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stretched somewhere between anxious and bewildered.  Sooner than I expected.
Well, Inever expected anything like this. We always meant to do right by you,
for your wedding. This is all so quick. We ve done more preparing forFletch .
She frowned at this felt injustice.
 I m glad it s no more. This is making me nervous enough.
 You sure about this, Fawn?
 Today, no. All my tomorrows, yes.
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 Nattie s kept your confidences. But, you know, if you want to change your
mind, we can stop this right now. Whatever trouble you think you re in, we
could manage it somehow.
 Mama, we ve had this conversation. Twice. I m not pregnant. Really and
truly.
 There are other kinds of troubles.
 For girls, that s the only one folks seem to care about. She sighed.  So
how many out there are saying I must be, for you to let this go forward?
 A few, Mama admitted.
A bunch, I ll bet. Fawn growled.  Well, time ll prove  em wrong, and I hope
you ll make them eat their words when it does,  cause I won t be here to.
Mama went around behind her and fussed with her hair, which needed nothing.
 I admit Dag seems a fine fellow, no, I ll go farther, a good man, but what
about his kin? Even he doesn t vouch for your welcome where you re going. What
if they treat you bad?
I ll feel right at home. Fawn bit down on that one before it escaped.  I ll
deal. I dealt with bandits and mud-men and blight bogles. I can deal with
relatives. As long as they re not my relatives .
 Is thissensible ?
 If folks were sensible, would anyone ever get married?
Mama snorted.  I suppose not. She added in a lower voice,  But if you start
down a road you can t see the end of, there s a chance you ll find some dark
things along it.
About to defend her choice for the hundredth time, Fawn paused, and said
simply,  That s true. She stood up.  But it s my road. Our road. I can t
stand still and keep breathin . I m ready. She kissed her mama on the cheek.
 Let s go.
Mama got in one last, inarguable maternal sigh, but followed Fawn out. They
collected Nattie and Ginger and Filly along the way. Mama made a quick circuit
of the kitchen, finally set aside her towel, straightened her dress, and led
the way into the parlor.
The parlor was jammed, the crowd spilling over into the hall. Papa s brother
Uncle Hawk Bluefield and Aunt Rose and their son still at home; Uncle and Aunt
Roper and their two youngest boys, including the successful water-lily finder;
Shep Sower and his cheery wife, always up for a free feed; Fletch and Clover
and Clover s folks and sisters and the twins, inexplicably well behaved, and
Whit and Papa.
And Dag, a head above everyone but still looking very surrounded. The white
shirt fit him well. There hadn t been time for smocking or embroidery, but
Nattie and Aunt Roper had come up with some dark green piping to set off the
collar and cuffs and button placket. The sleeves were made generous enough to
fit over his splints, and over his arm harness on the other side, with second
buttons set over to tighten the cuffs later. There had been just enough of the
shell buttons left to do the job. Fawn had whisked his sling away from him
yesterday long enough to wash and iron it, so it didn t look so grubby even
though it was growing a bit tattered. He was wearing the tan trousers with
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fewer old stains and mends, also forcibly washed yesterday. His worn knife
sheath, riding on his left hip, looked so much a part of him as to be almost
unnoticeable despite its wicked size.
A bit of spontaneous applause broke out when Fawn appeared, which made her
blush. And then Dag wasn t looking at anything else but her, and it all made
sense again. She went and stood beside him. His right arm twitched in its
sling, as though he desperately wanted to hold her hand but could not. Fawn
settled for sliding her foot and hip over, so that they touched along the
side, a reassuring pressure. The sense of strain in the room, of everyone
trying to pretend this was all right and be nice for Fawn s sake, almost made
her want them all to revert back to their normal relaxed horribleness, but not
quite.
Shep Sower stepped forth, smiled, cleared his throat, and called them all to
attention with a few brief, practiced words. To Fawn s relief, he glanced at
Dag and skipped over his usual dire wedding jokes, which everyone else here
had likely heard often enough to recite themselves anyhow. He then read out
the marriage contract; the older generation listened with attention, nodding
judiciously or raising eyebrows and exchanging glances now and then. Dag,
Fawn, her parents, the three adult couples, and Fletch and Clover all signed
it, Nattie made her mark, and Shep signed and sealed it all.
Then Papa brought out the family book and laid it open on the table, and much
the same exercise was repeated. Dag stared curiously over Fawn s shoulder at
the pages, and she thumbed back a bit through the entries of births, deaths,
and marriages and land swaps, purchases, or inheritances to silently point out
her own birth note and, several pages earlier, the note of her own parents
wedding, with the names and countersigned marks of the witnesses many long
dead, a few still right here in this same room doing this same task.
Then Dag and Fawn, coached by Shep, said their promises. There had been a bit
of a debate about them, yesterday. Dag had shied at the wording, all the
farmer pledges to plow and plant and harvest in due season, since he said he
wasn t likely to be doing any of those things and for a wedding vow he ought
to be speaking strict truth if ever he did. And as for guarding the land for
his children, he d been doing that all his life for everybody s children. But
Nattie had explained the declarations as a poetical way of talking about a
couple taking care of each other and having babies and growing old together,
and he d calmed right down. The words did sound odd in his mouth, here in this
hot, crowded parlor, but his deep, careful voice somehow gave them such weight
it felt as if they might be used to anchor ships in a thunderstorm. They
seemed to linger in the air, and all the married adults looked queerly
introspective, as if hearing them resonating in their own memories. Fawn s own [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]