Marriage of Necessity

~2~ Ain't Interested In Ordinary

The dust from the dirt path is making my throat feel dry and akin to leather. I'm not used to this at all; My home was in Rhode Island. When I would walk the path up to the coast, the sea breeze would invigorate and refresh me in an instant. Who doesn't love listening to the seagulls squawk?

I ignore the itchiness in my throat and the urge to cough. I don't want Matthew to think he's marrying a sickly woman.

"You always lived here?" I ask, hating the silence more than anything. My pa would get tired of my constant prattling at home. Unbeknownst to him, this man is in for a treat with me.

"Mhmm," he says simply. Apparently this man doesn't prattle.

I remain silent the rest of the ride. Heaven forbid he gets sick of my shenanigans and throws me off the wagon. I'm sure I'd make a feast for the vultures flying around. That thought makes me shudder.

When we get to a small, one-room white building, he pulls on the reigns softly. 

"Woah," he says to his horses. Once they have stilled, he wraps the reigns around the hitching post. Then he comes over and reaches out his hand, helping me down so I don't trip over these blasted skirts.

His hands are rough and calloused. I can immediately tell he's a farmer; An extremely hard worker. His entire hand engulfs my small one. I suddenly wonder what those hands would feel like on me.

My lands! What on earth is wrong with me? I've never had such thoughts before.

I shake my head angrily, trying to rid my brain of such silly notions. Matthew sees me, but doesn't ask what's wrong. He probably thinks he's marrying a ninny.

"The children go to school here during the week," he says in a low, gruff tone as we go inside.

When we get in, it's not nearly as nice as I was anticipating. The floor is dirt, and not wood like I was imagining. The room is small and cramped, with a wood-burning stove in the corner. I can't imagine that would bring much warmth during the frigid winter months.

He walks silently up to the man waiting, and points over his shoulder.

"Ready Preacher?" He asks in an uncivil tone.

The preacher clears his throat. "Shouldn't you introduce us, Matthew?"

Matthew sighs and rolls his eyes. "Miz Brennan, this is Preacher Donovan. Preacher Donovan, this is Miz Brennan. Can we get on with it?"

Preacher Donovan looks up at the ceiling for a moment, as if begging the good Lord for patience to deal with this man. Then he nods, motioning us over.

The ceremony is quick. We don't even exchange rings. We hold hands for just a second until we are Man and Wife. Once we are, Matthew drops his hands so quickly, I almost wondered if he somehow burned himself.

We leave just as quickly as we came, and continue along the horribly dusty path.

When we finally reach the farm, I take it all in quickly. The small house is set up on a hill, overlooking miles of wheat. The barn is on the lower half of the dirt lot, where I can hear chickens clucking and cows bellowing. I see a couple of goats eating grass along the edge as well. I ignore the smells of manure permeating the air and making my stomach churn for the third time today.

I hear children shrieking in delight, chasing a cow around the pasture.

I smile, immediately at ease with the childish antics. Three children, with torn clothes and dirty faces, are laughing joyously as the poor cow has fear in its eyes. Before I can say anything, Matthew let's out a disgusted noise under his breath.