by ML Gardner
“Just picking some up. Thought I could fit more into my car but I can’t.” He shrugged. “Guess I’ll have to get it next time.”
“Well, don’t take all of it.” Caleb grinned.
“I wouldn’t dream of it.”
∞∞∞
They were silent as Gordon drove. Claire took in the scenery as he deliberately drove away from the ocean toward the countryside. The truck bounced along the dirt road and Claire’s body bounced with it. It was peaceful and she closed her eyes often, smelling autumn in the air. She liked how Gordon was comfortable with silence now. He didn’t feel the need to keep constant conversation. And when he did spark up a topic, it was easy to engage. But then, they only ever talked about easy things. The weather, the dairy business, her friends, which he hoped would soon become his.
Gordon began humming. Claire smiled as she felt the baby kick.
“It did it again,” she said. “It always kicks when you hum.”
Gordon smiled and began humming louder. The baby kicked harder.
“Either it doesn’t like it or it loves it. I can’t decide,” she said as she shifted in her seat to get more comfortable. After a few minutes, she grunted.
“Actually, could you stop? It feels like it’s rioting in there.”
He slowed the truck and took a long look at her.
“How much longer?”
“February.”
“Why do you call it an ‘it’?”
She appeared lost for a moment. “I don’t know what else to call it. I haven’t thought of any names.”
“Don’t you ever wonder if it’s a boy or a girl?”
“Sometimes.”
“What do you think it is?”
“How should I know?”
“They say mothers can tell that kind of thing. They have this gut instinct as to what it’s going to be.”
She shrugged, as if clueless.
She had an instinct, but it was too painful to think about. Some distant, detached part of her told her it was a boy, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. She wanted it to be a boy. She wanted it to look just like Aryl, with big brown eyes and curly locks and she wanted to name it after him, too. She didn’t feel right calling it a ‘she’ when on some level, she knew better. But it hurt to say ‘he’. Every time she had tried the word on for size in private, it evoked images of Aryl and it was safer to stay away from his memory all together. Something she found necessary while spending increasing amounts of time with Gordon, too.
“Can I ask you a question, Claire?”
She studied a pair of horses as they passed. “Sure.”
“Is there anyone else you’re interested in, er, seeing, that is?”
She laughed. The sound of it caused him to jolt, shocked and delighted at the sound. It was contagious and he smiled.
“What’s so funny?”
“You are.”
“It’s an honest question. You’re a beautiful woman. Why wouldn’t men be lined up at the door?”
“You know, it’s funny because just the other day I was wondering why I didn’t have suitors for miles and then I remembered, oh, yeah, I’m a pregnant widow.” The genuine smile faded, replaced by a sad one. “That combination pretty much keeps them from knocking on the door.”
He pulled off to the side of the road and turned off the engine. “That’s not true. I’m knocking.”
She felt a panic well up inside. Part of her had known this was coming. They couldn’t go on forever spending time together, talking of nothing important, pretending neither of them weren’t wondering what it was all for. He didn’t hold her hand when they were out, didn’t kiss her goodnight when he dropped her off, and anyone looking on would think they were brother and sister, or simply good friends. She knew it was on his mind—no man spent this much time and energy on a woman without thinking something might come of it— and hard as it was to deal with, it was on her mind lately as well. Maybe it was that she was moving out of the hard grief and, thanks to Gordon, more into a state of living. Or trying to, anyway.
Maybe it was feeling the baby start to move. More and more it was moving inside her. Nothing like the reality of a new life to force one to figure out what their next move was. Practical as reality could be, when Gordon reached over and took her hand, it was uncomfortable only four months after Aryl.
She pushed aside the thoughts and kept her hand in his.
“Will you be mine, Claire? Nothing would make me happier.”
She hesitated and he gave her hand a squeeze. He must have had pointers from Maura, she thought.
“Nothing has to start changing right away, Claire. I’m not going to…jump on you or anything. I know you need time and frankly, so do I. You’d be the first woman since my wife died, and a part of me feels guilty.”
“So that won’t go away?” she whispered, staring at their clasped hands.
“It gets better. And who knows, maybe if we can manage to make a life together, it will.”
She nodded slowly, deep in thought. She knew this wasn’t just a guy asking a girl to be exclusive. This was a proposal to see if they were compatible, and that would lead to another proposal, eventually. If she accepted one, she knew the other would be soon. She debated for a moment if she could. If she would, under normal circumstances. Not pregnant. Not a widow. If she had always been single and they met on the beach or in the city and it was just them, with no history, no dark clouds, no fear of the future. She looked up from her deep thought. His eyes were shining and his smile nervous. Hers, practical and resigned.
“I will, Gordon.”
∞∞∞
Patrick stomped into the house and called for Shannon.
“Up here, Pat.”
He jogged up the stairs and found her packing their things.
“Good. Can ye hurry it up, Shan? I want to get out of here.”
“What’s the rush, Pat?”
“Damn deputy’s up to no good, that’s what. I want to get as far away from here as possible.”
“What deputy? What no good?”
Patrick gave her a run-down of what had just transpired in the barn.
“Pat, ye have to tell Caleb! Ye do! He’s got to know!”
“Drunken bastard doesn’t even know what’s going on with his own land. Even if I told him, he probably wouldn’t care, loopy as he is most the time.”
“Yes, but, if it were yer land, wouldn’t ye want someone to tell ye if something was amiss?”
Patrick dropped his head and paced, shoving his hands in his pockets.
“Marvin told me that he’d have Caleb arrested if I said a word.”
“Then you have to! Marvin obviously is takin’ advantage of Caleb.” She stood and stopped his pacing, putting her hands on his shoulders. “Tell Caleb and have him make like he found it by mistake. No one needs to know that ye said a word. Then Caleb can destroy it and Marvin won’t have a leg to stand on.”
Patrick stood with tightly clamped lips.
“I might could do it like that.”
“You could. Now help me get some of this stuff downstairs. Can we use the truck to make one trip, do you think? Easier than carryin’ it all by hand and it’ll be dark soon.”
“We can. I’ve got the keys to the truck.”
On the short drive to the cabin, with all their worldly possessions piled behind them, they passed Caleb walking down from the upper field. Katie Mallory walked beside him.
Patrick slowed the truck. It looked like she was doing all the talking and Patrick was grateful he wasn’t on the receiving end of her words. Caleb walked with his hands shoved deep in his pockets, brow furrowed, staring at the ground.
“Movin’ in today!” Patrick called as he passed. Caleb waved but his expression didn’t change.
“I’ll not be talkin’ to him today, Shan. Looks like he’s getting an earful from Katie.”
Shannon smiled. “Maybe it’ll help him, poor thing.”
Patrick shot he
r a look. “Well it better. I’ve got my own wee bit of land to work now. And I have to squeeze every last ounce of profit from it. I won’t have time to clean up all his messes. That reminds me. Arianna said we could have a few chickens and one of the roosters to get a flock started.”
“That’s sweet of her.”
They pulled up to the cabin. “Home sweet home. Humble as it may be.”
“It’s wonderful, Pat. And we’ll make it even more wonderful with some time and hard work.”
They moved their things in as the full moon rose.
October 23rd 1930
Arianna stopped short on the third to the last stair at the sight of Caleb. He sat at the table freshly bathed and clean shaven, waiting for her.
He half-stood as she passed, and she afforded him only a grunt of acknowledgement.
“Can we talk?” he asked, his eyes jointly hopeful and pitiful.
She went to the stove and put on a kettle of water.
“Please?” he begged, turning in the chair to look at her.
She was silent for a moment and spun around, irritation visible on her face.
“What? Did the goat have a hot date or something? Leave you all alone for the night?” She crossed her arms leaning against the stove with her lips pursed in a tight knot.
“No, it didn't have a date.” He shook his head. “Goats don't date.”
She stared at him blankly and shook her head.
“Jesus, I wasn't serious, Caleb,” she huffed.
It was unseasonably warm, with every door and window open, hoping for a breeze.
Suddenly she laughed and it surprised them both.
“What?” he asked cautiously.
“You thought I was serious…” She trailed off with her hand over her eyes. Her laugh was for that side of Caleb she loved. The serious and literal, yet sweet and naïve.
She dropped her hand and glared at him.
“Who's it gonna date, Caleb? The pig?”
He brought his shoulders up slowly. “I hadn't really thought about it,” he said apologetically.
She laughed again despite herself. “I can't believe we're having this conversation.”
She turned away, focusing on the tea kettle.
“Why are you drinking tea on such a warm night?”
“What do you want, Caleb?” she asked, her voice annoyed yet slightly entertained. She turned slightly to hold up a tea cup in question.
“No, thanks,” he said quietly.
“Oh, that's right,” she said, turning away again. “You don't drink anything that hasn't been sitting in a still for a week.”
“It tastes better after at least two, I think,” he said and she laughed again, instantly angry for it.
“What do you want, Caleb?” she repeated.
“I just wanted to tell you I'm sorry.”
“For what?”
“You know for what.”
“Caleb, there are so many things you could possibly be sorry for, I'm just wondering which one you have in mind.”
She walked past him, catching a whiff of cologne as she sat down across from him. A thick pillar candle sat between them, burning with a soft glow. Ethel had emptied all the oil lamps after the fire that killed her husband and destroyed her kitchen.
“I'm sorry for being gone so much,” he said, avoiding her eyes.
She sighed, loud, long and slow, trying to muster patience.
“I know this has been hard on you, Caleb.”
He nodded, eyes cast down, playing with his shirt's hem.
“But it's been hard on us, too. We need you. Me, and Samuel and Savrene. Whenever you're not working you're in that barn with that goat.”
“He's a nice goat—”
“Caleb, I'm in no mood,” she said dangerously.
“I just wanted to hear you laugh again,” he said and her face melted slightly.
“Maura’s mother got a hold of you. Didn't she?”
He nodded with a grimace.
“What did she say?”
“Well, the babies.” He glanced up at the ceiling. “I don't know if I should repeat most of it with the babies in the house.”
The corner of her mouth twitched and she took a sip of tea. “I can imagine,” she said. “Did she make you talk to me tonight? Or was that your idea.”
“My idea,” he said softly.
“Well, I'm not going to pretend that I'm not mad as hell at you, Caleb. You've spent the better part of four months passed out in that barn, forgetting we even exist. Did you know that Samuel rolled over?”
His eyes darted up. “He did?”
She nodded. “And Savrene is trying. Next thing you know they'll be crawling, walking, talking, and you're going to miss all of it.”
He scrubbed his face with his hand but the frown remained.
“I'm sorry. I'll spend more time with them. And you,” he added.
“I can count on one hand how many times you've slept in our bed. And even then all you did was pass out and keep me up with your snoring.”
“I'm sorry. I won't sleep in the barn anymore,” he promised. “And I won't drink so much. I'm sober now,” he said, holding his hand up in promise.
“Because you're out? Or because you want to be?”
“Because I’m trying to be.”
She looked him over before moving her gaze to the darkness past the back door.
“Tell me what happened.”
He rolled his eyes before closing them.
“You know what happened.”
“Maura said it would help you if you talk about it.”
Cricket songs filled the kitchen for several long moments while he deliberated.
“I feel bad for being the one who lived. I feel guilty for feeling glad that I lived. That I got to come home to you and the babies.” He blew out his breath and cleared his throat. “And I miss him.”
He took a moment to gather himself and avoid tears before he continued. “Nothing is ever going to be the same,” he said finally.
Having no idea what to say, she hoped that listening would be enough for now.
“It still stings like it was yesterday,” he said.
A few whimpering cries echoed from the staircase and they both turned to look. Samuel settled himself quickly and Caleb went back to staring at his folded hands on the table.
“When I can stay busy it's not so bad. But when I don't have anything to do, nothing else to think about, that's when it kills me. Guilt, anger and relief. It's a hell of a combination,” he said rubbing the back of his neck.
“It's going to take time, Caleb. A lot of time. But it'll get better.”
“That's what they tell me,” he said softly.
“But running away to that barn and drinking to oblivion isn't going to help you get past it. In fact, it's only prolonging it.”
“That's what they tell me, too,” he said, nodding slowly. They stared in opposite directions.
“Will you come to bed?” she asked, breaking a long silence where only heat filled the kitchen. He nodded, looking forward to sleeping on something other than hay.
“Will you come to bed with me?”
He picked up the slight change in her voice and looked up, her eyes confirming the tone. He raised his eyebrows in question. “You're not so mad at me then?”
“I’ve been lonely, Caleb.” She shrugged and a simple smile turned slightly devious. “And I didn't say you weren't going to have to work hard for my forgiveness,” she said with one eyebrow cocked.
He grinned and it almost touched his eyes. “Well, ma'am, I reckon I'll have to give it everything I got,” he said, donning a heavy accent from her native Georgia.
“You just do that then,” she said quietly as she stood. He took her hand and led her to the stairs just as Samuel started wailing. Arianna growled in frustration.
“Let me get him,” Caleb said and jogged ahead.
It took him five minutes to settle the baby and when he returned to the bedroom
Arianna was just finishing undressing. He stopped and stared for a moment as she turned around.
“You look amazing,” he said, frozen in place. Her long, lean figure had fully returned, the only evidence of childbirth were slightly widened hips that suited her well.
She walked over to him impatiently and started unbuttoning his shirt.
October 24th 1930
Bomani and Ruth stepped off at the train station in Rockport.
“Do you know where he lives?”
“I do.”
“Are we going to just walk up to his door, knock, and say, ‘Hi, there. We were just in the neighborhood and thought we’d stop by to say that Victor is headed this way to kill you and, oh, by the way, I’m alive. Have a nice day!”
Bomani smiled. “I’ll handle it, Ruth. It will be short and sweet. We do need to stop at one place first.”
She stopped and put a hand on his arm. “And then we can leave? Start a new life somewhere?”
“We will.”
They started walking again. Ruth was frowning. “What if he realizes you aren’t in New York anymore?”
“He’s too preoccupied with his plans. Besides, he needs to train hop for a bit before he can head here. I think we can give them twenty four hours notice.”
“This is a cute town,” Ruth said as they walked. “Not where I pictured Jonathan ending up in life, but cute nonetheless.”
Bomani nodded but said nothing. He knew the past that she and Jonathan shared and didn’t feel directly threatened by it. After all, they’d only dated; she admitted to having loved him but used the word in past tense and was quite honest that he never returned the sentiment. He was a good, decent man, according to her and after he met Ava, no other woman existed. Still, it bothered him that she mentioned him as often as she did. He wondered if his urgency to help Jonathan was purely based on trying to turn a new leaf and be a decent human being, or because he knew that Ruth would sleep better at night knowing Jonathan was safe. Help her move on and make a life with him.
He’d told her he loved her a dozen times. A few more than that as she slept. She never said it back. When directly asked she smiled prettily and said, “Of course I do.” But it wasn’t the same. Maybe when life settled down. Maybe when he could provide her with a comfortable life, and that life fell into a blessedly predictable routine, she’d feel safe enough to say it.
