Free Kathy Little Bird by Nancy Freedman, Benedict Freedman Page A

“That’s a p.r.”
    He took it pretty well, usually modifying his behavior. The trouble was I wanted this earthy, aggressive lover as much as he wanted me. It would have been easy to relax into his embrace totally. But I knew if I did, he’d be gone in the morning, and with him my chance of ever getting out of here.
    “P.r.,” I said breathlessly, sitting up and fastening my bra. “Things can’t go on like this. We both know it. You’re too much for me, Jack, too much a man. I can’t fight you off any more.” I took a deep breath, risking everything. “So the only thing to do is let you go your way.”
    “There’s one more choice open to us. We could get married.” The words ripped out of him like an explosion. He seemed as surprised by them as I was. “There, I said it, a preacher and a ring. What do you say?”
    This time it was I who threw my arms about him.

    I GOT home late and with a gesture to be quiet pulled Jas from his bed into my room.
    “You won’t have to cover for me any more, Jas. Guess what? I’m getting married.”
    His mouth opened and forgot to close. “Who to?”
    “Jack Sullivan, of course.”
    “What about Abram?”
    My enthusiasm for my marriage fell abruptly away. I stared at my brother. “He doesn’t have a horse trailer.”
    I was well aware that I was being stupid. But I dug my heels in harder and pursued my course even more recklessly. I could hear Elk Woman down the years: “Stop fighting with yourself, Little Bird.”

    J ACK always said I put some sort of spell on him, and I think I did. He definitely was marriage shy. The preacher in St. Alban’swas a doddering old fellow who knew Jellet. So Jack arranged for us to be married in the next town. I wondered if he would show up, but he was waiting for me at the drugstore and we drove the thirty miles with hardly a word between us. I stole a couple of glances at him. He looked especially fine. His shirt was starched and he wore an ascot at his throat, neatly tucked into his collar. I was marrying a gentleman who knew the right way to do things. He even had a bouquet of store-bought flowers for me.
    I remember the preacher’s house. I don’t remember the ceremony. I was afraid the whole time that Jas had told my stepfather, and that Jellet would burst in and stop the proceedings.
    I do remember it didn’t take long. I was surprised how quickly something as important as wedding vows could be over and still make a difference to the rest of our lives. Jack fished in his pocket and came up with one of those Cracker Jack box prizes, a ring so soft you could push it into different shapes. “Just for now,” he whispered. His kiss in front of the preacher and his wife was rather tepid. I hoped he wasn’t sorry already. We walked out into the sun, and there was Abram pedaling up, with Jas panting and quite a way behind.
    When Abram reached me, his face distorted, he gasped, “You haven’t—?”
    “I have. I got married.” And I waved my finger in his face. “It’s just a cheap ring that I can bend, but later Jack will get me a proper one.”
    Jack stepped up beside me. “I’m Sullivan,” and he extended his hand.
    Abram didn’t take it. I don’t think he saw it. He was as upset as I’d ever seen him. “You’ve done it then.” This was said half under his breath. Then to me, “It’s all right, Kathy, you can have it annulled.”
    “Annulled?” Jack spoke up. “What the devil are you talking about?”
    Abram placed a hand against Jack’s chest and sent him reeling backward, but didn’t bother to look at him. I was the one he saw. “You thought I’d never get the money. But I’ve got two hundred dollars, and I can manage the rest. I can and I will.”
    “Abram, Jack’s my husband, and I’m going away with him.”
    “But you don’t know him. Kathy, for your sake, for both our sakes, listen to me—”
    Sullivan came up with a strutting swagger. “Hey, what do you mean, trying to bust us up?” Then to