17
Are you sure?” Jay asked Kate.
When he had gotten home from work, candles were on the table. Already lit. More telling, she had a glow brighter than the candles. Something was definitely up.
After she sliced the pie, she reached across the table and took his hand. Even before she said anything, her news was plain on her face. He was going to be a father. And though he was expecting them, the words still slammed him right in the chest and made it hard to breathe for a few seconds.
“I’m sure,” she said.
He managed to whisper, “A baby.”
Kate giggled like a little girl, happiness bubbling up out of her. “You’re happy, aren’t you?” She looked at him, her heart in her eyes.
“How could I be anything else?” His pie forgotten, Jay kissed her, then put his hand on her flat belly. Inside her, his baby was growing. A baby she already loved. It didn’t matter that there was nothing there to feel. Soon there would be. Soon he’d be a father.
Her words poked him. He tried to ignore the tremble in his fingers as he gently smoothed down her hair. “Did you think I wouldn’t be?”
She looked up at him. “You did keep telling me not to be in such a hurry. To live in the moment.”
“The moments have been good. Very good.”
“I know. That’s why I thought maybe you didn’t want the moment to change.”
“Why would you think that?” He kissed her forehead and wished she’d been satisfied with his embrace and kiss. But that wouldn’t be Kate. She wanted to examine every word sometimes as if looking for worms under rocks.
“I love you, Jay, with all my heart. I believe we were meant to be together, but there’s a lot I don’t know about you.”
“And that I don’t know about you, but what I do know, I love.” Jay tapped her nose with his finger. He wasn’t ready to pick up the rocks of his past. Maybe someday, but not now with the news of his baby on the way fresh in his ears. He tried to ease away from her questions. “But we’ll have years and years together to find out all those things.”
“You already know everything there is to know about me. It’s all here in Rosey Corner. Family, friends, places I love.” She touched his cheek. “But you? You never talk about your family. You don’t talk about the war.”
“Some things are better forgotten.”
“But can you forget?”
“Not everything. Not every day. But right now, this moment, I can. A very happy moment.” He held her close and kissed her hair. He did love this woman so very much.
He was happy. He really was. The trouble was he was also terrified. Absolutely terrified he wouldn’t be a good father. He thought of Sarge. Married with two kids. He tried to think about him at home in Michigan. Out of uniform. Going to work. Loving his kids. Doing what had to be done. Jay could do the same.
Kate breathed out a long sigh. “Do you hear music?”
He smiled with not the slightest tremble in his heart. This part of loving Kate had ever been easy. “I’ll always hear the music with you.” He held up his hand. She took it and they waltzed around the kitchen.
Kate laughed when they bumped into a chair. “We need a bigger kitchen.”
“Or a bigger dance floor.” He led her out the kitchen door into the backyard. The sun had already headed down to the other side of the world, leaving a rosy afterglow to mark its passing. The twilight air wrapped around them like a well-worn cloak while a chorus of tree frogs added to the music of their hearts. He’d dreamed of dancing with Kate like this as he huddled in foxholes. Dreams and prayers.
“Good that you haven’t forgotten how to dance.” Fern’s voice stopped the music.
“Fern like the plant.” Jay looked around at her. He had no idea how long she’d been there by the fence.
Enough light remained for him to catch the woman’s near smile as she inclined her head in acknowledgment of the memory of the first time she’d appeared out of the shadows to poke him with her words. “Jay like the bird.”
Jay kept his arms around Kate. The evening air was cool and he wanted to protect her from the chill. And from Fern.
“Yes, Fern.” Kate’s voice was soft. “You told us about the music. Do you remember?”
“You think I’m a doddery old fool who can’t remember what happened yesterday?” Fern snorted.
“I thought maybe you wouldn’t think it important enough to remember.” Kate stiffened against Jay. Bracing for the battle she and Fern always seemed to have when they talked.
Jay tried to head it off. “Good to see you haven’t forgotten how to sneak up on people, Fern.” He’d make the woman battle him this time, but instead she surprised him by making a sound that could have been a laugh.
“I don’t sneak,” she said. “People just don’t use their eyes. Or ears.”
“But you do,” Jay said.
“Remember Fern like the plant. Ferns grow in the shade. They don’t make noise even when the wind is blowing. Little things hide under them. They tell no secrets.”
“Secrets? Do you know secrets?” Jay narrowed his eyes to see her better, but the day was losing its battle with night. He couldn’t tell what was behind her words.
“Fern knows everything,” Kate said.
“Not everything, but enough.” Fern stared at Kate a moment before she turned away.
“Goodbye, Fern like the plant,” he called after her.
She looked back over her shoulder at them. He couldn’t see her face, but he could hear her plain enough. “Better keep on dancing before the baby bump gets big and keeps you apart.”
Kate pulled away from Jay to run after her. The woman’s words obviously surprised her. “How did you know?”
Jay followed Kate to the fence.
Fern kept walking, but again there was that sound that passed for her laugh. “You said I know everything.”
“You saw me.” Kate looked at Jay to explain. “Fern was passing by in the field this morning when I lost my breakfast out on the porch.”
“So that explains that.” Jay put his arms around her again. She was shivering.
“I use my eyes.” Fern stopped then to look back at them. “I see that little sister too. Not the one that likes me, but the other one. The one that’s afraid. See her fishing.”
“Tori likes to fish,” Kate said.
“Too much. Could end up like me. Packing a fishing pole instead of a hatchet.” She held up the little ax she used to chop down cedars.
“No.” Kate spoke the word too loudly.
Jay tightened his arms around her. Her trembles now weren’t completely because of the night air.
Kate’s voice softened as she added, “She has Samantha.”
“But something could happen. Something can always happen.” Fern turned away from them to head on toward Rosey Corner.
“Good things too.” Kate seemed to push the words through the night after Fern.
This time Fern gave no sign of hearing.
Kate shivered against Jay again. He rubbed his hands up and down her upper arms to warm her. “That’s just Fern. She forgot how to be happy a long time ago.”
“I know.”
“But you haven’t. We haven’t.” He pushed cheer into his voice. The woman’s words had cast a pall over him too, because he knew it was true. Things did happen.
Kate turned toward the house. “What if she’s right? About Tori. Lately she seems to want to get away from us all.”
“Maybe because you keep pushing that Weber guy at her.”
Kate looked up at him as they went back into the kitchen. The candles, still burning on the table, cast flickering shadows on the wall. “He’s a nice guy. Samantha likes him.”
“It’s not Samantha he needs to like him.” Jay shut the door behind them and reached for the pull string on the overhead bulb. The light glared brightly after the soft darkness outside and candlelight inside.
Kate blew out the candles. “I like him. Mama and Daddy like him. He won Lorena over with that sled he made for Samantha. Even Scout likes him.”
“Scout likes everybody, but the name you didn’t say is the one that matters. Can he get Tori to like him?”
“I don’t know. He keeps trying.” Kate sighed as she began to clear off the table. “I just don’t know. She won’t talk about it. Fern’s right. She goes fishing.”
“You could go with her.” Jay sat back down at the table to eat the last few bites of his pie. “Keep her company.”
“You know I hate to fish. Squishing worms on hooks and getting fishy smell all over your hands.” She shuddered and shoved her untouched piece of pie toward him as if even the thought of fishing had turned her stomach. Then she got a funny look on her face. “You did know that, didn’t you?”
“Nope, I don’t think the subject has ever come up.” He dug his fork into the pie. “See, there’s something I didn’t know about you.”
“I don’t know if you like to fish either.”
“I went with Mike some when we were kids.”
“I did know Mike liked to fish. He used to go with Tori and Lorena on Saturday afternoons before the war. He talked Evie into going with him a few times too.”
“I’m guessing that was a disaster.”
“You might think so, but actually Evie sort of likes to fish.” She looked up from putting the leftovers into smaller bowls to fit in the refrigerator.
“You Merritt girls are full of surprises. Have you told them? The sisters?”
She shook her head. “Not even Mama. Nobody knows but you.”
“You’re forgetting Fern.”
“I’m trying. I’m definitely trying.” The sparkle came back into her eyes. “I can’t believe she saw me heaving up my breakfast this morning and figured out I was expecting.”
“A lucky guess. She likes to keep you off balance. It’s a game with her.”
“A game.” Kate carried the plates to the sink. “Funny to think about Fern playing a game, but you’re right. She does like to aggravate me, but then she tells me things I need to hear sometimes too. Things she sees that I don’t want to see. Or I’m too blind to see.”
“What things are you talking about?” Jay forked in the last of the pie.
“Lots of things. She used to warn me about maybe ending up like her too.”
“Never.” Jay looked up, surprised. “I can’t imagine you hiding out in the woods and popping out of shadows to scare the fainthearted.”
“When you put it that way, it sounds sort of fun.” Kate laughed, but then her smile leaked away. “But she’s right about Tori.” Kate tightened her lips as she stared at the dark window over the sink.
“Uh-oh.” Jay cupped his hands around his mouth and pretended to yell. “Look out, Tori. Sister Kate is ready to come to the rescue.”
Kate balled up the dishrag and threw it at him. “You’re the one who just got through telling me to go fishing with her.”
He got up and exchanged the dishrag for a dish towel. “Tori will figure things out. Right now she’s sad, but she’ll be okay.”
“If something doesn’t happen.” Kate sounded worried.
“Don’t borrow trouble, Kate. Remember, we’re living in the moment. A moment that’s good, with nothing happening except the dishes getting done and bedtime coming.”
“And a baby on the way.” Kate smiled over at him, as beautiful as he’d ever seen her, even in the harsh overhead light.
Later, as they lay in bed with her head resting on his shoulder, she asked him again, “Are you happy? Really happy?”
“I told you I was happy about the baby, Kate.” He rubbed his cheek against her head. “Very happy.”
“Not just about the baby. But being married and living here in Rosey Corner? With your job and everything?”
Jay didn’t let himself hesitate. “You make me happy, Kate.” And there was no reason for him to hesitate. She did make him happy.
She snuggled closer to him, her body relaxed and content there beside him. “But the other things. Are you happy about them?”
“Do you want me to make a list, Kate?”
“That might be good,” she murmured.
“Let me count the ways.” He held up his fingers and began counting them off. “Alive. Home from the war. A job. A beautiful wife who makes pies almost as good as her mother’s.” She roused enough from her sleepiness to laugh at that and try to poke him. He caught her hand and kept going. “A baby on the way. Rosey Corner as my address. Fern like the plant to tell me what’s going on. Birdie to make me laugh. Scout to make me happy we don’t have a dog.”
“Scout’s not that bad.” She laughed again the way he’d intended. Then she was sleeping in his arms. He looked down at her peaceful face in the dim moonlight sneaking through the window and his heart swelled.
A baby. Mothering would be easy for Kate. As natural as the sun coming up in the morning. But would he be able to pull off being a father? And how about all the bills? He didn’t mind the work at the feed store, but the pay wasn’t great. They just squeaked by now.
He knew other men home from the war who were going to college on the GI Bill. He hated school when he was a kid, but he wasn’t a kid anymore. College sounded like a good thing now and a path to a better job. Plus, Kate once told him she dreamed about going to college. With the GI Bill paying his way, he’d been thinking of ways both of them could go. He hadn’t mentioned that to Kate. He wanted to plan it all out and surprise her. But a baby changed everything.
He slid his arm out from under her head and slipped out of bed. He couldn’t lay still. He had to be moving. Standing. Watching. A man had to be ready. Not so long ago, he’d been on a battlefield, with artillery exploding in his ears. He’d known what to be ready for then, but now he wasn’t sure. As much as he hated to think it, Fern was right. Something could happen. Even so, a man couldn’t always be peering around the next corner, worrying about what was to come. Live in the moment. That’s what he’d told Kate. That’s what he needed to do. He wasn’t going to be afraid of the future.
Perfect love casteth out all fear. That verse came to mind as it had so many times during the war. He moved quietly through the house to the back porch. The spring air, cool against his skin, smelled damp with the promise of things growing. Above him, the sky glittered with thousands of stars. It was good to stand in the dark without a helmet. Without a gun. With no boom of artillery pounding in the distance.
He was glad to leave the war behind, but he couldn’t forget it. He blocked it out during the day. He didn’t think about it. He didn’t talk about it. He sometimes didn’t flinch now when somebody at the feed store dropped something with a clatter or when a truck backfired. Noise was part of life and all booms didn’t presage death. But at night, the war had a way of sneaking back.
Kate’s father warned Mike and him to expect that. Mr. Merritt knew. In spite of all the years since he’d been over there, he said he still had nightmares about the mud in the trenches of that First World War. “Some nights the mud tries to swallow me. Those nights I wake up not able to breathe. But it’s not the mud. It’s this muck in my lungs.” He coughed and hit his fist against his chest.
They had been sitting around the stove in the front room a few weeks after Jay got home. The noise of the women finishing up dinner had floated out to them. Ordinary sounds. Birdie’s laugh. Samantha’s little-girl squeal. Dishes rattling. A pan top clanging. Wonderful sounds Jay wanted to plant in his head to cover up the memories of war. Mike must have felt the same.
“But I don’t want to remember.” Mike’s face was creased with lines of sorrow. “The dying. The hunger. The fear.” He looked over at Jay. “You know how it was. You might have even had it worse.”
“It was all worst. Except getting to know your brothers.” He hadn’t had to explain. They both knew what it meant to be part of a fighting unit with men ready to die for one another. And in that moment, they felt the bond among themselves. They knew what it was like to go to war.
But he was home now. He gazed at the stars and felt gratitude for that rise within him. He’d made it through the war. Done unimaginable things as a soldier. Being a father had to be easy compared to that. One day at a time. That was how it was in the Army. That was how the Lord said life was supposed to be. One day at a time.
He told Kate to live in the moment. He needed to take his own advice. And the moment was good and got better when the door opened behind him and he heard the whisper of Kate’s bare feet coming across the porch.
She put her arms around his waist and leaned her head against his back. “Trouble sleeping?”
“Haven’t tried yet. Just out here checking the stars.”
“They’re bright tonight.” She leaned around him to peer up at the sky without loosening her arms around his waist. After a moment, she asked, “You okay?”
He turned in her arms to embrace her. “Better than okay. Always better than okay with you around.”
He wouldn’t worry about months from now when the baby would be there between them. October, she’d said. He had time. They had time. Time. That was the one thing the war had taught him. To treasure time.