Poppy’s hand found Jacob’s, and he felt the tremor of his fingers as if they belonged to another man. Pastor Scott looked between them before clearing his throat. “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today…”
Her hand was warm and comforting in his, an anchor amidst the churning sea of his emotions.
As the pastor told Jacob he may kiss the bride, the congregation erupted into applause.
It seemed the entire community was there for the wedding and reception. Everyone had brought a dish, and they all gathered together to eat the food.
The air was thick with the scent of roasted meats and freshly baked bread, blending with the sweet perfume of wildflowers that adorned the tables.
“May your love be as steadfast as the mountains,” Mr. Williams said.
“And as fertile as the valleys that cradle our rivers,” another added.
Though she had never enjoyed being the center of attention, Poppy was happy to be there and have her love for Jacob celebrated. Now that school was out for the summer, they would have months to get used to one another.
Poppy’s fingers traced the intricate lace of her wedding dress, the fabric whispering secrets of a new life as she sought out Margaret Prewitt in the quiet solitude of the boarding house kitchen.
“Margaret?” Poppy’s voice fluttered like the wings of a sparrow, uncertain yet yearning for guidance.
“Ah, my friend,” Margaret said, turning from where she stood by the fireplace. Her face softened at the sight of the young bride. “Come sit with me.”
“Margaret, I…” Poppy began, hesitating as she perched on a wooden stool across from the older woman. “I want to be a good wife to Jacob, to build a life as strong as the one you have carved here. But I fear I know so little about…well, about marriage.”
“Dear girl,” Margaret replied, taking Poppy’s hands in hers, warm and steady. “There is no one way to make a marriage work. It’s like tending a garden—you plant the seeds, you water them, but most importantly, you must give them time to grow.”
“Time,” Poppy echoed, her eyes reflecting the flicker of firelight.
“And patience,” Margaret continued, releasing Poppy’s hands and gesturing expressively. “You two will need to learn each other’s ways. It’s a dance, Poppy. You never know if you’ll lead or follow.”
“Communication too, I suppose?” Poppy ventured.
“Without a doubt,” Margaret affirmed, nodding. “Speak your truths, Poppy, even when it’s hard. Especially then. Don’t let silence take root between you, lest it grows thorns.”
“And compromise?”
“Ah,” Margaret laughed softly. “Compromise is the very soil of marriage. You give a little, he gives a little, and in the middle, you find happiness. It was that way with my first husband, and even more so with Jamie. He loves the girls from my first marriage, and he also loves his own children dearly. But the answer is always meeting in the middle.”
“Thank you, Margaret,” Poppy said. “I will do all I can to be an obedient wife. I’m not sure I have it in me, but I will try.”
“Remember this,” Margaret added. “Love is a choice you make every day, not just when the trail is easy and the sun is shining. It’s choosing each other, again and again, even when the storms come.”
“I will remember,” Poppy promised. She would choose Jacob, choose love, each day, no matter what life might throw their way.
*****
Jacob stood at the threshold of his small farmhouse, his dark eyes taking in the simple furnishings that he had arranged with care.
Poppy’s presence behind him, her hand light on his arm, was a warm reminder that he was here, now, on the cusp of a new beginning. Her touch seemed to steady the tremors of the past that threatened to rise within him. Turning to face her, Jacob saw the flicker of anticipation in her eyes.
“Jacob,” she whispered, a gentle entreaty laced with the strength that had first drawn him to her.
He could only nod, his voice momentarily lost as he reached out to lightly caress a stray curl that had escaped.
The cabin seemed to hold its breath as Jacob took Poppy’s hand and led her to the edge of the bed, the quilt beneath them a patchwork of community and care. They sat side by side.
“Are you nervous?” Jacob asked.
“Jacob Alexander,” Poppy said with quiet conviction, her green eyes meeting his steadily. “There is no place I would rather be than here, with you.”
