by Lissa Bryan
“Yeah, the only book store in town was very small, and most of what they carried were used titles, but I got you everything I thought you’d like.”
“Oh, Justin, thank you!” She threw her arms around his neck and gave him a smacking kiss on the cheek this time. “I love you.” One of the titles was the classic What to Expect When You’re Expecting, a book her friend Michelle had said was a big help to her.
“I got a few things for the baby.” He lifted out another bag and handed it to her.
Inside, there was a selection of tiny outfits. Carly held them up. Little smocks with matching pants in pastels, but no pink or blue. Itty-bitty socks. A little sweater in yellow with a duckling embroidered on the lapel. At the bottom of the bag was a plush teddy bear, as soft as a whisper, and a bright yellow rubber duck that made her smile.
“I wasn’t sure what sizes to get,” Justin said, “so I picked a variety. And since we don’t know if it’s a boy or girl, I tried to get colors either could wear.”
Carly blinked hard to force back the tears. “Perfect.” She put her arms around Justin and laid her head on his chest. “Absolutely perfect.”
He put his fingers under her chin and lifted Carly’s face for a soft kiss.
Chapter Eight
Carly woke in the middle of the night and reached for Justin, but she found only an empty spot where he should be. She sat up, looked around, and saw him at the window. He noticed she was awake and held out a hand. “Carly, come see.”
Carly slid out of bed and picked her robe up from the foot of it. She put it on while she wiggled her feet into her slippers. The floors in this house were always cold. She shuffled over to him, yawning. “What is it?”
“The first snow.”
She leaned back against him, and Justin’s warm arms enfolded her. Carly looked out the window at the white world, lit by a brilliant moon that peeked through the snow filled clouds. Fat flakes brushed against the window on the way down, and the blanket of snow over the earth seemed to shimmer in the moonlight.
Carly sighed. “It’s beautiful.” She reached out to touch the window and shivered lightly at the chill radiating from the glass. She was so glad they were snug and safe in their warm little house instead of trying to travel through the snow.
It was early November, to the best of their reckoning. Neither of them was sure of the date. Justin moved his arms downward, and his hands cupped over the small mound of her belly lovingly, protectively. Three months along. Carly wasn’t showing much, yet, despite Justin’s efforts to fatten her up. She knew Justin was worried about her, but in this case, Carly didn’t know how to reassure him. Her nausea had tapered down to an occasional bout in the morning, and so she was able to eat more but Carly hadn’t gained as much as he thought she should.
Through the autumn, Justin had collected firewood from every farm within a day’s ride and had stacked it on the porch. He’d then cut down some trees from the small stand that lined the banks of the creek, using an axe when he couldn’t get the chainsaw to start. It scared her to death when she watched from the kitchen window. Justin wouldn’t allow her anywhere nearby. Carly always shouted to him after the tree fell to make sure he was all right.
Shadowfax dragged the logs up to the house where Justin used a handsaw to cut them down into more manageable pieces before splitting them into lengths of firewood. His hands blistered, then bled, and finally built up thick calluses, but he insisted it had to be done in order to have enough wood to keep them warm during the coming winter.
Carly was surprised at how much wood they went through in just a day’s time, so she understood why he’d been so worried they wouldn’t have enough. Justin kept the kitchen stove stoked and the fires burning in whichever room she was occupying at the time. The house, with its thick, brick walls, was cozy warm, except for the floors. No more running around barefoot.
“Come back to bed,” she coaxed, and he followed her back into their warm, soft bed. It was the most comfortable one Carly had ever slept in, but that might be due to Justin, as well. Justin sleeping at her side felt right, like he’d always belonged there and had finally taken his place.
In the morning, they were eating breakfast when Sam lurched to his feet and growled. He ran into the parlor and stood on one of the chairs, his legs braced on the back, to stare out the window, a menacing rumble coming from his chest.
Justin sprang into action. In every room, he had at least two guns stashed in drawers, in closets, in corners. Even the bathroom had guns stashed under the sink. He slung a rifle over his shoulder and snatched two handguns from a drawer. He put his back to the wall beside the front door, the handguns pointed at the ceiling. “Carly, honey, go upstairs,” he said, his tone calm and even. He had slipped into what she thought of as soldier mode; focused, cool, and deadly.
“No way,” she said “I’m not leaving you.”
“Carly . . .”
“No way. We’re a team.”
“The baby.” Those two words punched into her. Carly hesitated for a moment and then nodded.
“Sam, go with Carly.”
“No, Justin, you keep him—”
Justin gave an exasperated laugh. “Don’t waste time! Go!”
Carly gave him a quick, hard kiss and dashed up the stairs with Sam right behind her. She took a position by their bed, knowing she could quickly hide beneath it if need be. Sam sat crouched by the door, waiting, his ears erect and pointed forward like horns, his nose already scrunched in a silent snarl.
Justin was right; she had to think of their baby first. She had to get the baby as far away from the potential danger as possible. It was something they had discussed, though Carly didn’t even want to think about the possibility. But Justin was a planner by nature and insisted they work out what they would do in case someone tried to attack the house. He’d forced Carly to promise she would run to save herself and the baby. For herself alone, she would have never made such a promise. She felt her place was at Justin’s side, come what may, but now, more importantly, there was the baby to consider.
For that reason, there was a ladder lying on the roof of the addition below their bedroom window. Carly could slide it down and climb to the ground in seconds. In the barn, Justin had stashed a bag of supplies and warm clothing.
Carly repeated the plan to herself, as something to concentrate on besides her fear. She was supposed to follow the creek until she came to a small cabin, and if she couldn’t go in that direction or had to leave that location, she was to follow the road north one mile to a small farmhouse and hide in the cellar of the barn. She was only supposed to wait twenty-four hours before heading south on her own, something Carly privately thought was a terrible idea, but if both Justin and their supplies were gone, staying would be equally perilous.
Carly did the only thing she could; she clasped her shaking hands together and prayed.
Justin took a cautious peek out the living room curtains and waited for the lone figure to approach the door.
He was glad the house had retained its original doors; they were thick, heavy wood to which he had added a deadbolt. It made Justin feel marginally better about leaving Carly in the house while he went out searching for the things they needed and ensuring there were no signs of threats to their safety.
The smoke from their chimneys was a flag. Justin knew it announced their presence for miles around, though there was no way to prevent it. It would draw honest traders and thieves alike, good people and bad. All Justin could do was hope they would be ready to face any dangers that came their way.
The stranger knocked on the door. A second waited at the end of the driveway with a shopping cart mounted on what looked like a sled—full of their possessions in black trash bags.
Justin twisted the knob and darted back as the door swung open, both of his guns pointed at the face of a surprised man with white hair and a gently wrinkled face. The stranger tossed up his hands, and the blanket over his shoulders drifted to the porch floor.
“What do you want?” Justin demanded.
“Just to trade, son, if you were willing.” The stranger’s tone was calm and soothing as he backed away slowly. His heel caught in his blanket; he stumbled, and had to grab one of the porch posts to keep from falling. “I don’t want to cause any trouble. I’m sorry. I’ll be on my way now.”
“What did you want to trade?”
The man trembled a little, though from cold or fear, Justin didn’t know. He had to respect, however, that the man met his eyes squarely.
“I was hoping you might have some winter clothing you would trade. For my wife.” He waved one of his upraised hands toward the figure at the end of the drive. Her face was turned toward them and Justin could see she was just as old as the man, perhaps even older. They were the oldest people Justin had seen since the Crisis.
Justin considered the matter. The stores had little in the way of warm clothes; it had been early summer when the Crisis struck. There was some extra clothing that had belonged to the woman who had lived here before their arrival. It was far too large for Carly, and she wouldn’t want it anyway, as bothered as she was by using the possessions of the dead.
Still, Justin was suspicious. “Awful lucky both you and your wife survived the Infection.”
The man blushed a little. “She wasn’t my wife before the plague. But I didn’t think it was proper for a minister to travel with a woman who wasn’t his wife. It would make people question my moral character.”
Justin blinked. “You’re a minister, you say?
Justin took the stairs two at a time and ran down the short hallway to his and Carly’s bedroom. He threw open the door, and saw Sam leap to the side to avoid getting smacked by it, but she was nowhere in sight. He called out her name.
She lifted the hem of the dust ruffle and poked her head out from under the bed. That’s when he realized he must have alarmed her by running up the stairs like that. “Is everything all right?”
“Everything’s great!” Justin said. He reached under the bed, took hold of her arms, and tugged her out. “Marry me.”
Carly gaped at him. “What?”
He laughed. “That came out wrong. I meant to say, Will you marry me?”
“What, like now?”
For a long, terrible moment, he thought she was going to refuse, and his insecurities began to creep back in. But then he realized he hadn’t explained the situation in his excitement and to her, it must have come out of nowhere. She’d been worried about a gunfight, and he’d run up there and blurted out his request.
He tucked a lock of her caramel-colored hair behind her ear and looked down into the warm brown eyes of the woman he wanted to make his wife. His doubts and fears stemmed from a lifetime of abandonment, and they still whispered to him that she could do better and might change her mind once she had other options. He remembered what Carly had once said about wishing her head could convince her heart. He knew Carly wasn’t that kind of woman, but a lifetime of scars wouldn’t disappear overnight.
This was his chance to have something he’d always thought was impossible—a family. A wife and baby of his own. Carter had urged him to seize happiness instead of holding it off from fear of what the future might bring, and that’s exactly what Justin intended to do. He kissed Carly, light and sweet. “There’s a preacher downstairs.”
Carly’s expression turned from confusion to delight. “Why didn’t you say so? Of course I’ll marry you!”
Justin wanted to thank her, to promise he’d be a good husband for as long as she’d have him, but his throat was too tight for words.
“Dearly beloved, we join today Carly and Justin in the bonds of holy matrimony . . .”
Justin wished he’d brought Carly a dress. Any kind of dress. She shouldn’t have to get married wearing a pair of sweats, though they were her newest, nicest clothing.
Justin had a ring for her, at least. The minister’s wife had pulled her own from her finger and insisted they keep it for their own. “I’m not attached to it. I got it from a store after we got married because I thought we should have one. I can get another. And your bride needs a ring.” Justin was so grateful that he had given her one of his precious jars of peaches for it.
When it came time for Carly to make her vows to him, she slipped her father’s ring, the one that had The Unit’s insignia, onto his finger. He was so touched she’d given it to him that tears stung his eyes. He knew how much it meant to her, and he would have cherished it for that reason alone, but it was also a symbol of their union.
As though through divine intervention, both rings fit perfectly.
Justin promised to comfort, honor and keep Carly through sickness and health—those words had special resonance—and to be faithful as long as he lived. He meant it with all of his heart. Tears sparkled in Carly’s eyes as she promised the same. She didn’t wait for the reverend to pronounce them husband and wife before she jumped into Justin’s arms and kissed him with such enthusiasm she nearly knocked him over.
Reverend Davis had blank marriage certificates in his shopping cart, and he filled one out for them; Mrs. Davis signed as one of the witnesses. The other line would remain blank, making the event dubiously legal—if such a thing as law existed anymore—but it was the closest they would ever come. In the back pages of his Bible, the reverend wrote their names and, after a bit of discussion and guesswork, the date of their marriage.
Carly insisted the Reverend and his wife stay for dinner. She made a tuna noodle casserole, which turned out well despite the powdered ingredients. The Reverend said it was the best meal they’d had in months, the first warm meal they’d had in weeks.
Justin pitied them, as neither was suited for this new world. They had been staying in abandoned houses, lighting small fires when they could, and slowly trying to make their way south. The Reverend was content that God would take care of them until their mission—whatever God willed it to be—was done, and then he would call them Home.
Carly listened with sharp attentiveness to the Reverend’s explanation. She had told Justin about similar thoughts she’d had; she and Justin might have been brought together for a reason.
They were a nice couple and pleasant conversationalists, and Justin knew Carly felt bad for sending them on their way after supper. Justin had been generous in his trades. He’d practically given away the clothing they wanted. He knew he could have been shrewder in his dealings, but his emotions led had the way. Perhaps Carly was having a greater influence on him than he’d thought.
“Maybe we should have asked them to stay the night,” Carly mused as their bundled-up figures disappeared down the road.
“Mmm, really?” He bent down to nip her ear. “On our wedding night?”
Her eyes widened, and she turned to him with that look in her eyes that always sent a burning bolt of lust through him.
“Do you think they’ll be all right?”
Justin kissed her before he answered. “I gave them directions to that little fishing cabin along the creek. I left wood and supplies in case you ever had to go there, remember? They’ll be warm and safe.” His hand toyed with the zipper on the front of her outfit.
“I need to put away the leftovers,” she said reluctantly.
“Leave them,” he said.
“But Tigger and Sam will eat it!” They had seen it before. The cat and dog worked in tandem, with the cat jumping up to places Sam couldn’t reach and knocking things down to the floor, where they could both enjoy them. Sam always looked guilty afterward, but Justin never blamed him for being opportunistic. It was in a wolf’s nature, after all.
“Let them have a treat.” He bent and scooped her off her feet, and she squealed as he ran up the stairs.
“Justin?” Carly said as he placed her gently in the center of their bed.
“Mmm?” He was occupied with yanking his shirt over his head.
“It was a wonderful idea. Thank you.”
“No need to thank me.” He
unbuttoned his jeans and pushed them down over his hips and then cursed a little as his feet got tangled and he had to hop around awkwardly to pull them off.
“Of course there is,” Carly said. “It was a lovely wedding.”
“You don’t regret not having a church and a white dress?”
Carly had always imagined she would wear her mother’s dress when she got married, and her dad would walk her down the aisle. Like many girls, she had daydreamed about things like cakes and flowers and bridesmaids, but she realized how unimportant those things were.
“My wedding was perfect,” she said, “because of the man I was marrying. That’s all that matters.”
She cupped his cheek in her palm and he turned his head to nuzzle a kiss into her open hand. From downstairs, they heard a crash in the kitchen and they both laughed as they tumbled back together into the bed.
For Christmas, Justin went out, chopped down a small pine tree, and brought it into the house. Carly decorated it with strings of only slightly scorched popcorn and put a star, cut from the bottom of a tin pie pan, at the top. Justin helped, cutting decorations out of colored paper they had found in the office and further adorning them by drawing little designs with colored pencils. He made one with a portrait of all three of their animals, which Carly vowed to keep and treasure forever. He was quite an artist, and the portraits were very good.
Carly had no presents for Justin, which bothered her. She made him a peach cobbler on Christmas Eve, just a bit scorched, as well, but she didn’t have anything to put under the tree for him. Justin, the sly dog, had held back some of the things he’d gotten during his last trip to town before the snow fell, and he had wrapped her gifts in white typing paper, decorated with whimsical designs.
Carly brooded on it for days. She considered laying herself naked under the tree, wearing nothing but a strategically placed red bow, but as much as he might enjoy that, it was a “present” he already had. In the middle of the night on Christmas Eve, inspiration struck, and Carly slid out of bed.
