Chapter Eight

Two weeks passed and the first thought that came to Lucy’s mind when she woke up was in a week, she would know if she was expecting Adam’s child or not. She didn’t want to think about it. Sometimes, during the day when things got busy, she was able to forget her worry and pretend the impending problem didn’t exist. Closing her eyes, she turned to Brian and snuggled up to him. His deep and even breathing notified her that he still slept, but that wasn’t anything new. More often than not, she woke before he did.

She rested her head on his shoulder. Usually, she didn’t dare touch him anymore than that, but on this particular morning, she brought her arm around his waist. It was something she’d done with Adam during their brief time together. She couldn’t help but note the differences between the two men, and not just in the way they approached marriage.

Adam’s chest was covered in dark hair, and his body had been thicker—not overweight but built stronger. Brian’s chest had hair, but it was finer and there was less of it. Brian was also leaner than Adam had been.

Her fingers traced over Brian’s skin, slowly going from his side to the center of his chest, noting where the fine hairs began. He was softer than she expected. The mass of hairs formed a line that went to his belly button, and that’s where she stopped for it suddenly occurred to her that Brian was chuckling.

“That tickles,” he said.

“Sorry.”

She pulled her hand away, but he caught it and brought it back around his waist. “I like it.” He rubbed her back. “Are you happy here?” he softly asked.

“Yes,” she whispered. “It’s peaceful and quiet.”

“I notice you like those things the most.”

She swallowed. “Yes.”

“Was it that way where you grew up?”

“Not exactly, but I had my secret spot.”

“Did you go there a lot?”

“As often as I could.” Eager to change the subject, she said, “I think the paint’s made the house brighter and more cheerful.”

He smiled. “I’ll take your word for it.”

Lightly stroking his chest, she continued, “I’m sure you’d like it if you could see it.” It was only because his parents helped them paint the house that it got done as quickly as it did. “Your parents are nice. I think I’ll give your mother a break from cooking and invite them over here to eat.”

“She’ll be glad for the excuse to skip cooking a meal. She never cared much for it but with me and Pa, she didn’t have a choice.”

“The poor woman.” She chuckled. After a couple minutes of silence, she sat up. “I should get breakfast started. What would you like to eat?”

“Anything you feel like making will be greatly appreciated.”

She sighed but grinned as she stood and walked to the dress hanging in the closet. “You are a hard one to please, Mister Evans.”

He smiled, sat up, and reached for the comb on the small table by his bed.

Pausing, she watched him as he combed his hair. She liked to stop and watch him from time to time. The fact that he couldn’t see her staring in his direction gave her enough courage to do so. He was a good looking man. He managed to keep himself better groomed than some men she’d seen, but he had a cowlick that would pop up despite the care he took in combing his hair. One such cowlick insisted on lying at an awkward angle today. She looked away and grabbed her dress before she laughed. She thought it was cute, but he’d probably misread her laughter and assume she was finding amusement at his expense.

Once she had the dress off the hook, she brought it over to the bed and gathered her folded undergarments from the top of the dresser. “I think I’ll make muffins this morning,” she said as she slipped out of her nightgown.

“My mouth waters just thinking about it,” he replied and set the comb back on the table. He stood and walked to the dresser to take out his clothes for the day. “You’re spoiling me.”

She chuckled and shrugged into her chemise. “I’m spoiling you by feeding you?”

“I usually just have coffee for breakfast and wait for lunch to eat.”

“That’s no way to start your day.”

“Like I said: you’re spoiling me. Now I’ll get used to eating when I wake up.”

While she put on two petticoats, she couldn’t help but peak over at him as he took off his nightclothes. It was a natural thing for a husband and wife to do—to watch each other get dressed and not think anything of it. But she hadn’t had the nerve to watch him up to that point, and the thought of seeing him naked, even for a brief moment, made her pulse race.

She wondered if he experienced a certain degree of shyness about being naked in front of her. He didn’t show any signs of it as he disrobed completely. He just set about to the task of pulling on a fresh pair of underwear before grabbing his pants.

Her face flushed and she turned her attention to getting dressed. The male body intrigued her since it was so unlike her own. The problem was, she never got a good view of it to fully mark the differences between male and female. With Adam, everything had happened in dim lighting, and even if it hadn’t been dark, she would never have had the nerve to look. Perhaps if they’d been legally married for any length of time, she might have worked up the courage to look. Not that any of that mattered now.

Once she fastened the last button on her dress, she headed out of the bedroom and went to fix breakfast.

***

Lucy inserted the needle into the blue fabric for the curtain she was making and pulled the thread through. Glancing up at Eliza who arranged yellow flowers in the vase in the kitchen, she smiled. Eliza, she learned, enjoyed fussing over flowers. She pulled the needle through the curtain again. The sunlight came in through the window parlor and hit her legs, making them warm. It was very relaxing.

Eliza finished with the flowers and picked up a tray holding a teapot and cups to bring to the parlor. “This is so exciting! I enjoyed tea when I was back in Omaha but rarely have a reason to drink it here.”

“John and Brian won’t drink it?” Lucy asked, pulling her needle through again.

“They humor me a couple times a year, but they prefer coffee.”

“And Addy?”

“From time to time, she’ll drink tea with me, but she also prefers coffee. You’re the first person I’ve met in this town who likes tea.”

“I grew up drinking it. My mother was a mail-order bride whose parents came over to New York from England. She said they drink it all the time over there. When she came out to marry my father, she insisted that she still get her tea.”

Eliza laughed and set the tray on the table in front of Lucy. “Now that’s a smart woman right there.”

Lucy put what she was sewing on the chair next to her and cut two slices into the pie she made. “Do you think we should give the men their snack before we have ours?”

Eliza shook her head and sat down across from Lucy. “Their hands need a good washing before they touch my dishes. When they come in, we’ll give them some pie to eat and coffee to drink.”

“They’ve been out there all morning. Don’t they ever take a break from work?”

“Eventually. You see why I wanted a woman out here to talk to? There’s only so much talking I can do to myself.”

Lucy handed Eliza her plate. “Would you and John like to come over to my house for supper tonight?” It was the first invitation she made, and she couldn’t look at Eliza as she said it.

“We’d be delighted.”

Glancing at Eliza’s pleased expression, she smiled. “I’m glad. I’d like you to see what I’ve done with the place since you and John last saw it.”

“That place needed a woman’s touch in the worst possible way.”

“It’s fun to be able to decorate a home as I wish,” Lucy confessed as she picked up her plate. “I used to dream of it when I was a little girl.”

“It’s nice when childhood dreams come true.”

Lucy nodded, took a bite of pie, and placed the plate down so she could drink some tea. “Did you have any childhood dreams?”

She motioned to the yellow flowers on the kitchen table. “You’re looking at one of them.”

“You wanted flowers with you at all times?”

“Yes, especially the yellow ones.”

“They are pretty.”

“Would you like some for your house?”

“No, thank you. I have enough flowers if I need them.” She paused before asking, “Did you have any other childhood dreams?”

With a wistful smile, she said, “When I was about ten, I hoped for a baby brother or sister. I was tired of playing with the doll I had and wanted to take care of a real baby. I probably drove my poor mother mad every time I asked her for a brother or sister.”

Lucy chuckled before she took a sip of tea.

Across from her, Eliza finished her piece of pie and set the plate on the table. Giving her a good look, Eliza said, “It’s not my business to pry into your affairs, but I wanted to let you know that should you be in the family way with Adam’s child, we will welcome that child with open arms.”

Lucy’s smile faltered as her gaze fell to the cup in her hands.

“I’m sorry,” she quickly said. “We can discuss something else.”

“Actually,” Lucy began, noting the slight trembling of her hands, “I don’t know if I’m expecting Adam’s child or not.” Setting the cup down, she clasped her hands in her lap and glanced out the window. “Brian and I thought it best if we waited until I knew for sure either way.” She cleared her throat and turned her attention to her hands. “I need to know. I’m not sure why. It’d be easier to pretend if I was in the family way, the child is Brian’s, but it’s like I can’t help it. I have to know.”

“I understand that,” Eliza softly replied.

“I won’t know for sure until early next week.”

“It must be hard to wait.”

Lucy cleared her throat. “I…I’m not sure I can love the child if it’s Adam’s. I worry every time I see the child, I’ll think of him and what he did to me, and I’m angry about what happened.”

“I know it’s hard to believe from where you’re sitting, with the wounds still fresh, but when you look at the child, you won’t think of how Adam hurt you. You’ll look at the child and see a part of yourself.”

Directing her gaze to Eliza, she said, “I don’t know if I have it in me to do that.”

“I suppose no woman does when she’s still in shock.” She stood up and went to the fireplace mantle where she picked up a picture and knelt by Lucy. “This is a picture of my son.”

“Brian?” Lucy asked, taking it and thinking it didn’t resemble him. She turned to the mantle and saw a picture of Brian, but he was much older than the baby in the picture.

“No, that’s not Brian. It’s my real son, the one I never knew.” Eliza placed her hand on Lucy’s arm. “When I was fourteen, my parents died, and I went to live with my mother’s sister. Well, my aunt was married to a man who decided to come to my room at night.”

Lucy gripped the picture in her hand, fearing what she’d hear next and yet having to know. “He didn’t…?”

“Yes, he did, and about five months later, I realized that my time of the month wasn’t coming. I hid the pregnancy from my aunt for two months before she found out about it. I kept throwing up, and at first, she thought I was sick so she took me to the doctor. I told her it was my uncle’s, but he swore he never did anything improper. So then they blamed the neighborhood boys and decided to quietly get rid of me. I ended up in a brothel. Needless to say, my employer wasn’t pleased to discover I was carrying a child and said as soon as the baby was born, they’d give the baby to a couple for adoption.

“At the time, I didn’t care. In fact, I just wanted to get rid of it because it only reminded me of my uncle and all the ugly things he did to me. But then the day came when I gave birth, and all I managed to get was one good look at him before they gave him to the couple who adopted him. Lucy, the moment I heard him cry, I wasn’t thinking of my uncle. I was thinking, ‘He’s my son,’ and that was all that mattered.” Eliza’s eyes filled with tears which she quickly wiped away with one of the napkins resting on the tray.

Lucy took Eliza’s hand and squeezed it. “How heartbreaking.”

“It was and it wasn’t,” Eliza said. “I missed him something awful, but I knew he was better off with the nice couple I selected for him than with me in a whorehouse. They sent that picture to me to thank me. I like to think he’s married and has children of his own and that he’s happy. So you see, Lucy, you will love your child regardless of who the father is, and we’ll all love your child too.” She stood up and rubbed her shoulder. “It’ll take time. And if it turns out you aren’t with child, then you will have a clean slate to start all over.”

Lucy nodded and handed the picture back to Eliza, hoping she’d get the clean slate. She didn’t doubt Eliza, but she’d rather have children with Brian. Then she could enjoy the entire pregnancy.

Eliza put the picture back on the mantle. “You know, I’d like to get a picture of you and Brian up here one of these days. You’re a member of this family now.”

As Eliza sat across from her, Lucy asked, “How did you meet Brian?”

“He didn’t tell you?”

“He just said that his real father left him out in the fields one day, and he wandered around for two days before you and John found him.”

Eliza smiled and picked up her cup. “I remember that day. John and I were on our way back from town when we saw Brian walking on the edge of our property. From the distance, we thought one of the farmer’s sons was playing in the fields and got lost, but when he got closer, we realized he was a boy we’d never seen before. We might not venture into town much, but we do know whose kids belong to who.

“I remember how frightened Brian was. He was only eight, and his mother died a week before. We don’t know much about her. Brian doesn’t say a whole lot about his time before he came to live with us, but he says she was a good woman and there’s no reason to doubt it. His father, on the other hand…” Eliza shrugged. “Well, from what I know, his father spent more time with a bottle than at work and didn’t want to be bothered with the responsibility of a child. I suppose there’s not much more to know to get the picture of that situation.”

“He grew up well in spite of it,” Lucy quietly said. Knowing all of this—Eliza’s past and Brian’s past—was a reminder that she wasn’t the only one who’d gone through something unpleasant.

“We were happy to adopt him. It didn’t matter that he was blind. The first thing we did was learn how to sign the alphabet so John could communicate with him. That’s what John does when he signs to Brian. He spells out the words. It used to be a slow process to watch them, but these days, they go in lightning speed. I’m sure they’ve figured out shortcuts to some of the more common words they use.”

“It’s fascinating to watch them. They act like they grew up doing it.”

“I know how to sign the alphabet, but I won’t bother going through the hassle of spelling out words like that. I would if Brian was deaf, but he hears just fine. In fact, he hears better than John or I do.”

“Me too,” Lucy admitted. “He smells better as well. He knows when I’m not in the house because he can’t smell lavender.” She laughed. “I use lavender soap, but I didn’t realize it identified me.”

“He can smell the type of flowers I have in the kitchen,” Eliza said. “If you weren’t looking at his eyes or his walking stick, you’d never know he was blind. Most of the time, I don’t even think about it.”

Lucy finished her tea and set the cup back on the tray.

“I suppose it’s time to get something done about lunch.” Sighing, Eliza gathered the plates and put them on the tray with the tea. “I’ll take care of lunch since you’ve graciously offered to relieve me of making supper.”

“Then I’ll see if I can finish this curtain.” Lucy gathered the material and found the place where she’d left off.

“I think between cooking and sewing, I’ll go with cooking.”

Smiling, Lucy picked up the needle and got back to work.