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Snow fell overnight. Outside Caitlin’s bedroom window, fresh white powdered snow had topped up the winter beauty. Her room was cool. Caitlin huffed, her breath visible in the cold, then she got out of bed and dry retched.
“It’s more from worry than morning sickness.” She muttered to herself.
After attending the morning chores, Caitlin looked for a book that might have the method for making feta cheese. Caitlin tried to distract herself, but anxiety for Scott interrupted every thought.
Oh, Scott come back.
Caitlin made herself breathe deeply.
The weather had cleared for the moment. The sky was still dark with clouds and the wind howled in the trees nearby, but so far, no further snow. Caitlin crunched through knee high drifts and made a constant trek to the end of the garden from where she expected Scott and Brendan would appear. She nibbled on a dry biscuit, the only food that hadn’t come up again that morning. As she peered across the snow-covered ground, three figures approached. It was Scott, and then Brendan. As the men got closer, the third figure revealed itself. It was the body of the stag tied to a sapling hanging between the men.
“Bec they’re back!” she yelled as Bec came running out of the house with Scruffy close on her heels. The dog made it to the men first and sniffed the dead animal, which was large and not too old. Red deer stags urinate on themselves. The ammonia rich dead animal smell wafted to her from twenty paces. The men were tired, hungry, and smelly from day old body odour and dead stag.
Caitlin’s legs dragged through the thigh-deep snow on her way to Scott; she wrapped her arms around him and held tight.
“Hello to you too, mo chroi. We got him! He would have been a twelve pointer in rutting season.” Caitlin buried her damp face in Scott’s thick coat, and he returned her hug. She still hadn’t spoken. “We struck a wee bit o’ trouble with the weather.” Scott paused, waiting for a reprimand from her. Her head stayed buried in the lapels of his winter coat.
“We have been quite anxious for you,” Bec now hugging Brendan, answered for both women.
“Aye, well a snowstorm caught us soon after killing the stag,” Scott admitted.
“What snowstorm?” Caitlin lifted her head. “There wasn’t any storm this way. Where did you go?”
“Aye.” Scott glanced cagily at Brendan. “We followed the stag a wee bit farther than anticipated and ended up on the westerly edge of the mountain ridge there, and, well ye ken the weather’s fiercer there, aye?”
Caitlin shook her head.
“But we’ve made it back, lass. And we’ve brought fresh meat!” Scott’s eyes were wide, and arms open pointing to the dead stag now deposited on the snow.
“Caitlin,” Brendan began, “your husband has mega-survival skills. I didn’t doubt for one moment that we wouldn’t get home. The weather started turning bad once we’d shot and gutted the stag. We dragged him to the woods nearby and found a spot to build a shelter. Scott showed me how to make an igloo. We were fine Caitlin! No need to be so upset.”
“An igloo?” Bec questioned.
“Well, sort of. We made a shelter of branches and let the snow cover it. The sides were bricks of snow. Let’s get inside and we’ll tell yoo the rest.” Scott was eager to get the meat under cover and be out of the cold himself. He left the stag to hang in the woodshed, where it was secure ensuring no wild dogs would tamper with it before he butchered and stored it properly. In the house, the men removed their thick coats and warmed themselves by the fire. Caitlin helped Bec make hot tea, porridge and toast. As Bec and Brendan went to their room for rest, their mumbled voices floated behind them.
Scott stood warming his back by the Aga. Caitlin put her arms around his waist and rested her head on him, absorbing his warmth. She sensed him move as he looked down at her. She had been quiet since their return to the house and held on to him, wanting to never let go.
“Caitlin?”
“Yes.”
“Ye angry at me, lass?” She didn’t reply. “I dinnae blame you if ye are. I did nae mean to be out overnight. But I’m home now. We made a shelter, and we were okay, aye?”
Still holding him tight, silent tears made tracks down her cheeks.
“Speak to me, Cait. What have you got to tell me then?”
Caitlin flicked her head up to face him. “How do you know I’ve got something to tell you?”
“I heard Bec whisper it to Brendan.”
“Oh.”
When she didn’t elaborate, he raised an eyebrow in question.
“You won’t believe this.” She screwed her mouth to the side.
“Mm?”
“I’m pregnant.” Her voice was quiet.
Scott jerked his head back. “But...” His chest stopped moving as he held his breath.
“I know. According to Dr Bec, the Pill isn’t infallible.”
“How can you be sure?” Scott breathed in once more.
“Bec examined me.”
Scott frowned. She lowered her voice even further. “This will change the future, won’t it, Scott? We didn’t have a child your age in the future. Did we?”
Scott slowly shook his head. “Dinnae ken what to think, mo chroi.” He continued shaking his head. “But we’re going to have a baby.” There was wonder in his voice.
“Apparently.” She tightened her hug.
Scott returned it, then lifted her head with both hands and pressed his warm lips gently onto hers for a while. “We’ll work it out, Caitlin.” He then rested his chin on the top of her head. All the possibilities were probably going through his mind.
“I’m angry at you, though!” She wasn’t speaking quietly anymore. “Why d’you go off like that with no contingency for the very strong possibility of the weather changing while you were hunting? You didn’t even take water! You’re so impulsive, Scott!”
His head jerked back again, and his brows crossed at her tone.
“Caitlin, that’s me, aye?” His whisper was hoarse in her face. “And if I was nae ‘impulsive’, as you put it, I would nae be here! Would I? I’d be still grieving at your graveside, pouring my heart out to a gravestone. So, what would ye prefer?” He finished with a lift of his chin.
Caitlin continued to glare at him.
“Oh. By the way, your savage beast bit me. So, he’s been in the stable with his bridle on since yesterday.”
“What!”