“I’ve never in me life seen the like of it,” Brevan stammered as Genieva approached him in the orchard late that evening.
“I know,” she sighed. “Isn’t it…well it’s…we’ve witnessed a true miracle. It was beautiful!”
“What?” Brevan breathed. A deep frown furrowed his handsome brow as he ran his fingers through his hair. “Beautiful?”
“Yes. Lita’s strength…the baby…Brian’s concern and tenderness. Oh, Brevan, it was so…so…” Genieva struggled for words to describe the miracle she had just witnessed. She had seen children brought into the world many times, but each time it amazed and astounded her.
“It was torturous!” Brevan growled. Genieva looked up at him—startled at the unsettling tone of his voice. “I can’t even be imaginin’ such pain! Such loss of blood and strain on a body.”
“It’s the way babies are born, Brevan. Everyday…everywhere. What did you think…?”
“I never imagined it was the like of what me own eyes just witnessed, I didn’t,” he answered. The fear and anger in his voice was alarming—leaving Genieva speechless. She had never seen Brevan McLean frightened by anything—but witnessing the pain and effort of childbirth had truly dealt the man an unsettling realization. She’d noticed his initial nervousness, but when Lita began pushing the baby from her body, he had once again become the impenetrable wall of strength she had always known him to be. It was, after all, he who had settled Lita when she had begun to panic at the most crucial moments before the baby was delivered. It had been he, Brevan, who had kept his brother calm when watching his wife’s agony had nearly become too much for the man to endure.
“They’re both fine, Brevan. Lita…the baby. They both…”
“She could’ve died, Genieva!” he exclaimed, taking hold of her shoulders and looking desperately into her eyes. “She would’ve left Brian alone and broken in the world. He loves her more than his own life, he does.”
“And so do you,” Genieva muttered as understanding struck at her heart.
Brevan released Genieva’s shoulders and straightened. “Of course I love her. She’s family. Me own sister in a manner. I’d never want to have to bury her, and I’d not wish to watch Brian suffer either.”
“But it’s the way children are brought into the world, Brevan. Didn’t you look at the baby? The sweet bundle of innocence that Brian and Lita will love more than life? She’ll bring to them more joy than…” But she paused when she realized her words meant nothing to him.
“And now,” he grumbled. “Now I’ve got to stand by and watch Brenna go through the like.” He looked down at Genieva again. “I could never put a woman through such agony.”
“Well, then,” Genieva spat as tears brimmed in her bluish eyes. “It’s a good thing you’ve married for practical reasons, isn’t it? Since you’ve no great love or desire for your own wife, you’ll not have to worry about losing your personal workhorse…your slave…to childbirth.” She turned to leave, brushing a tear from her cheek. She glanced back at him, adding, “But because of your selfishness in not wanting to deal with the realities of life, you’ve stripped me of my heart’s desire to have children of my own!”
“Genieva,” Brevan began.
“It’s not your fault, Brevan…and I’m wrong to blame you. I married you for selfish reasons as well,” she sobbed as she ran from him and toward the far end of the orchard.
Genieva was angry—angry with Brevan for being human and having fears—angry with him for not loving her and returning to her everything she felt for him. Still, she was more angry with herself—for confessing to him her desire to have children. How could she have let her guard down so easily? She sniffled and straightened as she walked. After all, she reminded herself, she had come here to escape marrying Andre—to escape the stifling city life she had grown to loathe. She really had no right to expect anything from Brevan other than providing her with shelter and nourishment. But even so, she thought as her shoulders drooped once more, she was in love with the man. And that was something she hadn’t planned. She had planned to love him. She had even loved him before she had arrived. But she hadn’t planned to fall so completely in love with him that everything else she had planned was thrown to the wind. Yes—Genieva had quickly learned a harsh life’s lesson—when a woman was hopelessly and entirely in love with her husband, nothing else in the world mattered or seemed important if he didn’t love her in return. She had learned maternal instincts were strong and natural in such a circumstance, and the realization of never being able to nurture such strong instincts was a dismal and despairing prospect. Of course, it was only Brevan’s children she desired to have—to hold and to love. She knew no other man on earth could’ve evoked such binding, unbreakable, and concentrated feelings.
“Genieva.” Brevan’s voice from behind her startled her, interrupting Genieva’s thoughts. He took her hand and tugged at it, attempting to get her to face him. But she was humiliated at having had yet another emotional demonstration before him and would not look at him. “I’m sorry,” he continued. “I’ve ruined the moment for ya, I have. And I had not the right to do that.” Genieva closed her eyes, squeezing the tears from them in an effort to stop further moisture from releasing itself. “It’s tired ya be…always tired. It causes ya to lose patience with me frailties. That’s all. In the mornin’ things will seem less bleak.”
“You do not understand,” she mumbled. “You’ll never understand.”
“I do understand. I understand better than ya…”
“No. You don’t,” she argued, finally turning to look at him. “You’re a man. Men don’t feel things the way women do. They don’t need the same things women need. Please don’t insult me and think me ignorant enough to believe that you understand what I’m feeling.”
She watched as his jaw clenched, as he struggled to remain calm. He inhaled a deep breath and said, “Very well. I admit it. Perhaps I don’t understand women and their needs. But don’t boast such understandin’ and superior intelligence, Genieva. Men feel things too. Men have wants and needs. And believe me, if ya had any knowledge whatsoever of the feelin’s, the wantin’s, and the needs of the man standin’ before ya now…ya would not be so quick to judge as ya have been.”
Genieva blushed. She had been judgmental, but her temper was provoked at his superior attitude. “I know you better than you think,” she began curtly. “You feel almost nothing—joy, fear, or sorrow—unless it’s connected with your precious land and crops. You want nothing more than to have the best crops and make the most profit on them. And you don’t need anything. You don’t need anything other than the satisfaction your work and your land gives you.”
Brevan’s eyes narrowed—his teeth ground almost audibly. Yet he simply said, “Ya’re tired. Ya’re tired, and it often makes ya cruel. I’ve learned that much about ya, I have. And it’s a thousand times more than ya’ve learned about me.” Dropping her hand, he turned to leave.
Genieva dropped to her knees, burying her face in her hands. Looking up to see him striding away from her, and overwhelmed with feelings of defeat, she pleaded, “Please, Brevan. Just one day. I just need one day to…one day of…”
He stopped, obviously sensing her sudden humility, and turned toward her. When her pause was not broken, he urged, “One day. What are ya talkin’ about, Genieva?”
Genieva a cast shame-filled gaze to the ground as she continued, “I just need a day…a regular, normal day…a day when I can forget I’m only here to work for you. Just one day to forget this marriage is a farce.” Sitting down in the grass like a wilting flower, she added, “I need a day of make-believe, Brevan. I promise…I swear to you that day after tomorrow I’ll work hard for you. I’ll not complain or whine. But tomorrow…please. Just let me have tomorrow to remember who I am…to forget that I’ll never have…let me have tomorrow to tend to Lita and not have to worry about finishing my chores.”
Brevan sighed—his eyes narrowing a
s he looked away for a moment.
“I was afraid it would become too bleak for ya, I was,” he mumbled. “Ya’re young, and yar heart still has the needs and desires of youth, it has. I knew this would come, but I chose ya just the same. An older woman would’ve…”
“An older woman would not have worked as hard for you as I do,” Genieva spat at him suddenly.
“I’m no slave master, Genieva!” he defended himself. He moved toward her—towering over her.
“You’re close enough to it, Brevan! And you do it to try to block out the reality that you’re young enough as well. Only you’ve managed to bury your heart and pretend you need nothing but this land and hard work!”
“That is all I need,” he growled. “Ya told me so yar ownself just a moment ago.”
“You’re a liar.” Sighing heavily and shaking her head, she mumbled, “I’ve not the energy or the desire to argue with you tonight, Brevan.”
“I’m not a liar, Genieva! If ya were a man, I’d knock ya flat out for callin’ me such,” he growled. “But I’ll be givin’ ya pardon for I know ya’re tired, mind and body.” Taking a deep breath and releasing it slowly, he seemed to have calmed his temper when he continued, “Rest then tomorrow, lass. Ya work like a horse, and I’ll not deny that. But I’ll be remindin’ ya of somethin’, I will. Ya married me, Genieva McLean. And when ya did, everythin’ of mine became yars, too. This land, this house, everything. And if we want to go on livin’ here and on the land we love, we have to work at it hard…every day. So, ya take yar day of rest, forgettin’ that ya work for me, as ya put it, and pretend that ours is a common marital relationship.” He turned to leave once more. He paused, looking back at her. His eyes narrowed and he leveled an index finger at her. “But I’ll tell ya this…if ya’re wantin’ to act like any other married couple…then be prepared to carry the pretense to the letter, lass.”
“Wh-what do you mean?” Genieva asked as an odd, thrilling sort of warmth ran through her.
“I mean to say that a husband has the right to expect certain attentions from his wife, he does. Ya have yar day of common marriage. I’ll give ya that. But I’ll have me night of it!”
Kicking a wind-fallen apple that lay on the ground before him, he left—having ruined all hope Genieva had harbored of her day of rest being free from worry.
When Genieva entered the house some thirty minutes later, it was to find Travis and Brenna sitting at the kitchen table with Brian.
“Genieva!” Brenna exclaimed, fairly leaping to her feet and smiling brightly. “The baby is beautiful! Isn’t she just the livin’ princess?” Genieva smiled and nodded.
“You look done in, Genieva,” Travis noted. “You must be tired.”
Brenna nodded and going to Genieva, put an arm about her shoulders. “Ya rest awhile. I’m here now, and I can look after Lita and the baby.”
“Oh, no. No, I’m fine. I want to…” Genieva began.
“No. I’ll not have it. Lita’s me own sister too. And I’ve missed all the excitement, I have,” Brenna argued, directing Genieva toward her bedroom.
“You need your rest, too, Brenna,” Genieva reminded, even though every thread of her tired body and mind begged for respite.
“I’m fine. You rest. Lita will need us tomorrow.”
It was some hours into the late of the night when Genieva was awakened by the baby crying. Neglecting to take her wrap with her, she went to Lita’s room. Brenna looked overly tired as she held the fussing baby.
“Oh, Genieva,” Brenna sighed, relieved. “Lita is so tired, and the baby has just been fed. But…I can hardly keep me own eyes open a moment longer. I guess I’m not the strong woman ya are.”
Genieva shook her head, smiling. “Your own baby needs you to rest, Brenna. That’s why you’re so tired. I feel much better now. I’ll take the baby. You go lay down in my bed.”
“I’m sorry, Genieva,” Brenna apologized. The dark circles under Brenna’s eyes were evidence of the young woman’s intense need for rest.
“None of that. Go. I’ll be fine.”
“Thank you, Brenna,” Lita whispered, reaching up and squeezing Brenna’s hand. “Genieva is right. You need your rest.”
Brenna nodded and left—though somewhat unwillingly.
As he entered the house after having walked nearly the entire boundary of his lands trying to dispel his frustrations, Brevan paused just outside the door to the spare room.
“I’ll stay here, Lita,” Genieva soothed with kind encouragement. “You need to rest. I’ll rock the baby.”
“Oh, Genieva,” Lita sighed. “Isn’t she bonita?”
“Oh, so very beautiful, Lita! She’s the most perfect baby I’ve ever seen,” Genieva assured her.
Lita laughed quietly. “You say that now, Genieva. But wait until you and Brevan have your first niña. Then you will say your own is the most wonderful…what’s the matter, Genieva? Why the tears?”
Brevan winced at the pang in his heart for Genieva’s sake. He continued to listen as Genieva answered, “I’m just tired, Lita. Only tired. And the baby is so beautiful. It’s like having a tiny angel in my arms.”
“Don’t worry, mí amiga. You’ll have your own niños and niñas some day. I know you will.”
“You get some sleep, Lita,” Genieva said, changing the subject abruptly. “You’ll need it, ’cause I’m certain the baby will be raising the roof again in a while wanting to be fed.”
“Ah, Brevan. Come in, come in!” Lita called as Brevan stepped into the room. “Oh, Brevan…come see the baby. Is she not the most beautiful thing you have ever seen?”
Brevan walked to stand beside Genieva, not missing the way she stiffened at his approach. He gazed down curiously at the woman who lay in the bed, and the child nestled snugly against Genieva.
“Are ya well then, Lita?” he asked.
“I’m fine, Brevan. Now…you take the baby. She es su sobrina, no? Your niece.” Taking the small bundle from Genieva, Lita nodded to Brevan, gesturing he should take the baby.
“Oh, no,” he argued, shaking his head even as his powerful hands supported the baby carefully. “I’m too clumsy, Lita, I am. And well ya know it.”
But Lita ignored him—only smiled lovingly at him. “You see, Brevan. Mí hijíta…she likes you. She knows a handsome man when she sees one already.”
Brevan stared at the tiny human fitting so perfectly in the crook of his arm. Carefully, he took one small hand in his, studying the tiny, petal-soft fingers. He chuckled when the dark-haired infant yawned widely, boasting a healthy tongue and set of tonsils.
“She’s beautiful, Lita. She looks just like ya. Rare beauty she is,” Brevan’s low voice admitted humbly.
“Thank you, hermano,” Lita whispered, gazing lovingly at the baby as Brevan returned the child to her mother’s arms. “Now, you make sure Genieva gets to sleep soon, Brevan. She’s tired.”
Brevan looked down at Genieva, kneeling on the floor beside the bed. Dark circles of fatigue shadowed her pretty face below her eyes. Even the smile complementing her lovely lips looked less than bright.
“I will,” he assured his sister-in-law before leaving.
Once in his room Brevan, tired as he was, found it impossible to sleep. His mind relived the birth of Lita and Brian’s daughter over and over—the incredible pain that was so evident on the woman’s face—the fear and concern radiating from his brother as he watched his beloved wife endure what must be endured. He had seen cows, horses, and all manner of stock give birth his entire life. But it was all too different when it was a human being—someone you loved.
He closed his eyes, trying to block from his vision the expression of despair and hopelessness he had seen on Genieva’s face in the orchard. She was lonely, he knew. It was why she longed so for children. His guilt in having treated her so cruelly when he had known she only lashed out at him in frustration caused his stomach to churn. He should’ve been patient. He sho
uld’ve let her say whatever it took for her to ease her frustration, and he should’ve stood silent as she did so. But he’d faltered and threatened her in order to avoid defeat. He remembered vividly the expression of utter shock, complete embarrassment, and fear vivid on her face when he had told her that he would expect his night with her.
Creeping quietly into the front of the house, Genieva cradled the baby close to her bosom and sat down in the rocking chair near the front door. It was an unusually warm evening, so the door had been left open to provide some circulation of fresh air in the house. Genieva awkwardly scooted the chair around to face the open door. She smiled at the feel of the tiny baby against her body, coupled with the sweet, intoxicating aroma of the ripened pears and apples in the orchards.
“Have they named you yet, sweet pea?” she whispered quietly as the baby began to settle down. Bending her head, she kissed the soft, fuzzy head in her arms and smiled. How wonderful it would be to have a baby around to cuddle, she thought. Trying to suppress a yawn, she ignored her own great fatigue. As her feet pushed against the cool, wooden floor to rock the chair, she was haunted by the angry words she’d spoken to Brevan. She scolded herself inwardly. Why? Why did she always let her tired state get the better of her senses? He’d followed her into the orchard to try to soothe her. And she had repaid him with unfounded accusations and bickering.
She stopped rocking for a moment as she remembered the last words he had spoken to her that evening in the orchard, “Ya have ya’re day of common marriage. I’ll give ya that. But I’ll have me night of it!” Had he truly meant what her mind was interpreting his words to imply? Surely not. He had only been provoked by her verbal cruelty and had responded in defense of himself. What else could she have expected? She nodded, assuring herself Brevan had only spoken out of anger.
Sometime later, his mind still plagued with the anxiety caused by the baby’s birth and his confrontation with Genieva, Brevan rose from his bed and wandered down the hall to Lita’s room. She was there sleeping soundly—peacefully—and he was relieved for her. Brian had told him how hard it had been for Lita to rest during the last weeks before the baby was due. He was glad Lita had finally found her rest.
The Heavenly Surrender Page 22
