The Fulfillment by Lavyrle Spencer

closed his hand around hers, stopping it in its final pass. It stung, but he welcomed the pain of it. They just stood there with the surging realization of what this handclasp revealed, and there was no way their eyes could meet. He opened his hand, but hers lingered where it was, resting lightly atop his. Hecould feel the warmth of her flesh burning the tender skin of his own where the sore was.
    And suddenly she didn’t feel foolish anymore.
    This is Mary, Aaron thought, and she’s more than my friend. Just then, she moved away from him, turning to retrieve the cover of the tin and screw it back on. When she had put it away again under the sink and washed the salve from her hands, she turned to find Aaron holding her coat for her. She slipped her arms in, then reached to lift the curls off her neck to free them of the coat collar. Her action stirred the scent of lavender and bared the back of her neck once again to the man who stood behind her. The ointment on his hands kept him from caressing her shoulders where he had lowered her coat, and he held it gingerly to keep the ointment from soiling it.
    She was, in that instant, a thing that he must never soil.
    Abruptly he turned, leaving the kitchen. She leaned over to lower the wick and blow out the kerosene lamp on the table. When she straightened, he had gone out the door, and she followed him after quickly pressing her hands to her cheeks, scolding herself for their heat. When she came into the yard, Aaron had already left in the buggy, and Jonathan was waiting on the buckboard.

6
    Aaron tried to concentrate on Pris as he drove the short distance west. But the trot to her place was too short to give him time to dispel the image of a yellow-clad girl that filled his mind. Had it really been Mary? Mary, who had been there in his house for seven years? Mary, with her child-woman’s body, her expression of openness glowing up at him from a face that seemed brand new, hair swept up from that face, fastened in a knot of flowing curls like a schoolgirl’s, cheeks flushed pink, lips shining, and tiny hands massaging not only his skin but the blood that flowed within him, sending it coursing to his head and heart like a spring cataract?
    Sweet Jesus, had it been Mary?
    Aaron reached the Volence driveway in a state of agitation. With an effort he forced himself to a semblance of calm before he reached the house. The door was closed, but the light was bright inside. There’d still be time for Pris to change clothes if she needed to, and they’d get to the hall in good time.
    He could hear from inside that someone was playing the organ again in the living room. Thatmust be why nobody’d heard his rig pull into the yard. When he knocked, the organ music stopped and Cora opened the door to him.
    Cora had a smile that was as close to smug as any he’d ever seen.
    â€œEvening, Cora. Is Pris here?” he asked.
    â€œShe sure ain’t. She’s gone off to the Bohemian Hall with Willy Michalek. Figgered you woulda seen ’em ride by your place about twenty minutes ago.”
    But twenty minutes ago he’d been standing in the kitchen with his hand inside of Mary’s, and he hadn’t noticed anything else. Why hadn’t Jonathan seen the rig and said something? He must have been in the lean-to getting the rigging at that time.
    â€œWho’s here, Cora?” Agnes Volence asked as she came up behind her daughter.
    â€œWell, Aaron, hello! Don’t leave him standin’ out there on the doorstep, child. Come on in, Aaron,” she invited.
    â€œNo. I guess I won’t tonight, ma’am, but thanks just the same. I came to call on Pris, but seeing as how she’s not here, I’ll be on my way again.”
    He thought he could detect a look of disappointment cross her face as he backed down a step and turned to leave.
    â€œCome on back down again soon, Aaron,” she called after him.
    What next? he thought as he