An abrupt bang exploded within the home, and Peter jerked before collapsing on top of Duncan.
Duncan gasped, sucking up the sweet air into his neglected lungs. After a few seconds of recovery, Duncan shoved the large man off of him and scooted back to the wall. It took his vision a little more time to return to him in full, and when it did, the sight before him left him in a state of shock and awe.
Elle stood there, aiming a smoking gun at Peter’s body. Her eyes blazed with fury, even as tears poured from them. She was like a vengeful angel of death.
Bewildered, Duncan glanced between her and Peter. It was then that Duncan saw the blood oozing from the assailant’s skull.
Elle’s anguished screams brought Duncan’s attention back to her. Her face was contorted with agony, and she dropped the gun as she snapped her hands to her belly.
“Elle,” Duncan gasped, scrambling over Peter’s body to get to her. His entire body cold and quivering—his heart hot and hammering—Duncan grabbed his wife’s arms and looked into her pain-filled eyes. “What’s happening? What’s wrong?”
A loud sloshing noise had him glancing down. There was liquid between her feet.
“Baby’s coming,” Elle wheezed, crying heavily. “It’s coming now.”
***
It felt as if someone was stabbing her stomach repeatedly while she was trying not to throw up. Nausea mixed with overwhelming pain—her insides tearing apart. Elle had never experienced anything like it, and in the back of her mind, she wondered if Duncan had known this was going to happen—if she should have been as worried as he had been about the arrival of their child.
“What do I do?” Duncan asked rapidly, holding her arms tightly. He was basically holding her up as she screamed and wobbled. “What do I do?”
“I don’t know!” Another of wave of agony crashed through her, and she fell against his torso. “Let me down!”
“We should get you to—”
“NOW!”
As gently and quickly as he could, he helped Elle lay herself down over the cool floor. She felt as if her blood was sizzling, sweat coating her hot skin. She placed her hands over her stomach and cringed when more pain hit her.
“The baby’s coming,” she said, unable to see Duncan through her tears. “Duncan, the baby’s coming right now.”
She felt his fingers brush over her arms before she felt her dress move up over her waist. A small part of her was surprised how indifferent she was to that—to all of this—but then she spread her legs wide and decided to focus on more important things.
“Duncan, Duncan,” she whimpered, reaching outward.
“I got you,” Duncan said somewhere in front of you. “I got you. I’m here.” She felt him squeeze her leg. “It’ll be okay.”
It was several horrible hours later when the baby was finally out of her. Elle was so sore and relieved she sobbed and let her body fall back onto the floor. Still, as overwhelmed with sensations as she was, she couldn’t stop herself from asking, “Is the baby alright? Duncan?” For the second she waited for his answer, ice-cold fear gripped her heart.
“He’s perfect,” Duncan said. “He’s healthy and perfect.”
Elle’s head fell back against the floor, a sigh of relief bursting from her mouth. “Thank God.” She closed her eyes and let her mind swim in and out of consciousness. She trusted Duncan completely, and she had no qualms over letting herself fall into a coma of sorts.
She wasn’t sure how much time had gone by when she felt something being placed over her stomach and torso. She heard the little whimpers—felt the little squirming—and she forced herself to open her stinging eyes and look down at her son. She didn’t get the best look at him from the angle she was at, but that didn’t matter. She knew Duncan was right; this little boy was perfect.
“Hold on to him, okay?” Duncan instructed gently, crouching over her. “I’m going to carry the both of you to bed.”
Elle’s arms cradled around her baby boy. Once he was secure, Elle nodded toward Duncan.
Duncan awkwardly scooped his arms beneath her legs and her back. It took him a moment to get to his feet, but once he was standing, he had no problems carrying the two of them. He stepped over Peter’s body, and Elle’s mind reeled at that; she had nearly forgotten about him—about what she had done to him.
She closed her eyes tight and pressed her face against her son’s head. She could not make herself feel guilty over murdering someone like Peter—someone who was going to kill the best man in Elle’s life. All she could feel in that moment was relief and love as she inhaled deeply.
Duncan lowered himself, placing her on top of their bed. She was so tired; she was practically limp as her husband situated the pillows behind her head. Her eyes wandered over her son—the warm little bundled that meant everything to her. She cried and smiled. “I love you,” she said to the child. “I love you so much.”
Duncan situated himself beside her and peered down at the baby. “What’s his name?” he asked her.
Elle hadn’t even thought of that—not in that moment, at least. Through all the months she considered various names, none of them sounded ideal to her any longer. She shook her head, her eyes still glued to the infant. “I don’t know. Nothing seems right.”
Duncan placed a kiss against her temple. “What was his father’s name?”
She nearly sobbed. The question itself, and the tender tone it was asked in, was too much. “S-Sam.”
“Samuel. That’s a good name. Strong. Biblical.”
She had considered it earlier, but she hadn’t been sure if Duncan would have appreciated being reminded of her husband. But by the way he was speaking now—by the way he was pressed so closely to her and protecting her—she nodded. Then a surge of determination shot through her. “Samuel Duncan Aster,” she said. “It’s perfect.” Torn between so many emotions, she turned to Duncan.
He backed away a little, revealing his wide and glazed eyes. God, he was perfect, too.
Elle smiled at him. Not caring if it was right or wrong any longer, she said, “I love you, Duncan.”
His breath hitched. He stared at her intently, like he wasn’t sure if she was delusional or not. Before she could repeat it—louder and firmer this time—he whispered, “I love you, too. Both of you.” He shifted his wonder-filled gaze to the baby. To Sam.
Elle laughed, joyous. She also turned back to their son and felt Duncan’s head press against hers a moment later.
Epilogue
Duncan woke to the sound of Sam’s wails in the crib at the end of the bed. The child was over four months old now, and his lungs seemed to be stronger than ever.
Groaning, Duncan turned to encircle his arms around his wife, only to discover she was no longer in bed. Tired as he was, he forced his eyelids apart and allowed his vision to adjust to the darkness. Then he turned toward the crib.
Elle stood over it, her hand no doubt skimming over the baby’s head. She whispered soft nothings, but that wasn’t calming Sam down in the slightest.
Duncan stretched before releasing a long sigh. “Did you feed him?”
“Yes,” Elle said grouchily.
“Clean him?”
“Yes.”
“Why’s he crying then?”
She turned, and though it was too dark to be certain, Duncan could swear that she was glaring at him. “How the hell should I know?”
He smirked. Both of them loved to sleep as often as they could, and little Sam had been forcing them to cut back. It was tough, his fatigue heaviest within his skull. Stretching one more time, Duncan forced himself to get out of bed and assist his wife.
“I don’t know what to do,” she said over Sam’s wails. She leaned against Duncan when he wrapped a languid arm around her. “I’ve tried everything.”
Duncan peered down at his son and thought. “Ma used to give me whiskey when I was fussy.”
Elle reeled in his arms. “Really?”
He had to laugh. “You never
heard of doing that?”
“No. That sounds dreadful!”
Duncan hummed at that, and let his mind drift for a bit. The piercing sounds of Sam’s cries were aggravating things he had actually started to get used to. He rubbed his jaw and yawned. “Well, I don’t know. You want to rock him?”
“I did that for hours.”
Duncan reached in the crib and ran his fingers over the baby’s arm. Sam was shaking his fists in the air as if the world had done him a great injustice, but before Duncan knew it, the baby was moving his little arms and grabbing Duncan’s finger. Duncan watched, mesmerized, as Sam slowly tugged his finger until it was inside the infant’s mouth.
Silence fell upon the house.
“Thank the Lord,” Elle breathed. “He just needed something to suck on.”
Duncan smiled down at his quiet boy. The moment was calm, affection warming Duncan’s heart and soothing him.
But then his back started to ache.
“Am I supposed to stay like this all night?” he whispered into Elle’s hair.
She snorted. “I guess so.”
He tightened his grip on her and pulled him to his chest. “You’re staying with me,” he said, grinning with a sense of triumphant.
She chortled softly before a big yawn got the better of her. Smacking her lips together, she rested her head beneath his chin. “Okay,” she said sleepily.
Duncan’s smile softened. The two most important, precious beings to him were within arm’s lengths. Just being near them…it was all that mattered. As uncomfortable and exhausted as he was, there was no other place he would rather be.
*****
THE END.
Lost and Found
Mail Order Bride
CHRISTIAN MICHAEL
Chapter 1 – More Than This
Trinity carefully threaded the needle, and held her hand as steady as she could as she lined it up with the open seam. Mending was her least favorite chore, and mending fine linen was the worst. At least cotton was easy to work with and didn’t slip between her fingers as she tried to hold it together.
“Mind that you don’t sew the back to the front when you stitch up that side.”
Old Mrs. Graham spoke without even looking over at Trinity, causing her to jump. She thought Mrs. Graham had gone out for the afternoon, and she didn’t hear her employer come back in.
“You know I always mind where I am stitching, Mrs. Graham, don’t you worry. I won’t send it out without you looking it over first.”
Trinity didn’t look up as she replied, hoping she gave off the impression she had known Mrs. Graham had been there the whole time. She had gone round and round with Mrs. Graham about a number of things, and she didn’t like it when the old woman watched her. It made Trinity feel as though Mrs. Graham didn’t trust her.
“Well one can never be too careful. This is our livelihood, after all, and if the customer isn’t happy, then I’m not happy. You want me to be happy, don’t you?”
Mrs. Graham switched from a bossy tone to a shaky tone as she asked the question, trying to elicit all the sympathy she could out of Trinity. Trinity knew the old woman’s games, however, and didn’t play along. She was tired of being manipulated. Tired of working for a nit-picky old woman. Tired of sewing this shirt.
“I think the customer is going to be plenty happy with this shirt. I declare I don’t know of a place in all of Vermont that is fancy enough to justify a shirt such as this one.”
The words had scarcely escaped Trinity’s lips when she heard Mrs. Graham clicking her tongue. She cringed on the inside. Mrs. Graham only did that when she was going to lecture Trinity, or treat her like a little girl. Trinity wasn’t sure which was about to happen, but she mentally braced herself for the event.
“You poor, poor girl. Of course you wouldn’t know of such things. A girl that was left on a doorstep would by no means understand that there are fine places here. Fine places where all of the people dress in fancy clothes and eat fancy foods. Foods you never even heard of, Child.”
Trinity let her mind wander. She hated it when Mrs. Graham referred to her childhood. And she hated it when Mrs. Graham treated her like a little girl that knew nothing of the world outside. Sure, she had been abandoned as a child, but that didn’t make her any poorer than anyone else. Most of the time, Mrs. Graham wouldn’t say anything about it, but there were days she just wouldn’t let Trinity forget.
Trinity was, by relation, Mrs. Graham’s adopted niece. It was Graham’s brother, the preacher of the town that had found Trinity on the steps of the church many years ago. He had never formally adopted her, but he had seen to it that she was cared for by the families that attended his church.
Trinity was thankful to him for his kindness, and to Mrs. Graham as well for the part she had played in Trinity’s growing up life, as well as giving her a job when she was of age, but part of Trinity hated it here. Not just working for Mrs. Graham, but in the tiny town she lived in nestled in the rolling hills of Vermont.
Trinity longed for a life of adventure. A life where she felt she belonged. True, the Graham’s and Preacher Davis had been most welcoming, as had many of the families Trinity had spent her time with as a child, but none of them felt like her real family.
She had always seen her classmates with their siblings and their parents, and it was clear they belonged. Though they did their best to make Trinity feel part of the family, she never felt that kind of connection to anyone, and she didn’t know why.
Now, as she grew older, it was assumed she was going to help Mrs. Graham in her old age, and eventually take over the business. Many people in town assumed she was going to help run the church and take care of things for Preacher Davis when he was traveling, but Trinity had other plans.
Deep down inside, she felt there had to be more to life than this. More to life than sewing these shirts that were brought in day after day, and more to life than running errands for an old woman that simply didn’t want to do them herself. There had to be more to life than the families that all felt sorry for her in her situation, and the tiny houses she walked past every single day.
In fact, there had to be more to life than this little town, in this little state. She had heard tales of the West, and the adventures people had when they went out there. It was exactly the life that she wanted.
“Trinity! Do you hear me?”
Trinity jumped as her mind was brought back to the moment, and she realized Mrs. Graham was still talking to her.
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Graham, my mind was wandering.”
“No doubt you were trying to imagine that kind of restaurant for yourself, eh?”
Trinity had no idea what Mrs. Graham had been talking about, but she nodded anyway. A smile broke across Mrs. Graham’s face, and she clicked her tongue once more.
“I’d say that’s enough of that for now. Tell you what. Here is a letter I needed mailed today… would you mind doing that for me?”
Trinity muffed a sigh inside herself, and forced a smile in return. She nodded and rose to take the letter, thinking once again that there had to be more to life than this.
Chapter 2 – A Walk About Town
“Trinity! Trinity, Trinity!”
Trinity stopped to see who was calling her name, and to her delight she saw her good friend Olga running her way. Olga had been one of Trinity’s closest friends growing up, perhaps it was because Olga’s parents had moved to America from Slovakia, and Olga had always felt like an outsider around the American children at school.
“Olga! How are you? I’ve been thinking I ought to call on you one of these days.”
Trinity slowed her pace so her friend could keep up with her. Olga had been born with a foot deformity, and always walked with a minor limp. It wasn’t enough to stop her from getting around easily, but it was enough for the other children to poke fun at her. This is part of the reason she and Trinity had become such good friends.
“I have been well. Looking all over for a
job, but nobody is hiring right now. I’m getting along well enough for now, but I’m going to need something a little better before the snow flies. How is old Mrs. Cranky?”
“Mrs. Graham is doing quite well herself, thank you.”
Trinity replied, but she had to stifle a laugh.
There were few people Trinity knew that she could relate to. All of them were in such awe of Mrs. Graham, few actually realized how difficult of a woman she really was. Always making promised she could never keep, and following those promises she would either back out completely, or make Trinity fulfill them. Yet everyone in town spoke of how kind and giving Mrs. Graham was.
“I’m sure she is going to continue to do quite well so long as she has you around to do her bidding. Is she even paying you enough to keep all of her promises for her?”
Olga’s face blushed red after she asked the question, and she put her hand over her mouth.
“Sorry, it’s not my place to ask what you are making, but I still doubt she is paying you enough to be her slave as well as her seamstress.”
“It’s ok. I wish I could say I made a lot more for my work, but I have to remember that I do owe her and her brother a great deal of kindness. They practically raised me, after all.”
“Oh pish posh! The whole town raised you, and they get the glory. If I were you, I’d-“
Olga was cut off in the middle of her sentence by a laugh, and the two girls turned to see Ashley and her friends walking towards them. They were all dressed in fine dresses, and carrying umbrellas to keep the sun off of them. Each of them also carried a small fan, and giggled to each other as they stopped next to Trinity and Olga.
“Oh, we’re sorry, we didn’t see you here.”
Ashley spoke with a false sweetness, and her friends erupted with laughter.
[2016] Finding My Cowboy Page 18
