Love Lasts Forever

by Dominiqua Douglas

  Thor stiffened. He never did like horseback riding. Cal loved it, but he always hated it. Horses were unpredictable, and it was only a matter of time before the one he rode proved it. He grunted. “I can handle him.”

  She guided her horse closer. Her left hand reached out and covered his. Despite the leather gloves that prevented flesh-to-flesh contact, ripples of pleasure shot throughout his body. He sucked in air and tried not to react, all the while hoping she’d keep her hand there awhile longer.

  “You’re holding the reins too tight,” she said in a husky murmur. Her thumb caressed the back of his hand in sweeping strokes. “Loosen your grip, and the horse will respond in kind. If you’re gentle with him, he’ll be gentle with you.”

  Thor obeyed her soft command, and sure enough, the horse calmed down. Her hand dropped to his thigh. Her light touch was enough to ignite a flame of desire within him.

  “Relax. You’re wound as tight as a tin drum. He can feel it. Calm yourself.”

  Calm myself? How in the hell was he supposed to do that when the mere touch of her glove-covered hand inflamed him? Her sweet, honeysuckle scent made him dizzy with desire. Her soft, husky whisper aroused him further and made him long to hear her cry out in passion.

  She removed her hand, and he caught it. He pulled the glove off and raised her hand to his lips, brushing a soft kiss onto her fingertips. She exhaled loudly before tugging free.

  “Thank you,” he added and handed the glove to her.

  She slipped the leather material onto her hand. “You’re welcome,” she replied under her breath.

  They rode in silence for several more miles. Thor wondered where her thoughts took her. She seemed eager for the adventure, refusing to let fatigue stop her. Her zeal inspired him and presented another quality that attracted him to her.

  Dammit, how he wanted her. He tried to push the longing out of his mind, but the solitude made it so damned hard to ignore. In 1985, he wouldn’t have hesitated in pursuing her, but 1860 demanded that he kept his distance. It wasn’t fair, but nothing in life was. He learned that a long time ago. Knowing the truth didn’t make it any easier to accept.

  “There’s a station in Chicopee. It’s almost forty miles from here. The Station Master there may know where Big Nat is.”

  “That’s a long way,” he replied. “There’s no way we can make it there without resting. Let’s get off the main road and find a place to sleep for a few hours.”

  This time Willow didn’t attempt to dissuade him. She guided her horse off to the west side of the road, and Thor did the same. They found a spot hidden in a grove of bushes and trees. Both promptly fell asleep.

  * * *

  Heavy pounding on the door shook the walls of the Magnusen cabin. Anders left Eva’s side to answer the knock. He jerked the door open and greeted Reverend Brown’s angry red face with a scowl. “Eva’s birthing,” he grimly announced and rushed back to his sweating wife.

  Brown’s footsteps struck the floor with heavy blows. He stood just behind Anders. “How long?”

  “Since first light,” Anders replied. “About two hours now.”

  “How close are the pains?” the reverend questioned.

  “They’re getting closer and closer,” Anders said. “She’s passed out a few times.” He pressed a towel against Eva’s glistening cheek. “I ’spect the pains are bad.”

  She reached for his hand. “They’re not so bad. With pleasure must come some amount of pain. It makes us appreciate the little one we’re being blessed with.”

  Brown rested his hand on her swollen abdomen. His fingers flexed against her quivering mound. “It’s not right.”

  “What’s wrong?” Anders and Eva asked in unison.

  “The head isn’t in the proper place. The baby will need to be turned.” He gave Anders a hard look. “Can you do that?”

  “I’ve done it for a mare, but… I’m not sure I could do that to Eva. Can you help us?”

  Brown’s mouth tightened. “I could prepare her, but Olivia has a better hand at this, than I. Go get her, and I’ll stay here with Eva.”

  Anders stood and Eva grabbed his hand. “What about Willow? The reverend came here looking for her. Didn’t you, Reverend? We can’t take up time in your search.”

  “She’s with your relation, isn’t she?” Brown asked.

  “Yes.”

  “I imagine your kin is keeping her safe. I came close to going past your cabin to look for her, but the good Lord spoke to me, and here I am. I’ll stay and help you.” He looked at Anders. “Hurry along. We don’t have much time.”

  Chapter Eight

  Anders found his patience sorely tested as late afternoon arrived and Eva lost consciousness again. The pain of the prolonged childbirth had shone vividly in her bluish gray eyes. He longed to ease her suffering. If he could bear her pain, he would. Anders hated seeing her this way.

  “Why won’t the babe just come? Why must my Eva endure such agony, and for so long?” he thought.

  “We can’t question the ways of the Lord,” Reverend Brown said quietly, letting Anders know that he’d spoken his thoughts aloud. “Some things happen a certain way for a reason. The Good Book says there’s a season and a time to every purpose under Heaven. You can find that in Chapter Three of Ecclesiastes.”

  “Can I find out the purpose of the pain she’s in? Will it tell me why she’s hurting so, and if she dies, will it tell me why?”

  “You mustn’t talk like that,” Olivia scolded. She patted Eva’s glistening forehead with a towel. “She can hear you.”

  “She’s no doubt wondering the same thing,” Anders said, bitterly. “All she’s ever wanted was a healthy, happy baby to love and care for. Why can’t she have that without this trouble?”

  “Perhaps this birthing will cause you to cherish the child all the more,” the reverend suggested, “and any other children you may have.”

  Dogged determination brought a grimace to Anders face. He shook his head. “After this one, we won’t have any more. I’m not watching her go through this torment again.”

  “It isn’t torture.” Eva’s eyes fluttered open. “I want more babies, Anders, and you’ll give them to me.”

  He knelt at her bedside. Tears welled in his eyes. “I’m so sorry about this.”

  “It’s not your fault. Birthing is rarely ever easy. It took almost an entire week for my grandmother to give birth to my Uncle Calvin. I suppose I should have warned you when I married you. Childbirth isn’t child’s play in my family.”

  Olivia raised the quilt to Eva’s knees. “It’s time to turn the babe,” she announced. She quickly washed her hands before addressing the men. “Hold her down. If she passes out again, leave her be. Are you ready? Anders, she won’t enjoy this a bit, but this will make the rest of the process much easier.”

  His jaw clamped down. “I understand.” He moved to one side of his wife while Reverend Brown claimed the other. His hard gaze connected with the reverend. “You’d better pray.”

  “I never stopped.”

  * * *

  Whale-oil lamps and burning candles illuminated the dark, tense cabin. Perspiration saturated the bedclothes covering Eva, and Anders worked hard to make her comfortable. After Olivia turned the baby, Brown suggested several times for Anders to join him outside and leave the rest up to the women. Anders refused to budge. He feared that if he left Eva’s side, he could lose her forever. A bite of fresh of air wasn’t worth that risk.

  “It’s coming along nicely now,” Olivia announced. “You’re doing just fine, Eva. Bear down when I tell you to, and relax when I give the word.”

  “I will.” Dots of apple red colored Eva’s flushed cheeks. She gave Anders a watery smile. “Soon, we’ll be parents.”

  He tried to make light of his uneasiness. Pressing a kiss to her temple, he whispered, “You’ve been saying that for hours.”

  “Anything worth having is worth waiting for,” she reminded him. “This babe will be a prize fo
r sure.”

  Sudden tension claimed her body. Anders grabbed her hand. Her fingers dug into his flesh with sharp precision. From her hold, he knew the pain was great. Damn near unbearable. Olivia called out instructions, and Eva followed each of them and remained conscious throughout.

  “Keep pushing,” Olivia advised. “I can see the head. This baby has a thick patch of brown hair. I can’t wait to see the rest.”

  Anders resisted the urge to observe the arrival from Olivia’s viewpoint. Eva needed his hand. He listened to the older woman’s commentary and gathered the rest from his imagination. If Eva was right, the birthing would be over soon, and they could both see the babe then.

  Please, God, let it be over soon.

  “Relax now, Eva,” Olivia instructed.

  “Is something wrong?” Eva panted. Perspiration trickled down her ruddy cheeks. “Shouldn’t I keep going until the baby is free?”

  Olivia wiped her glistening forehead with a swipe of her sleeve. “You can rest yourself for a moment or two. The baby is fine just like he is. Anders, wet her tongue a bit. I imagine she’s parched.”

  Anders reached for the almost empty glass of water that rested on a nearby table. His hand supported Eva as she rose slightly and drank the contents. She emptied the glass, and he asked, “Would you like more?”

  “That was enough.” She looked at Olivia. “Now?”

  “My, you’re impatient,” Olivia scolded, gently. “Yes, now.”

  Eva bore down. Her hand clutched Anders’s in an even tighter grip. Low groans passed from her lips. A faint cry followed the eerie silence.

  Olivia told Eva to relax. The new parents shared worried glances. Knots formed in his belly. Anxiety made his voice harsh and demanding. “Olivia? We heard the cry.”

  “Everything is just fine,” she said. “I’m making sure your daughter is presentable before she greets you.”

  “Our daughter.” Eva released a deep breath. She extended her hands. “Please, Miss Olivia. Is she perfect? Let us see her.”

  “She’s the spitting image of an angel.” Olivia held a squirming bundle in her arms as she stood and gently placed the infant into Eva’s waiting arms.

  Anders peered down at his small family. His breath caught in his throat while he watched Eva fold the blanket away from their child’s face. The door creaked open and heavy footsteps crossed the room. Anders paid Reverend Brown’s entrance no mind. Awe held him still as a statue.

  He stroked the baby’s cheek. Her squirming paused as if she understood and acknowledged the love behind the tender caress. “Our little Dorothea is God’s gift.”

  * * *

  As the days passed and Thor remained in 1860 with Willow, his confidence in his time travel theory strengthened. As long as all the variables weren’t in place, the timepiece alone would not suddenly return him to 1985. Maybe it wasn’t the watch that sent him to the past after all. The more time Thor spent with Willow the less he cared what caused the phenomena. His need to be with her grew with each conversation and every passing glance. Hell, just the sound of her breathing caused air to lodge in his throat. Most mornings, he awakened before her and simply watched her sleep. The smile she gave him as her eyes opened made him feel wanted. He wasn’t wasting space. Finally, he served a purpose again, and that was enough. Returning to his time was a problem for later.

  Riding at night and sleeping during the day became Thor and Willow’s pattern. Thor hated that Willow slept on a ground covered with twigs and pebbles buffered only by a thin wool blanket. She never complained, saying that she didn’t mind. It was only for a little while. Sleep was sleep no matter where or how they got it.

  That wasn’t good enough. The desire for proper sanctuary possessed him. He voiced the goal aloud as the sun peeked at them from the east and tinges of pink began to replace the midnight blue of the sky.

  “We’re stopping in the next town.”

  “Why? Are you hungry?”

  “Fish and berries are filling. I don’t mind what we eat on the trail, but I’m tired of how we sleep.”

  “You’re as stubborn as an old mule.” She groaned. “You know I’m not allowed in hotels.”

  “If I put up a fuss about it—”

  “When the reverend rides through looking for us, he’d be able to find us for sure.” She possessed the calm voice of reason.

  Thor grunted. “You should have been able to sleep inside at that Station in Chicopee.” The memory of their most recent stop burned a hole in his male pride. “Making you sleep in a barn! I should have knocked him on his ass!”

  “Thor!” Her voice scolded him while her giggle told another tale. “The bales of hay were soft and pleasing. You said so yourself.”

  “I lied.”

  After riding for several more miles, Thor spotted what appeared to be an abandoned farm. A shack sat beneath a cluster of oaks, and a dilapidated barn stood several yards away. Weeds and wildflowers flourished in wild disarray. A rippling stream lay behind a row of bushes. His hopes soared at the sight of gushing water. Their canteens needed refreshing and a bath promised to ease the low throb in his shoulder.

  “Looks like we have a choice.”

  “The shack is hidden by the trees. If someone comes, we could sneak off into the woods.”

  “The shack it is.”

  “It could be set up to trap runaways.” Willow warned as she slid off her horse. “Don’t rush inside. Be careful.”

  “I will.”

  His inspection of the shack found nothing suspicious. The interior bordered on imperfect. In a battle of safety versus appeal, safety won every time. After hours of travel, they desperately needed a safe haven. He called out for her to join him.

  “The horses are tied up. I couldn’t lift the saddles off.” She handed him a canteen. “There’s a stream nearby. If we hurry, we can wash up before the sun rises and then refill the canteens tonight before we leave.”

  “You’re very efficient.” He swallowed a gulp of water. The cool liquid refreshed him instantly. “Let me know before you bathe. I want to be close in case someone comes around. I’ll take care of the saddles and water the horses. In the meantime, make yourself comfortable.”

  * * *

  Willow looked around at the dank surroundings. Comfortable? That was easy for him to say. The dirt floor hardly provided relief, but it was possible the extra blankets could help.

  She found an old broom in the corner and swept a space for them. There was a small hole in the floor. She gathered some twigs to fill the opening. By the time Thor returned, vibrant orange and red flames flickered in the makeshift hearth.

  “It’s looks nice.” He gave her a saddle and a blanket. He dropped his saddle on the ground near the fire, covering it with a blanket. “I checked out the stream. We’ll have fish later.”

  “Are you hungry now?” She wondered if his comment was a hint for her to make breakfast. With few stops to eat, Thor’s stomach growled loudly and often. She wondered if he had a bottomless pit inside him.

  “No.” He rubbed his shoulder. “Food is the last thing on my mind. I’ll get the fish later. Are you ready to wash up?” An infectious grin curved his full lips. “I promise I won’t peek. I won’t mind if you do, though.”

  She knew better than to respond to his flirtatious teasing and silently walked beside him toward the stream. Whenever bathing time arrived, he made the same comment. At first, she wondered if he would peek. He never did. Now, she trusted his word, but that didn’t stop the tingle from traveling down her spine at the mere suggestion of seeing his bare body. Clothing fit him far better than cotton and wool had a right to. Anders’s wedding suit would no doubt add to his handsome features. She could hardly wait to see him dressed in finery.

  The cold water and the threat of passing travelers made for a short bath and fast cleaning of her drawers and chemise. Willow pulled on her clean spare undergarments and hat. She shook out her riding clothes and stepped back into them. A light splash warned he
r that Thor was no longer decent and already in the water. Usually, she left him alone and moved to do so.

  “Willow, wait.”

  Trepidation sparked through her. Her voice wavered with uncertainty. “Yes?”

  “Turn around,” he said quietly, “I won’t bite.” When she followed his bidding, he added, “I need your help. We should reach Big Nat and the plantation tomorrow. I may not have time to shave before then, and I doubt we’ll find a mirror. Can you help me shave?”

  “I’ve never done it.” Her heart swelled at the thought. Having a reason to touch his face and stand close enough to breathe his scent created a doubly sinful temptation. She backed away. “I may cut you.”

  “It’s not as hard as it looks. Besides, I trust you.”

  Although a few golden rays filtered through the overhanging branches, the sun had yet to reach its full glory. Shaving outside could trap them in full daybreak. Willow nodded once and said, “I’ll do it for you at the shack. I think I saw a bucket in the barn. I’ll come back and get water.”

  “No, I’ll bring it with me when I come in.” He paused and gave her a faint smile empty of the usual hint of flirtation. “Thanks, Willow.”

  She returned to the shack cloaked in nervous anticipation. Half a dozen reasons to rescind her agreement came to mind. This chore is too intimate, she thought, as her footsteps wore a path across the dirt floor. Since the kiss in the woods, she was careful not to reveal her attraction to him. Awareness grew despite her vigilance. This small task threatened to be her undoing. Then, the door opened and there he stood. One look into his eyes and her refusal died.

  “I brought the water.” He held up the bucket as he kicked the door closed. His heavy footsteps brought him to her. He handed her their bag of supplies. As he towered over her, he said, “We can’t do this standing up. The fire you made is just right. We can sit near it.”

  They settled where he suggested. Firelight flickered beside them. Pretty colors reflected against his stubble covered jaw. She barely noticed the brilliant, dancing hues. Being this close to him left her breathless. He smelled fresh like the stream, yet his distinct male scent carried through. A sudden sensation of weightlessness made her balance falter. His hands closed around her shoulders, steadying her.