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“John David, I–”

“No, it’s all right. I understand because I don’t love you, either.”

She didn’t say anything, but she met his kind eyes.

“You know that, don’t you?”

“Yes,” she replied.

“I mean, I like you. You’re a good person, a good woman, and I’m proud to have you as my wife. You’re a catch in this town, Deborah. I know I’m not much to look at or–”

“What? No, John David, it’s not–”

“Can we talk in here like we’re husband and wife?” he interrupted her. “I mean, really talk and keep it between ourselves? I don’t want anyone knowing what we’re talking about, Deborah. A man and his wife should be able to speak to each other without worrying about the whole town finding things out.”

She had no idea where he was going with this, but she nodded and said, “Yes, we can do that.”

She sniffled and wiped her nose. John David walked over to her then, and she worried that it was about to begin. She worried that maybe this was when he’d tell her what he wanted to happen in their bedroom and that maybe it wouldn’t be something her mother had prepared her for.

“What I mean is that I will keep your secrets,” he said before he sat down next to her on the bed. “If you keep mine.”

She swallowed.

“No, nothin’ like that, Deborah,” he added.

She wondered what he meant and looked over at himin confusion. He must have seen the worried look on her face that she couldn’t conceal.

“You like Deb, right? I know your mother doesn’t want you called that, but you like it, don’t you?”

“Yes,” she replied. “Debbie is okay, too,” she added, thinking about how Harriet was really the only person she wanted to be calling her Deb. “I prefer Debbie,” she lied.

“Debbie it is, then, because now you’re my wife, you’re a woman, and you and I can decide what to call you. Or, I can at least tell your mama that I call you Debbie, and she has to be okay with that because I’m your husband, right?”

She nodded.

“You’re scared right now, Debbie, but you don’t have to be.” John David reached for her hand and placed his much larger, calloused one on top of hers, seemingly not asking for anything else. “I don’t love you how a husband is supposed to love a wife because I can’t, Debbie. I can’t love you like a husband should love a wife, like you can’t love me like a wife is supposed to love her husband.”

Deb had no idea what he meant by that. She didn’t say anything, but both of her hands, now under just one of his, were trembling even more.

“Do you know what I’m sayin’?”

“No,” she admitted.

“Debbie, I see you with Harriet sometimes.”

Her eyes widened, moving to meet his own as her heart raced inside her chest, and for the first time, it wasn’t because it was her wedding night.

“I know you care about her in the way youshouldcare about me.”

“I do not,” she lied. “She’s my best friend.”

“I know that, too. But, Debbie, it’s all right. That’s what I’m trying to tell you. Maybe I should have told you before we were married, but I had to be careful; you understand. Now that we’re married, things are different. My pa will give me the farm. He and Mama will move to the other house on the property, and you and I will have this one. We’ll move intotheir room. We’ll be married to everyone outside this house, but inside this house, we don’t have to be. We can just be two good friends who understand each other.”

“I don’t understand, John David.”

“Debbie, I’m saying that I’m like you and Harriet.” He removed his hand and stood up.

He unattached his suspenders and set them on the chair by the wash basin. Then, he began untucking his shirt. This was it; this was when he’d get naked, and she’d have to lie back.