O'hara's Choice - Leon Uris [132]
“Well now, nobody in Nebo ever seen a Marine in officer’s uniform. They would be mighty pleased.”
“I’ll be a mess from the mud.”
“Oh, Pearly and the ladies will clean your uniform, sparkling.”
“Okay, buddy, you’ve got a deal.”
“All right! Amanda’s going to fly right through the roof.”
The trip was a spellbinding grind.
A first touch of Nebo reached them, scent of peat and a moment, voices in song.
They entered a churchyard filled with headstones, all leaning south, bent by the north winds.
Oh, sweet rose of Galilee,
Send thy precious love to me,
Lay me down, oh, lay me down,
On thy bosom,
On thy crown.
“That be Sister Sugar, Ulysses’s wife. She sure sounds nice when she’s just singing.”
Jeff hitched the horse, then gripped Zach’s arms, gave him an affectionate little shake to steady him up, and led him to the church door. When it opened a cold blast bolted in, causing everyone to turn around and look.
My God, what a handsome-looking white man! Shining head to toe like one of Jesus’ saints.
Pearly stopped playing. Sister Sugar stopped singing. The place froze like a tableau.
Zach took off his hat and nodded.
Amanda, in gingham, arose and came to the center aisle, each moving toward the other until they met. He lifted her into his arms and carried her out and set her down.
The church emptied. They were surrounded by celebrants. Amanda grabbed Zach’s hand, tugged him free of the welcomers, and pointed out their direction.
She turned and waved and everyone cheered and they ran off. Past Ned and Pearly’s cottage to a tiny pier. The duckwalk over to Veda’s was slippery and flooded from the ice storm. A small raft with a handline took them across the few feet of marsh.
With the voices zinging after them, Amanda opened the door. The lodge room was stunning with Laveda Fancy’s fine tastes, acquired as the matron of Inverness. Pewter plates and mugs set on the table and a giant beaten copper kettle at the fire and a grandmother’s clock of ancient vintage, and fine-cut crystal in an open cabinet, and furnishings hewn so long ago by some master Yankee craftsman, and large hand-wrought tongs that had lifted ten thousand logs.
There was a sleeping alcove with a four-poster bed covered by a Quaker quilt and a comfortable little reading nook alongside.
And Amanda’s touches to make her man warm in January. By the fireplace, feather beds had been laid out and were waiting for them to crawl under and there were enough candles to light a cathedral, and arrangements of rusted leaves, some scarlet, mostly brown.
Wine from France by way of Baltimore.
A sudden awkwardness closed in, and strangely, they seemed to hold each other off at arm’s length.
Zach tried to conjure up the words. “This is the most wonderful moment I’ve ever come upon or will ever know,” he said. “I want to love you perfect. If we savage each other, it could linger bad. I don’t want to screw it up.”
“You’re going to make me cry, Zach.”
“Slow and soft,” he said, “and we’ll whisper to each other and stay together.”
She nodded. “After their debuts, a lot of my girlfriends became engaged and married and some of them had very bad experiences, untidy and painful.”
“There’s something else I’d like to get over with, now. I can be here till mid-February, then I report to my new assignment. For the first several months, my whereabouts are to remain secret. I cannot tell you where and I am committed for up to two years.”
She had braced for such words and now took them staunchly. Her eyes grew wide. “Are you wearing captain’s bars?”
“Yes.”
They held each other lightly, like dancers, and swayed together. She whirled out of his arms.
“And I’ve saved up something to tell you as well. I know my lover loves me dearly. We are going to be glorious together.” Now she became nervous. “I have many friends among the artists, some very close, and some who have collections of salacious literature . . . often illustrated. I have devoured every piece of filth I could get my hands on and you are about