I Shall Be Near to You(6)

The woodstove inside is already burning, but I am shivering with cold, my leather boots soaked through. Jeremiah closes the door behind us and then he comes to me.

‘You’re so cold,’ he says. ‘Maybe we ought to stand by the stove …’

‘Maybe you ought to come and keep me warm,’ I say, and smile up at him, at this thing we can do now that what we are to each other ain’t a secret.

We stand right inside the door, Jeremiah at my back, his arms around me, waiting for everyone to come give us their congratulations and best wishes.

The desks are pushed back along the walls and the churchladies have all laid their best tablecloths and set out cookies and sweetbreads made special. At the front, on Miss Riggs’ desk, is Mama’s linen embroidered tablecloth, and sitting there is our wedding cake, a ginger cake from my new sister-in-law Sarah.

‘You all right?’ Jeremiah asks.

‘I just want to go home,’ I say, turning into him. ‘It’s too much, all these people looking at us, talking about us.’

‘It’s only nice things they’ll be saying.’

But I know how those churchladies talk, and their daughters judge, and I don’t tell him how I already heard Mrs. Jewett saying if people wanted to make a fuss over something they ought to be baking for soldiers’ boxes instead of some farm girl’s wedding.

Jeremiah takes my hands, holding them out wide as he takes a step back. ‘I ain’t missing this for the world,’ he grins. ‘When else do I get to show off my pretty new wife?’

My cheeks flush but I look from under my eyelashes at him, trying not to think what he means by when else.

The schoolhouse door opens and Jeremiah moves to stand beside me. My stomach drops like we’re standing back in front of the whole church.

Our families come ahead of the rest of the congregation, Jeremiah’s Ma, Mama and Betsy, our papas behind and then Jeremiah’s brothers and their wives and children. Jeremiah and his brothers are cut of the same cloth, their straight mouths and blue eyes and coffee-colored hair from their Ma, their long bones like their Pa. But Jeremiah is like cloth that has been washed to a softness, where James and Jesse are stiff and dark like fabric fresh off the bolt. Their wives, Alice and Sarah, ain’t a thing like me. Alice is big eyed and Sarah is quiet and both of them ain’t a thing but gentle.

They come at us fast, all at once. Mama beams like she has got every one of God’s blessings and takes her place next to me, kissing me on the cheek. Jeremiah’s Ma stands straight in her lace collar next to him, looking at me like she is counting my flaws. But Papa takes my shoulders in both his hands and kisses my forehead. ‘You make me proud.’

It warms me from the inside out when Papa turns to Jeremiah and says, ‘You take care of my girl.’

Somehow Sully, standing a head taller than the rest, and Henry and Jimmy get themselves to the front of the line, and with their huffing they must’ve run across the schoolyard to get here quick. Those three boys are all proper with my Mama, but when Jimmy lingers over Betsy, too nervous to even shake her hand, Sully bumps past and takes mine like he aims to kiss it, like I am some fancy lady.

Henry pumps my arm up and down and then leans in to whisper, ‘You ain’t taking Jeremiah away from us, are you?’ and before I can say how I ain’t the one going anywhere, he turns to shake Jeremiah’s hand.

When Jimmy can’t hold up the line any more, he comes, saying, ‘You look real nice, Rosetta. I told Henry you’d clean up good.’

Henry and Jimmy’s Pa put his stamp on every one of his babies, giving them each his same sturdy build and ruddy coloring and crazy teeth, except Jimmy got all the freckles and smiles.

The people keep coming: the Prices with their daughter Harmony who only ever looks down at the floor, old Miss Weiss who tells me I look real fine when everyone knows she’s as blind as can be. Mrs. Waite, who used to be Elsie Callison, only two years ahead in school, steps up to me, her face pale against her black mourning dress, little Charlotte on her hip, that baby wearing black ribbon armbands too. Mrs. Waite glowed like a lantern the first months after she married Clarence Waite, was round with child not even six months later. Then Mr. Waite left for his ninety days, thinking to get a nest egg before the baby was born, and now he ain’t ever coming back. She rests her hand on my shoulder, swallowing back tears, and says, ‘I hope you’ll be happy,’ before hurrying past Jeremiah without saying a thing.

And then my attention snaps to the Snyders, who oughtn’t to have bothered showing, not when Mr. Snyder and my Papa don’t do a thing but argue over water rights and Eli Snyder ain’t ever caused nothing but trouble for me. But of course they are here, with Mrs. Snyder being a particular friend of Jeremiah’s Ma. Jeremiah takes my hand tight and I hold everything inside a deep breath, reminding myself to be a good daughter-in-law. Mama is gracious to the Snyders and I make myself be like her for once, shaking their hands pleasant as can be.

When Eli steps forward I pretend he is nothing more than one of Sully’s carved figures come to life, with thick bones and coarse features. Eli grabs for my outstretched hand but before anyone can see how bad it’s shaking, Jeremiah moves to meet him, standing right in front of me.

‘Eli,’ Jeremiah says, ‘I didn’t think you’d be coming.’

Jeremiah’s Ma purses her lips together and then Eli’s eyes meet mine over Jeremiah’s shoulder. ‘Congratulations on getting yourself a wife,’ he says. ‘She managed to look real pretty today.’