Chapter Four

Deborah perched onthe edge of the buggy seat, her hands folded neatly in her lap. Beside her, Aaron sat as still as a statue, his gaze fixed on the road ahead. She let her eyes wander over to him, taking in the strong line of his jaw and the way his dark hair curled just above the collar of his shirt.

"Beautiful night, isn"t it?" Aaron"s voice cut through the quiet, low and steady like the roll of distant thunder.

She nodded, tucking a loose strand of brown hair behind her ear. "Yes, very." Her words were a soft-spoken whisper, betraying the whirlwind of thoughts inside her. Could she be the wife he needed? The fear gnawed at her insides, but Deborah willed herself to look beyond it, out at the vast Texas landscape unfurling before them.

The buggy wheels spun a comforting melody against the dirt road, a rhythm that seemed to say all was well. They rolled past fields dotted with wildflowers and cattle grazing beneath the relentless summer sun. The heat hung heavy in the air, but the wide-open spaces were just what she needed to feel at home.

"Never gets old, coming home," Aaron said, breaking the silence again. His brown eyes stared at the home where he'd been raised and still lived now that his parents had moved on.

"It"s... overwhelming," Deborah admitted, allowing herself to voice the awe that tightened her chest.

"Give it time," Aaron replied, the corners of his mouth lifting ever so slightly. "It"ll feel like home soon enough."

She hoped he was right. Deborah"s trepidation mingled with a burgeoning sense of adventure. Perhaps, someday, she could find the courage to open her heart.

The carriage creaked to a halt, and Deborah"s gaze fixed on the sight before her. A farmhouse, all honey-colored wood and white trim, sat nestled off the main road. It was larger than she"d expected.

"Here we are," Aaron announced with a hint of pride in his voice.

"Is this really ours?" Deborah couldn"t keep the wonder from her voice as she peered out at the sprawling property that stretched out around the house.

"Every acre," he confirmed. Aaron"s hand appeared to help her down. His smile gave her confidence as she placed her hand in his.

Deborah felt her heart flutter like a trapped bird at his touch. Stepping down from the buggy, her boots met the ground of what was now her home. The earth was firm and real under her feet, grounding her.

"Careful now," Aaron murmured, steadying her with gentle firmness.

"Thank you," she said, her voice barely above a whisper as she clung momentarily to his arm. She looked up at him then, and for a moment, their eyes locked—a silent exchange of mutual support.

They ascended the porch steps together, the wooden boards creaking beneath their weight. Aaron"s presence was a comfort beside her.

"Feels good to be home," Aaron spoke again.

"Home," Deborah repeated, tasting the word, finding it sweet and new on her lips. She allowed herself a small, hopeful smile, her blue eyes still taking in the expanse of their shared domain. "Yes, home."

The wooden door swung open with a welcoming groan, and Deborah stepped into the heart of her new dwelling.

"Cozy, isn"t it?" Aaron"s voice was a low rumble behind her, rich with pride for the home he"d grown up in.

"Very," she replied, her voice steadier than she felt as she surveyed the room. There were a few lanterns spread throughout the room, and she found them welcoming. She drew closer to the light, feeling the chill of apprehension melt away in its embrace.

"Let me show you the rest." Aaron gestured with a sweep of his arm, the simple motion conveying both an invitation and a promise.

Aaron picked up two of the lanterns, and they walked together down a short hallway, the floorboards creaking beneath their steps. At the end of the corridor, he opened a door to reveal a bedroom. The bed was made neatly, a quilt of deep blues and greens folded at its foot.

"This is ours," he said, his words colored with a tenderness that wrapped around her like a warm shawl.

Deborah"s hands fluttered to her chest, her fingers brushing the fabric of her dress. "It"s lovely, Aaron." She wanted to ask if there was another room she could sleep in, but she felt that may be pushing her luck a bit too far. He'd been kind so far, and he'd agreed to wait for their wedding night. She couldn't possibly ask for more from him.

He stepped closer, his large hands enclosing hers. His eyes searched hers, finding the quiet storm that swirled in their depths. "I know this is all new, Deborah. We'll go slow. Step by step, day by day," he assured her.

She met his gaze, finding an anchor in his steady presence. "Thank you, Aaron. For understanding."

"Always," he promised, squeezing her hands before letting go. "This is your home now too. Together, we"ll fill it with memories. Good ones."

Deborah nodded, the corners of her mouth lifting ever so slightly. Yes, memories. And perhaps, in time, love would be among them.

Deborah allowed herself a moment to believe in the future. The trepidation that had knotted her insides began to unravel, thread by thread, with every gentle word Aaron shared. She dared to look up at him, and for the first time since they met at the altar, she smiled—a small, budding thing that spoke of fragile hope.

"Thank you," she whispered. "For being so... kind."

"Nothing to thank me for," Aaron replied, his deep voice a comforting rumble in the quiet room. "We"re in this together, Deborah."

*****

IT WAS A NEW DAY, DEBORAH'Sfirst full day as Mrs. Tudor, and as much as it daunted her, it also sparked curiosity about what lay ahead.

She dressed quickly, her fingers fumbling with the buttons of her dress, still unaccustomed to the quiet of the house. Stepping out into the hallway, the scents of coffee and something sweet baking wafted towards her. Following the fragrances like a lifeline, she found herself in the kitchen where a woman stood with her back to her, humming softly as she attended to a skillet on the stove.

"Good morning," Deborah said, hoping her voice didn"t betray her nervousness.

The woman turned, revealing a kindly face framed by graying hair. "Morning, Mrs. Tudor. I"m Charlotte, the housekeeper. Mr. Aaron told me to expect you. Breakfast will be ready shortly."

"Please, just Deborah is fine," she corrected gently, taking in the sight of the bustling kitchen. "I didn"t realize we had—"

"Help?" Charlotte finished for her with a knowing smile. "Mr. Aaron believes in taking good care of his land and his home. And now, of you too."

Deborah nodded, a question forming in her mind—one that tugged at the edges of her understanding of this marriage. "And what does he... What do I do here?"

"Live, dear. Just live," Charlotte answered, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "You"ll find your place here. You"ll see."

"Live," Deborah echoed, the word sitting strangely yet pleasantly atop her tongue. It wasn"t an answer, but as she took a seat at the table and watched the sun climb higher, it felt like enough for now.

After breakfast, Deborah found Charlotte in the kitchen, her hands growing more confident as they folded dough and chopped vegetables.

"Your stew smells heavenly, dear," Charlotte praised, her voice warm like the summer breeze drifting through the open window.

"Thank you," Deborah replied, allowing herself a small smile. "Cooking always did bring me comfort."

The hours slipped by like water over river stones, smooth and steady. When Aaron returned from the fields, he entered the house with a tired satisfaction etched into his broad frame.

"Smells like heaven in here," Aaron said, his deep voice carrying easily through the homely space.

"Deborah"s doing," Charlotte chimed in, setting the table for supper.

As they sat down to eat, the light-hearted chatter that had filled the day faded into a thoughtful silence. Deborah took a moment to gather her courage before looking up from her plate to meet Aaron"s gaze across the table.

"Aaron," she began, her voice steady despite the fluttering in her chest, "I"ve been wondering... what do you expect from me? In our marriage, I mean."

He paused, setting down his fork, his brown eyes meeting hers with an honesty that touched something deep within her. "I guess I"m looking for companionship, to start. Someone to share the quiet with, the laughter too. In time, love, maybe even children. But we don't need to rush into anything. We"ll take it one step at a time."

His words wrapped around her like a gentle embrace, and she felt a warmth that wasn"t just from the stew in her belly. "Companionship," she repeated. "I think I"d like that very much."

"Then that"s what we"ll do." Aaron nodded, his smile as comforting as the familiar creak of the wooden floors beneath their feet.

*****

IN THE PARLOR, DEBORAHspent her evening knitting a pair of socks, as she did so many nights. She could hear the steady scrape of Aaron"s knife against wood.

"What are you making?" she asked, peering over at the small figure emerging from the block in his hands.

"Little rabbit," Aaron replied without pausing, his hands sure and practiced. "For the mantel, maybe."

She smiled at the thought of the wooden creature taking its place in their home. As the fire crackled in the hearth, its glow casting flickering shadows across the room, Deborah felt something warm unfurl inside her chest. Here she was, sitting with a man who had been a stranger just yesterday, sharing a silence that felt comfortable.

"Tell me about your life before... all this," she ventured, curious about the chapters that had led him to her.

Aaron glanced up, his eyes reflecting the firelight. "Well, it was mostly work. But there were some good times too, like when the cattle sold well or the rains came just when we needed them. I was raised on this ranch, and my parents moved to Missouri a few years back, leaving me to work the land."

His half-smile hinted at memories she yearned to know, and she leaned in closer, her knitting forgotten in her lap. "And now?"

"Now," he said, setting down his whittling, "I've got someone to share those good times with." He reached out, his roughened hand brushing lightly against hers.

Deborah"s breath hitched at the contact, her skin tingling where his fingers met hers. She met his gaze, seeing the gentle invitation in his eyes. Then, softly, as if testing the waters of a still pond, Aaron leaned in and kissed her.

Surprise fluttered through Deborah, quickly chased by a sweetness that made her heart race. His lips were warm, the kiss tender and unhurried, speaking of patience and a promise of more to come. When they parted, she caught the faintest hint of a smile playing on his lips, mirroring the one spreading across her own.

"Goodnight, Deborah," he murmured.

"Goodnight, Aaron," she whispered back. She got to her feet and went into the bedroom, ready for sleep as well.

As she lay in bed later, the memory of the kiss lingered, a promise etched into her thoughts. She imagined more kisses, laughter shared, and the pitter-patter of little feet—a future that seemed brighter than the morning star outside her window. In the quiet darkness, Deborah realized she hadn"t just married a good man. She had found a companion, a partner, and perhaps, in time, a love that would grow.