Silken Promises
Page 27
She smiled in genuine delight. “So we’ll be staying here?”
“Well be staying here.” He walked toward her, kneeling on the floor to stroke the baby’s cheek, then glance into his wife’s beautiful face.
“You’ve kept your promises, Jacob.”
His brow furrowed in confusion.
“A church wedding,” she reminded him softly. “A house… All that remains…”
He stared at her thoughtfully, before finishing, “Is a couple of kids.” He glanced down at the baby in her arms, feeling the potent hunger that it be his child, his son or daughter. “We’ve only been married a short time. You’ll probably want to wait a bit.”
“No.” She leaned close to whisper, “If my suspicions are confirmed, there will be no waiting for us, Jacob Grey.”
Jacob stared at her in disbelief, then laughed, hugging her tightly against him, baby and all. Phebe squirmed and snuffled, and he was forced to draw back.
“Really?”
“It’s a little soon to say, but I think so.”
“Are you all right? Are you ill? Heavens! You shouldn’t be out in the heat like this! I’d—”
She placed a finger over his lips. “I love you, Jacob.”
The protestations, the worry drained free beneath a tidal wave of wonder. Staring at her, he wondered what he had done so right in his life that the Fates would offer him this woman, this gem, this prize. He had no illusions that their life together would be filled with honeysuckle and roses—they were both far too stubborn and independent for that. But he did know that the future would never be dull, never be lonely. They had survived gunfire, murder, and mayhem.
Now they only had to wait and watch the silken promises of the past unfold, blossom, and grow into the reality of a beautiful future.
“Let’s go inside.”
“Whatever you say.”
He helped her stand, drawing her into the cool shadows of the house. Only after their footsteps had disappeared did two blue-tinted heads pop up from the edge of the stoop.
“Do you think they knew we were eavesdropping?” Amelia asked in concern.
Alma snorted. “Doubt it. They’re far too wrapped up in themselves for that.”
The women sat down again on the bench from which they’d heard the entire conversation unobserved.
“How long do you suppose before the baby will come?”
“It will be a spring baby, I’d say.”
“Ooo. How lovely! Just when the flowers are coming out.”
Alma opened her mouth to say something, paused, then stared at her sister in anxiety. “We must ready the garden immediately, Amelia.”
“Plant extra bulbs.”
“Daffodils, tulips… yes! We’ll have this yard blooming to beat the band for that dear child.”
Amelia’s hand flew to her lips. “Oh, no.”
“What?”
“The gophers! We’ve had such an infestation this past year. They’ll eat all our bulbs.”
Alma took as deep a breath as her corset would allow, then stood up and began marching determinedly toward their own rooms in the back portion of the house. “Come along, Amelia.”
“Where are we going?”
“To get the dynamite. Those gophers will not spoil our surprise for that baby. You get the sticks, I’ll get the fuses, then we’ll drop them down the holes and blast those little varmints to kingdom come!”
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