March found them walking in mud, as the ground alternately thawed and froze and then by late April, the foals began to arrive. The first was a surprise, Lowery bursting into the kitchen before breakfast on a sunny morning. “We got us a colt. Prettiest thing you ever saw,” he said, excitement glowing from his expressive face.
“Where?” J.T. asked, reaching for his jacket.
“In the pasture,” Lowery said. “Found him first thing when I checked out there. He was standin’ all spraddle-legged, lookin’ underneath his mama for his breakfast.”
“Wait for me,” Chloe said, rising with difficulty from the table, aware of a nagging backache that had kept her awake much of the night.
J.T. hesitated by the door, and then, as if he didn’t have the heart to deny her, snatched her light jacket from the hook and held it ready for her to slide her arms into the sleeves. His fingers fumbled with the buttons, and she watched him, aware that her own would work more rapidly at the task, but willing to let him tend her in this small way.
They stepped down from the porch, and J.T. slowed his steps, offering his arm. “Hold tight, honey,” he said. “I don’t want you taking a tumble.”
They walked through the barn and out the back door, heading for the pasture fence. Just beyond the barrier, a dark mare stood, head to the ground as a gangly colt nursed beneath her belly. White coat glistening in the morning light, the newborn was true to his sire’s heritage, with large, dark spots scattered over his slender form.
“How about that?” J.T. said beneath his breath. “He bred true.” His tone was reverent as they leaned on the top rail of the fence, and Chloe leaned her head on his shoulder. “I suspect we’ll be busy for the next couple of weeks,” he said. “We bred late, but that’s all right. They’ll do better with the weather a little warmer.”
He looked down at her, and his eyes narrowed. “Are you all right? You’re lookin’ kinda peaked this morning.”
“I didn’t sleep real well,” she admitted and then winced as the pain in her back moved to settle beneath the heavy load of her pregnancy. It throbbed in a slow rhythm, drawing up the rounding of her belly into a hard, pulsing ball, and she drew in a sharp breath. “I think maybe…” Her voice trailed off as the spasm passed, but J.T. would not be deterred.
“Maybe what?” he asked sharply. “Are you starting in with labor pains?”
Her mouth thinned at his query. “How would I know? I’ve never done this before.” She straightened and tugged at his sleeve. “Let’s go back to the house. I left my breakfast on the table, and I’m hungry.”
He did as she asked, holding her hand in place on his forearm as they walked. “Now listen here, Clo. I’m not riding out today if you’re about to have this baby. You need to let me know what’s going on.”
Her glance in his direction was measuring. “Are you sure you want to be in on it? Tilly says it might get pretty sticky before it’s over with.” And then she paused in the middle of the yard as another spasm tightened her muscles and drew her belly taut. “You know,” she said after a few moments, “I’m thinking you might want to go to town and see if the doctor’s handy.” And even as she spoke the words, she felt a warm rush of fluid leave her body.
Looking down in dismay, she muttered beneath her breath, and J.T. called out Tilly’s name, his voice loud in the early-morning quiet. And then he bent, sliding his arms beneath Chloe’s knees and under her shoulders, lifting her in his arms as he headed for the back porch.
Tilly opened the door as they moved up the steps and held the door open for their entry into the warm kitchen. “Gonna have us a baby, are we?” she asked. And watched as Chloe slid her feet to the floor.
“I’m fine now,” she said. “Just need to change my clothes.”
“What you need to do is get washed up good and put on your nightgown,” Tilly told her firmly. “You can parade around the house for a while. Walking’s good for bringing on the baby quicker. And you—” she turned to J.T. “—you need to haul buggy to town and get the doctor out here.”
It was a relief to have Tilly in charge, Chloe decided as she stripped from her clothing moments later. J.T.’s farewell had been swift, a kiss brushed across her mouth and a cautious hug. She’d warrant he was busy saddling a horse even now. And then her thoughts were taken up with the tension that enveloped her as another pain swept from her back to circle the child within her body.
“I didn’t know it would happen this fast,” she told Tilly as she donned her nightgown. “Do you think the doctor will be here in time?”
“He’ll make it,” Tilly assured her. “But I don’t think you’re gonna mess around all day having this baby. Seems to me like it’s in a hurry to arrive.”
And so it was. Before dinner was ready, before the sun was directly overhead in the noonday sky, Chloe was deep in the throes of hard labor. And by the time J.T. had about worn himself to a frazzle, alternately pacing the floor and rubbing her back, she cried out for the first time, the pain seizing her almost beyond her endurance.
“Can’t you do something?” J.T. roared at the doctor, whose attention was solely on the woman who labored in the big bed.
“She’s doing it all by herself,” Dr. Whitaker said with a grin in J.T.’s direction. And as Chloe strained with another pain, he leaned closer to her, his voice soft, his words encouraging. His hands worked briefly, and J.T. bent low over his wife, as if he would take the pain from her and make it his own, his whispers almost desperate in her ear.
“Take a look here, Mr. Flannery,” Dr. Whitaker said, just moments after Chloe had strained and groaned with the final pain. “You’ve got yourself a baby boy.” Tilly at his side, he tied, then cut the cord that joined mother with child, and the baby sounded his disapproval of the whole process.
J.T. looked up as Chloe laughed aloud, looking weary, but delighted with the doctor’s pronouncement. “Well, dog-gone,” she said. “Guess we’ll have to try again if I’m going to have a girl.” Her voice was trembling, but her spirits were high as she reached for the infant. Tilly wrapped a flannel square around the squirming, red body, and his cries filled the air as he was nestled against his mother’s breast. “Aren’t you a pretty one?” Chloe crooned, lifting her head a bit, the better to peer into the tiny face.
J.T. sat on the side of the bed, lifting one hand to touch the downy head, where dark hair grew in abundance. The pulse beneath his fingertips alerted him to the vulnerability inherent in such a tiny creature, and he felt a surge of emotion such as he’d never experienced in his life. He loved Chloe, deeply and with the fullest measure he felt himself capable of. Yet, for this helpless infant, this fruit of his loins, there bloomed within him a surge of protective, possessive, aching emotion that was almost frightening in its intensity.
“What’ll we call him?’ he asked her, his voice gruff as he cupped the miniature head with his palm.
“I thought maybe John,” she said slowly. “For my father. And if you like, his middle name could be after you…Thomas.”
“You’re sure you don’t mind that it’s a boy?” he asked. She shook her head. “He’s beautiful, and he sure looks healthy. What more could I ask?” And then she lifted the baby from her breast, offering him as she would a gift for his approval. “Do you want to hold him?”
“Me?” His recoil was spontaneous, and she laughed aloud.
“You’re his father. He needs to get to know you, right off the bat. You’ll be spending a lot of time together.”
“Come on out to the kitchen, J.T.,” Tilly told him. “You can get your first lesson in giving him a bath.”
“I’ll just watch, I think,” J.T. said, cradling his son in his arm as he rose to do as he was bid.
The doctor watched patiently as the tall man walked from the room, the tiny bundle in his arms taking his full attention. “Now let’s get you cleaned up, Chloe,” he said. “And then you can take a nap. I think you’ve earned it.”
His name was indeed John Thomas. The b
aptismal certificate stated it in bold, black letters, and J.T. offered it for all to view as friends gathered in the ranch house to celebrate the day. “Another J.T.,” Micah announced. “Thought one of you was enough to put up with around here.”
“This one will be called John,” Chloe said firmly. “One J.T. is all I can handle.”
The sun was warm, the early summer day filled with the promise of good things to come, as the male guests trooped out to view the crop of colts and fillies in the pasture. Spotted foals romped in the warmth of the afternoon sun and J.T. proudly accepted the congratulations of neighboring ranchers and friends from town.
And yet, it was good to see the last of the guests leave, he decided later on, when the buggies pulled from the yard, and horses were ridden down the lane. Tilly served a cold meal of leftovers from the big dinner she’d prepared earlier, and before the sky darkened with nightfall, Chloe was weary and ready for their bed.
She nursed the baby one last time, and tucked him into the cradle J.T. had hauled down from the attic. It was resplendent with the quilt Tilly had fashioned, and as baby John was tucked in, he nuzzled his hand, seeking and finding the thumb he was wont to suckle on.
“Sleepy?” J.T. asked, as Chloe turned to him and rested her head against his chest.
She looked up and her smile was warm. “I could probably manage to hold my eyes open for a little while.”
“Long enough to let your husband do some huggin’ and kissin’?” J.T. asked. “Will it be all right?”
Chloe nodded. “It’s been well over a month. Tilly said I should be all healed up and ready for most anything. I thought maybe tomorrow I’d take a ride around the pasture and give my mare a little exercise.”
“I’ll get on her first,” J.T. said. “Make sure she’s not too feisty.”
“I think I can manage,” Chloe told him sharply. “I haven’t lost my touch, just because I’m a mother now.”
He bent to her, his mouth seeking hers, taking advantage quickly as she responded to his kiss. J.T. lifted his head and his smile was tender, his body taut with anticipation. “No, you haven’t lost your touch, sweetheart. Not one little bit.”
In the darkness of the night, he held her close in the middle of the big bed, his hands gentle, his mouth urgent. Quietly, he told her how he’d yearned for her, and as she responded to his touch, he moved to hover over her, bridling his passion as he carefully brought her to shattering release. And then he took her to himself, and in the sanctuary of their marriage bed they realized anew the joyous pleasure of becoming one flesh.
He whispered softly in her ear, and moments later called her name in the throes of passion. She was content, wrapped in his embrace, filled with the assurance of his love.
“I love you,” she told him, and then smiled as he bent to bless her with his kiss.
“Thank you, Chloe.”
“For loving you?”
“Yeah, that, too. And for John Thomas. For giving me a family.”
It was not by chance, she decided, that J.T. had come to her. And her prayer wafted upward as she sent thanksgiving toward heaven. And then her eyes closed, her breathing slowed and she slept, aware that she loved and was loved in return.
ISBN: 978-1-4603-6011-8
A MARRIAGE BY CHANCE
Copyright © 2002 by Carolyn Davidson
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* Edgewood, Texas
A Marriage By Chance Page 27
