31

The thin layer of snow crunched under Joseph’s boots, and he breathed into his hands. Every day the temperatures dropped a little more. But every day also brought him that much closer to home. He broke into a jog as he passed the old Cunningham homestead. Not just to warm his blood, but to put behind him that last mile.

One mile and he’d finally be home.

A stitch formed in Joseph’s side, forcing him to slow. He couldn’t seem to take a proper breath. The Lord had preserved his life, and shortly after the surrender of Yorktown and over seven thousand British troops, he’d been released from his obligation to the army. His journey to Virginia and back had worn the soles of his boots thin, and they leaked moisture from the snow, but that hardly mattered now. He’d thaw his feet when he held his son and daughter.

A pang hit his chest. He would give anything to hold Hannah again, too.

Joseph stepped off the main trail onto the path leading to his farm and stopped. The cabin sat silent and peaceful as did the barn and pastures. The fields showed short stubble prickling up through the blankets of white. The mare and foal looked to him briefly before lowering their heads back to the pile of hay laid out for them. The filly was almost as tall as her mother, favoring Hunter’s height. Her winter coat was not much darker then her sire’s, as well. She would be a beautiful horse. Joseph would have liked Hannah to see her. They would have made a wonderful match.

But Hannah was gone and had the best horse he had to offer.

Joseph moved to the cabin, but his hand paused on the latch. Fresh prints in the snow suggested Daniel still lived here with his wife. He knocked. And waited.

No shuffle of feet. No open door. Nothing.

A billow of white showed on the air as he puffed out a breath and turned back to the expanse of his farm. Everything appeared well kept. The silo was probably full. The animals appeared content. Joseph pulled his pack and bedroll from his back, dropped them against the door and started to the barn. Understanding dogged his steps. He might have been missed, but he wasn’t needed.

Despite his fingers being stiff with cold, Joseph hurried to bridle and saddle his mare. The filly whinnied loudly as he rode back to the trail, but he wasn’t about to walk all the way to Rachel’s and Andrew’s if he had the choice. Not after already coming hundreds of miles.

Joseph encouraged the mare to a gallop in an attempt to escape his thoughts and the cold that settled through him, but reaching the second farm only confirmed what he knew. Fields were bare, their fruits stored away, and large stacks of firewood lined the wall of the cabin. He should be grateful, and thank God that his family had everything they needed for a comfortable winter, but instead he wondered if they even felt his absence.

“Whoa.”

The mare whinnied as he tied her to the hitching post beside the barn. An answer came from inside. The barn door swung open and Andrew stepped out with a pitchfork over his shoulder. “Excuse me, sir, who…”

Joseph grinned. “Has it been so long since you’ve seen me in a full beard?”

The pitchfork fell and Andrew grabbed him in an embrace. “It has been too long since I have seen you.” He pulled back but gripped Joseph’s shoulders. “We have worried from hearing nothing of you for this many months.”

“It has been a while, hasn’t it?”

Andrew clapped him on the back. “But what are we doing out here? You are probably frozen and starved, and I know a few people sitting in that cabin who will never forgive me if I delay you any longer.” He hurried to shut up the barn. “I was about to hitch the wagon, but I see no purpose for that now. Not yet.”

“Where were you going?” Joseph asked, but Andrew had already broken into a jog across the yard. He followed. The generous billows from the chimney suggested warmth and his family waited.

Andrew beat him to the door but didn’t enter. Just grinned and shoved him inside.

Joseph stumbled to a halt and straightened under the collection of gazes frozen on him. More than he had anticipated. Rachel stood behind the table halfway through pouring a pot of soup into a crock. Beside her, Hannah waited with the lid, her mouth open, and her eyes wide.

“Papa!” James slammed against his leg and clung tight.

Joseph pulled his son into his arms, and glanced to where Samuel, coat on, crouched with the two little girls on their feet beside him. Martha stared, no longer a baby. With a frightened squeal she lunged to Samuel and grabbed his neck.

“Oh, Joseph, you’re home.” Rachel was by him before he realized she’d even moved. She leaned forward to hug him over her stomach. She was close to having her baby. When she pulled back to look at him, tears ornamented her cheeks. “Praise the Lord for keeping you safe. After so many months, and then when Hannah and Samuel came with news of what you’d done, and Yorktown….”

The rest of her words faded to the muffled background as Joseph looked again at Hannah. Hands clasped, she watched. He ached to pull her into his arms and kiss her soundly—if he could only be sure that she’d welcome such from him. Had she forgiven him? Is that why she’d returned?

“Let’s get you something to eat. Your hands are like ice.” Rachel pulled him to the table and pushed him into a chair.

He kept James on his lap and his eyes on Hannah as she dished him a bowl of the soup and knifed some butter onto some bread. “You came back.”

“So did you.” She smiled and handed him the bread.

Joseph caught her fingers, warm and soft. “Why?”

“I made promises.”

“Then you—”

The door burst open and Nora rushed in. “Hannah, I’ve been riding the countryside trying to find—” Her gaze darted to Joseph. “You’re alive! We were so worried. When they told us you were marching with General Washington, we prayed that you’d be safe.”

“Thank you.” Perhaps those prayers were what kept him alive. Was he still only the answer to other’s pleas?

No. God had brought Hannah back to him—He’d answered Joseph’s prayer.

Nora looked at Hannah with a pained expression. “I hate to say what I came for now, with Joseph barely returned, but Lydia begged me to find you, to beseech you to come.”

Hannah drew her hand from Joseph’s. “The baby?”

“Yes. The pains started this morning. They are quite regular now.”

Hands wringing, Hannah looked at Joseph. “I…I promised her I’d come—that I’d attend her. But I…if you prefer, I could…”

Stay. That was his preference. There was so much they needed to talk about. So much he needed to know. But her expression showed such agony—the choice between her duty and what she wanted. Joseph only wished he knew which he was. He would make one last sacrifice for her sake. “You go on. Keep your promise.”

She opened her mouth, then sighed, and shook her head. “Very well.”

But it wasn’t well at all. He wanted to hold her and kiss her with all the passion he’d ever felt for her—with a longing that had only grown in the months apart. Instead he watched her don her cloak and disappear through the door with Nora.

Joseph slumped back in his chair, James cuddled on his lap and his hand still feeling the warmth Hannah had left him…along with so many unanswered questions.

~*~

Hannah’s heart bled as the wagon jostled over the frozen road taking her away from Joseph. She gripped the edge of the seat to keep from falling off, but she wished she could clasp her hands together and thank God for hearing her and bringing Joseph home. If only she could’ve stayed longer with him, but this would give him time with his family. She was the one who’d taken him from them for so long.

Besides, Lydia had become a dear friend since she’d returned to the valley, and Hannah had assured her she’d be present when the baby came. Joseph was the only one who could have swayed her. But he hadn’t even tried.

You were my neighbor.

Even after all these months, Joseph’s words still stung. Had she…would she ever mean anything more to him?

The Reid cabin was a bustle of activity and girlish chatter, the two younger girls folding blankets on the makeshift bed in the main room. Hannah wished Daniel had stayed in Joseph’s cabin for Lydia’s sake, giving her some privacy. He’d insisted Joseph would want the cabin for Hannah and Samuel. He’d also suggested Lydia would be able to rest more with his mother and sisters there to meet her needs and instruct her on how to keep a home. Lydia obviously hadn’t confided to him how uncomfortable she was under his mother’s expectations and watchful eye. Not to mention, the hustle and bustle of a crowded house was not what a woman needed when giving birth.

“Lydia’s in the larger bedroom,” Nora said. She pulled off her shoes and led the way. The three girls had given up their room while an addition was being built onto the side of the cabin for the newlyweds. In the room, two narrow beds pushed together held a larger mattress and Lydia.

Abigail Reid stood at the head of the bed with a pinched expression, while Daniel sat beside his wife.

“You came.”

The relief on Lydia’s face eased some of Hannah’s regret for leaving Joseph. He wasn’t going anywhere, and she was wanted here.

“Of course I did.”

Daniel stood and let Hannah take his place. He helped her with her cloak, but passed it to Nora to take out.

“Joseph has returned,” Nora said in her retreat.

“Oh, Hannah, maybe you should not have…” Lydia sucked a breath and clenched her jaw as pain twisted her face.

Hannah braced Lydia’s arm until she relaxed back into the bed. “Do not worry about me or Joseph. Now I know he’s safe. That’s all I asked.” Though she wanted so much more, she couldn’t think about herself right now. “How regular are the tightenings?”

“Like waves. They pause for just long enough for me to catch my breath and begin again.”

“That’s good.” Hannah smiled and focused on the present. “Then all we have to do is wait while your body prepares itself.”

The burst of girlish gigging made everyone glance at the door.

Abigail sighed. “I should go find something else for those girls to do.”

“Why don’t you close the door on the way out?” Hannah suggested.

Lydia’s head made a tiny jerk toward her husband.

Hannah set a hand on his arm. “And Daniel, please give Lydia and me a moment.”

He looked at his wife for affirmation, and she gave a sad nod…and then braced against another contraction.

Daniel clung to the side of the bed until she finished, before he looked at Hannah, as though questioning how he could leave.

“I’ll call you back in a few minutes.”

He dragged his heels to the door and closed it gently behind him.

“The pain feels so much worse with him leaning over me so concerned,” Lydia said. “And his mother. Is it not bad enough that I can hardly cook an egg, brew coffee, or keep a house? Must I prove myself in birthing, as well?” She ground her teeth against the tension clenching her abdomen, and Hannah took her hand.

“Deep breaths.” Hannah stroked her shoulder until the pain eased. She could only imagine what a woman felt while giving birth. She’d seen the agony on the faces of other women, but had never experienced it for herself. Though, maybe now that Joseph was home…

“I cannot do this. I cannot pretend to be strong when I have never been more afraid.” Lydia’s eyes shone. “I am trying so hard to trust right now.”

Hannah stood and pulled back the blankets. “You don’t have to be strong right now.” She guided Lydia to her feet.

“What are we doing?”

“Don’t worry about Daniel or his mother. Or life or death. As Andrew says, only God can control that.” Something Hannah was still striving to believe. “This moment, all you have to think about is you and that baby. Your body knows what to do. Listen to it. Find what it wants.”

Lydia’s face began to tighten, and Hannah ran her hands down her arms. “Do not fight yourself. Embrace the pain. It’s trying to help you. Think of yourself opening wide to welcome your baby.”

Lydia slowly lowered to her knees.

Hannah smoothed Lydia’s hair back from her face, remembering Mama’s words to a birthing mother in their village. “Find what is most comfortable for you. No one else is here, but you and your child. Fill your lungs. Embrace life.”

As the tightening eased, Lydia leaned her head into Hannah’s shoulder. “Can we pray?”

“Of course.” There was so much Hannah wanted to thank God for right now. And a couple more things to ask.