Millie’s notebook was still on the table. She hadn’t touched it in the last four days. Had not even acknowledged its existence. Adam had not touched it, either. The book was in the exact spot it had landed when Adam had thrown it down during the fight. The Fight.
As far as Millie was concerned, the book could stay there until it disintegrated. Maybe Adam would get sick enough of it to throw it in the fireplace. Millie simply did not care.
“Mama, are the biscuits done?” Caty looked up at her, excitement in her eyes. She had made this batch of biscuits all by herself and was almost hopping up and down in excitement.
Millie relished the child’s happiness as a touch of warmth in her heart. The only things she seemed to feel anymore were emotions associated with the kids. Everything else was cold. Dead.
“I don’t know. We’d better open the door and check.” Caty actually did hop then. Millie opened the door and they both peeked in at the balls of dough that had risen and turned a golden brown. “Well. What do you think?”
Caty clapped her hands. “Yes.”
Millie used a thick towel to pull the pan out of the oven. She set it on a table to cool. “Caty, these are the best looking biscuits I have ever seen. Do you think we should eat one just to make sure it tastes okay?”
Genie was on his feet, blocks forgotten as soon as Millie mentioned eating biscuits. “Yes!”
Millie took a biscuit and split it in half, using a knife to spread butter on each piece. She gave Caty one half. “It’s hot, honey.”
Millie blew on Genie’s. No matter how much she warned him, he would just shove the whole piece in his mouth, no matter how hot. When it was cool enough to not hurt him, she gave Genie his half of biscuit.
“Fank you, Mama.” His words were muffled by the biscuit. As expected, he shoved the entire piece in his mouth, cheeks bulging with dough and butter. There was no way to be sad around this little boy.
“Well, what do you think, Caty-girl? Are you our new official biscuit maker?”
Caty nodded and offered Millie a piece of her half. Millie took it and popped it in her mouth. Millie felt pride bloom in her chest at how good it tasted. Her daughter had done an excellent job. “Yep. You’re the biscuit maker now, Caty. These are great.”
Caty ate another bite. “I think Daddy will like them, too.”
Millie forced herself to smile. “Yes. I know he will. In fact, he will probably try to eat them all if we don’t watch him.”
Caty smiled and finished eating her biscuit.
“Okay, you both need to clean up your toys and wash up for supper. Then you can help me set the table. Daddy should be home soon.”
Millie was proud of how calm she sounded. Caty was too smart of a girl to not notice the tension between Millie and Adam. They had both gone out of their way to act normal in front of the children. As normal as possible anyway. Caty still gave them both looks in the evening, like she was trying to see beyond their words and read their true feelings. But otherwise both kids seemed oblivious to the change in Millie and Adam’s relationship. Their days continued as they had since Millie arrived.
Millie wished for some of that innocence. No matter how much she pretended things were okay, she knew, felt in her bones, that they were very much not okay. Not at all.
And Adam was the same—visibly disappointed not just with their relationship, but with the weather, too. He hadn’t told her, but Millie wasn’t stupid. It had not rained again. The crops that had perked up with that small bit of moisture were back to dying. Adam was gone all day, but he was not working in the fields. There was nothing to do. The fields were about as vibrant as her marriage.
He was avoiding the house. Avoiding her. Millie would have been angered, but she was too busy being thankful that she did not have to deal with him.
The door opened and Adam walked in. He was filthy and soaked with sweat. Whatever he was doing, it was physical work. Millie wondered if wearing out his muscles helped wear out his mind. Maybe she should try it.
“Daddy, I made biscuits! All by myself! Mama said I am the official biscuit maker now.”
Adam picked Caty up, ignoring her squeals as she felt how dirty he was. “She did, did she? Well then, I guess you’re the official biscuit maker. It’s a good thing I like biscuits.”
Still trying to push away from his chest, Caty giggled. “And you like Mama’s biscuits the best of all, and I make them like she does, so you’ll like my biscuits best of all.”
Adam never even looked in her direction. “Yes, I believe I will. Hey, why do you keep pushing away, Caty-girl? Don’t you want to hug your daddy who loves you so much?”
Another giggle. “You always get me dirty, Daddy. And wet. Yucky!” Caty looked at Millie. “Mama! Help me!”
Millie froze, remembering how this would have played out before it all went wrong. Adam put Caty down, smacking a kiss on her forehead. “Okay, okay. You win. I better go get cleaned up so I can eat some of those delicious biscuits.”
He still never looked in Millie’s direction. She ordered herself not to notice. Or to care.
Adam held his hand out toward Genie. “Will you come with your poor daddy? Keep me company while I clean up?”
Genie took his hand and they went inside his room. Millie heard Genie chattering through the closed door.
“Caty? Will you please go make sure Daddy closed the barn door? Make sure the chickens are put up, too?” Millie knew both of those things were done, but she desperately needed some time alone. Just a couple minutes. Just to pull herself together enough to make it through supper without breaking down.
Caty ran out the front door and Millie sat down, resting her forehead on her folded arms on the table. Things were so bad. Four days had done nothing to fix anything between Millie and Adam. How long could they go on like this?
Millie had known better than to dream of more. She should have stayed with the essentials. Shelter. Food. A safe future. Instead, she had tried for more. Had begun to hope that she and her husband could build a real love together. And that dream had failed.
Millie sat up when she heard Caty’s feet on the steps.
They made it through supper.
Afterward, Millie sat at the table and watched the children play. She didn’t spend the time writing in her notebook like she had when she first came here. She didn’t spend it knitting in the rocking chair next to Adam like she had in the weeks before The Fight. It was getting too hard to get up from the floor, so she did not sit down there to play either.
Millie just sat at the table. Adam played with the kids, talked to them about their days. Having not seen him all day, the kids soaked up his attention, and Adam gave them lots of it. Millie used to watch this scene and feel blessed that Adam was such a good father. Now she just felt lonely.
Growing up, Millie had spent a lot of time watching families. In restaurants. In church. On the street. Children with parents who seemed to just adore them. Millie had watched, gone back to The Home and remembered. And felt alone.
Millie felt that now.
She made it through, though. Through the time between supper and bedtime. Through watching Adam say prayers with the kids and tucking them in.
Adam left, and Millie sat on the edge of the children’s bed, trying to find a comfortable position around the stomach that seemed to grow more and more each day. A reminder that even more change was coming. She and Adam were about to be further bound.
“Good night, my darlings. I love you.” Millie kissed their sweet cheeks one last time, pulled up the covers another inch and left the room, being as quiet as possible. She did not even look in the direction of the family room as she headed the few short feet to her bedroom door.
“Millie? Will you please stay out here for a few minutes? We need to talk.”
* * *
Adam’s nightmares had little to do with the scary things of this world. Instead, they were this—Millie trying to escape to her bedroom and him asking her to stay. Him trying to think of how to be unstuck out of this moment and her sitting there, unreadable and not talking. They had played this out over and over in the months they had been married. They seemed destined to keep doing so.
Nightmares were bad enough. Living them was worse. Living them over and over again was too much.
Millie came and sat down at the table, and Adam braced himself. He had spent all week doing the maintenance projects he’d avoided for months. The ones that were nothing but hard work. He’d built a fence. Repaired a wall. Cleared brush from where the creek flowed when water was actually plentiful. He’d worked until his muscles ached. Until it felt like punishment instead of accomplishment. Until it was time to go home and pretend for his children.
Adam sighed. He had done a lot of thinking while working. He didn’t want to, but he had. He’d replayed their fight. Imagined this conversation. Played through scenarios as he wiped the never-ending stream of sweat out of his eyes.
And, in a twist of things that had threatened to bring him to his knees, Adam realized he was exactly where he’d started before Millie had even arrived. That he wanted what he’d had at the beginning. Until he had tried to change it and blown the whole thing up.
“Millie.” She looked at him, but he couldn’t read her expression. That was probably for the best, all things considered. “Thank you for sitting down and talking to me. For listening to me. I want to say I’m sorry.”
Millie’s eyebrows moved, but that was all.
“I was, and am, still very upset about what I read in your notebook. The fact that you actually packed a suitcase hurts, especially when I think about what that would have done to the children. Then, you spent months with thoughts of leaving in your head. Thoughts of taking the children with you.”
She started to open her mouth, but Adam held up his hand. “Please. Let me finish. Then I will give you all the time you want to respond. I’ll listen to whatever you have to say.”
She closed her mouth and nodded.
“I thought about what you said. And I believe you that you would never leave, because of the children.” He did. “I have seen how much you love them. Of course you are not going to leave them.” The next part was harder. But necessary. “I also believe you when you say you are not going to try to take my children from me.”
He didn’t bother to tell her that it would not work, even if she tried it. That he would not let his children be taken from him. Making that point would not serve any purpose other than fueling his anger. “I believe you, because I can’t take the children from you, either.”
She gasped and tears filled her eyes. Adam pushed down the urge to comfort her. “The children love you, and I love them. I still want what I have always wanted. I want them to have two parents who adore them. Who give them the family they deserve. You are their mother. You are. Just like I am their father. You could no more hurt those kids by taking them away from their father than I could by taking them from their mother.”
Millie blinked rapidly, but her eyes were still shiny.
“So. You are not leaving. I am not leaving. We both want the children to be loved. Happy. I think we are right back where we started. We need to be friends. A team.” Adam swallowed hard, pushing aside the dreams he’d had when he’d asked to court her. “But, nothing more. Our original plan was the right one.”
Millie looked like she wanted to say something, but she didn’t. She was letting him finish, just like he’d asked. He only had a couple more things to say.
“I don’t think this whole fight was your fault. I think it was bound to happen. We were both burned badly by our first marriages. Neither of us trusts very well. I just don’t see how we can ever move past all that. This was going to happen, and it’s probably better that it happened sooner rather than later. Easier to go back to what we had before, which was pretty great.”
It was. Adam just needed to keep reminding himself of that fact.
“I only have one more thing to say, and then I’ll be quiet. I’ll listen.” He was almost done with this conversation that felt more like the live flaying of dreams. “I want to tell you that I love the baby you are carrying. That has not changed. I was wrong to tell you that Caty and Genie are my children. They’re not. They are ours—every bit as much yours as mine. And that is what I want. I want you to love them as though you gave birth to them. That is how I feel about the baby you’re carrying. Still feel. It is mine—ours.”
Adam looked to where the cradle waited in the corner. The thing he had made to comfort and protect this baby. His baby. “It’s important to me that you know that. I meant what I said. I want us to be friends. I do not want to hurt you anymore.”
Adam drained the rest of his water from his cup. “Okay, I’m done. You can talk now.”
Millie looked at where her fingers were clasped in her lap. She was quiet for several minutes, and Adam steeled himself to give her the same latitude she’d given him.
Finally, she raised her eyes and looked at him. “Okay.”
“Um...okay?”
She nodded. “Yes. Okay.”
She was quiet for several more long seconds. Adam thought perhaps she was done talking about the subject, but she made no move to go to her room.
“I think you’re right. This fight was because you don’t trust me.” She swallowed, a hard motion that rippled in her throat. “And I don’t trust you. I could have come to you with my fears, instead of writing them down. But I didn’t. I was afraid of your reaction. And I was right to be afraid.”
Even though she was agreeing with him, her words hurt. But he didn’t argue against them. He just nodded. He stood when Millie did, waiting to see what she was going to do next.
“I’m done talking for tonight. I think we’re both done. I’m going to take a walk. Think about things. But I’d like to start building our friendship tomorrow. See if we can get back to where we were before everything went wrong.”
“I’d like that.”
Adam was heading to his room, unable to watch Millie walk out the door, go for a walk without him, when she yelled his name. Loudly.
She was leaning against the doorjamb, one hand braced as though it was holding her up. Adam ran through the room to get to her. “Millie! Is it the baby? Are you okay?”
Her voice was thick, but not with pain. With terror. “Fire.”
Adam looked in the direction Millie was pointing.
The entire horizon looked like it was burning down.