The Deepest Sigh

by Naomi Musch

  "Oh, Lang! Isn't it wonderful? Our very own home." She rushed back to him and slipped her arms around his waist, waiting for his kiss.

  He pressed his lips to her forehead. "How about we get unpacked and settled in?"

  She agreed and picked up her own bag, lugging it to the bedroom. He could hear her humming as he went to the stove to slip in another piece of wood. Things had happened so fast since their wedding just days ago. He perused the cabin and its sparse furnishings. It wasn't the elegant honeymoon room they had left behind in Duluth. The reality of adjusting to life in this tiny home with Rilla would take a great deal of work.

  He pushed out a breath and looked over their kitchen supplies. "Do you want some tea or coffee? I can put the water on."

  "That would be perfect," she called from the other room.

  Perhaps the newness would just take time. He sighed and accepted the idea. Whistling a tune, he picked up a pitcher and went out to the pump to fill it with water. He glanced northward for a moment, thinking of Delia and Theo in their home just up the road. Had Delia wondered about he and Rilla while they were away? Had it ever crossed her mind at all to imagine herself in Rilla's place?

  He could only hope she did.

  Getting adjusted did become easier. By the time Christmas rolled around they had fallen into a comfortable routine. They went to the farm first thing before sunrise, performed the morning chores, and then headed home again for breakfast. Lang would return for more farm work and come home again at lunchtime. Rilla sometimes accompanied him to do other tasks with her mother at the farm, but most days she stayed tucked inside their own cabin laundering clothes, sewing, cooking, and falling whole-heartedly into other wifely tasks. The evenings were reserved for other charms.

  Rilla freely offered herself to him; however, he looked forward to every chance he had to see Delia. Christmas offered the most delightful opportunity.

  The roads were covered in snow, but they took the wagon to church anyway. Marilla huddled close, with blankets wrapped around her legs and a warm brick tucked beneath her feet. The return trip was colder without the brick. They stopped by the cabin to fill the wood stove, and by the time they reached the farm, Theo and Delia were driving in behind them. Delia's cheeks were bright pink, and her eyes sparkled like a little girl's, as Theo helped her down from his surrey. He loosed her hand while he turned to retrieve several packages, and she inched her way up the icy walk.

  "Don't slip," Lang said to Rilla as she made her way ahead of him toward the house. He turned a glimpse back at Delia right as her foot slid sideways. He reached out and captured her elbow. "Here, better hang on."

  "Oh, my!" She gripped his arm. "Good thing you saved me. That would not have been pretty if I'd fallen."

  With Rilla gaining the porch, Lang offered Delia a grin, enjoying the feel of her fingers through his coat. "Just so I don't go down myself." Once she was inside, he returned to the wagon for the gifts they'd brought. Nothing too much, just a few souvenirs from their honeymoon in Duluth.

  The Eckerts' home was warm and welcoming. They ate a Christmas dinner of ham, potatoes, carrots, cranberries, and cake. Then the family retired to the living room to sip warm cider and exchange gifts. Rilla squealed like a girl of fifteen over a new pattern and fabric her parents presented to her. Lang accepted the set of three handkerchiefs Delia had sewn, tucking one of them into his breast pocket close to his heart. He and Rilla gave Mr. Eckert a new pocket Canoe Knife, and for Mrs. Eckert a cameo locket. Lang offered Theo a knife similar to Mr. Eckert's, and they had gotten Delia a pair of golden brown earrings made from Lake Superior agates.

  "They're gorgeous!" Delia laid them in her palm then held them up to look at the way they shone as they dangled in the air.

  "Lang picked them out," Rilla announced with her shoulders and head held high. "He said they'd match your coloring perfectly." She laid a hand on his knee and smiled at him. "I must say he does have good taste."

  Delia tilted her head and held them to her ear. "Well? What do you think?"

  Theo leaned in front of her and kissed her on the cheek. "I think I'm the one who has good taste."

  Her eyes sparkled, and Delia's parents and sister chuckled.

  Lang merely smiled. He couldn't argue with Theo's assessment, but acknowledging his brother-in-law's full possession of Delia's admiration did crush the holiday spirit out of him.

  The light outside the windows grew darker. Theo bundled Delia's coat around her and said goodbye, while Lang and Rilla dressed in their heavy barn coats and boots to head to the barn with Mr. Eckert. Lang stepped into the cold winter's eve and stared down the darkening drive, wishing with all his might it was him going home with Delia, keeping her warm in his arms.

  Chapter Ten

  January 1916

  Snow fell in a thickening blanket around the cabin. Marilla stoked the stove again. She turned up the wick on the oil lamp in the center of the small kitchen table Lang had built them. January had arrived, and with it, the long, deep darkness of winter. This time of day felt good to her though. She enjoyed the time of rest in the evening and crawling under her thick quilt with Lang at night. It was the coming morning she dreaded. Would she be sick again? Her honeymoon felt like ages ago.

  Still, she felt at peace tonight, as she covered his dinner and set it on the warming shelf on the back of the stove. It would take him longer to hike home from the farm in the deep snow. She would have to keep their meal warm a little longer. Thinking of the food made her innards churn, but it was to be expected, this bit of discomfort that came with learning she was to have Lang's baby. She hadn't told him yet, because she hadn't wanted him to worry while they went about the arduous tasks of settling into the cabin and developing a new routine to their days.

  She still went to the farm with him each morning to milk. The barn smells had made her retch a couple of times, but she had hidden behind the flank of a cow and made sure she wasn't milking right across the walkway from Lang. Her best guess was she might have even gotten pregnant on their honeymoon. Recalling those first days after their marriage made the thought of their little one coming even sweeter.

  Lang would find out soon enough anyway. She was starting to feel a little more fleshed out, even though she wasn't showing her pregnancy yet. Her arms had filled out, and her bosom was plumper. She thought Lang had indeed noticed that, though he didn't mention it. She still wanted his closeness as much as ever, and at bedtime when they would turn out the lamp and crawl beneath the covers, his ardor hadn't cooled either. Married life was wonderful.

  The stomping of booted feet on the doorstep had her hurrying toward the door to meet Lang as it swung open and he stepped through. He closed it hastily behind him, sparing her the cold draft as much as possible.

  She brushed snow off his shoulders. "You look like a snowman."

  "It's coming down like crazy. We'll be in deep by morning if this keeps up. Sorry, I won't have time to shovel a path before we head over to milk."

  "It's all right. I don't mind walking in fresh snow."

  "You'll mind by the end of winter, I'm afraid."

  By the end of winter, she'd be growing round with child. She turned away to hide her thoughts. "I have your dinner ready. Just get out of your duds and I'll bring it to you."

  He shucked off his coat and bent to yank off his boots. "I saw your sister at the house today."

  "At Mother and Daddy's?"

  "Yep. They had some trouble with their chimney. Theo was cleaning it, so Delia went over to your parents to stay warm and cook dinner in the meantime. I told her I'd go over there tomorrow and give Theo a hand if he was still having trouble."

  "That's good. It must have been terribly cold in their house."

  "Won't take long to warm up. What's this?" He pattered over in his thick socks and looked at the plate of food.

  "Something new. It's called a pizza pie. They eat it in places like New York, but the dish comes from Europe. Italy, I think."

  H
e sat down and poked at the dish. "What's in it?"

  "Some tomato sauce, cheese, meat. That's about it. I read about it, and when I went to the store, I asked Jacob about it. He told me what he knew and sent me home with some seasoning and ideas. It's just plain baked dough on the bottom."

  Lang lifted the edge of the thick wedge and sniffed it. "Smells good."

  Marilla pulled out a chair across from him and set down her own plate in front of her. A sudden wave of nausea struck, and she the plate pushed back a little. "You know, I'm not very hungry. I guess I snitched too much while I was cooking." She put a hand to her mouth discreetly then lowered it into her lap again.

  "It's good," he said around a mouthful.

  Her stomach lurched. She jumped up and hurried to the sink as the wave passed.

  "You all right?"

  "Fine." She closed her eyes and swallowed. "Just need a drink of water." She reached for the pitcher. Their pump was outside, and she had to haul water in every day. Lang helped, too, when he was home. She plucked a glass off the shelf and poured a swallow. Forcing a couple deep breaths, she drank it down. She turned around and smiled.

  "Better?"

  "Yes, but I said I was fine."

  He studied her for a moment then returned to his pizza pie.

  "I'm glad you like it. I used some of the pork sausage we made with Daddy."

  "Turned out well."

  She picked up her plate and returned her serving to the main dish. Maybe later she'd feel hungry. She wondered what would be the best way to tell Lang her news. He finished his meal, and she cleaned up their dishes while he brought more wood in for the stove. Finally, they were all caught up for the night and retired to change into their pajamas. She was sliding into her nightgown when Lang came up behind her and wrapped her in his arms.

  His voice was a whisper on her neck as his hands roamed her body. "You're beautiful, Rilla."

  He didn't voice such things often.

  "Lang," she whispered.

  He pulled her toward the bed.

  She turned and kissed him. Maybe she would tell him after.

  He studied her body as they made love. He didn't always do so. Oftentimes they made love in the dark. Had he noticed something different?

  Later, they lay side by side in the flickering lamp light. "I love you, Lang." She turned to look at him.

  He gazed back. Then he reached past her and turned down the wick, engulfing them in darkness. "I love you too."

  She snuggled close. She could feel him drifting. "Lang, honey?"

  "Mm?"

  Could he hear her, or was he falling asleep? "Lang?" She held his hand and moved it to her belly. "I'm pregnant."

  There was continued silence, then an almost imperceptible stiffening of his fingers in hers. "Are you sure?"

  "Yes."

  He pulled away. "How long until you have it?"

  "August, I think."

  She could hear him breathing, sense him thinking about what she'd said. "Do you mind?" she whispered.

  "What? Oh...no. You just...surprised me."

  She cuddled closer. "I'm happy."

  There was another long pause before he answered, almost as an afterthought, "Me too."

  She waited for more, but he turned away. When his breathing deepened, she searched the bed for her nightgown. Shivering, she slid it over her head and pulled the quilts close.

  ~~~~~

  As he did chores the next morning, Lang's thoughts numbed him beyond the cold biting into his fingers. Rilla had woken groggy and sick, and he had insisted she stay in bed. It would take longer to do the milking without her, and he would take on some of the other chores she did.

  A baby. He'd not even thought about it happening. It hadn't happened to Delia and Theo, and he had assumed it would take longer for it to happen to them. No, that isn't true. The truth is I didn't think about it happening at all. Stupid on his part. He had married Rilla for one reason—his own comfort. Now he'd have a kid to worry about, and Rilla would be getting big. No wonder she looked different. But…he had liked the changes. He pursed his lips in thought. Maybe the rest wouldn't be so bad. She would take care of the baby. He would take care of her and the farm.

  He pulled in a deep breath. Yes, it would all work out.

  Okay.

  Today when he went home, he would try to be more enthusiastic for her sake. It was the least he could do.

  When lunchtime came, he trudged through the snow back to the cabin. Her head came up from some sewing project on her lap. "Lang. I didn't know you'd be here for lunch." She set aside her work. "I'll get you something."

  He shook his head. "Just sit. I can get it. I'll eat that leftover—what was it called?"

  "Pizza pie."

  "Pie for lunch." He smiled. Her tentative smile back made him feel like a jerk. He pulled off his boots and went to her to give her shoulders a gentle squeeze. He bent and kissed her on top of her head. "How are you feeling now?"

  "Better."

  "Good. I'm sorry about last night." He glanced at her as he went to the icebox for his pizza.

  She looked puzzled. "Sorry?"

  "I shouldn't have...you know."

  She shook her head. "It's all right, Lang. Really. We can be together. It won't hurt me."

  "I feel like I was insensitive."

  "You didn't know."

  "And I'm sorry I didn't tell you how happy I am. That you're having a—a baby, I mean."

  Her lips curved, but her next words sounded unconvinced. "Are you?"

  Was he? She was giving him a child. He should be glad. Truth was, if it were Delia, he would have been elated. A baby with Rilla would make things...more difficult...later. He put on a smile. "Sure. Sure I am."

  Her oceany eyes glistened.

  "Awe, don't cry." He set down his plate and came to her, pulling her to her feet. He held her. She was a good girl. If only he could love her the way he loved Delia. He did love her at least a little anyway. He cupped her face and kissed her. She clung to him, and he patted her back. "Come on. Sit by me." She nodded, and he pulled her chair closer to the table.

  After lunch, he shoveled a path from the door to the pump and the outhouse. He didn't want her to have to struggle her way through the snow in her condition. He was careful to act cheerful when he left again later. He told her he was heading over to lend Theo a hand with the chimney, and then he'd go back to her folks' for evening chores. He promised they would talk more in the evening.

  Lang trudged down the road where little traffic had tried to get through the drifts. It took ten minutes to get to Theo and Delia's house. Smoke puffed out the chimney giving it a cozy, welcoming appearance. He knew Theo had likely gotten the chimney cleaned out already. In fact, he counted on it. Theo would have eaten his own lunch and gone back to work on his dad's farm for the afternoon since it was his day off from the railroad. Lang needed to see Delia. He knocked on her door and was rewarded when she opened it with her usual beautiful smile.

  "Lang. What a surprise! Come in."

  He didn't take his eyes off her as he followed her into her home and closed the door. She was as pretty as ever. She looked the picture of hominess. Like a magazine girl. Her hair was fixed all golden and soft. Her pale pink dress was pretty, her figure able to make a man groan. He pulled off his hat and pushed a hand through his hair. "Looks like Theo got the chimney cleaned up. Feels warm in here."

  She smiled again. Her lips were rouged, begging his attention. "Yes, he got it all taken care of. It's nice to have the house warmed up again."

  "I had a little time this afternoon, so I thought I'd stop by and check, just in case."

  "That was nice of you. Can I get you a cup of coffee?"

  He dipped his head and shrugged. "I don't see why not."

  "Have a seat."

  He pulled out a chair by the table, taking in the pretty, checked cloth and neatly arranged salt and pepper shakers and butter dish in the center. His gaze went back to Delia as she moved abou
t. She reached for a pot and a cup hanging on a hook, her dress lifting just enough to show a bit of calf as she leaned forward. He lingered in his look. "Your house sure looks nice."

  "Thank you." She poured his brew.

  "You must keep busy to make it up so pretty."

  Her lips broadened again at the compliment as she set the cup before him.

  "Won't you have some?"

  "I've had enough today. Maybe later." She pulled out a chair and sat down.

  He glanced at his cup. "You're probably the prettiest housewife in Shell Lake or Spooner."

  Her gaze sharpened. "Besides Rilla, you mean."

  "Yes, besides Rilla." He smiled and took a sip, giving her a grin over the edge of his cup. "I was bound to marry one of you, I guess." There. He'd said it.

  "Is that so?" She grinned too.

  "I suppose if you hadn't been Theo's girl from the day we met, it might have been you." He shrugged. "Since we were closer in age and all."

  "Too bad you missed Theo. He mentioned talking to you about something on his mind. Didn't tell me what it was."

  She had changed the subject too soon. "Oh?" He couldn't imagine what that would be. Theo didn't have a clue about how Lang felt toward Delia.

  "I'm worried, Lang."

  Now he pushed the coffee aside. "What about?"

  She clasped her hands together. "He's getting very worked up about what's going on over there. In Europe," she added. "What if we go to war? I'm afraid Theo gets so aroused about such things." Her gaze wasn't on him. It was someplace far away. On Theo. Aching for him.

  Lang cleared his throat. "I wouldn't worry, Delia. Theo's got a smart head on his shoulders."

  She refocused on him and smiled. "Yes. You're right. I'm sorry."

  "Don't be." He reached across the table and laid a hand on hers.

  She let it remain for a moment. Then she twitched, and they separated. She crossed her arms and grasped her elbows. "How is Rilla? I haven't seen her all week. It's too bad she didn't come with you."