Page 86 of Silver Lining
She wasn't going to leave him while he needed her. She wouldn't leave until the range began to green up and the cattle could graze. Oh God. Thinking about it made her stomach cramp.
She didn't know how she would find the grit to honor her agreement and ride away from here. This was her home now. She had scrubbed its floors, washed its windows, shoveled snow off the porch, bathed in the kitchen. She knew the corner where the house had settled. Knew how to make the oven bake evenly. If she wasn't here, who would take care of her chickens? Who would pin the laundry on the line when she was gone?
Thinking of the house was easier than bearing the pain that knifed through her body when she thought about Livvy and Sunshine and Gilly. They were so much a part of her life now, so much a part of who she had become since she tumbled out of the wagon in front of Livvy's veranda.
The thought of finding a family and then having to leave them behind ripped at her heart.
But that pain was only a fraction of the agony she would feel when she kissed Max for the last time.
When they sat in bed together, their shoulders touching, for the last time. When he took her in his arms for the last time.
She had sworn she would never love him, but she did. Oh God, she did. She loved every single thing about him. She loved the way he tried always to do the right thing, and how he felt about his family. She loved the gentle way he treated his animals and the moments when he gazed at her with tenderness and understanding. She even loved him when he turned stubborn and pushed out his chin.
How could she live without his touch and his kisses and the sound of his laughter?
But every day brought the moment of departure closer. For weeks she could forget that their marriage wasn't real. Then something like tonight happened, and she was jolted back to reality. She might have forgotten their marriage was only temporary. But Max had not.
Slipping her hands beneath the covers, she gently placed them flat on her stomach. This is what she had dreamed of and had longed for. Carrying Max's baby under her heart should have made her happier than anything else ever would. Instead, she turned her face into her pillow to muffle her sobs and wept until she'd cried herself dry.
*
The warm spell didn't last. Arctic air sank down from the north and gripped the plains in an icy stranglehold. Blizzards froze cattle where they stood, and cattle froze on clear days when the pale sun's thin warmth couldn't penetrate the lid of frigid air. Temperatures plummeted and stayed low, not rising above twelve below zero during the first ten days of February.
Finally, toward the end of the month, the numbing cold receded and patches of bare ground slowly reappeared. Crocuses pushed out of the ground on the sunny side of the barn and beside the veranda steps. During the last week, the red foxes returned, and a bluebird was spotted near the bunkhouse.
Philadelphia watched it all from her bedroom window.
While she did nothing but pace and wait, Wally went into town every day. Livvy kept house and her accounting ledgers, went to Max and Low Down's place every Sunday. Max and Low Down worked their ranch and fought to keep the cattle alive. Heaven only knew what Gilly did every day, but she and her family also drove to Max's house every Sunday.
Everyone had things to occupy their time except her. She had not gone into town since Christmas, two months ago. And no one had come here to call on her.
She, who not long ago had been society's undisputed leader, was now being shunned. How could this happen? People had clambered for an invitation to her musicals and her receptions. Her presence had guaranteed an event would be a success. The door knocker rapped all afternoon during her at-home days. She had been the person who decided who was the crème de la crème and who should be dropped from guest lists.
Now, unbelievably, she had been dropped. When she let herself think about it, rage made her ill, and she had to lie down.
It never should have been this way. She and Max should have been the toast of the town. Young newlyweds at the peak of society, swirling from one engagement to another, setting the pace and the mode, the envy of everyone.
And that's how it would be once the problems were fixed.
Turning from the window, she frowned across the room at the cradle against the wall.
The only thing anyone could talk about was the baby, the baby, the baby. And Livvy watched her all the time. Her mother-in-law studied her color, stared at her stomach, observed how she sat and walked and what she ate.
And every day it got worse. Every morning Livvy smiled broadly and said the same thing. "We could have a baby any hour now." Then Wally would look startled and ask if he should ride into town or stay here with his wife.
This morning Livvy had pointed out that Philadelphia was two days overdue, hinting that Wally should stay home. But Philadelphia had eventually persuaded him to go on into town. And then she'd had to listen to Livvy thanking heaven that she'd carried to term and hadn't miscarried.
Two days overdue.
Wally would be distracted at the bank, awaiting word. So would her father. And so would Max. Livvy had three cowboys waiting, ready to ride to the bank, to Gilly's, and to Max's the instant her labor began.
Two days overdue.
First babies often came early, but they were seldom more than two weeks late.
She could wait another week, but what was the point? Delay wouldn't make what she had to do any easier.
Brooding and angry, she shoved her nightgown in the laundry bag and made certain a fresh gown lay near at hand. Then she removed all jewelry except her wedding band. After she brushed her hair into a simple knot at the nape of her neck, she lifted her head high and walked out of her bedroom to the top of the staircase.
