Timeless

CHAPTER 5

1935

S he’d been named after a cow, her father’s favorite cow on the farm when he’d been growing up. Debbie had survived the famine, the dust storms, the disease that had taken so many of the farm’s animals just when they’d needed them the most, the– Well, everything that could’ve hit a struggling farm. She’d been the last cow standing, and once her grandfather had found a bull to mate her with, Debbie had given them a calf. Things had gotten a bit better for her father and the family farm then, and when he’d later met and married her mother, and she’d had their only child, he’d chosen her name. It was Deborah. Her mom had told her once that that was the only way she’d agreed to let the man name her child after a cow. Debbie had been the cow. Sometimes, they’d called her Deb, too, so their daughter would be Deborah and only Deborah. He’d never be allowed to call her Deb or Debbie, and as Deborah grew up, she’d been forbidden from doing the same thing.

“Why do you insist on making everything in this life, even your own name, so difficult? Your name is Deborah, not Deb or Debbie.” Her mother sighed. “Today, when you commit yourself to your husband, the preacher isn’t going to ask you if you, Deb or Debbie, want to make him your husband. He’s going to ask if you, Deborah Mary Wilson, want to make John David Stevens your husband.”

She’d always felt more like a Deb than Deborah or even Debbie and had asked her friends to call her Deb. Her family, though, she knew not to bother asking at all. Her mother had a long reach and wouldn’t permit it, but her friends from school would call her by the name she preferred whenever they were alone.

“Mama, I like Deb. ”

“I know you do. But you know I’m not about to allow that preacher to call you that in church when you’re standing up before God and making your commitment to John,” she said as she continued to fuss over the hand-me-down wedding dress.

It had first belonged to Deborah’s grandmother. She’d made it herself with her own mother’s help. Then, Deborah’s mother had worn it, too, making no tweaks to the dress at all outside of bringing in the waist slightly because she’d been a bit smaller. Now, for Deborah, she’d had to make several tweaks to it because where her grandmother and mother had been pretty small-chested, Deborah had larger breasts. She also had more curves, which her mom blamed on spoiling her too much with food that she didn’t always have as a young girl.

Deborah didn’t see a problem with being a little larger than some of the girls around town. She’d seen a few pictures, and the women in those were about her size, if not a little bigger, and they were Hollywood stars. Deborah didn’t wish that she could be one of them, but she did wish that her parents permitted her to do her writing, which they’d told her she’d need to stop once she was married because soon after that, she’d be welcoming children, and the rest of her days would be spent taking care of them and her husband.

“You’d have no time for that, anyway,” her mother had said when she’d asked if she could submit something to their local newspaper. “Better to just stop it now. I’m surprised John David even lets you do it still. Probably just waiting until you’re actually his wife to tell you to stop.”

Deb stared at herself in the old floor-length mirror, which had been a gift from her grandmother to her mother upon her wedding. She wondered if her mother would give it to her today as well, the start of yet another tradition that would now be Deb’s responsibility to maintain. The others included marrying a good man, whom she didn’t love, to help save the farm, having his children, and preferably, sons, to keep the farm in the family, being a good wife, just like her mother had been, cooking and cleaning while rearing children at the same time, and eventually, sitting on the front porch of the farmhouse, watching her grandchildren play for the few minutes a day that they got to be children before they had to help on the farm, too.

Everything in her mother’s life had been in service of her parents, her husband, and this farm. Deb’s life had been in service of her parents, the farm, and now, her husband. She would become a wife today, which meant that tonight, their wedding night, she would have to do something with John David that she never wanted to do with him or any other man. She’d have to share herself, something that was supposed to be reserved for a loving marriage, according to God. Of course, God, apparently, demanded that marriage also be between a man and a woman, which meant that she’d never have what she really wanted, whom she really loved.

“Mother, my dress is fine,” Deb said.

“This is your wedding day; you need to be perfect. And the church is always hot. I don’t want you to look like some wilted flower up there.” She pulled and tugged at Deb’s hair, which Deb had always wanted to cut shorter, but that was simply out of the question.

Her mother had put it into a braid for her and wrapped it up in the back, but there were some flyaways that needed tending to, so she licked her hand and used her spit to tame some of them down before she finally stood back and took a look at Deborah, who felt horribly awkward in this dress.

“Well, that’s the best I can do. We’ve got to get to the church now. The preacher will be mad if we’re late.”

“Can I have a minute to myself, Mama?” she asked.

“What do you need that for?”

“Mama, I’m about to be married.”

“So?”

“So, that means that tonight…”

Her mother nodded and said, “You’re worried about your wedding night?”

“Yes,” she replied .

That was the truth. Deb was worried about having to do that with a man for the first time. But she was mostly worried about doing that with someone who wasn’t the person she loved.

“It’ll be over before you know it,” her mom told her. “The first time is always quick, and it takes them a while to be ready again. It’ll be a long day, too, so it’ll probably just be that once tonight. It’ll probably hurt a little, but it won’t eventually.” She cupped Deborah’s chin. “It’s something they need more than us, so just remember that. When you think that you’re too tired, remember that he’s been out in the fields all day and is more tired than you are. He needs it, and it’s part of your duty as his wife to take care of his needs. Don’t want him going elsewhere, do you?”

Deb swallowed because she wouldn’t mind that at all, actually.

“I’ll give you a minute to think, but then, we’ve got to go, Deborah.”

“Yes, Mama,” she replied.

Her mom left Deborah’s room, which, she supposed, wouldn’t be her room anymore since tonight, she would be in John David’s room. After that, they’d move to their own house on the property until John David’s father handed over the farm and the main house to him, which would likely be soon since his father had been injured in the war and had come back unable to work the farm for more than a couple of hours a day. John David was a good man. He was the best of the bunch in this town, so she knew he’d treat her right, but her mother had also been right: he’d have needs as a man, and it would be her job to take care of those needs.

“Can I come in now?”

Deb looked up, breathed a sigh of relief, and smiled at Harriet.

“Yes, please,” she said.

Harriet hurried in, locking the door with the key, and turned to face her. She was so beautiful in her dress today. Then again, she was beautiful to Deb all the time. Harriet’s blonde hair, lightened each day by the sun, was wavy and pulled back away from her face, and her eyes were so blue that Deb lost herself in them every time she saw her. Harriet didn’t move to her, though, which she would’ve done on any other day. She’d take Deb in her arms and kiss her senselessly. Deb would be the one to lay them back on the bed. Their clothes would come off soon after, and she’d be bringing the love of her life pleasure, listening to her sounds and watching her face. When finished, they’d tell each other how much they loved the other, and they would hold on as tightly as they could before it was time for Harriet to go or for Deb to leave Harriet’s house.

Then, they’d see each other another time, and when in public, they’d act as the closest of friends, which was proper, but when it was just the two of them, whether it be in one of their houses or out in one of the grassy fields, where no one could see them, they were in love and happy. Everything would be perfect for a few hours whenever they were able to be away for that long. They would caress without rushing, kiss like they had no place to be, and speak about the future as if they could have it and no one could hurt them with reality there.

“How much time do we have?” Harriet asked without moving toward her.

“A few minutes,” she replied. “Mama will come back in soon. She’s worried the preacher will start the baptism that’s up after the ceremony if we’re not there on time.”

“My mama invited Lucas today.”

“Lucas?”

“As my date,” Harriet said.

“Oh,” Deb replied.

“He’s going to meet me there, but he’s to be my date to the party after. She told me that he’s been sweet on me for a while now and that he’s a good match because his father isn’t a farmer.” Harriet chuckled a little, but Deb knew her real laugh, and that wasn’t it.

Harriet’s laugh had always felt like honeysuckle to Deb. She supposed that was because since they’d met as kids while picking the stuff, she had always associated the two. They’d been going for the same flower as five-year-old little girls playing in the field, with their mothers watching on. Harriet’s family had moved to town not long before that, but the day in the field had cemented their friendship and the thought of Harriet’s laugh being like honeysuckle. This laugh wasn’t that one. It wasn’t sweet and beautiful. It was nervous and forced.

“I suppose, he’ll ask your father for your hand soon, then, knowing how much your mama wants you to get married.”

“Lucas doesn’t want to marry me. I don’t know that any man here does. And Papa doesn’t care about me. Mama does, but he’s in charge of the house and whatever man I marry. He’s got three sons, though. That’s all he cares about. I might as well be invisible to him, and I like it that way,” Harriet said. Then, she moved a step closer to Deb and added, “I was thinking…”

“What about?”

“About runnin’,” she said.

“Running?”

“Like we talked about, Deb. Just runnin’. Just getting out of this town, finding our own land, building a place to live just for you and me, and being together how we want.”

“Harriet, we can’t. I’m getting married today.”

“I know. But you don’t have to. Just…” Harriet moved to her then and took Deb’s hands in her own. “Just run with me. Pack a bag. I’ve got a bag of my own ready at home. We can pick it up and be out of town by nightfall. Hell, I can probably convince Lucas to give us a ride out of here. He’s not that bright, and if he likes me, he’d do it. We’d just make up some reason why you need to go or something.”

Harriet had brought up the idea of them running away at least a dozen times since they were teenagers. Sometimes, she’d say it in passing, softly against Deb’s ear after they’d made love. Other times, she’d say it more seriously and talk about making plans and where they’d go .

“We’ve been over this, Harriet. Where would we live? How would we make money? It’s not like we have any. And if you want to build something, where do we live before it’s done? In the woods somewhere? We’d be dead by winter.”

“Well, better dead together than alive apart,” Harriet argued, dropping Deb’s hands. “I might be able to get away with not being married for a few more years, if I’m lucky, but you’re marrying him today, Deb. He’s…” She lowered her voice. “He’s going to have his hands on you. He’s going to touch you.”

“You think I want that? I don’t. I only want you to touch me. We can’t have what we want, though. I have to marry John David. He’s a good man, Harriet. He’s the best in this dreadful place. I could’ve ended up with Albie. He beats on Marion sometimes. You know that, don’t you?”

“The whole town knows that,” Harriet said solemnly.

“Right. John David isn’t that way.”

“How do you know? You’re not his wife yet. What if he changes when you are?”

“I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.” Deb took a step toward her. “Now, we have to go. I need you standing up there with me, or I won’t make it through the day, Harriet.” Her eyes filled with tears. “I need to know that you’re there. I need to kiss you one more time before I have to kiss him.”

Harriet moved into her again finally and pressed her forehead to Deb’s.

“Just promise me that when you’re with him, you’re…”

“I love you . I only love you. I will only ever love you,” she said and cupped Harriet’s cheek. “You are the only person I will ever give myself to all the way; my head, my heart, my body, and soul are yours only and will be forever.”

“Those sound like wedding vows,” Harriet replied with a small smile.

Deb’s tears fell down her cheeks.

“They are,” she whispered.

“Then, I’ll make some to you, too. I love you . I only love you. I will only ever love you. You are the only person I will ever give myself to all the way; my head, my heart, my body, and soul are yours only and will be forever.” She pressed her lips to Deb’s. “Promise me that this won’t end because you’re marrying him.”

“I’ve already told you that I don’t want it to, but things will at least have to change, Harriet. I–”

“Just promise me right now, please. I need it.”

Deb nodded, with her forehead still pressed to Harriet’s, and whispered, “I promise.”