I looked at her with an arched eyebrow, and she grinned.
"We are all married, Katherine," she said simply.
"Starting a household," Hannah said, her voice muffled.
I turned to find her taking a large bite out of the leftover biscuits from breakfast.
She hummed and took another bite.
"Did you make this pumpkin butter?" she mumbled and spread more of it on the tiny remains of the biscuit in her hand.
"Sarah Jensen gave me the recipe last week. Fannie and I salvaged some of the pumpkins in the fields," I said, chuckling at Hannah's newly voracious appetite.
Apparently she wasn't suffering from morning sickness anymore.
"It is good," she replied and popped the last of the biscuit in her mouth, peeking under the cloth to see if there were any more. Her frown told me she had eaten them all.
"We can make more biscuits if you want," I said, laughing when she pursed her lips at me.
"Just you wait, Katherine," she growled. "I finally find something I can eat and I want nothing more than to devour them. You will see."
I leaned into her and offered a nudge like sisters do, enjoying her old character once more.
"I have a few jars of the pumpkin butter you can take home," I whispered and watched as she eyed the empty basket.
I knew I would be making biscuits for supper.
"The men will be inside soon. The snow is coming down a little harder," Abigail announced as she looked outside at the darkening sky.
"I suppose that means we will see a little less of one another, but that could be a good thing," Hannah replied, smirking at the two of us.
"You are beginning to sound like Mother," Emma grumbled and tossed the potatoes into the boiling water.
Hannah simply shrugged.
"If you are not already, you will be soon. There is not much to do in the winter months."
I realized then what they were talking about. Glancing at Abigail, she was oblivious while she played in the window, making pictures in the condensation. I busied myself with clearing away the bowls and utensils from preparing supper, my mood shifting back to what it had been this morning before they had arrived.
Surly.
Frustrated.
A little embarrassed.
I hadn't realized the date, and Nathan had overreacted at the blood.
Of course I didn't react well to his reaction.
I had never been good at talking about it, and with his embarrassment, mine doubled when trying to explain it to him. Which then made me frustrated and irritable. I rarely snapped at people when it was that time, but perhaps with marriage comes elevated hormones every month.
Regardless of how many women had once occupied the Fisher home, Nathan had a lot to learn about them.
Their cycles. And their hormones.
Of course, maybe that was something Amish men didn't think about.
Was it a taboo conversation? Like in the old days when women would be shunned for the week.
Did they simply ignore us then?
I doubted Mark understood. Hannah was pregnant within the first month of being married. Emma had not been married much longer than me, but I assumed she would tell us when she became pregnant. Judging by her sudden silence as Hannah discussed the discomfort of her first few months of pregnancy, I concluded that she had not become pregnant yet.
My own issues were put aside as I suddenly wondered if Emma could even have children, given the cancer and her treatment for it.
"Hannah, can you check in the basement and see if there is another jar of bean salad? I only have one here and it won't be enough," I said, cutting off her lecture on bloating and nausea.
She nodded and disappeared, Emma's loud sigh echoing across the room.
"Thank you," she said and closed her eyes as if to regroup.
"I'm not ready to hear about what it might be like, to be honest," I whispered. "It's stressful enough to have everyone assume."
Emma opened her eyes and regarded me thoughtfully.
"It is still early for us. Sometimes it takes time," she replied, and I could hear the worry in her voice.
"What will happen will happen, Emma. I think Hannah just wants to share in her excitement," I explained, although I didn't really want to think about children, especially today when my ovaries felt pummeled.
"I just worry that I may never…" she started and closed her mouth, afraid to finish.
I went to her and hugged her tightly.
"I think Fannie showed us another path if that is the case, Emma," I whispered.
She sighed and nodded against me.
"I know it is difficult for John to understand. He knows it may take some time, but the rest of it, I hope he does not feel like he lost something when he married me," she said softly.
"I think John is a lot more perceptive than that. He loves you, Emma. He'd walk through fire just to be with you. He reminds me a lot of Jonah," I replied.
"I snapped at him last week," she mumbled. "It was not on purpose. It was just that I was sad that my monthly had come, and he could not understand my sadness.”
She hugged me a little tighter.
“They do not understand how it affects us, I think," she said and blushed.
"Well, it's up to us to educate them. And I get it, Emma. Believe me, I get it," I said and nodded to emphasize I understood her. She laughed and hugged me a little tighter.
"Maybe John and Nathan can compare notes!" she giggled. "I was not a pleasant person last week."
I grunted and pulled away.
"If they don't understand they'll have to learn the hard way when they are stuck in the house with us," I said and we both laughed as we turned back to the food cooking just as Hannah returned.
Mark, John, and Nathan finally came inside, Fannie and Jonah with them from next door. Mark brushed his giant hand lightly over Hannah's cheek, smiling like the summer sun at his wife. John leaned in and pecked Emma on the cheek before going to the sink to wash up.
Nathan kept a safe distance from me, a timid smile on his face as he watched me work.
I felt a little guilty.
We had not talked much since this morning, and he had been uncomfortable talking. And I had jumped right into work as soon as Hannah and Emma came over.
Sitting down at the table beside him, I felt his hand brush against my leg tentatively, his eyes watching me for a sign. I clasped his hand in my own for a second, squeezing it to tell him we were all right. His smile brightened, and the rest of the night the tension around us seemed to lighten.
At least until I crawled into bed that night.
It was the first time I wore a shift to bed.
Nathan rested against the headboard, his eyes a little downcast while I slipped under the covers. It didn't go unnoticed that he was in his cotton sleep pants. I sighed and snuggled in alongside him, resting my head on his chest while he played with my hair.
"I am sorry for this morning," he whispered.
"No, I'm sorry. I didn't think about how it might be for you," I replied.
"It is not something we talk about. I should not have reacted so strongly," he continued.
I lifted my head to look up at him. He still wore a pained expression on his face.
"Nathan," I said, drawing his eyes to me. "It's a natural thing. It'll last a few days and be over. Can we just forget about this morning and move on?"
His frown tightened for only a moment and then he nodded, slipping us down under the covers. He remained quiet for a while, his hands floating lightly over my shoulder and down my back idly. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and rough.
"I do not like being this far away from you."
I turned to look up at him, confused.
"I'm right next to you, Nathan," I replied.
He swallowed and his lips pursed.
"I miss the touch of your skin on mine."
I sat up beside him and touched my shift, debating how I felt about lyin
g there without it. Somehow it made me feel protected. Perhaps we both had something to learn of my body. I closed my eyes and pulled the shift over my head, leaving me in only my underwear. I felt his fingertips trace over my shoulder and down.
Opening my eyes when he traced the swell of my breast, I watched him regard me with silent reverence. Across the top of my breast, sliding along the side, the backs of his fingers dragging over my stomach until his hand disappeared around my back, reaching and drawing me toward him in a loving embrace.
"I do not fear your body, Kate," he whispered. "I want to learn."
As uncomfortable as I felt all day with my body and its natural reaction to life, Nathan's words wiped those feelings away in a moment and I snuggled in beside him, enjoying the pleasured sigh from him when our skin connected. He pulled the covers up over us and wrapped his arms around me protectively.
"What does it feel like for you?" he whispered.
I turned my head to meet his eyes.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean when this happens to you. Besides your emotions, how does it affect you?" he asked.
I smirked when he mentioned my emotions. Nathan was at least poetic enough not to call it a mood swing. But the rest — how do you describe your monthly cycle to your husband, who has no idea?
"I feel crabby and bloated and tired and gross and sensitive and headachy," I said in a rush.
Honesty always seemed to work best with us.
He looked a little perplexed and I had to giggle. He looked down at me, even more confused.
"It passes, Nathan. I feel a lot better now than I did this morning. Can we just stop discussing it now?" I pleaded, shaking my head with growing embarrassment.
He nodded and pulled me back to him, but I could tell he was still thinking about it. I let him dwell in his quiet thoughts until I couldn't stand it anymore.
"Ask your questions, Nathan," I said, a little exasperated.
His arm tightened around me, a soft chuckle echoing in the room.
"I wondered why you were less enthusiastic this morning when we woke up. I was afraid perhaps you had grown tired of me," he said, and I could hear the mirth in his voice.
"Maybe just this morning," I said, pretending to sound grumpy.
"So we should not make love," he stated.
My head shot up off his chest, his statement catching me off guard. His eyes widened and he looked a little fearful.
"I just mean now," he said hurriedly. "That this is not a good time to share ourselves."
I stared at him.
"What?" he said, worrying his lip.
I continued to stare at him.
"I mean, you are not feeling like yourself, so it would be wise, right?" he continued.
I finally closed my mouth long enough to swallow in order to answer.
"You surprise me every day, Nathan," I whispered.
"I surprise you?" he asked, genuinely confused now.
"Just when I feel like I should be treated like I have the plague, you say something like that," I said.
He shifted in the bed and shrugged.
"I do not understand how it works, Kate. This is not something I would ask Benjamin or Mark. Maybe Jonah, since he is a healer," he said, pursing his lips.
"I just thought you'd be disgusted by me when I'm like this," I said, wrinkling my nose.
He laughed and shook his head, pulling me close to brush his lips to mine.
"You will always be desired, Kate," he murmured.
I slid in next to him once more, my hand resting on his chest while I thought of what he suggested.
"I think I'd like to just be like this on these days," I whispered, still a little uncomfortable with my own body at the moment.
"All right," he said quietly, and hugged me a little closer.
I thought about what Hannah had said earlier in the day. That it wouldn't be long before we were all pregnant. At the rate Nathan and I were going, that seemed likely. And in some ways that frustrated me. I liked our time together, and becoming pregnant would shorten that intimacy. But then again, it would stop this awkwardness between us every month as well.
One thing or the other.
Either way it would affect the two of us.
It seemed silly to worry about my monthly now.
"Just this month," I amended. "We'll see about next month."
"Whatever you wish. I am just happy to have you in my arms, Kate," he replied with a yawn.
I let him drift off to sleep, thinking about the future.
And how Nathan would react when the monthlies stopped coming.
I wondered if I was ready for that.
My dreams that night were full of vivid images of extended bellies.
And pumpkin butter and biscuits.
Hannah was right. I'd soon see.
CHAPTER 23
With winter comes the cold. That bone chilling cold that seeps into you and refuses to let go.
December started with our first snowfall, and with it I learned that snow in California and snow in Iowa were two very different things. In California, it was wet, soaking into your clothes and leaving you forever cold no matter how dry or warm you tried to get. In Iowa, the snow was drier, mostly. But with the Iowa snow also came the wind.
Travelling to the new barn and back, with the snow swirling around me, the wind cutting through my layers made me question which was worse.
Wet or wind?
And to hear that this winter had started late only disheartened me more.
Nathan spoke of snow from November through March.
Five solid months of cold bracing wind.
And all I could think about was that I needed more stockings and sweaters.
I needed to learn how to knit.
It was difficult to stay warm in the large house, except perhaps at night.
At night, Nathan laughed at me with my socks and extra blankets while I snuggled into him, at least until I slid in one night without my socks and snuck my cold feet up on the backs of his thighs. I snickered and threatened to wear my full stockings unless he let me keep my socks on.
Skin on skin was fine, but my toes would be frostbitten if I didn't have my socks.
Nathan suffered through my need for some clothes; as long as he could feel me against him he seemed content. And making love to him before we gave in to our exhaustion from the day was always a pleasant way to warm the bed.
As promised, with the winter snow came more time alone in the house. Chores were limited to taking care of the livestock and keeping the house. We worked as a team in the barn, Nathan mucking out the stalls while I milked the cows or groomed the horses. Magnus preferred his warm cozy stall to the pasture, but they spent many days out in the field burrowing their noses through the snow to find a scrap of grass before making their way back to the barn, fresh hay and feed waiting for them.
Magnus may have become a bit plumper than Nathan liked.
But I held up my promise to my big black horse and spoiled him every chance I could.
He especially liked the warm mush I brought him on Sunday mornings before we hitched him up to the buggy for Sermon. He was more willing to brave the cold for several hours with a warm belly.
By early December, Hannah was showing signs of being with child. Emma and I were still without, and while Emma fretted about not being pregnant, I silently thanked the powers that be that I was not yet with child.
Was that wrong?
I knew Nathan wanted a family.
I knew that our way thrived on having large families. It was how we survived on such a large farm. But on nights when I watched Nathan fall away into bliss as he released into my body, as I felt my own passion explode within me, I wished for just a little longer in getting to know my husband before we took that next leap.
Perhaps it was God's way of allowing us that bit of pleasure.
Unencumbered.
Just husband and wife.
Perhaps it was meant to be.<
br />
We would still get by, even if our family was delayed a bit, just like Fannie and Jonah, and Nathan's parents. We would see a way through the spring and the following harvest.
Just Nathan and me.
The beginning of January came with the big storm everyone was dreading. A heavy wet snow that fell for three days, the first day marked with dark clouds and a cutting wind that nearly blew me to the ground when I tried to walk to the barn.
Nathan insisted I stay inside, so I hunkered down and tried to warm the house by cooking, and sealing the windows as best I could. The draft in the front room was especially bad on the first night; I finally tacked up a thick blanket to the window and pulled out a quilt from the closet to keep me warm on the sofa while I tried to finish knitting my long socks.
With the snowstorm came the inability to go to Sermon and to even walk to the Berger’s. We didn't mind so much, preferring to stay inside wrapped up in each other. I learned quickly that Nathan didn't mind leftovers if I made enough for a couple of days, and he could take care of the animals in the same amount of time it took me to make us a hearty breakfast. So after that first day with the wind and three feet of snow, Nathan didn't complain about following me back up to our bedroom and snuggling under our quilts.
On the morning of the third day of the snowstorm, Nathan woke early, whispering for me to stay in bed. I was exhausted from the night before, so I murmured in agreement and was soon fast asleep once more. It was only when I felt an icy nose in between my shoulder blades that I woke up fully and yelped. Nathan’s cold body snuggled into mine, my own fighting to keep from shivering.
"You're so cold!" I exclaimed and wriggled against him to try and create a little heat.
"It is freezing out there," he grumbled and tucked in tighter to my warmth.
His cold hands enveloped my breasts and I gasped at the shock of it.
And the incredibly intense feeling it offered.
He chuckled and brushed across my hard nipples playfully.
"That was quick," he teased and rolled his thumb over them, causing me to moan at their aching.
"Because you are like an ice cube!" I growled and took his hands and moved them down to my stomach, pushing further down.
One thing you learn in the wilds of California is that the warmest part of one's body is the lower abdomen. And perhaps in between one's legs.
Renewing Hope (In Your World #2) Page 28
