Chapter 25

Jesse and Michael sat beside each other on the front porch swing, a wedding present from all their friends from camp, rocking comfortably. Jesse could have died happy. She had her swing on her very own porch, attached to her very own stone house, looking out at her favourite lake, with her very own husband. That was going to take some getting used to.
“The sun’s down,” she remarked.
Michael immediately showed concern. “Are you cold? I’ll get a blanket.”
She put a hand on his arm to stop him, for he was already getting up. “I’m not cold,” she assured him, and he sat back down. “It’s just nice, sitting outside this house after dark and not being scared.”
Michael smiled. “No more creepy feeling?”
She shook her head. “None at all.”
“I’m glad to hear that.”
She rocked the swing a little. “Do you really like it here? By the lake, I mean. You wouldn’t rather be in town? Or back in Saskatchewan?”
“You’ve asked me that a hundred times. I love it here. Don’t you believe me?”
Jesse sighed. “I guess I’m just not used to anyone liking what I like.” She wanted to say more, but couldn’t think of anything. For the first time, she was nervous. “Are you hungry?”
“No,” Michael said. “Are you?”
She shook her head.
“Are you tired?” he asked.
She nodded before she had a chance to think about it. She almost took it back.
“It’s kinda late,” Michael said, and she had to agree. It was. “You’ve had a long day, too.” Yeah, she had. They both had. It was even possible that Michael was tired, too. She looked at him, trying to tell if he was. He didn’t look it.
“I guess we should go to bed then,” said Michael, smiling. He stopped the swing with his foot, stood up, and took both her hands in his to help her up as well.
It felt nice, being taken care of like this; and he had the most beautiful smile. She couldn’t recall seeing a more beautiful one. “Thank you,” she said.
Michael still held her hands. His face was shadowed, but his eyes sparkled. “No problem,” he said. Then he leaned in towards her and kissed her on the forehead, gently.
There was nothing threatening in it, and she relaxed just a little bit, and leaned her forehead on his chest, her hands still held in his.
“Did you really marry me?” she asked.
She felt his hands circle her scarred wrists, then move up her arms, and wrap around her back. She was pressed, almost crushed to him.
“I don’t know how I’m going to do it,” he said, “but somehow, I’m going to make you believe in how much I love you.”
Jesse’s breath caught in her chest. He was too wonderful, this man holding her. Was it really her he was talking to? Did she really have her arms around him? It didn’t seem possible.
“Do you really love me?” she asked him.
“Yes.”
“You hardly know me,” she protested half-heartedly.
“I loved you the minute I first saw you, and I’ve loved you more and more every minute since,” he said, “and I will love you more every minute of my life.”
“That’s a lie,” she said. “The first time you saw me I was nothing more than a kid.”
“I meant the first time that I really saw you,” he clarified, and she rolled her eyes. Then he kissed her. He took her face in his hands, and he kissed her slowly and gently.
She didn’t mind his touch. It didn’t tickle, and she didn’t want to squirm away. It wasn’t frightening, or smothering. It felt natural, and good. She felt...safe.
When the kiss ended, he saw a tear on her cheek. Without saying anything, his eyes asked her if it was a good tear or a bad tear.
She smiled. “You feel like home,” she said.
He liked the sound of that. He hugged her again possessively and kissed her once more, this time more deeply. Jesse opened her mouth to him, and felt like something had exploded inside of her - something tingly and made of light. It was strange and frightening, but she didn’t want it to stop. She let him kiss her again, kissing him back shyly. He was anything but shy. He continued drinking in the sweetness of her lips and tongue, with kisses that gradually became more intense, more passionate.
At some point, Jesse realized that Michael’s hands were wandering up her back - under her shirt. Forcing herself to think cogently, she hastily wriggled out of his grasp, stepping backwards and nearly falling over the swing.
Michael was startled, not knowing what was wrong. But he saw the panic in her eyes as she hurriedly pulled her shirt down, obviously distraught.
“Jesse, what’s wrong?”
“I...” she started, then took a few breaths, thinking. “What are you doing?” she asked finally.
Michael’s mouth hung open. What was he doing? “I was kissing you,” he said, fairy certainly.
Jesse shook her head. “You were touching me!” she accused.
Michael pressed his eyes shut for a moment, as if trying to understand what she was saying. “Yes,” he admitted, “I was touching you. You don’t want me to touch you?” He was confused. He’d been prepared for some hesitancy on her part, after what she’d been through, and was being as gentle as he knew how to be. He was willing to wait for her, if she was scared, but until a moment ago she hadn’t seemed scared at all. Now she sounded shocked, as if she hadn’t expected him to touch her at all, or even to want to.
“I’m pregnant!” she protested, incredulity in her voice.
Michael was still working hard to control his breathing. His arms hung limp at his sides, and his brows came together in confusion. “Yeah, I know you’re pregnant.” Then slowly he smiled that lopsided, amused grin of his. “Very pregnant, actually.” He stepped towards her and placed his hands on the prominent bump on her stomach, glancing down at it and then looking back into her eyes. “We’re already acquainted, remember?”
Her expression didn’t change.
“Don’t worry,” he said, trying to make her smile, “we won’t traumatize her, I promise.”
Now Jesse really looked shocked. “But we can’t...you can’t...”
“What? What’s wrong?”
“I’m pregnant!” she repeated, taking another step backwards. She tried to calm herself, then, breathing deeply. Calm, she told herself. Stay calm. Don’t yell. She began again much more quietly, “I know, after the baby is born, I mean after a while, once I’m better, then we’ll probably... sleep together.”
“Have sex?” he interjected.
She looked like a deer caught in headlights.
“Do you think it’s bad for the baby?” he asked, releasing a large breath he seemed to have been holding up until now. “Oh, Jesse, it’s perfectly safe. Trust me...I even asked a doctor, just to be sure. People have been doing this for thousands of years.”
Jesse looked confused. She was confused. “But...really? People do that?”
He nodded vigorously. “Yes, all the time.”
“Why would they want to?”
“Why wouldn’t they?”
She grimaced. “I am really, really, fat,” she said.
She looked so serious when she said that, he had to laugh. “Jesse, you’re not fat. You have a little person growing inside you.”
“And that doesn’t...”
“What?”
“That doesn’t...‘turn you off’?” Michael looked like he was going to laugh again at her awkwardness and embarrassment in using that particular phrase. “I mean, come on,” she said quickly, trying to be taken seriously, “don’t you want…our first time...to be...romantic, sort of?”
He still didn’t look like he understood at all.
She began to panic. “Joseph didn’t sleep with Mary until Jesus was born!” she burst out.
Michael looked at her like she was crazy. “What?” he asked.
“It says so in the Bible!” she declared. “You have read that part, haven’t you?” she said, just a little sarcastically, Michael thought.
“Yes, I’ve read it,” he assured her, “but what do you think that has to do with us?”
“Well,” she started, “nothing, it’s just, I thought...”
“Jesse,” he said, “Joseph didn’t sleep with Mary because the scriptures said ‘the virgin will be with child, and will give birth to a son’. He didn’t want to interfere with God’s plan. That’s all.” What was she thinking?
She answered without thinking. “But, this isn’t your baby.” Oh no. She heard her own voice, and couldn’t believe she had said that to him. She hung her head for a moment as silence hung between them, then looked straight into his eyes with remorse. “I wish it were! But it isn’t!” she cried, as though apologizing for hurting him, but unable to pretend it wasn’t true.
Michael couldn’t stand to see her apologize for something like that. Ignoring her protests about him touching her, he took her and embraced her fiercely.
She broke down. “How could you want me at all?” she screamed into his shirtsleeve, clutching his arm. “I’m not Mary! I’m not a virgin, I’m not clean. I’m filthy! I’m...I’m ruined! And my baby - is - his.”
Michael felt unbelievable, paralysing pain rip through him, and go straight to his heart. He grimaced, then tore her from him and held her at arms length. She drew a sharp breath, and her ranting stopped. “Look at me!” he demanded.
She was as limp as a rag doll in his hands, her head turned to the side and her eyes shut tight.
“Look at me!” he said again, resisting the urge to shake her for her own good.
Thankfully, she opened her eyes and looked at him, though she was biting her bottom lip and near to tears.
“It’s mine!” he shouted, not sure why, at first, other than that he had to say something. “It is mine!” he said again, this time with conviction as well as volume. “In every way that matters, this baby is mine.”
She looked scared to death.
“He doesn’t matter,” he insisted. “He’s nothing. He doesn’t exist.” He waved his arm as if to wipe away the stain of him. “I’m the father of this baby, because I love you,” he insisted. “That beast rotting in jail has nothing to do with us, or this baby. God made this child, do you understand? You were raped, but this child doesn’t belong to him. God gave him to you.” His voice cracked a little. “And then he gave you to me.”
Jesse listened, and almost started to believe him. Her fingers felt warm.
“I still don’t know why you married me,” he said with more fortitude, “but you did, and I’m holding you to it now. I became not only your husband, but the father of this child. I’m not going to be the father, I am the father. Do you think I care one bit about where God decided to get his genes from? This is mine,” he said, laying his hands on her stomach. There were tears in his eyes, and he could see she was about to cry - but that wouldn’t do, not on their wedding night.
Before she knew what was happening, he was down on his knees, with her stomach still in his hands. He kissed the shirt that covered her skin. Then, with the dramatic flare of an explorer planting a flag in rich new soil, he declared, “I hereby claim this womb, and the contents thereof, as my own!” He could feel her belly shake as she laughed silently.
He quickly stood up.
“There. Now will you let me touch you?” he asked.
Jesse felt overwhelmed. “Do I have to decide right now?”
“Of course not.” He tipped her chin up to him. “But you understand me, don’t you?”
She nodded.
“You never, ever, have to do something you don’t want to. But I love you....and I’m your husband. You don’t have to be afraid of me.”
Jesse trembled and looked up at him. “I’m not afraid of you,” she said.
“Then what’s wrong?” He could feel her shaking.
“I...I guess I’m nervous.”
“Want to know a secret?” said Michael.
“What?”
“So am I.”
Jesse was surprised. He hadn’t seemed nervous earlier. “But you still want to, don’t you.”
“I’ve heard only good things about it.”
She couldn’t help smiling at that.
He picked up her hand. “I won’t make you, but I’m asking you. Trust me. Please?”
She did trust him. She remembered that now, now that she had told him her fears and he had soothed them. He had a way of doing that.
She didn’t need to say anything. He took her in his arms and kissed her, and her response was all the answer he needed.

They looked into each other’s smiling eyes, glistening with tears; and grinned from ear to ear.
After what they had just done, Jesse felt absolutely free, her shyness lost. She lay on her side, totally bare and supporting her head with her left hand, looking at this man of hers and not minding that he was looking at her, or that they weren’t saying anything. There didn’t seem to be anything to say, that needed words. After something like that, what could you say? And she was so tired. All she wanted was to be near him.
Their window, looking out over the lake, was open, and a cool breeze washed over her. There was a warm, soft blanket waiting at her feet, but instead of retrieving it, she snuggled closer to her husband. He pulled the blanket up over them both, and wrapped a weary arm around her underneath the cover. The slightly rough skin on his hands delighted in the soft smoothness of her, and between blinks that grew longer and longer, he saw her giving in to drowsiness as well. He fell asleep content with her tight against him, his stomach sensing, through hers, the movement of their child.

She woke up before him, with light just beginning to brighten the room. She couldn’t see it at first, because her face was up against her husband’s chest, but she peeked up and around him to get a better view. The window was still open and letting the chill in, and cream coloured curtains were flapping at its edges, so she stayed snuggled under the covers. They felt rich and luxuriously warm, and for the first time, she noticed that the sheets were silk, or something like it. The comforter was the same cream colour as the curtains and filled with down. On the ceiling above their head was a single light bulb. She made a mental note to replace it with an energy-efficient one. The walls at her head and to her right were outside ones and made of stone; the others were wood, the same colour as the floor. It smelled freshly (but not too freshly) sanded and varnished. Two night tables rested on either side of their bed, and on her side, against the outer wall, was her cedar chest. On the wall facing the window was a dresser, with a large mirror above it, and a door to a bathroom. Michael had done a good job with this room. He’d done it all himself, and it was perfect: simple and clean, but warm at the same time. She still had to move a lot of her things in, but she didn’t think she would change anything otherwise. It was a lovely room, and she was happy about that. Of course, it would be hard to ruin any room in this house. She had picked it out, after all. But it surprised her to learn that her husband had good taste.
Satisfied with her surroundings, she settled down again beside Michael. His eyes were still closed, and he breathed deeply without snoring. He didn’t look like he was going to wake up any time soon, but she didn’t know if he was a light or deep sleeper. She needed to get out of bed: she had to go to the bathroom, and she wanted to brush her teeth before he woke up. Slowly she inched away from him. The feeling of silk sheets slipping over her skin reminded her that she wasn’t wearing anything. When she got to the edge of the bed, she paused. As delightful as she felt this morning, there was no foggy euphoria making her feel as free as she had last night. She couldn’t take a blanket or a sheet off the bed to wrap herself in, and her clothes were a long way off. She glanced again at her sleeping husband. Then she rolled skilfully off the mattress and onto the floor. Crawling to the foot of the bed, she found her clothing and hastily put it on. Once she was properly clothed, she stood up confidently. Michael was still sleeping, but she didn’t want to take a chance of waking him, so she slipped out to use the upstairs washroom. Besides, she had to grab her overnight bag, which was still in the living room, along with all her other boxes.
When she had gone to the bathroom, brushed her teeth, and taken a quick shower, she realized she had a decision to make. She could get dressed for the day, or she could put on some pyjamas and get back into bed. Part of her wanted to go back to her room and watch her husband sleep, or even cuddle up next to him and wait for him to wake up. But then, she had a routine. She didn’t want to give that up just because she was married.
She took her Bible and her journal out to the front porch. The swing turned out to be a perfect spot for her morning devotions. Though it moved, it was far more comfortable than her rock at Bible Camp.
She felt a little different that morning, reading a passage of scripture. She had changed, in a very real way, since yesterday. She had become one with another person, the man she was now sharing her life with. God hadn’t changed, but her relationship with him had altered just a tiny bit. For her whole life, her father had been the one responsible for her. Before God, she knew he had been in some way accountable for her actions, and she was under his authority as well as under God’s. As she’d grown and spent more time away from home, that sense of hierarchy had weakened, but it still existed. Now, she knew that authority and responsibility had been transferred to her husband. She was no longer under her father’s roof, literal or figurative; she was under Michael’s. He was now the head of her family; her head. She had to trust him to lead her on the path God had chosen for them. She didn’t think that would be a problem, but she wondered just how much she was supposed to rely on Michael, and how much to exercise her own judgement.
Michael awoke to the sweet aroma of coffee and pancakes, and the unpleasantness of a lonely bed. He would have gone searching for his wife in any case, but the combination of her absence and the smell of food drove him out of bed and into the kitchen in record speed. His horrified wife shoved him back into the bedroom to get dressed, and refused to kiss him before he brushed his teeth. In less than a minute he was back, wearing boxer shorts and emitting minty fresh breath, though his hair was still an absolute horror. Having thus acquiesced to his beloved’s wishes, he allowed no further protests to deter him, and hauled her onto the kitchen counter and kissed her so soundly that her last pancake burned. Still sitting on the counter, she finally extricated herself long enough to turn the burner off and move the pan to a cold element.
“How’s the baby this morning?” he asked, teasing her. “Did she survive the traumatic experience of last night?”
The reminder of last night - both her outburst and what they had done afterwards - embarrassed her. Michael could tell even though she didn’t blush, because she smiled nervously and looked down.
He was hungrier for her than he was for food, but it was hot now, and he didn’t want to hurt her feelings...and he really was hungry.
Jesse broke off a piece of pancake and fed it to him. It was good, but it tasted different. They were buckwheat, she told him, with some oatmeal. There were also orange slices, and blessed coffee. Then they both sat down to eat, and Michael said grace. It made her think of how many family meals he would pray over in the years to come, and she couldn’t help smiling as she ate. She liked the way he prayed. But when he teasingly asked her where the bacon was, she surprised him by becoming serious.
“Do you really need the bacon?” she asked.
“Of course I don’t need bacon. This is a great breakfast,” he said, afraid he had unwittingly hurt his new wife’s feelings.
“But you like it, don’t you?” she said, sounding almost heartbroken.
“Well, it’s not good for me anyways. I probably shouldn’t eat it at all,” he said chivalrously, but not really meaning it and hoping she didn’t intend to hold him to it.
But this news excited her. “Really?” she exclaimed, plopping herself onto his lap and wrapping her arms around his neck. “You’d do that? You’d give it up?”
Michael laughed. “I didn’t know you had such strong feelings against bacon.”
“Michael, I’m a vegetarian.”
The laughter stopped. “You’re a what?”
“I don’t eat meat. You didn’t know that?”
He was shocked. “You don’t eat meat?” he repeated.
She shook her head.
“At all?” he asked, incredulously.
“I eat seafood, but other than that, no.” She tried to be matter-of-fact about it, to make it seem like it wasn’t a big deal. She never made a big thing about it, so she wasn’t too surprised that he didn’t know. But she wasn’t sure how he’d react. When she’d made the decision a year ago, her father just about disowned her, and even her sisters made their disapproval known. Only her mother had remained silent on the issue.
Oh no, she thought, what if he tells me I have to eat meat? She had a feeling her father would have done so, if she hadn’t already been away at school. He didn’t think it was healthy, and was afraid she was falling in with anti-Christian animal-rights hippies. Of course, she had, in a way, but that was beside the point.
But Michael’s reaction was much worse than she feared.
“I can’t believe I didn’t know that,” he said. He sounded like a kid who just failed a test he’d figured he had nailed. “I mean, that’s a big thing, isn’t it? Being a vegetarian? That’s an entire lifestyle.”
Jesse kept trying to make light of it. “It’s just food,” she reminded him. “I guess we just had more important things to talk about than what we eat. We’ll probably find out lots of stuff about each other that we didn’t know.”
But he wouldn’t let it go that easily. He continued to grill her on the subject. “Does meat disgust you? Can you be around other people when they eat it? Can you cook it?”
She assumed the shock had interfered with his memory, because she had sat across from him most of the summer while the entire table they were sitting at ate chicken, ham, turkey, etc. So she kindly assured him that it didn’t bother her.
Then he wanted to know why. Did she think it was wrong? Did she believe animals had souls?
She knew he’d jump to the wrong conclusions if she explained it entirely right away, so she just assured him that she didn’t think it was wrong to eat meat, nor did she believe animals had souls. “Let’s just call it a dietary decision for now, ok?”
Michael didn’t know what to think. Jesse was a vegetarian? He was the kind of kid who’d worn shirts that said: “SAVE A COW - EAT A VEGETARIAN”. He was a Canadian man, a barbecue-er, a meat-eater. He believed in it like he believed in sunny days and family gatherings. Vegetables were an obligatory side dish at best. He had a sinking feeling that it was all going to change.
What really bugged him, though, was that he hadn’t known. How could he have so totally missed something this major about the woman he loved? He who had watched her almost constantly for two months. Who had talked to her every chance he had, who thought he knew everything there was to know about her, and loved it all. It made him second-guess his powers of observation, which had served him so well in the past.
“I have no idea what you like to eat, you know,” Jesse said.
She was still sitting in his lap. Suddenly, it didn’t matter to him if she were a vegetarian, a vegan, or a fruitarian. For an instant, he almost understood how some men could marry women of different religions; because all he wanted to do was kiss her, vegetarian or no. Half their breakfast remained on their plates, but he wasn’t hungry anymore.
Jesse saw the look in his eyes change. One minute they were teasing and laughing, and maybe slightly concerned, and the next, they looked a lot like they had looked last night. They moved from her eyes to her mouth, and as if drawn by his gaze, she leaned in to touch her lips to his.
“Never stop yourself from kissing me,” she whispered in his ear. “You might be sorry you said that,” he whispered back. Then he kissed her back, and when he was sure she was too lightheaded to resist, dragged her back into the bedroom for a repeat of the previous night’s escapade.