humble, kind, sacrificial, self-controlled, and so much more.”
Victoria had never before heard anyone talk that way about marriage. “I guess I’d always believed that some couples made a perfect match and others didn’t.”
Zelma laughed. “That’s only a myth. The reality is that no couple starts out the perfect match. They have to work for that. Maybe some more than others. What I’ve learned is that the more I work on growing as a person, the more my marriage grows.”
Victoria picked up one of the napkins and tucked the folds tighter into the fan shape. She’d never really thought about the need to grow in holiness. No, she knew she wasn’t perfect, that she was a sinner. That’s why she needed a Savior. But she’d always assumed that overall she was living a godly life.
But here, away from the comforts of home, away from everything she’d ever known, and in the context of being married, she was getting a glimpse of some of her weaknesses.
“In our marriages,” Zelma continued, “we can let the difficulties drive us apart or drive us to our knees.”
The clomping on the steps cut off their conversation. The men were coming down—James from his day of sleeping and Tom from changing his work clothes. The two had come up with a rotation. James took the night shift in the tower. And Tom did all of the cleaning and repair work that needed to be done during the day. Victoria had overheard James insisting on the schedule so that Tom could spend his nights with his new bride. Of course, Tom had protested, his voice tinged with embarrassment. But James hadn’t listened to any other plan.
Victoria hurried to untie the ugly apron and hide it in a drawer in the sideboard.
“I thought I smelled something delicious,” James said, walking into the dining room first, his dark hair freshly groomed and his face relaxed from his hours of slumber. He smiled at Zelma and bent to kiss her on the top of her head.
“Victoria made fried chicken tonight,” Zelma responded.
As Tom entered the room, Victoria busied herself taking the lid off the platter of chicken. She retrieved a long serving fork and placed it next to the chicken pieces, which were golden with batter and spices. She tried not to notice Tom, but his presence in a room was difficult to miss—the heat of his body, his darkening skin after a week in the sun, the fresh bay-rum scent from his soap. And his eyes, so dark and brooding, so beckoning. Always making her want to go to him and smooth away the lines in his forehead.
“The meal looks pretty,” Tom said, pulling out her chair and helping her get situated before taking his seat next to her. Although he was never as gushing as his dad, she appreciated Tom’s compliments every night. In fact, during the afternoons when she was planning and making the meals, she couldn’t deny that she was doing it for him, to earn his praise and to make him happy.
“Thank you.” She offered him a smile, but his smile in return was forced. Clearly, he was still upset at her for asking to hire a seamstress. From the unyielding dark blue of his eyes, she knew he wasn’t planning on giving in to her need.
Her smile faded, replaced rapidly by irritation. He couldn’t expect her to wear only three outfits all month, especially now that two were nearly ruined. She’d already given in to his plans and wishes enough. It was his turn to compromise.
Across the table, James glanced between them, as though sensing their coldness to one another, but Victoria bowed her head in preparation for the blessing that James spoke before every meal. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Tom do likewise.
“Before we pray, I’m in need of a kiss from my wife,” James said, turning to Zelma. “I haven’t had one since this morning, and I’m hungrier for a kiss than for food.”
Zelma’s tinkling laugh of delight was cut short by James’s crushing kiss. Victoria had finally begun to grow accustomed to their displays of affection. But as this kiss continued and turned more passionate, Victoria fidgeted in her chair and stared at the dish of raspberry cream pudding on her plate, her face growing hotter with each passing second. She was embarrassed by the strange warmth that blossomed in her middle, a warmth that made her wonder what that kind of kiss would feel like.