A Proper Marriage Read online

  While they ate, the men discussed the prospects for spring crops and their hopes for the new lumbermill going up just outside town. Mr. Spaulding stirred butter into his potatoes and reported on a recently completed trip to a Friends meeting in Georgia.

  “So, Mr. Spaulding, tell us,” Emma said when after a time he paused for breath, “has there been any progress at all with the slaveholders down there?”

  “Not much, I fear. As nearly as we can make out, Georgia is holding nearly three hundred thousand human beings in bondage. We spoke to several of the largest slaveholders—Mr. Dent, the Hamiltons, the Butlers—but we may as well have been speaking to the wind.” He sipped his coffee. “I fear I have failed in my sacred duty.”

  “It will take more than one man,” his wife said, “more than one group of men, to turn the tide. But we must not shirk our responsibility.”

  Silas nodded, his expression thoughtful. “I recollect when Governor McDuffie down in South Carolina made that speech defending slavery as ‘the cornerstone of the republican edifice.’ ”

  Mrs. Owens shook her head. “Pompous words from a pompous man.” She cocked her head, birdlike, and looked at Olivia and Luke across the table. “You are too young to recollect it, but that speech caused quite a furor. Even some of the northern papers took note of it.”

  “I remember it,” Luke said. “Or at least I remember hearing my daddy talk about it.”

  “That was, what, nigh on to ten years ago?” Silas mused, stirring cream into his coffee. “And still reform languishes.”

  “Well, your work must go on,” Luke said to solemn nods from the others around the table.

  Olivia set down her fork. She and Luke had never discussed such weighty issues. She had no inkling of his thoughts on slavery, or anything else of import.

  “I am a southerner, born and raised,” Luke continued. “I don’t like going against my kin. But the way I see it, north or south, to prosper by crime is a sin before God.”

  “That’s just the problem, young fellow.” Mr. Spaulding set down his cup. “The Butlers and the Dents and the others like them see slaveholding not as a crime or a sin, but as a God-given right. They quote those verses in the Bible about slaves submitting to masters as proof of it.”

  Emma glanced at Olivia. “Mrs. Makenzie, thee has been quiet tonight. I’m sure we would value your opinion on this matter.”

  Lulled by the warmth of the fire and the food, Olivia at first could not summon a single rational thought. She studied the Quakers’ faces, so full of quiet fervor, and from somewhere deep within her, a conviction bloomed. “We have our share of slaveholders right here in North Carolina too. Our neighbors in Blue Gap, the Thomases, own a few.” She glanced at Luke. “Slaveholding is legal, of course, but it seems to me that the very essence of Christianity—temperance, moderation, and compassion—is incompatible with slavery.”

  The women applauded. Olivia sat back, surprised at her own words. Until this moment, she hadn’t realized that was what she thought. Perhaps she and Luke were more alike than she imagined. She caught his eye and smiled, but he looked away and concentrated on his pie.

  “Well said, Mrs. Mackenzie.” Mrs. Spaulding finished her pie and set down her fork. “Perhaps thee will stay here long enough to help with the new tract we are writing. We could use a woman with such a talent for words.”

  “We’ll be off, first thing tomorrow.” Luke pushed his empty plate away. “There won’t be time for tract writing.”

  Olivia frowned at him, but if Mrs. Spaulding was offended, she hid it well. “Oh, that’s too bad. Where to?”

  “Tennessee. Laurel Grove.”

  Silas frowned. “Not by way of the ridge road, surely.”

  “It’s the shortest route,” Luke said.

  “Of course, but only this morning a timber crew came off the mountain because it has started to snow. It won’t do to get caught on that road in a storm.”

  “It’ll blow over by morning.”

  “I hope it does, for your sake.”

  The Dumbartons’ guests rose from the table, collected hats and shawls, and said their good-byes. When they had gone, Silas stoked the fire. Emma lit another lamp and showed Olivia and Luke to their room. “Sleep as long as necessary,” she said. “I will make breakfast whenever it’s required.”

  She closed the door. Luke sat on the chair by the window and toed off his boots.

  Olivia perched on the edge of the bed and unpinned her hair. An ache began in her throat. That last afternoon with George, in the secluded cabin by the river—the day that changed everything—he’d gathered her hair in his hands and compared it to the finest silk. What a fool she’d been to have believed his tender words, to have placed her faith in the purity of his motives.

  She blinked away the memory and looked up to find Luke scowling at her. “What’s the matter?”

  “You were showing off in there.” He tossed a couple of small logs onto the fire.

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Throwing around all those ten-dollar words. Correcting me when I said slaveholding is a crime. You talk much better than I do, Olivia. I didn’t have the advantage of a fine education. But I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t remind me of it in front of other people.”

  She stared at him, stunned. “What was I to do, then, in response to a direct question? Pretend to be mute? Or behave like one of those simpering Mayfield girls back in Blue Gap? ‘Oh my, I’m sure I don’t have a single thought in my pretty little head, but my big, strong, smart husband surely does.’ ”

  He poured water from the ewer into the basin and washed his face. “At least they appreciate their menfolk.”

  “I appreciate you. I’ve already thanked you for everything you’re doing for me.”

  “Just don’t make me feel like I don’t deserve you, all right?”

  “I’m the one who doesn’t deserve you,” she said quietly. “And I am truly sorry if I offended you. I will try harder to please you.”

  “All right, then. Let’s forget it.” He opened the clothes press and took out a quilt and a pillow. “I’ll bunk here on the floor.”

  She extinguished the lamp, undressed in the darkness, and slipped gratefully beneath cool linens that smelled faintly of lavender. Despite her fatigue, sleep wouldn’t come. She listened to the sounds of the house settling for the night, to Luke’s deep, even breathing. Marrying him had seemed the best solution to her dilemma, and of the few eligible men in Blue Gap, none came closer than Luke to being her equal. It was true that his education was more rudimentary than hers, but he was well read, curious about the world, and a lover of nature, as was she. He had offered her his name and a new beginning.

  She turned onto her side and punched her pillow. Guilt and regret sat like stones on her heart. The strong pull of her longing for George warred with the certainty that such feelings were wrong and fueled her desire to be free of them. But she couldn’t figure out how to let go.

  Luke turned onto his back and began snoring softly. By firelight, she studied the face of the near stranger who was now her husband. She was sorry for him, for herself, for the whole big mess.

  Undoubtedly he was sorry too.

  Chapter Three

  In the morning Olivia’s eyes were gritty from a restless night, and she felt too queasy for anything more than a slice of bread and a cup of weak tea. Luke, seemingly unaware of her distress, downed a breakfast of scrambled eggs, fried potatoes, biscuits, and coffee. Silas left them to their meal and retrieved Pegasus and their wagon from the livery.

  Olivia helped Mrs. Dumbarton with the dishes and readied herself for travel. Overnight the weather had turned cold and damp. Through the Dumbartons’ misted window, she watched thick clouds gathering over the distant mountains. It seemed foolish to attempt the ridge road on such a day, but after last night, she wasn’t about to offend Luke again by questioning his judgment. She pulled an oversized, knitted sweater over her dress and donned the stylish dark-b
lue cloak she’d bought in Raleigh the previous year.

  Mrs. Dumbarton packed a basket with biscuits, jam, slices of ham, and a large container of coffee and handed it into the wagon along with a heavy quilt. “Try to stay warm, my dear.”

  “I will. Thank you for everything.”

  “It was our pleasure.”

  Silas clapped Luke’s shoulder. “I wish thee would reconsider, Mr. Mackenzie. The ridge road can be tricky this time of year.”

  “I’ll be careful. We need to get on to Tennessee.”

  “What’s the hurry?”

  “A cousin of my mother’s is selling off some bottom land in Laurel Grove. He’s promised me a plot of it at a good price. We need to get there in time to clear it and plant it this spring.”

  Silas nodded. “Our friends in Sweetbriar Creek say there’s some good farming ground in those parts, all right. Good luck, then.”

  Luke flicked the reins, and the wagon jostled over the dirt road. They headed through town to the logging road that led upward to the top of the ridge. Within minutes Olivia felt chilled to the bone and sick from the swaying and jostling of the wagon. She pressed a hand to her midsection. Despite her determination not to give her new husband a reason to be cross with her, discomfort and apprehension finally won out.

  “Luke?”

  He glanced at her from beneath the brim of his hat.

  “What if Silas is right and the road is impassable?”

  “We’ll wait it out.”

  “Wait it out. I see.” She paused. “Where?”

  “I don’t know, Olivia.” Exasperation showed in his dark eyes. “We’ve got plenty of warm blankets, food, and water. We’ll build a shelter if it comes to that. But we only have to make it over the ridge at Coulter’s Gap. From there it’s all downhill.”

  “How long till we get there?”

  “If we can cross the mountain today, we can stop in Hickory Ridge tonight, and we should be in Laurel Grove in two days’ time.” He patted her arm. “Don’t worry. I promised to take care of you, and I will.”

  Tucking her hands inside her cloak, Olivia bent her head against the cold mist and tried not to think of the life that awaited her on the far side of the mountain. As mistress of her father’s house, she’d enjoyed the freedom to read, draw, and make occasional visits to the shore. Blue Gap was near the rail line that ran all the way from Baltimore to the Georgia sea islands, allowing for occasional traveling theater troupes or symphony players to give performances on their way to larger cities.

  With Ruth away at school all day, she had depended more than ever on the society of her friends, young women her own age who shared her background and interests. Laurel Grove, Luke had informed her, was a small farming community with hardly more than a mercantile, a blacksmith shop, and a stagecoach inn to sustain it. It was a town ripe with opportunity, he’d said, a place to build up a farm, plant an orchard, and establish his business as a cooper. A quiet settlement where they might make a contented life far from loose tongues and prying eyes.

  She shivered and pulled the cloak more tightly around her shoulders. Whatever would she do with herself in such an isolated place? She wished that Luke had chosen some destination other than a patch of ground in the Tennessee wilderness, but she had to accept whatever life her husband made for her. At least in Laurel Grove she could escape her father’s disdain and his temper, which too often erupted like a festering sore. Perhaps in Laurel Grove she could put the past behind her. Shed it like a woolen cloak on a warm spring day, like something that no longer had any bearing on her life.

  The wagon bumped along the steep road, past felled logs and piles of last autumn’s rotted leaves. The hardwood trees towered above them, still leafless in the cold March wind. In a clearing off the road stood a rickety logging shack, scarcely more than a pile of gray logs with a sagging roof.

  “We’ll stop here and rest.” Luke drove through the clearing and stopped the wagon. Pegasus snorted and shook his head, rattling the harness.

  “I am tired.” Olivia massaged the knot that had formed in her lower back. Her cheeks and nose tingled in the cold. Suddenly she was ravenous.

  Luke tethered the horse and lifted her off the wagon. Taking the quilt Emma had given them, he led her inside and made her comfortable on the hard-packed dirt floor. He tucked her cloak about her, his hands—strong and warm—lingering for a moment on her shoulders. “You sit tight, Olivia, and I’ll have a fire going in no time.”

  His tenderness and concern nearly brought her to tears. Why, then, couldn’t she let go of her longing for the private world of words, gestures, and expressions she and George had built just for themselves?

  Luke came in with logs and kindling, his hat and shoulders wet with mist. He struck a match and the fire leapt to life in the frigid shack, throwing shadows against the rough-planked walls.

  “Are you hungry?”

  “Ravenous.” She warmed her hands before the fire. “It must be this bracing mountain air.”

  He grinned. “I’m hungry too. Be right back.”

  He went out to the wagon. She watched the flames and thought about the way her life had unfolded. The promising beginning when she had flourished beneath her mother’s fierce love and anything seemed possible. Then the day it all changed, when Eliza Brooks announced that life in Blue Gap was not for her and she’d decided to go back east. Alone. Her mother’s departure had changed Pa into a bitter man whose long silences built and built before exploding into violent tirades that went on for hours. Olivia had been seven years old, her sister, Ruth, only four when her mother left. She had learned then just how quickly the things she held most dear could be taken from her.

  Now Ruth was seventeen, old enough to marry, and acknowledged as the prettier of the Brooks girls. Yet no one in Blue Gap had caught her sister’s fancy. Olivia shivered and drew the quilt more tightly about her shoulders. If no suitor appeared by the time she and Luke were settled in Tennessee, she would send for her sister. In Laurel Grove they would both be safe.

  Luke returned with the food Emma had prepared, and they ate it eagerly. The coffee had long since gone cold, but they drank it anyway. He stretched his long legs toward the fire and clasped his hands behind his head. “Feeling better?”

  Though she was worried about the weather and the long climb still awaiting them, the food and the fire and his calm confidence had improved her mood. “Much better. Thank you.”

  He nodded. “I’m sorry you were feeling peaked this morning. Good food being one of life’s pleasures, I can’t imagine what that would be like, too sick to eat.” He shook his head. “Sorta like being robbed, I reckon.”

  She watched the firelight playing on his face. So he had noticed. “I’m much improved.”

  “I’m glad of that. I’ll feel better when we get settled in Laurel Grove.”

  She spread jam on another of Emma’s biscuits. “I imagine we’ll have a lot of work to do.”

  “Yes, but you know what, Olivia? I’m looking forward to getting away from Blue Gap and having our own place. Micah’s setting aside forty acres for us, some of it right by the river. We can expand the peach orchard and plant a garden. Of course the cabin ain’t much, according to him. But we can add on, make it real nice. When my coopering business gets going, who knows? We might even build ourselves a proper house with a parlor and a real kitchen with an indoor pump and everything. Wouldn’t that be something?”

  He looked so eager, so earnest that Olivia felt a rush of tenderness for him. “That would be wonderful. It’s something to hope for, isn’t it?”

  “I’m planning to do more than hope. Me and the Lord, we’re going to make it all come true. You’ll see.” He reached over to clasp her hand. “I reckon I’ll remember this day for the rest of my life. The beginning of our forever.”

  Olivia looked past his shoulder to the clearing. A fine, wind-driven snow pelted the ground. “Maybe we should get going. Weather’s getting worse.”

  He doused
the fire. They gathered their things, climbed onto the wagon once more, and continued on. Two hours passed. Three. Pegasus struggled to pull the heavy wagon over the steep, narrow road. As the afternoon light faded from the leaden sky, the snow fell harder, obscuring the trail, blanketing everything in white. The wind howled and grew stronger when twilight fell, plunging them into near darkness. The wagon wheels spun on the freezing ground.

  Luke cracked the reins and Pegasus struggled forward, his breath clouding the air, but the wagon began sliding backward down the hillside.

  “Luke!” Olivia shouted above the noise of the wind. “We must go back to the shack.”

  “It’s too far. We’re almost to the ridge road. If we lighten the load, we can make it.”

  He jumped down and began tossing things from the wagon: lumber he’d planned to use to board up their cabin. Trunks and boxes and the barrel filled with cooking pots and china cups—all went by the wayside.

  “No,” Olivia said when he lifted her mother’s chest from the wagon. “Not that.”

  “I’m sorry, Olivia. I know it means a lot to you, but it isn’t essential.”

  “It is to me. It’s the only thing my mother left behind when she—”

  But he turned away and set it out anyway before emptying her trunk of her beloved novels, her art books and sketching supplies.

  Olivia couldn’t stand it. She jumped off the wagon and rescued her sketchbooks and a tin box containing her pens. “Luke Mackenzie, you will not throw these away.”

  “But, Olivia—”

  “Here!” She flung off her woolen blanket and her cloak. “Take these. Take my shoes if you must. Surely they weigh more than my art things.”

  He sighed. “All right. You win. Now put your cloak back on before you catch your death of cold.”

  He rummaged in the wagon for other things to leave behind until all that was left was his ax and hatchet, his plow and coopering tools, a hoe, a rake, and their clothes. He lifted her onto the wagon once more and snapped the reins. The horse regained his footing, and the wagon inched upward through the deepening snow.