“Yes. It’s high time you got yourself a wife, and Birdie here would make a fine one indeed.”
“But…” Birdie squeaked. For the first time, Rem looked at her, wondering if he was staring at his future bride. And once again, he found it odd that he didn’t flinch at the idea in the slightest. “I can’t ask Rem to marry me just to save me from my pa.”
“It would guarantee that you’d be safe and not have to return to him. And you deserve a man who can actually love a woman as a man should,” Jeremiah added.
“And the Valentine’s Dove Festival is the best excuse. You don’t have to plan for a preacher, a day, or arrange a wedding. It is all done in one group setting tomorrow. So soon that Jedson won’t even get wind of it until it’s too late and you two are wed. It would be perfect.” Anna Mae clapped her hands, and Rem couldn’t help but smile at her enthusiasm. He couldn’t remember the last time he had seen her so happy.
Rem didn’t say anything but studied Birdie and the way that she looked at Anna Mae, Jeremiah, and then very slowly at Rem. She really was beautiful, and he wouldn’t mind staring at her pretty face for the rest of his life. And they were right, Jedson Bluebell would have every right to storm through his door and demand his daughter. But if Birdie were to become his wife, then Jedson would never be able to touch her again. That alone was reason enough to marry Birdie.
“Well, Birdie, what do you think?”
She looked up at him wide-eyed and her mouth fell open but nothing came out.
“Boy!” His ma came near and smacked him on the back of his head. “That ain’t no proper way to ask a lady’s hand in marriage.”
Rem chuckled. He knelt down so he was eye level with Birdie and reached for her hand. “Birdie Bluebell, I know this isn’t exactly what either of us had in mind when we woke up this morning, but I have to admit I kind of like the idea. It would make me very happy if you would agree to attend the Valentine’s Dove Festival with me and become my wife.” He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed the tiny yet rough skin from all her hard labor as a Bluebell. “But I won’t force you. The choice is all yours.”
Tears filled her eyes but didn’t fall. Birdie swallowed hard and nodded. “Yes, Rem. Yes, I will attend the festival with you.” She smiled and closed her eyes as she took a deep breath. “And, yes, I will marry you.”
Ma clapped her hands and patted both of them on the back. “Welcome to the family, Birdie girl. I finally got myself a daughter.”
Jeremiah walked over to Rem and shook his hand. “Thank you, sir. Birdie was right about you both being good people.” He took a deep breath and looked over at Birdie looking up at him. “I really need to be going. I want to catch the next train, and I still need to conduct some business with her pa.”
Birdie shot out of her chair in surprise. “You’re leaving now?”
Jeremiah nodded and turned to Birdie and smiled. “You be good now and allow these kind folks to watch over you. I don’t want to hear of any Bluebell stubbornness, ya hear? Congratulations. You will make a beautiful wife.” He softly stroked her hair and gave a quick peck to her cheek. He smiled and winked and then turned to walk out the door.
“Safe travels, Jeremiah. Birdie will be safe. I hope the same for you,” Rem called out, readying himself for the drastic turn to his straight and narrow life. Readying himself to become Birdie’s husband, forever.
18
The Valentine’s Dove Festival went by in a blur for Birdie. Women and men soon became united in a quick but sweet ceremony, finished off with the releasing of several dozen or so white doves. Rem and Birdie were one of those couples, and when the doves fluttered above her, Birdie Bluebell was now and forever Birdie Langston.
They had remained long enough to receive the well-wishes, the advice from the elders of the town on how to have a proper marriage, and a personal blessing from the town’s preacher. But Birdie was extremely grateful when her new husband placed his palm on her lower back and led her home.
The fire crackled, and a warmth exuded from both the hearth and her heart like nothing Birdie had ever come close to experiencing. Yet she felt so cold. So very cold as shivers ran over her body. Birdie sat in her chair, staring at the boots she wore that didn’t belong to her—worn down by treds of another. She looked down at the fabric of the dress she wore—noticing the intricate stitch hemmed by another. She sat in the small room of a home—lived by another. Everything about her now—belonged to another. Including her. She now belonged to Rem Langston. What did that mean?