Dwight, Mary, Olivia, and Wanda had worked together that morning and managed to get the twins ready for school, even calming Benny down enough so that he felt all right with leaving his mother at the doctor’s office while Mr. Swigert was in surgery. Dwight had promised that a note would be sent to the school as soon as they had news. So, with that, the responsible, young man agreed to walk with the twins to the school on Second Street.
Doc did say that he felt strongly that Jay should not be moved for at least a few days, and that the family could stay with him if they chose. That first night, of course, the man’s wife would not leave him.
This, therefore, necessitated the scenario Mary and Dwight had known might happen. He would have to spend the night in her room.
Dinner had been pleasant. Helen Swigert had taken hers in the recovery room while watching over her husband, who still had not regained consciousness, but their children ate at the table with Doc and the others. It was so refreshing—after the misery of Elvira’s horde—to be around well-mannered children. Even the twins commented on the Fetterman youths, saying they ought to have been turned over their father’s knee and taught to behave.
Finally, one by one, each member of Doc’s household went up to bed—leaving Dwight and Mary straggling behind.
Once they reached her room and went inside, Dwight stayed by the door, hemming and hawing.
Mary glanced at him as she turned down her side of the bed.
“I’ll make a pallet and sleep over there,” Dwight offered, pointing to an open space near the wall that Mary knew wouldn’t have enough room for him to stretch out his nearly six-foot frame.
Mary had been thinking about their predicament for hours and couldn’t in good conscience allow her kind, thoughtful husband to sleep on the hard floor. She figured that by now she knew him pretty well and she didn’t think Dwight Christiansen was the type of man to take advantage of a situation like theirs.
Therefore, gathering her courage and hoping she wouldn’t sound forward, Mary turned toward him fully; only the twisting of her entwined hands betrayed her nervousness.
“Dwight…I have an idea. What if we sleep together—” she faltered when his eyes bugged out in surprise. “—I mean, um…what if we,” she held both hands up and sputtered, stopping again and taking a big, steadying breath. “What if we roll up your bedclothes into a big log and put it in the middle of the bed, like a wall. Then, you stay on your side, and I’ll stay on mine. Won’t that work?”
She met and held Dwight’s gaze, and then drew in another breath as his silence lengthened. She couldn’t read the expression in his eyes, but it was as if he were having a war within himself—she could almost see his thoughts ricocheting around in his head, and she wondered what it was that was causing his agitation.
Then, she saw him swallow and answer with a nod before he cleared his throat and mumbled, “If that’s all right with you.”
Relieved, she sent him an answering nod. “All right.” Working together, they soon had their makeshift log installed in the bed. Then, Dwight turned and sat down on his side of the soft barrier with one of his law books, seeming to become immediately engrossed.
Taking great care to stay behind the dressing screen in the opposite corner, Mary undressed for bed. She wished she could don her high-necked gown, but the weather was still quite balmy and so she opted for a thinner, but still modest, nightdress. Having taken a bath earlier, she simply washed her face at the washstand before cleaning her teeth and slipping around to her side of the bed to brush her hair, mumbling, “Your turn,” as she turned her back to her husband.
Listening intently, she tried to picture, according to the sounds he was making, what he was doing as he moved around. He hadn’t stepped behind the screen, so she kept her eyes closed as she counted her brush strokes. Once he had finished at the washstand, it was mere seconds before she felt the bed dip under his weight. Then, the bed moved again as he leaned toward the lamp on the night table and blew it out.
“Ninety-eight, ninety-nine, one hundred,” she murmured as she finished her task. She placed the brush on the table and leaned to blow out her lamp, plunging the room into darkness.
Turning, she carefully slipped between the sheets and tried to settle herself in the limited space that wasn’t taken up by the large roll.
“Goodness…it takes up a lot of room, doesn’t it,” she commented into the darkness.
Dwight didn’t move, but after a few moments, he answered with a quiet, “Yeah.”
They both lay there in silence. The only light, now that her eyes had adjusted, was a narrow moonbeam shining through the lace curtains. Moving her head slightly, she attempted to peer in Dwight’s direction, but all she could distinguish past the divide was a lump under the covers.
Nevertheless…she’d never been so aware of anyone in her life. It was as if, when he took a soft breath, she could almost feel it in her own lungs.
The sensation was downright discombobulating.
Minutes went by and finally, with a soft sigh, Dwight murmured, “Goodnight, Mary. Sleep well.”
“And you, Dwight,” she answered.
However, she wondered if she would be able to get any sleep
