Something Borrowed

Chapter 14

Josh

Josh Tucker had made a lot of mistakes in his day. Big ones, like the day his mother had died. Little ones, like that time he'd had too much to drink playing poker with the men. Medium ones, like deciding he was man enough to break that stallion they'd brought in two summers ago. He measured his mistakes, not by his actions, but by the consequences thereof. That night of drinking was just a little mistake because all he'd suffered for it was a headache and a couple bouts of nausea the next morning. The horse was a medium mistake because he'd broken his arm and knocked himself out cold, but didn't suffer any lasting ill effects. His mother... well, suffice it to say that was a big mistake.

As he stood next to his new wife in the crowded barn, he wondered what level of mistake he'd just made. How long would this haunt the both of them? How much would they suffer for the lies they'd just spoken in God's name?

When he'd made the offer, it had felt like a good idea. Perhaps even noble in its own way, if a bit self-serving. He was gaining a wife out of the deal, and she was gaining a secure future for herself and her child. He'd known she was nervous when he made the offer, and downright scared when she'd accepted it. He just also figured that she'd feel better once she had time to settle into the deal. Instead, she'd only grown more anxious. He'd started avoiding her, just to keep away from the wrenching guilt her fearful eyes awoke inside him.

When dawn leeched into the sky that morning, he'd considered riding right up to the house and retracting his offer. The only thing that staid his hand was, to his shame, the fact that everyone now knew. The ranch hands, the folks in town, the preacher from the next county over... too many people were tied up in the charade.

Much like the marriage, this party had seemed like a good idea mere days ago, when he'd begun arranging it. He'd moved all his family's horses down to the main stables and pulled a half-dozen ranch hands off of their regular duties to clean up the private barn. Melissa had taken over those arrangements, directing his men with her usual flare and turning the dank space into a warm, colorful dance floor.

Josh wasn't partial to large social gatherings, but he'd thought it might cheer Amelia up. He'd had Melissa invite all the women she knew from town, put what remained of his money into a decent supply of liquor, and hired a band to play in a corner. The environment was in such stark contrast to the drab, solemn ceremony, Josh even found himself smiling a couple of times.

Then he'd catch glimpse of his wife.

She carried herself with rigid formality, accepting every offer of congratulations with a tight, trembling smile. She only danced once, and carried herself so stiffly he felt like he was holding one of the wooden figurines storekeepers kept in their windows to display the latest fashions. After their first obligatory dance he hadn't asked for another.

As the partygoers around her grew more raucous, Amelia grew more somber, her eyes more sunken and shadowed with exhaustion and anxiety. He stayed close to her side throughout the night, because he knew it was expected and because he hated the thought of leaving her alone to feign joy for an audience of strangers. He wanted to drape an arm over her shoulder and pull her close to his side, to shield her from the drunk men and the nosy women. He had a feeling, though, that so much contact would only make it worse. So he stood by her and held her clammy hand and fought the constriction of his heart as her fingers tightened around his hand with bruising strength.

"I think it's time for us to leave," he whispered in her ear after a small fight broke out in the corner by the band.

The look on her face was equal parts relief and terror, and hit him like a sledgehammer to the chest. What did she think he was going to do to her?