Page 101 of Homestead

Neither does he.

He wraps an arm around me. He smells pretty strong—he really needs a bath. But I don’t care even a little bit right now. I probably don’t smell all that fresh either.

“I did…” I pause so I can kiss his bare chest. He’s wearing nothing but his boxers right now. “I did hope sometimes you were feeling more for me. You made it clear that you wanted me to be happy too—that it wasn’t supposed to be all one-sided. But every time I tried to… to encourage you to open up, you didn’t. So I kept assuming that was the limit. I got to share your life and your body and your… your responsibility, but I didn’t get to share your heart.”

He’s obviously thinking as he’s silent for several seconds. “When did you try to get me to open up?”

“Lots of times.”

“Like when?”

“I’d ask you about Mary or whatever, and you wouldn’t answer except to say you loved her.”

“Oh.” He’s frowning and staring up at the ceiling. “I always felt weird talking ’bout her.”

“Why?”

“’Cause me and her were married. It was a normal relationship. I loved her. Course I did. But what we have—you and me—is… is different. It always felt weird. We aren’t married. Weren’t even supposed to be in love. And I always felt awkward and guilty ’bout makin’ comparisons.”

“Guilty toward me or toward Mary?”

“Both, I think. I don’t really know how to describe it. Just that it feels like I was a different person back then. That I was a different guy—the one who loved and married Mary and hoped to start a family with her. The man I am now is… is different. And that’s the man who somehow fell in love with you. The man who loves you more than anythin’ in the world.”

I kiss his chest again. Stretch up to nuzzle his beard.

He tilts his head to meet my lips, and we kiss slow and gentle and sweet for a long time.

When we finally pull away, he murmurs, “You think the baby is okay after all that last night?”

“I don’t know. I hope so. I haven’t started bleeding yet. Although, to tell you the truth, we still don’t know for sure that I was pregnant to begin with.”

“Course you are. Why else are you throwin’ up all the time? And hasn’t it been like two months since you had your period?”

“Yes. Almost.” I take a long, deep breath. “Do you… do you think we’ll be okay? If I really do have this baby?”

“Yeah. We’ll be okay.”

Mary died because her baby came too early and there were complications. That has to be on his mind. How could it not be? Childbirth has always been dangerous—more so now than it used to be. But he doesn’t sound worried. He sounds happy.

Excited.

So maybe I can be excited too.

“You scared ’bout it?” he asks after a minute, twining his hand in my messy ponytail.

“A little. But now that it’s happened, I do want this baby. I’ll be…” I get choked up unexpectedly. “I’ll be sad if I lose it.”

“You might not. And either way, we can keep tryin’. I wanna have lots of babies with you.”

“Lots?” I’m giggling again. “Surely two or three will be enough.”

His mouth is twitching with a hidden smile. “We’ll see.”

* * *

An hour or so later, I come back into the little room to tell Jimmy that I’m leaving. Our animals won’t be okay if one of us doesn’t get back to feed and tend to them today, so I talked with the others to figure out a plan to take care of them until Jimmy gets well enough to go home.

“You sure ’bout it?” Jimmy asks, frowning and bristling slightly in that protective way he has. “We don’t know him all that well.”

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