Trading Christmas - Debbie Macomber [64]
Martin approached her again. “Joe says he’ll throw in his Don Drysdale baseball card.”
“Not unless we’re married,” she repeated, smoothing the front of her sundress with a haughty air.
“All right, all right, I’ll marry her,” Joe muttered as he stalked across the backyard.
“How you gonna do that?” Martin demanded.
“Get your Bible.”
For someone who wanted to kiss her so badly, Joseph didn’t look very pleased. Caitlin decided to press her luck. “In the fort.”
“The fort?” Joe exploded. “No girls are allowed in there!”
“I refuse to marry a boy who won’t even let me into his fort.”
“Call it off,” Martin demanded. “She’s asking too much.”
“You don’t have to give me the second baseball card,” she said. The idea of being the first girl ever to view their precious fort had a certain appeal. And it meant she’d probably get invited to Betsy McDonald’s birthday party.
The boys exchanged glances and started whispering to each other, but Caitlin heard only snatches of their conversation. Martin clearly wasn’t thrilled with Joseph’s concessions, and he kept shaking his head as though he couldn’t believe his friend might actually go through with this. For her part, Caitlin didn’t know whether to trust Joseph. He liked playing practical jokes and everyone in the neighborhood knew it.
“It’s time to feed my baby,” she announced, preparing to leave.
“All right, all right,” Joseph said with obvious reluctance. “I’ll marry you in the fort. Martin’ll say the words, only you can’t tell anyone about going inside, understand?”
“If you do,” Martin threatened, glaring at his sister, “you’ll be sorry.”
“I won’t tell,” Caitlin promised. It would have to be a secret, but that was fine because she liked keeping secrets.
“You ready?” Joseph demanded. Now that the terms were set, he seemed to be in a rush, which rather annoyed Caitlin. The frown on his face didn’t please her, either. A bridegroom should at least look happy. She was about to say so, but decided not to.
“You’ll have to change clothes, of course. Maybe the suit you wore on Easter Sunday…”
“What?” Joseph shrieked. “I’m not wearing any suit. Listen, Caitlin, you’ve gone about as far as you can with this. I get married exactly the way I am or we call it off.”
She sighed, rolling her eyes expressively. “Oh, all right, but I’ll need to get a few things first.”
“Just hurry up, would you?”
Martin followed her into the house, letting the screen door slam behind him. He took his Bible off the hallway table and rushed back outside.
Caitlin hurried up to her room, where she grabbed a brush to run through her hair and straightened the two pink ribbons tied around her pigtails. She always wore pink ribbons because pink was a color for girls. Boys were supposed to wear blue and brown and boring colors like that. Boys were okay sometimes, but mostly they did disgusting things.
Her four dolls accompanied her across the backyard and into the wooded acre behind. She hated getting her Mary Janes dusty, but that couldn’t be avoided.
With a good deal of ceremony, she opened the rickety door and then slowly, the way she’d seen it done at her older cousin’s wedding, Caitlin marched into the boys’ packing-crate-and-cardboard fort.
Pausing inside the narrow entry, she glanced around. It wasn’t anything to brag about. Martin had made it sound like a palace with marble floors and crystal chandeliers. She couldn’t help feeling disillusioned. If she hadn’t been so eager to see the fort, she would’ve insisted they do this properly, in church.
Her brother stood tall and proud on an upturned apple crate, the Bible clutched to his chest. His face was dutifully somber. Caitlin smiled approvingly. He, at least, was taking this seriously.
“You can’t bring those dolls in here,” Joseph said loudly.
“I most certainly can. Barbie and Ken and Paula and