by Jody Hedlund
“Thank you for being here, John.” Abe squeezed his friend’s hand. “I appreciate the help officiating.”
John glanced toward a sheltered boulder where Zoe huddled in her heavy cloak holding Violet. Will stood beside her talking animatedly, apparently having managed to sneak out of the livery and away from his duties there. He was wearing a snug winter hat Zoe had knitted for him, along with new mittens and thick socks. The moment Abe had returned to town, Will had made a point of finding him and showing him the gifts. He’d talked of nothing else but Zoe and Violet.
“It’s been good to catch up,” John replied, still watching Zoe interact with Will.
Her nose and cheeks were red from the cold, and guilt pricked Abe. Maybe he’d lingered too long with the fellows after the funeral. “I better walk Zoe home.”
With January turning into February, winter had finally decided to visit, bringing arctic temperatures that had frozen the mud and the ground. A light layer of snow coated everything, hiding the gray and making the mountain town beautiful—at least until the next thaw.
“You’re coming back to the cabin, aren’t you, John?” he asked. “I’m sure Zoe will have plenty of whatever she’s got cooking.”
John stuck a finger into his clerical collar and attempted to loosen it. “Abraham, I know I’m hardly one to offer marital advice, since I’m still single, but I’d be remiss if I didn’t caution you to take more care with your marriage.”
“Take more care?” Abe watched Zoe tilt her head back and laugh at something Will said, likely teasing him the way she oft did. As far as he knew, everything in his marriage was going superbly, better than he’d ever expected. And he found that after being gone for days, he relished coming home like he never had before. He loved the warmth and womanly touch she’d brought to the cabin, the delicious meals she always had ready, and the companionship and conversations they shared.
“Yes,” John said hesitantly. “As I said, I’m certainly no expert. . . .”
“Everything is great, John. Zoe’s turning out to be a fine wife—”
“Of course you think she’s fine,” John rushed to speak, his face turning red. “She’s taking very good care of you and your home.”
Abe sensed the but without John having to say it. “She seems happy, doesn’t she?” He’d assumed she’d been content with their arrangement. At least, she never complained about anything.
Now with a wife and child to take care of, he was thankful more than ever for his savings as well as his grandfather’s inheritance. His parents had also been generous in supporting his missionary endeavors. Of course he still needed to write and inform them of his new marriage, and hopefully they would continue to support him, although he was sure they’d have plenty of questions about whom he’d married and why. In light of Lizzy’s betrayal, surely they’d understand his choice to move on.
“She loves Violet. That’s clear.”
“But you don’t think she likes me?” The cold nipped at Abe’s ears, and a glance at the eastern mountains and the dark clouds obscuring the white peaks told him they would likely get another covering of snow before the day was over.
“From what I’ve witnessed, she seems more like a housekeeper than a wife.”
Housekeeper? Abe hadn’t set out to treat her like his housekeeper. But she had been doing a great deal, including laundering and ironing his clothing. “Should I hire a maid? Maybe one of the native women can come and help her.”
“Perhaps. Or perhaps you ought to seek God and ask Him what kind of husband He would have you be.”
The kind of husband God would have him be? Abe wanted to be a godly husband, had hoped he was doing everything right. But he’d also been trying to keep his ministry a priority and hadn’t wanted to let his marriage interfere with his duties. What if, in his quest, he wasn’t heeding God’s instructions for husbands? What if he needed to give Zoe more attention?
“As I said, I’m no expert,” John hurriedly added, “but I would be remiss not to share my concern with you.”
“Thank you, John. I’ll consider everything you’ve said.” He waved at the snow-covered path leading away from the cemetery. “Shall we go warm ourselves and have supper?”
“Maybe Zoe would like to have you to herself this eve, especially since you just returned from a trip.”
“We have visitors all the time. She never minds.” At least, she’d never said anything. In fact, she’d taken to inviting Will to dinner almost every night. If she’d wanted more privacy, why would she have asked him for permission to feed and care for the boy? He’d been pleased with her desire to reach out to the child and had gladly given his blessing on her endeavor. He’d even approved of her sharing of her baked goods and her knitted items among their neighbors. He liked that she was thoughtful and generous.
“You’re probably right. Please, disregard I said anything.” John cupped his hands and blew into them.
“Then you’ll come for dinner?”
“Very well.”
eighteen
Crying woke Abe. He blinked and sat up to find daylight creeping into the cabin. His back and arms were stiff after the night upon his bed of blankets on the floor, and his feet and toes ached with the cold.
Another wail—Violet’s crying—echoed in the cabin. And was followed by the sound of gagging and heaving.
Was Violet vomiting?
Abe tossed off his covers, the chill of the cabin hitting him. Though he slept in his clothing for additional warmth and to avoid awkwardness around Zoe, the morning air was especially cold.
He climbed to his feet and glanced to the chair where Zoe usually held and fed Violet in the morning. It was empty.
At more heaving and more crying, he pivoted to find Zoe on her knees on the bed, retching into the washbasin.
Concern ripped through him. “Zoe?” He crossed the short distance to the bed. She held her long hair back with her hand as the spasm racked her body.
“What ails you?” He hovered near the edge, unsure what he ought to do but knowing he needed to assist somehow.
Rising slightly, she lifted the bowl and moved to place it on the floor. Her hands trembled and her body shook. “My head,” she rasped.
He took the basin and set it aside. “What’s wrong with your head?”
She released her hold on her hair, and the waves spilled all around her. “I get headaches from time to time. It’s nothing to worry about.”
But even as she tried to console Violet, she gripped her head and moaned.
“What can I do to help you?” His worry was mounting with each passing moment.
“Would you get Violet’s bottle ready?” she asked before collapsing.
While he’d only assembled the bottle once, the day Herman had left Violet with them, he’d watched Zoe do it oft enough now that he had no trouble putting it together. All the while he worked, Violet’s cries swelled in intensity, and Zoe only groaned, holding her head and rocking back and forth.
He fetched the milk from the icebox, heated some in a pan, and then poured it into the glass container. When the bottle was ready, he held it out. “All set.”
“Thank you,” she whispered, taking the bottle with shaking hands. Her pupils were big, her face was pale, and her lips were pressed together with determination. Even as she tried to focus on Violet, she closed her eyes, her face taut with pain.
Although he’d never held Violet before, he’d watched Zoe and could surely feed Violet this morning, couldn’t he? Doing so would give Zoe a chance to rest and recover from whatever was ailing her.
Hesitantly, he reached for the baby. Her face was scrunched with her wailing. What if she didn’t like him? What if he made her cry more?
Lifting a silent prayer, he gingerly picked up the child and settled her in the crook of his arm just the way Zoe did. As Violet caught sight of his face, her crying tapered off. Her eyes widened, meeting his as if to question who he was and what business he had holding her.
He didn’t quite know what to say to her. So again, he tried to imitate Zoe. “Hi there, little one.” He spoke in his softest voice. “You’re hungry, aren’t you?”
Violet only stared.
Carefully, so that he didn’t bump or bother the baby, he took the bottle out of Zoe’s hand. She didn’t resist, had already buried her head into the mattress and was moaning again. As soon as he was done feeding Violet, he’d fetch the doctor.
He lowered himself into Zoe’s chair and then offered Violet the bottle. The baby quickly and eagerly began to feed. All the while she ate, her eyes never left his face. And he could only watch her with as much fascination as she did him. When she drained the last drop of milk and stopped sucking, she lifted one of her tiny hands up toward his face.
“Did you get enough?” he asked just as softly as before.
She gave a few last sucks and reached for him again.
Tentatively, he took hold of Violet’s hand. The moment he did so, she curled her fingers around his thumb and made a gurgling happy noise. At least he hoped it was a happy noise and that she wasn’t choking. Just in case, he propped her up higher into the crook of his arm.
She made another sound, this one almost like babbling, as if she were talking to him.
He glanced at Zoe as he’d been doing throughout the feeding. She’d stopped moaning, was curled up, and seemed to be sleeping. Even so, his worry hadn’t abated, and he knew he wouldn’t rest easy until the doctor came and examined her.
“I need to go, little one.” He rose slowly from the chair, hoping he wouldn’t jostle Violet. “I won’t be gone long.”
If only Will would stop by, then he could send the boy after the doctor so he wouldn’t have to leave Zoe and Violet.
Abe paced to the window and tugged aside the new curtains Zoe had hung. Fresh snow blanketed the ground and trees and stumps. The thick layer on the neighbor’s roof looked to be at least a foot high, if not more. Last evening, the snow had just started when John had left for his hotel room. Apparently it had snowed most of the night.
He’d need his snowshoes today. But the trek down the hill into town and back up would take longer than he wanted, especially if Zoe was asleep and unable to watch Violet. He couldn’t leave either one of them.
With Zoe resting now, perhaps he ought not to have the doctor disturb her anyway. Surely Will would make his way up to the cabin soon enough. Violet cooed up at him as though agreeing.
“Very well, little one,” he whispered. “I guess we’re stuck here for now.”
He crossed to the bed, pulled the covers over Zoe, and then stood and watched her sleep, the pain still tightening her features. Even so, she was utterly alluring and beautiful. Something stirred within him, something he couldn’t explain, except that John’s admonition from yesterday came back to him: “Perhaps you ought to seek God and ask Him what kind of husband He would have you be.”
Abe thought he was being a good husband by purchasing everything she needed. He’d assumed she enjoyed the time together when he was home. And he’d believed she was content with the way of things between them.
Even if she was content, he needed to do more, just as John had urged. After all, in Ephesians God instructed husbands to love their wives the same way Christ loved the church. That kind of sacrificial love certainly moved beyond the realm of treating one’s wife as a housekeeper.
If only he had some inkling of what to do as well as the courage to do it.
Zoe stretched, waking slowly, praying the throbbing in her head was gone.
The first thing she felt was the cool cloth that stretched across her eyes to her temples. The second thing was the gentleness of fingers intertwined in her hair. The fingers were unmoving, but she recognized the tender pressure as Abe’s.
She shifted to find that his arm was resting on the bed near her head, which meant he’d pulled up a chair as close to the bed as he could get.
Her heart fluttered, and at the same moment, the pounding in her head resumed—albeit not as strongly or as painfully as before.
How long had she been abed this time? Vaguely she remembered Abe taking the basin after the pain caused her to throw up. She also remembered he’d taken Violet’s bottle. Did that mean he’d fed the babe?
Had a doctor come and examined her, or had she only imagined it? She vaguely recollected another male speaking in low tones with Abe as well as Will’s voice ringing with worry. Was the boy still here? She needed to reassure him she would come through the ordeal just fine. She always did.
She pried open her eyes and at the same time lifted the cloth away. She winced against the daylight in the cabin, even though it was dim and gray.
“Will?” she whispered, her voice groggy.
A little foot jabbed into Zoe’s ribs, and she rubbed a hand gently over Violet, who was snuggled against her, bundled loosely in a baby blanket. In the same moment, she took in Abe reclining, his head back, his eyes closed in slumber.
Zoe rolled to her side so that she had a better view of the two. Violet was sleeping contentedly, which meant somehow Abe had figured out how to feed her. Bless him. What would she have done without his help?
His expression was peaceful, his fair hair falling across his forehead, the unruly waves in need of taming. A scruffy layer of stubble covered his jaw and chin, shadowing his face. Even so, his features were well defined, etched in hardness, and yet somehow always tender. From the top of his messy head to his muscular shoulders and arms to his long lean legs stretched out in front of him, he was a handsome man. If he realized how appealing he was, he’d never allowed it to puff him up.
She studied his mouth. Even his lips were practically perfect. And ’course, his smile was always heart-stopping.
“How are you feeling?” he whispered.
She jerked her attention away from his mouth only to find that his eyes were wide open and that he was watching her watching him. “I’m better.”
His expression relaxed, and his eyes softened with what could only be described as relief.
“Thank you for feeding Violet.”
He smiled affectionately at the babe, which only made him all the more endearing. “She’s a sweet baby.”
“Aye.”
The blue of his eyes was cloudless and pure and radiated warmth—a warmth that made a trail down her chest to her abdomen.
“I hope I did everything right,” he whispered.
“I’m sure you did. Otherwise she’d be letting us know about it.”
His smile widened. “I had no idea how to change her napkin. But Will coached me through the process.”
“You changed her?”
“It was either that or endure an unbearable stench.”
Zoe couldn’t contain her smile, even if the motion made the thudding in her temples louder. “You’re a saint.”
“Not really. I did it for self-preservation.”
She laughed but then regretted it, gripping her head.
Immediately his fingers were against her forehead, pushing her hand away and gently rubbing her throbbing veins. The coolness of his hands and the firm pressure eased the ache. “The doctor told me this might help.”
She relaxed against her pillow, unable to protest, although a part of her warned that she should. “You needn’t have called a doctor.”
“I was worried.”
She stilled at the censure in his voice. “I should have told you of my ailment sooner. I’m sorry I didn’t.”
“What if this would have happened while I was away?” He paused in his gentle massaging, his brows knitting.
“I make it through the worst. I always have.”
“You needed help, Zoe. And so did Violet.”
She wanted to think she could have managed. After all, she’d endured the headaches for many years. Sometimes they were short-lived, and she could function through them. Other times, she could do nothing but wait for the throbbing to go away.
“The doctor said laudanum could h
elp relieve your pain.” Abe resumed the pressure against her forehead.
“No. After what laudanum did to my sister, Meg, I’d rather suffer and die than take it.”
Abe brushed a hand over her forehead and into her hair, something akin to what her mum had done when she’d been a wee girl. “What happened to Meg?”
Zoe pictured her wayward sister and wondered how she was faring, praying she was better but guessing things were the same as they had been for years. “After Mum got sick, Meg started to use Mum’s laudanum. She liked it so much that she had to get the money for it one way or another.” Zoe was too embarrassed to admit what Meg had become as a result of her need for the drug.
If he knew what she was referencing, he was too polite to say so. “The doctor mentioned one other treatment for your headache that might be beneficial.” Abe combed her hair again, the motion soothing, more so than even his massage of her temples.
Zoe closed her eyes and relished Abe’s tender touch. “I’m sure he can’t recommend anything I haven’t already tried.”
“I doubt you’ve tried this.” Abe’s tone was mysterious.
She opened one eye. “What?”
“When Will comes, he’ll watch Violet and I’ll take you.”
“Take me where?” She tried to sit up, only for Abe to gently push her back down.
“You’ll have to wait and see.”
She glanced at the window and tried to gauge the time. From the fading light, she guessed the afternoon was waning. “Have I been abed all day?”
He nodded.
“Then I’ve kept you from your work—”
“There’s nothing urgent that needs my attention today.”
“Are you sure? I can fend for myself now if you need to leave.”
“I’m not leaving, Zoe,” he said firmly. “Not until Will gets here, and then we’re leaving together.”
