Donovan's Daughter (The Californians, Book 4) (20 page)

Alex was stunned. What a bizarre rule, he thought incredulously. The next instant he realized why she always
wore such dark clothing.

"Your dresses, I should say the dark color of your dressesare they a part of the contract too?"

Marcail nodded, and Alex could only look at her. He
asked himself just how badly he wanted to take on the
Willits school board.

"If you're thinking of going to Mr. Flynn, please don't."
Marcail had accurately read his mind. "I've learned to
live with the situation, and I knew the terms of the
contract before I signed it."

"So before you taught here, you would normally wear
your hair up, and just live with the pain?" Alex just
barely managed to keep the speculation from his voice.

"No, not exactly. I seldom had occasion to wear my
hair up, and when I would get a headache, I didn't relate it
to my hairstyle. Such a thing never occurred to me until I
moved here."

"So you didn't actually know it would be a problem?"

"No, I guess I didn't."

"Before we were married, did you go home each day
and take your hair down?"

"Most days, yes. As long as I knew I was home for the
day."

"Did that help?"

"Yes. I mean, I would still get a headache, but it would
be gone before bed."

It occurred to Alex that they could cut her hair, but the
thought made him cringe, and he mentally shook his
head no.

"You need to come home each day and take your hair
down. Lie down if that will help. If you find that still
doesn't alleviate the pain, then we'll have to think of
another solution."

Marcail didn't reply. She was again thinking how different he was from her original view of him, and that
most of the time she didn't even remember his title of
"doctor."

"You're looking rather pensive," Alex commented
softly. "Want to share?"

Marcail gave a small shrug. "You're just different than
I first thought."

"Good different, or bad different?"

it
"Good.

Alex nodded, feeling satisfied and thinking absently
how lovely she looked in the lantern light. "Have you
started to feel married yet?"

"Not yet. I mean, I wrote my family and all, but even
after seeing it on paper it's still pretty unreal in my
heart."

"Would it help if I kissed you good night, or would
that scare you?"

Marcail hesitated.

"You can be honest," Alex encouraged her.

"I think right now it would scare me, but I'm afraid if I
say no, you'll never offer again." Marcail could hardly
believe she'd been so open with her feelings.

Alex was thrilled with her answer and chuckled softly
as he left his place on the sofa and stood before his wife.
The sound of his laugh, as well as the way he stood
looking at her, sent a chill down Marcail's spine.

"Make no mistake, Marcail, I will offer again-I will
definitely offer again."

Marcail sat very still as he turned and moved on bare
feet out of the room. She had wanted to get some extra
sleep, but as it was, it took some time before she found
her rest.

Marcail, usually a morning person, exercised great
effort to haul herself from the sofa the next morning. Her
nose lifted toward the smell of coffee coming from the
direction of the kitchen, and almost of their own volition
her feet moved to the table. She sat in a kitchen chair,
yawning and looking very fuzzy around the edges.

Alex, having been up for nearly an hour, placed a mug
of hot coffee in front of her, took a chair opposite, and
worked at not laughing. He'd never seen Marcail this
way-without her robe, her hair a disaster, and struggling to focus on the cup before her. Alex realized then
that he'd never seen her anything but cheerful in the
morning. He wondered which Marcail he liked best.

"Good morning," Alex finally spoke when she looked
a little more lucid.

"Good morning." Marcail attempted a sleepy smile. "I
can't seem to wake up this morning." Alex watched as
she took another sip of coffee, propped her elbow on the
table, and leaned her chin into her palm.

"Did you sleep well?"

"Once I got to sleep, yes."

Alex was tempted to ask if his question and their discussion the night before had upset her, but he kept his
thoughts to himself.

"How did you sleep?" Marcail said without blinking
as she stared at some spot over his right shoulder. Alex
wondered if she was headed back to sleep.

"Fine." This time he could not keep the laughter from
his voice. Marcail, even in her sleepy state, noticed.

"You're laughing at me."

"You're right," Alex chuckled.

"If you keep it up, I'm going to go back to bed."

"If you do that, we'll be late for church."

Marcail sat up straight, sobering instantly. "I'd completely forgotten it was Sunday." Marcail, who never
gave up or hid from any task, was tempted for the first
time to tell Alex she was not up to going.

"This first Sunday will be the hardest." Alex accurately guessed her thoughts. "And don't forget that
families like the Austins, Vespermans, and Whites will
be there. You'll also see Allie, who has shown you her
loyalty."

Marcail nodded, trying to convince herself of his
words. 'Are you not at all bothered about going this
morning?" For some reason she had to know.

"Not for myself," Alex told her simply.

His real thoughts, thoughts of protecting her no
matter what, stayed quiet within him. He knew that if
anyone so much as looked at her cross-eyed, he'd champion her like a mother with a hurting child.

Alex rose from the table to start breakfast, all the time
wondering if anyone in town knew what a sacrifice she'd
made. She had been threatened, humiliated, frightened,
rejected, and nearly forced into marriage so she could
stay in town, teach the children, and possibly tell someone of Christ's love.

Alex didn't for one instant fault her motives or feel
used. In fact, he agreed with her and praised God that
she consented to marry him. But part of him wanted
people to praise her, to understand her commitment and
love for the children, and to put her on a pedestal because of it.

Then Alex's thoughts went to Jesus Christ and His life
on earth. No man was more misunderstood, no man had
suffered more humiliation and rejection than He had.
The "pedestal" He was put upon was a cross, to die for
sins He could not possibly have committed.

Alex glanced back at the table to where Marcail still
sat. She'd retrieved her Bible and sat reading quietly. He
might be able to share his thoughts with her someday,
but for now, he prayed. He knew God would show her in
His special way that she'd done the right thing, and that
He was going to honor her obedience.

By the time church was over, Marcail was convinced
that rejection would have been easier to take than everyone's self-satisfied looks over their belief that she was no
longer a "fallen woman." It was enough to make Marcail's blood boil, and she tried hard to keep her emotions
in check.

They were eating lunch at Austins when Kay noticed
Marcail was about to explode. Intending to give Marcail
and Alex some time alone, she sent the girls on an
errand after the meal.

"Talk to me, Marcail," Alex said as soon as he'd shut
the parlor door.

"Two women I don't even know actually offered to
have the party at their house when our baby is born!"

Alex was not at all surprised. He'd tried to keep her at his side as much as possible, but it seemed the people at
church were determined to separate them.

"Honestly!" Marcail continued. "It was almost easier
to take the cold shoulders I received last week than those
ridiculous, speculative glances on the faces of certain
people."

He was silent as he watched her flushed face. Marcail
stood shaking in the middle of the room, her arms crossed
over her chest and one small-booted foot tapping an
angry tattoo on the rug.

A few minutes of silence followed, and then Alex
watched as Marcail's shoulders slumped. She moved to
the sofa and sat down heavily. Her body was still now,
her hands limp in her lap, her foot motionless. Alex
joined her on the sofa. She turned her head slightly away
from him, but not before he'd seen the tears gathering in
her eyes. He waited for her to bury her face in her hands
and sob loudly, as his first wife had done so many times,
but it was not to happen.

Alex watched her profile in fascination as silent tears
streamed down her cheek. Marcail turned back to look at
him, the tears still flowing. Not even when she spoke did
she sound like she was crying, just slightly out of breath.
It was the most heartbreaking thing Alex had ever witnessed.

"I know it's my pride, Alex; that's all it is. But I feel so
hurt, so wounded that everyone believes the worst of
me."

Alex put his arms around her, and Marcail allowed
herself to be pulled against his chest. An occasional
shudder ran over her frame, but other than the hot tears
seeping through the fabric of his shirt, he'd have never
known she was crying.

"Can you hear me?" he said softly after some minutes. Marcial nodded against his chest, but did not lift her
head.

"It's going to take some time, but everyone will soon
be used to our being married, and no one will think any
more of it. I'm sure some of the older women in town
think this is all very romantic. In their own clumsy way,
they're trying to show you support."

Marcail raised her head to look at him. Alex, still one
arm around her, gently wiped the tears from her face
with his free hand. The action made Marcail feel cherished. He looked down at her with tender eyes, and
Marcail found herself wanting to cling to him.

"You're not embarrassed about our marriage, are you,
Alex?" The thought had just occurred to her, and her
voice held a hint of wonder.

"What a silly question," Alex spoke softly and pressed
a kiss to her forehead.

I like you, Alex, Marcail thought to herself. I like you a lot.

"Are you going to be all right?" Alex spoke into her
thoughts, his voice warm and caring.

"Yes," Marcail answered, thinking his arms felt wonderful. "Thanks to you, I think I'm going to be fine."

Her words gave Alex a very satisfied feeling, although
neither one spoke again for some time. The girls eventually came back, and the Montgomery family was joined
by Dean, Kay, and the girls. The remainder of the afternoon was spent in good fellowship and fun.

Marcail stood across the kitchen from her husband,
her entire being radiating frustration. It was Friday morning, and they were leaving for Fort Bragg in just an hour.
They were also having their first verbal disagreement.

It had started ten minutes earlier while they were still
getting ready to go. Alex noticed Marcail was putting up
her hair. He questioned her, and the argument ensued.