Until Tomorrow Read online

  I said, my voice shaking, “You went back into the fire. I saw you get Cider out and then you went back in…”

  “You risked your life,” he said again, his voice even more harsh around the lump of emotion in his throat. He rasped, “If something had happened to you I’d be destroyed. It would destroy me for good and I would die.”

  “You would have died anyway! You were unconscious in there!” I cried, not intending to allow so much anger to surface; the sudden surge of it surprised me, as I thought I had successfully buried it away. Case would never let our animals burn in a fire – and it was because he was this kind of man, the kind who would risk himself for something that he loved – that I loved him so fucking much, was fathoms-deep in love with him. But I was still furious at him for risking his life. I stormed, “I know you wouldn’t let them die, but you could have been taken from me. Forever. Do you know what I’ve been through this week, imagining that?”

  My tirade broke off as I choked on a sob. He was anguished at my words, I could clearly see, and he whispered, “I wasn’t thinking straight. I should have considered that you would come after me, my brave woman. I love you so, Tish. Oh God, I love you.”

  “Case,” I moaned, and then I was overpowered by need, kissing his cheeks and his chin, his lips, his eyes, closing them momentarily as my words flowed forth. “I love you, I love you with all my heart. I want to take you inside my body and keep you safe for always…”

  “Sweetheart,” he soothed, and his voice calmed me, made everything right in the world. He rocked me closer and said, “You have my heart. You’ve always had my heart, but I want to give you my name. I don’t want one more night to pass without you being mine in every way.”

  “Yes,” I said breathlessly, drawing back to see his eyes.

  Within five minutes we had assembled Marshall, Ruthann, and the hospital chaplain in the little lamp-lit room; the on-duty staff was rather confused, as they thought Case and I were already married. Ruthie was startled, I could tell, but Marshall was calm and smiling. He bent and hugged Case and then me, patting my back, and his eyes were full of quiet satisfaction.

  “Don’t you think we should call Mom and Aunt Jilly?” Ruthie kept asking, fluttering about like some kind of nervous little fairy; she kept smoothing my hair where I sat on the bed beside Case, as though concerned I wasn’t properly outfitted as a bride. She worried, “What about Milla and Clinty? Oh Tish, they’ll be so upset that they weren’t here…”

  “They’ll understand,” I assured her. “You and Marsh will be our witnesses. We’ll have a big party at Clark’s later this month, when we get home.”

  “But Tish…” Ruthie was teary-eyed. Her sweet voice was all quivery as she said, “But you don’t even have a veil…”

  Before I could reassure my little sister that I couldn’t care less about a veil, or a dress, Marshall, who had been quietly watching her, moved to her side and took her right hand into his left, and then cupped it between both of his hands. Even though two tears leaked over her cheeks, this gesture was endearing and unexpected enough that her nervous fluttering stilled.

  “Are we ready to proceed?” the chaplain asked politely. He was waiting at the foot of the bed, an older man with narrow-rimmed glasses and a simple clerical collar. He had a small bible in his hands, and kind blue eyes.

  “Wait!” Ruthie cried, and we all looked at her again. She insisted, “What about a ring?”

  “That’s a good point. Here,” Marshall said, gently releasing her hand. “I have an idea. I’ll be back in a minute. Less than that.”

  He disappeared and Case said to me, “I’ll get you a beautiful ring, don’t you worry. I just don’t have it tonight.”

  I said, “I don’t care about any old ring. You know me better than that. I care that you’re here with me and I am never going to take another day for granted. Not ever. I am going to cherish every moment we have together. Every last second.”

  He said, “There is nothing I need more in this world than you. I know you know that. But I will show you every day and every night for the rest of our lives.”

  Marshall burst back into the room, a little out of breath. He said, “I ran outside,” and then presented the ring he’d made of a dandelion stem, as proudly as if it were a two-carat diamond on a filigreed golden base.

  “It’s perfect,” I told him, just as Case said emotionally, “Thank you, little bro.”

  The chaplain looked with subtle amusement at Ruthann as he asked once more, “Are we ready to proceed?”

  My little sister flushed and I saw her reach for Marshall’s hand as he moved back to her side. He caught hers close at once and tucked it between both of his.

  “We are,” Case said, and the gravity of the moment caused everyone else in the room to fade to the background. I saw only my man, his auburn eyes holding fast to mine. He smiled sweetly at me and squeezed my fingers, and the moment was so right that it hit me the way a flash of radiant illumination would hit the inside of a long-darkened cave, unimaginably welcome.

  We had requested short and simple, desiring to be joined as husband and wife as quickly as possible. The chaplain checked his watch and then affirmed quietly, “It is just after midnight. On this fine early morning, the two of you wish to be married. And so I ask, do you, Charles Shea Spicer, take this woman, Patricia Joan Gordon, to be your wife, for better or worse, in sickness and health, forsaking all others, as long as you both shall live?”

  These words, so traditional, so formal, when all I could see were Case’s eyes, steady upon mine, the joy and power of this moment binding us. Death had come far too close to parting us, and his fingers tightened around mine, acknowledging this, as he said, his deep voice hoarse with emotion, “With all my heart, I do.”

  The chaplain said, “Then place your ring upon her finger,” and Case smiled, lifting my left hand to his lips and kissing my knuckles before he placed, with only a little difficulty, the dandelion-stem ring upon my third finger.

  “And do you, Patricia Joan Gordon, take this man, Charles Shea Spicer, to be your husband, for better or worse, in sickness and in health, forsaking all others, as long as you both shall live?”

  I was filled with quiet, intense joy as I said, amending his words a little, “Until the end of time, I do.”

  “Then by the power vested in me by the great state of Montana, I hereby on this eleventh day of August, two-thousand-thirteen, pronounce you husband and wife.”

  Ruthie was sniffling and leaning against Marshall, who was grinning. Case and I were kissing long before the chaplain said, with a hint of humor, “Son, you may kiss your bride.”

  “Damn right!” Marshall said. He swept down to hug the both of us, saying, “Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Spicer.”

  I laughed and cried at once, as Ruthie moved to hug us, swiping away her tears. She whispered, “I’m so happy I got to be here. Oh, Tish…”

  Marshall grabbed his guitar, which was waiting faithfully in the corner, and strummed out an exuberant version of “I Knew the Bride.” Ruthie held out her hands to me and asked formally, “May I have the first dance?”

  “Of course,” I said, laughing, and we waltzed in an uncoordinated fashion around the cramped little room, Case and Marsh grinning and the chaplain, who’d set aside his bible, clapping along to the song. For sure we were going to get kicked out now.

  “You’re married,” Ruthie said. Her eyes were still wet with tears even though she was smiling at me, her left hand clasped in my right as she took the man’s part, her arm around my waist as we danced, the way we had as kids fooling around. She said, “I love you, Tisha. I’m so happy for you.”

  “I love you, too,” I told her, tenderly. I thought of how she had reached for Marshall’s hand, and my heart tripped along in gladness.

  Maybe…

  Just maybe…

  “May I cut in?” asked the chaplain. “I make it a point to dance with the bride. And besides, it was so refreshing to preside at a we
dding service.”

  By the time we’d calmed down, it was after three in the morning. Two other patients, both of whom were able to leave their beds under their own power, had stopped into the room to congratulate us. One of the nurses presented us with a bottle of champagne (which she’d called her husband at home to bring to the hospital). Marsh popped the cork and all of us sipped straight out of the bottle, giggling; Ruthie spilled some down the front of her t-shirt.

  I could not have asked for a more beautiful or perfect wedding.

  Chapter Six

  “Where should we sleep?” I whispered to Marshall, as we crept out of the hospital in the wee hours of the morning, leaving Tish and Case happy as clams in Case’s room. The Montana sky was absolutely gorgeous with dawn, the first streaks of yellow reaching through a low-lying cloud bank, creating the illusion of ocean waves above the mountain peaks. The clouds were backlit with a bright saffron. I shivered, with both happiness and early morning chill, and when Marshall wrapped his right arm around me and drew me to his warm side, nothing had ever felt more natural.

  “I just don’t want you to be cold,” he explained, his low voice close to my ear. “That’s all. I’m not trying to be ungentlemanly.”

  Allowed this unexpected pleasure of being tucked against him, I snuggled close as we walked. Both of us slowed our pace so that we wouldn’t reach the truck so quickly and therefore be forced to move apart, as I well understood. I whispered back, “I know. And thank you.”

  “I’m so happy right now,” he said softly. “That was the most beautiful wedding I’ve ever had the privilege of attending.”

  “It was,” I agreed. “I’m so glad we were there. But…” I paused, swamped with guilt, which had assaulted me so much in the past few days. I explained, “But Camille will feel bad. And Mom…”

  “They’ll understand, don’t you worry,” Marshall said. “I was thinking about Dad and Gus, and everybody who probably should have been there too, but they’ll understand. They’ll all see what matters most, which is how perfectly happy those two are, just you wait.”

  “Okay,” I said, reassured. Marshall’s beat-up black truck was just in front of us. My heart plummeted with regret that we had reached it so fast.

  Marshall leaned down and kissed the top of my head. He whispered, “All right, I admit I just took advantage there.”

  I turned so that I could hug him to me, without questioning why, my arms going around his neck as I stood way up on tiptoe. I only knew that I wanted to hug him, to feel him hugging me back. Marshall’s arms went immediately around my waist, crushing me against his chest. He pressed his cheek to my right temple; my face was at his collarbones, and he smelled really good. I curled my fingers into his wavy, uncombed hair, holding fast to him, and his strong hands spread wide against my back.

  I fit so wonderfully against this man, as though his body curved and shaped instantly to accommodate mine, flowed and wrapped effortlessly around me. When I hugged Liam, it was as though I was hugging a tree trunk (maybe Aunt Jilly’s words played into that image a little), but never once had I experienced this sense of blending together with Liam so that our bodies seemed part of the same entity. With Marshall, holding him and being held, I didn’t even know exactly where my body ended and his began.

  I understood, This is how it’s supposed to be.

  “Don’t stop,” Marshall murmured, when I moved just slightly, as though to draw away, guilt driving the motion. Guilt, and fear, that what I was feeling was too strong to deny, sweeping me too quickly along. And Liam deserved better than that. Far better.

  “Marshall,” I whispered, holding him even harder.

  But he was the one to draw away, taking my face between his hands, his gray eyes pouring into mine in the early-morning light. My heart throbbed in my chest, loud in my ears.

  “I know,” he whispered softly, and then pressed his lips to my forehead, caressing my jaws with his thumbs. My blood jolted and my chin jerked upwards, instinctively towards his mouth, conveying my desperate desire to be kissed even more, but he closed his eyes and gently released me. He said, his voice rough, “C’mon, we better go.”

  I could hardly breathe, but I knew he was right. And so I nodded, not quite able to speak. Marshall opened the passenger door for me, and then walked around the hood to climb into the other side.

  I knew I had to say something, that I couldn’t sit in silence like a child. He started the truck and I said, lamely, “I’m sorry…”

  “Don’t be sorry,” he said, his voice still rough. He shifted into first and added, “Please.”

  I stumbled, “I mean…”

  Gently he interrupted, saying, “I have an idea, for today.”

  “What’s that?” I asked, daring to peek over at him. My heart hammered my ribs.

  “They’ve been barn-raising, like Wy was talking about yesterday. I’ve been here every day, I haven’t had a chance to help back at their place. But I know Dad and Garth have been busy this week, and everyone else. They’ve been cleaning and hauling. I bet we’re close to being able to get a barn going.”

  “That would be amazing,” I said, picturing it. I said, “But where is the wood coming from? The supplies?”

  Marshall said, “Donations, mostly. And Al. Don’t tell Tish, but he’s been heading all of the rebuilding efforts. Dad won’t accept any money, of course, but Al has been buying food and beverages, all that, while everyone works. It is amazing. What do you say we go there today?”

  “Don’t you need to sleep?” I asked, worried for him. “At least I slept on the way here, a little…”

  “I think I feel a second wind coming on,” he said, half-teasingly. “I’ll crash really hardcore later today.”

  I knew it was pointless to wish myself curled up with him, when he finally did get a chance to sleep, but I did wish it, deeply. Instead I said, “I would love to help. I can clean…how’s their trailer?”

  “A mess,” he said. “Both of them are slobs, I’m not gonna lie.”

  “Hey, I was raised in the same house with my sister, so I know that’s the truth,” I said. My hair was still in a sloppy bun on the back of my head and I eased it out of the rubber band, letting it fall down my back, gently rubbing my fingers on my sore scalp. Marshall looked over at me but didn’t make a comment.

  After a second he asked, “Are you hungry?”

  Thinking of our conversation last night, I said specifically, “Yes. For a powdered donut and a cup of coffee, with two spoonfuls of half-and-half. Is that helpful enough?”

  His lips curved into a grin as he said, “Yes, and then some.”

  There was a gas station in sight. Marshall filled up the truck and then we went inside and loaded up on coffee; Marshall made a point of handing me two little mini-cups of half-and-half, from a bucket near the coffee machines. He grabbed a box of six powdered donuts and paid for everything.

  “Thank you,” I told him, back in the truck.

  “You got it,” he said. As I settled the donuts on the seat between us and he pulled out the cup holder for our coffees, he said, “I really like being around you. I can’t pretend otherwise. And I’m not sorry that you hugged me, back there. I just want you to know that.”

  I studied his eyes. The sun was just lifting from the far eastern horizon, gorgeously lighting up the inside of the truck, just the same way his words pierced light directly into me. I said, “I’m not sorry either. And I really like being around you, too.”

  “I’m glad,” he said simply, and then took us east, towards Jalesville.

  His phone rang a second later, and he drew it from his jeans pocket. He said, “It’s Tish,” and then answered by saying, “Good morning, Mrs. Charles Spicer.”

  I heard my sister giggle and then she asked, “Can I talk to Ruthie?”

  “Sure thing,” Marshall said, and passed the phone to me. It was warm from having been so near his body.

  I said, “Hey there.”

  “Hey,” Tish said.
She complained, “Your phone keeps going to voicemail the minute I try to call. But I really wanted to tell you that I talked to Mom just a second ago, and she’s not mad. Aunt Jilly had a feeling anyway, and they understand. They’re coming to the hospital in a little while here. I told Mom you were headed back to Jalesville with Marsh. Milla and Clinty aren’t very happy with me, though.”

  “Told you,” I couldn’t resist saying, trying not to think about why my phone was going straight to voicemail, which was because I was a big, avoidant chicken. I had probably a half-dozen missed calls from Liam. I said to my sister, “But it’s like Marshall said – they’ll just be happy because you two are so happy. You know?”

  “I do,” my sister said. “Case is sleeping right now, poor baby, he’s so exhausted. It made me a little scared to see him with his eyes closed, but he’s breathing on his own.”

  “He’ll be just fine,” I assured her.

  “Before Case fell asleep we were joking that we didn’t get to consummate our marriage,” Tish said, and I giggled at her words. She went on, intently, “But I am going to make up for every second of that when he’s feeling better. We’re going to consummate the shit out of our marriage, just wait.”

  Marshall started laughing, as he could basically hear every word.

  I told her, “I’ll see you later, all right? You go and dream about what you just said.”

  Tish hung up laughing, and I passed the phone back into Marshall’s right hand.

  I realized, “I don’t have any clean clothes. Shoot, I should have thought of that.”

  “You want me to turn around?” Marshall asked, even though we were already flying along the interstate beneath the morning sun.

  “No, that’s all right. If we’re going to work all day, it doesn’t matter if my clothes are clean, I suppose.”

  “You can shower at the house,” he said. “I’ll lend you a shirt, if you want.”