful for the new memories and was full of
anticipation and hope for the rest of the day.  After what Ethan said
about not worrying about Elizabeth, that he still loved me, and that he was
having a difficult time holding back, I decided that I wouldn’t hold back
anymore either.  I wanted to remember him, and if kissing him helped me do
that, then I would not hesitate to do it again, should he desire it.  And
I would stop worrying about Elizabeth and not let her get in the way of our happiness.

Once we reached the stables, I put Cinnabar in a stall and then
went upstairs and changed into a long-sleeved bright blue dress, which had a
stain on the skirt, but I tried to conceal it by bunching the material and
pinning it in that area.  I got a sun bonnet out to wear and found a
matching ribbon to weave through the hat and tie under my chin.  I saw
Clarissa on the way back downstairs and told her what we were planning to
do.  She sent us out with her blessing.  “Oh, please don’t worry
about Lillie or gardening today.  Go enjoy yourself with Ethan,” she
encouraged me.  “And don’t worry about Elizabeth either.  I’ll keep
her busy this afternoon.”

When I reached the entry hall, Cora came through the door from
the underground passage and cellar and handed me a picnic hamper full of some
food to take with us.  It was quite heavy.  Ethan must have asked her
for something to eat to bring with us.  He joined me shortly thereafter
and escorted me out the carriage-front door to an awaiting carriage.  He
looked dashing in a white shirt, dark pants, brown vest, boots, and a dark
brown frock coat. 

He helped me into a single-top Phaeton carriage, pulled by two
different horses so that Blackfoot and Cinnabar could rest.  Ethan climbed
in beside me, shook the reins, and we took off down the long winding
drive.  I looked out over the fields and through the thick trees, trying
to let all the memories of this place seep into my soul, hoping that I would
remember more. 

We chatted about the weather and the upcoming special dinner
while we rode to Williamsburg.  Ethan pointed out different houses along
the way, and who lived where.  The home where I grew up, Magnolia Grove,
where my brother lived, was up the other way, so I didn’t get to see that on our
trip. 

It took the rest of the morning to get to Williamsburg.  I
had anticipated going into town, but Ethan pulled over beside a lake first and
stopped the horses.  He picked up the picnic hamper and helped me out of
the carriage.

“What are we doing?” I asked, even though it was obvious. 

“Having a picnic,” he said, smiling.  He grabbed the
blanket we had been sitting on and closed the door of the carriage.

“Two picnics in one day?  You’re spoiling me.”