“Morning, Maggie!” Abby called out cheerfully, the sound of her sweet voice loud enough to split my head right open.
“Hello, Abby.” Before I could say more, I saw Libby out of the corner of my eye, looking rested and fresh as spring, like she always did. I swear, the woman didn’t look like she’d ever had a sleepless night in all her life.
“Good morning, Abigail,” I heard her greet our sister-in-law. “Are you well? I’ve heard folks in town say that the wedding night can leave some burning up with fever the next day.”
I almost dropped the cup I was holding. I reached out to steady myself on the kitchen counter, my mind whirling. As Abby’s cheeks reddened, I felt the need inside me pulsing hungrily. What would it be like to have a man love you with his hands, his mouth, his whole body? Clay had great hands.
As soon as the thought occurred to me, I felt shamed, as though the women present could hear my thoughts. “Why, Libby!” I scolded, making her the target of my guilt. “You should be ashamed of yourself!” I knew I certainly was, but Libby just smiled knowingly unperturbed by anything I had to say.
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