Enchanted Heart (14 page)

Yes, she had been married before and had felt the overwhelming sense of enjoyment that an intimate relationship would cause in a normal marriage. But her relationship with Elias was far from exhilarating. Their union was proper, formal and typically civil, not that Elias had not tried to be impulsively passionate at times, which usually ended in his embarrassed apology and hasty departure. The intimacy, or lack thereof, always left Marty with a lonely, empty feeling as if she knew in her heart that there was something more to it. And to her relief, she finally realized that her yearning body did possess that illusive lock for which only Caid held the key.

Pictures of Caid’s handsome face inundated her mind, filling her with an all-encompassing warmth that the hot water had not caused. Languidly, she opened her eyes as if she believed that he was actually there, slowly moving closer to her for a long and luxurious kiss. Easing higher in the tub and closing her eyes in order to conjure his face again, Marty leaned her neck on the cool copper rim of the tub while her fingers wiped the droplets of water from her chin.

The soothing movement of her fingertips upon her skin stirred a feeling in her body that mirrored one that would be attained by the feather-light kisses that she imagined Caid’s lips would evoke. Needing, yearning for that feeling to come over her again, she moaned and slowly, delicately ran her fingertips down the angle of her chin, over the curve of her neck until her hand slipped into the tepid water.

Suddenly shocked by her ghastly actions, Marty sat up straight in the tub. She giggled and swiped a damp lock of hair from her flaming forehead before she rubbed a hard cake of soap onto the washcloth as if to wash away her lurid thoughts.

But he came to her in her dreams, as realistic as if he was lying with her in that large feather bed, kissing her lips, her chin, her neck and beyond. Deft fingers tantalized her, shocked her naïve mind while coaxing the unabashed, uninhabited emotions from her burgeoning, brazen body. Writhing within the cotton sheets, Marty was very nearly on the verge of ecstasy when a child’s cry brought her back to reality. Nestling into the blankets once again, she heard Elsa’s soothing voice through the walls as she calmed Baby Jake in the pre-dawn light.

That morning after leaving Seraphina with their cousin and her family, Marty and Greta hired a cab to take them on a ride through town. As the horse clip-clopped over the bricked streets, they noticed the Fachwerk houses, which reminded them of their home in Germany. These houses, like their home in Wasserburg, were built with upright timber frames and the large spaces in between the frames had been filled with rocks and were plastered over and then whitewashed. Some of the older houses were fashioned out of post oak logs that had been buried into the ground for stability and then finished somewhat like the newer houses, but in a more crude fashion.

“Look, Marty, there’s a school!” Greta said excitedly while she pointed to a small brick building that stood alone on a block of land that had been surrounded with a low, white-washed fence.

Marty smiled and watched the children playing in the yard, fighting back tears when memories of her own students flooded her mind. She fought the instinct to wave to them as she had when she was a teacher while she’d passed the school yard after hours and children had stayed behind to play on the various apparatuses that dotted the yard.

She turned her head away while the carriage carried onward. Houses began to fill the district, the same type of houses that they had seen before, mixed with structures of a more English influence. A block from the school was a large house with a sign on the porch that she could barely read, for the carriage continued its journey through town. She craned her head to try to read the sign which boasted in very large words: “Josie’s Home For Women…No Men Allowed”. Curious, she could not take her eyes off of the beautiful house that bespoke of its welcoming charm yet announced that its hospitality was intended for females only. She wondered if the house belonged to the same Josie who had spoken so crossly to the owner of the store, Mr. Parnell.

The thought was chased away when they passed a church, at which time, Greta suggested that they attend services, to which Marty replied, “It’s Thursday.”

“Well,” Greta said after a sigh, “At least we could go inside and say a prayer.”

“Why?” Marty repeated her sister’s question when she had asked to go inside the store.

“Because we haven’t been to church in ages!”

“God doesn’t dwell only in the building,” Marty reminded her.

“I know,” Greta agreed with a shrug of her slim shoulders. “But I feel closer to Him inside His house.”

Marty smiled and conceded, “Let’s go inside.”

In the shadows beneath the balcony, they saw a figure that seemed to be wiping down the pews so they asked for permission to pray at the altar.

“You need not ask, my child,” the man said in a soft and loving voice. “All are welcome to find peace between these walls.”

“Are you the reverend?” the girls asked together, then giggled while the man merely smiled and bowed as if his gesture would answer their question.

“Reverend Dunham,” he announced while he extended his hand toward them.

“Greta Goldstein,” she said cheerfully as she shook his hand. “And this is my sister, Marty.”

“One would never believe that the two of you were sisters,” he quipped, then quickly crossed his forefinger over his chest as if to ask for forgiveness for even that tiny white lie.

The twins laughed and hugged each other without realizing that they had embraced before Marty released her sister and asked, “How long has this church been here?”

“Zion’s Evangelical Lutheran Church, as you saw by the plaque out front, was built by a group that had left the Evangelical Protestant Church years ago, which had been the first church in Fredericksburg,” Reverend Dunham explained while he motioned for them to follow him to the pulpit. As he walked, he continued his speech, “Our church, which was the first Lutheran Church here in the hill country, had been under the tutelage of Reverend Philip Zizelman since that departure from the Mother Church—until I came here a year ago.”

“Are there many Germans here?” Greta asked with eyes wide.

“Meine Tochter, es gibt viele,” Reverend Dunham answered while he hugged her. In English, he repeated, “There are many, my daughter.”

Feeling at home in this church, in this town, the women felt as if they somehow belonged, as long as they were surrounded by the reminders of their homeland. But when they awoke the next morning, they realized that their destiny was beyond this quaint town and beyond the distant mountains that lay ahead of them. So, they checked out of the lavish hotel and hired a cab to take them back to the wagon train and their future.

Chapter Fifteen

The sisters never looked back at Fredericksburg, knowing that they were on their way to a new town and a new life. Instead, they kept their eyes forward, toward the dream that they both shared, Papa’s dream of land for the taking for any who dared to cross the Texas landscape and call it home.

When the wagons headed north-west, they had to cross the Llano River where Elm, pecan, hackberry and black hickory rose above the sometimes marshy land near the water that rushed over smooth rocks that sometimes tumbled with the current. Later, they crossed layers of beautifully sparkling granite that shown like diamonds in the early morning sun. The layers, which proved difficult to maneuver the wagons over, spilled into thicker layers. These, they had to avoid, sending them far out of their path and into higher ground. The granite rocks that the wagon wheels had to roll over were as big as a man’s head, which in one instance, broke the axle on one of the wagons when the wheel hit the hard ground again.

Marty offered to let the family haul their things in her wagon, but Caid said that it would weigh it down too much and that they would have to leave their things and the wagon behind. The family did put their most precious things and their clothes into Marty’s wagon and then walked along side it with smiles on their faces as if nothing had happened.

It became increasingly difficult to follow the path that had been left by the settlers who had come before them because the rocks that fell from the sides of the mountains sometimes blocked their way and they would have to divert yet again. Their journey, it seemed, would take a little more time than Caid had expected. But he pushed them onward until the sun disappeared behind the mountains that multiplied in front of them. Everyone in the party was happy to plop down on the boulders that dotted the valley where Caid said they would camp for the night.

Around the camp were live oak, post oak and blackjack oak with Bluestem and grama grass thriving in their shade. The children picked persimmons to snack on while supper was being prepared. The men went to hunt squirrels and rabbits for the next day’s meal but returned later with not only plenty of this type of game, but a turkey and a white-tailed deer, all of which were cleaned and wrapped in cloth that had been soaked in salted water and then packed tightly in a barrel surrounded by mounds of salt.

After supper, Marty cleaned the dishes while the others sat around the campfire and sang along with someone’s guitar. Then she joined them in a rousing melody that caused them all to cheer at the end. She was not surprised when Caid hugged her and then pulled her onto his lap, nor did she protest, for it seemed perfectly natural to her. She wrapped her arms around his neck and nuzzled the space between his black curls and his shoulders, taking in the woodsy scent of him.

The dreams that had haunted her in the hotel bed returned, filling her mind with visions that she should not dare recall, much less hope to come true. But being in his arms made her want to feel the emotions and sensations that her night-time fantasy had conjured up and her body responded on its own. When she eased closer to his chest, her eager breasts brushed his shirt and the warmth of his skin mingled with hers. A deliciously wicked smile curled her lips which caused Caid to wink knowingly while rewarding her with a broad, expressive grin.

And then, he seemed as if he was in a trance. For long moments, he looked into her face. His deep blue eyes mirrored hers somewhat, but hers were just a shade lighter and the little specks of gold in hers reflected the firelight, which caused him to comment to her how they sparkled like the granite. She ducked her head into his neck again and he encircled her more tightly into his strong arms and they watched the campfire dance in its circle of stones, which twinkled around the fire like shining stars.

Caid then whispered into her hair, “I missed you.”

Marty smiled and whispered back, “I missed you, too.”

“I missed your laugh most of all,” he mused, which was a lie, but a plausible one and a more appropriate reason for causing him to miss her. While he moved a strand of her auburn hair from her neck, exposing the creamy white column, he thought that this is what he missed the most. This closeness, this stolen intimacy that she seemed to be afraid of yet which she craved just as much as he did, was what his heart longed to return to. He touched his lips to the warm flesh there while rubbing the slip of hair between his thumb and forefinger before he breathed in a long sigh and said as he let his breath back out, “You smell so good.”

Marty laughed and told him, “It’s because I finally was able to bathe. I mean a real bath with scented salts and a tub and…”

She stopped suddenly because she feared that her words might lead him to think about her unclothed and she was not quite ready to have his mind meandering in that direction. And because his touch, his kiss had reminded her of her actions in the tub and then the wonderful dream that followed. Embarrassed, she changed the subject, “We ate at the diner, too. We had steak and potatoes and gravy and green beans that the owner had canned. It was wonderful. You should have joined us.”

Caid smiled at the way her lips curved in dreamy recollection at her first encounter with a hotel. He’d heard her discuss with her sister and cousin that none of them had ever stayed in a hotel and that she was so looking forward to it. He dropped the tuft of hair, laying a palm upon her shoulder and expertly easing the blouse downwardly to expose her creamy skin and asked, “Was it as wonderful as you had expected?”

“Mmm. More,” she answered, relishing the sensation that his touch had triggered and leaning into him without thinking how improper her actions would seem to the others. While she stretched her arms out in front of her and shrugging the blouse back into place without blatantly giving him a warning that he was being too forward, she sighed contentedly and said dreamily, “I could have stayed in that tub forever!”

“So, in one night, you’ve become accustomed to the finer things in life?” Caid asked with a jovial tone in his voice as he eyed the shoulder that she had strategically recovered, but he did not try that tactic again. Instead, he took her hand into his and interlaced his fingers with hers while he watched her expression as she talked.

“One night in my whole life was enough to last me the rest of my life,” she said with finality in her voice, for she had lived that lavish lifestyle and did not want to be influenced by it ever again.

“To experience something one time in your life will suffice for you?” Caid asked with a slightly improper undertone, for he knew that she was a widow and that she had experienced love and all that it entailed. He squeezed her fingers to accentuate his tone just to see her reaction.

Marty threw him a sideways glance, knowing exactly to what he was referring, but she ignored his allusion that she had enjoyed enough intimacy in her lifetime to last her a lifetime. Then, she pulled her hand free and clasped her own fingers together in front of her as she stared at the stars, seemingly in a trance and said as if trying to change the subject, yet still clinging to the intimate insinuation that he had started, “I love to soak in a hot, steamy bath every now and then. But to bathe in a stream can be just as luxurious.”