The next morning when Eliza came out of her bedroom barefoot in her nightgown with her hair down, Arthur was already dressed and was standing in the sitting room with his back to her and his arms folded. She came to see what he was looking at and cocked her head along with him when she saw Isaac on all fours looking upward at his father through his legs and crawling backwards.

Arthur had a hand to his chin and swiped it to his cheek when he saw her at his side. "He starts crawlin', and that's what he does? Should I be…worried or somethin'?"

Isaac plopped back down on his bottom and giggled.

"No!" she said going to him and scooping him up. "Arthur, he's just having fun!"

"Fun?"

"Fun. You know, fun? Ever heard of it?"

He smirked.

"What do you do for fun, Arthur?"

His expression flattened, and his eyes slid over to her, his nostrils flaring.

"No—somethin' else."

He swallowed.

"And somethin' that doesn't involve a weapon."

He didn't say a thing.

"If it takes you this long, you ain't havin' nearly enough fun."

"Well, if you don't wanna hear the answers!" he huffed with his hands out.

"No, you ain't doin' it right!" she chuckled and shook her head. "Start having fun, Arthur! The simple kind. The kind you find in everyday livin'. It ain't difficult. And it makes life that much sweeter. Just look at Isaac."

He grinned and looked down at him as she held him with one arm. He tried not to laugh when Isaac began spurting air through his lips making a rolling sound, causing little bubbles of saliva to appear and making himself giggle.

.

Later after she had dressed, she realized neither of them were around, but she heard Isaac babbling and playing with his blocks on the porch. She went outside to see Arthur watching him from his seat in the wooden swing at the far end of the porch, sitting forward with his elbows on his knees, whittling something in his hands. She saw that he was quiet and solemn when she came to sit beside him. She shifted to face him and hung her arm across the back of the swing.

"Penny for your thoughts?" she said quietly.

He let out a long sigh and nodded. "I was just thinkin'…about what you said. Ain't many good things I find fun in, or for that matter anyone I know, really. And what I know is we ain't even the worst there is. And it got me thinkin'…" he nodded towards Isaac, "what kind of a world is this, that he's been brought into, that you'll bring him up in, you know? From what I've seen, it ain't pretty. Much the opposite, actually. But when all is said and done, I don't think we can protect him from it."

She watched his eyes go still for just a moment as he looked at nothing and his Adam's apple bobbed in his throat; and she knew that the reality of that thought terrified him as much as it did her.

Arthur got caught up watching Isaac and the way he could play so carefree, his babbles lilting through the air as he talked to himself in a made-up language. "He's growin' fast," he said quietly. "Every time I see him, he's so different. But it surprises me that I like his new age just as much or more, though I was sure it couldn't happen. And I can't…catch it in my hand, can't stop it."

She nodded. "It's one of the things I'm afraid of, Arthur," she said, though he didn't turn to look at her. "When I think forward, I can see you lookin' back and bein' so angry, just so angry that you've missed so much."

He swallowed. "I don't see a way we can keep that from happening. And anyways, he needs somethin', but it ain't me he needs in his life." He shook his head. "What's he got in the world? No…friends, no siblings, no cousins, aunts or uncles, not a grandparent to speak of. And you and me…" he motioned between the two of them, "we're just stupid kids. Ain't nothin' about what we're doin' right or smart or natural, even though we can't change it. And he'll be the one to pay for it. And I'm sure you've had worries yourself about knowin' how to raise him right." When he turned his head to look at her and she nodded solemnly, he faced forward again. "And to top it all off, he's got the profound misfortune of havin' a…brute of an outlaw for a father," he scoffed and shook his head. "Look at him. He don't deserve it." He swallowed again, looking down at what he had in his hands. "I'm washed up, Eliza. Nothin' but washed up."

"No. No, you ain't," she said sitting forward. "Not to me."

He chuckled bitterly and shook his head. "You can't say things like that, Eliza. You don't know me."

She looked out at the grass by the side of the house behind him, trying not to be hurt. "I don't know about that," she said calmly and quietly. She brought her arm to rest across his shoulder and looked back at him. "I know you like hunting, and you're real good at it. I know you like your coffee black as midnight. I know you love baths." She watched him eye her with a keen look, and she couldn't help but grin. "I know you have a birthmark on your—"

"Shut up," he drawled.

She beamed. "Bet none of your gang fellers know that about ya, huh?" She reached up and brushed some hair away from his forehead. "I know you think you're a dimwit when you ain't. You're the farthest thing from it. Well—maybe not the absolute farthest thing." She smiled when he huffed a chuckle. "I know… I know you love Isaac. I know that," she nodded, pulling her lips inward for a moment before releasing them back to normal. "And I know you got a big heart. You don't even know that about yourself."

He gave his head a slow shake.

She nodded. "Uh-huh. It's right there," she said, touching her finger to his chest. "Right in there." She smiled softly and dipped her head, trying to catch his eye. "You're right, you know. What you said—you ain't the worst there is. Ain't even close. You'd be surprised how you stack up to other men." Returning her elbow to the swing back, she sat back and brought her hand up to rest her temple on her palm. "All it took was one, and I don't much like goin' into town these days."

He brought one elbow off his knee and looked back at her. "What the hell's that supposed to mean?"

"Oh…nothin'."

"Someone givin' you a hard time?"

"It's nothin' I couldn't…"

"You just tell me who it is," he said brusquely over her voice.

She shook her head. She'd already imagined what he'd have been like if he'd come across the sheriff on her like that. He would've slammed him up against the alley wall and tucked the end of his pistol under his chin, threatening to blow his head off until she cried out begging him not to. And he would've settled for blowing his hand off, saying he could at least keep him from ever touching her that way again and could teach him well to stay away from the two of them. A sheriff. She shivered at the thought. She and Isaac would have to pack up in a hurry and never look back, and Arthur might end up being in their lives even less, if he escaped the noose. These were the types of things her mind had time to dwell on when she was alone. Arthur could try to claim she didn't know him all he wanted, but she did.

She chose her words carefully. "It turned out to be nothin' I couldn't handle on my own, Arthur. I was actually a mite proud of myself. I sent a good, clear message," she smiled. "And anyways, I'm certain it won't be a problem much longer. Folk like that don't last in Misty Willow."

He groaned a deep sigh and faced forward again, leaning back. "You'd tell me if anything got…unseemly."

She chuckled at his use of a word he'd heard from her before. "Sure, I'd tell you."

He scratched behind his ear, still visibly uncomfortable. "'A clear message?' Christ, what was it he did? Put his hands on you?"

Her smile drooped a bit. "I shouldn't have mentioned it. I don't wanna talk about it anymore. I only meant to say that…you're a whole lot better of a man than you think you are."

"Ain't true, but…you can go ahead and think so."

"It is true. And just 'cause you can't see it don't change it." She watched him lift his brows and make a show of rolling his eyes. But she could see the makings of a smile almost imperceptibly flicker on his mouth though he tried to fight it, and she reached out and took his hand.

At that he looked over at her. He leaned close and gave her a soft kiss on the lips before returning to a reclining position in the swing's seat. He watched her slowly open her eyes, her smile widening.

"I'm glad to see you, Arthur," she said. "You're here for my birthday."

"Your birthday?" he said sitting forward. "Well, we gotta celebrate!"

"I thought we just did," she said with a hazy smile as she rested her temple in her hand again.

He smirked at her. "Naw, a peck ain't no birthday celebration," he drawled. "What do you want? Somethin' nice for supper? Say the word. Anything. Don't hesitate, just say the first thing that comes to your mind."

"Well, I…" she looked at him coyly. "Oh, you won't much like me for this."

"Out with it."

"Every now and then my father used to bring home fresh trout from the river, and it was one of the best things I'd ever tasted."

He nodded. "Trout, huh?" He brought a hand to his throat under his chin and slid it to the side of his jaw. "Couldn'a been…salt beef or somethin' like that…" he mumbled and chuckled.

She smiled. "You don't have to. Really, it's okay, Arthur."

"No, no, I was just jokin'. I'll get you that trout. Don't you worry," he said standing. "Better get started now though."

He was gone through the afternoon and evening and came back as the sun was setting after she'd already fed, bathed, and put Isaac to bed.

The two of them sat at the table playing a hand of rummy as they waited for the fish to finish cooking.

"Every time!" he huffed. "Hell, if I could draw, I'd be dangerous!"

A few minutes later, she lowered her last cards. "Ha!"

"Shit—goddamnit," he tossed his cards onto the table.

"You can't beat me at this game, Arthur! I told you!" she grinned.

"You keep riggin' the deck," he folded his arms.

She shook her head.

"Well, you're a lucky turkey gizzard then."

She lifted her chin as her grin widened. "It's called skill." She caught sight of his eye roll as she stood and went to pull the fish out of the iron oven. "Simple," she said staring at the fish and fanning the steam as Arthur appeared beside her. "No breading, no fry… Just trout and oil and seasoning," she looked up at him with a smile. He reached over her and tried to pick at it. "Hands off!" she laughed and swatted him, but he'd managed to get a bit of flesh and popped his fingers into his mouth with a wide, wry grin.

As they sat at the table, she raked her fork through the fish on her plate and brought it up to her mouth. She closed her eyes and sighed. "It's so good, Arthur. Thank you," she looked at him.

Going back to his own plate, he grinned as he watched her shoulders slack and her face relax. "Well, half the credit oughta go to the cook. Wouldn't be no good if it were dry."

She brought her elbow to the table and rested her cheek on the cushion of her hand. "It reminds me of him so," she said quietly as she looked down at her plate and continued eating.

"Your daddy?"

She nodded.

"Didn't you name Isaac after him?" This time he nodded with her. "Yeah," he said quietly. "Musta been a real fine feller." He could easily imagine her as a little child coming to her father in bouncing golden curled pigtails, looking up at him with those green eyes as he drew her to his knee. Meanwhile Arthur had been scavenging, thieving, and troublemaking on the streets. It was the difference a loving family made.

"The best there was. You would've liked him," she said. "You remind me a lot of him in some ways, actually. He was big and tough, but sweet as strawberry jam inside. Or like soft, sweet buttercream."

He snickered incredulously and shook his head. "You must be thinkin' of somebody else."

"There!" she pointed at him. "Your laugh. That's another thing. He had the best laugh when he got around to using it." She replaced the heel of her hand under her cheek. "And he was good. He was just so good."

"Well," he said leaning back in his chair, "that's about where I veer off."

She looked at him and smiled with hazy eyes and shook her head. "Mm-mm."

He swallowed. "Well, I'm…glad you have some nice, happy memories, at least."

She swiped a tear from her cheek.

"All right, enough with solemn topics," he drawled. "Ain't we supposed to be celebratin'?" He stood and went to the cupboard. "Got somethin' else while I was out." He turned with a huge bottle of Kentucky bourbon in each hand. "The good stuff," he said with a smile. He came back and sat in his chair, placing a bottle in front of her on the table. "One for you, and one for me."

Her eyebrows rose high.

"What, ain't you ever had a drink before? Oh, don't tell me you haven't."

"Sure I have. Whiskey for pain and wine for a sore stomach, but never just to drink. And never a whole bottle."

"Well, no one said you had to drink the whole bottle. In fact, you probably shouldn't."

"I've seen what it does to people."

"But ain't never felt it for yourself? Oh…" he clucked his tongue and feigned an empathetic tone accompanied by a mischievous gleam in his eye, "that's sad."

She leveled her eyes at him with a smirk that she couldn't keep from growing wide.

"Loosen up!" he said shaking his shoulders. "Get a little outta line for once!"

Her eyes went wide for a moment. "I did, and look where that got us!"

He let out an exaggerated groan. "Come on, darlin', humor me. You're the one who said we gotta start havin' fun."

"This is not the kind I meant," she said as he went on speaking over her voice.

"And it's the best place for it. What's gonna happen? You're safe at home here with me."

She looked at the bottle. "I really shouldn't, Arthur. I ain't like you; I'm a mother."

"Why, you ain't nursin' him anymore, are ya?" He watched the wheels in her head turn as she eyed the bottle. Finally, she suddenly grabbed it and opened it. "Yeah, that's better!" he said as he watched her bring it up to her mouth, slinging her head back and taking in a gulp. "Woah, woah— Gotta pace yourself there," he chuckled.

She set it back on the table and smacked her tongue against her gums, shaking her head, making a face, and letting out a breath.

"All right," he chuckled. "We doin' this?" When she didn't respond, he brought his bottle up to his mouth as he watched her return to hers.

Several minutes later Eliza was leaning forward, and her head was hanging low as she sat with her forearms folded on the table. When she looked up at him, she had tears in her eyes. "I've never said this outright to ya, but I love you, Arthur. I love you so. I do, I really do."

"I know you do, darlin'," he said wearily, looking at her from his seat adjacent to her. "Keep drinkin'."

She flopped back in her chair and watched forlornly as he raised the bottle to his lips. She took a short breath and sniffed as she turned to her own bottle.

Another several minutes later after they'd both had another several gulps, she was leaning on her elbow facing him with the bottle dangling in one hand. "This just keeps gettin' tastier and tastier." She looked at him. "You know what you are?" she slurred, pointing at him.

"I'm a lotta things," he garbled, raising his eyebrows and blinking. "A lotta damn things."

"You're a bad influence, that's what you are."

"Well, you're…mighty pretty."

"You're a bad influence on me."

"And those eyes a' yours…" he cocked his head. "Right fine sight. Gonna be the death a' me one of these days."

"A bad influence. Always have been, and I think I knew it all along." She swallowed. "You know what the worst part is? I don't give a shit!" she laughed. "Isn't that awful?"

"Because you love me," he mumbled.

Her smile fell abruptly as she looked at him. "That's right. And it ain't fair. 'Cause you know my secrets, and I know none of yours. Yeah, I love you! I love the piss and shit outta you!"

"Oo-hoo, get a few drops in her, and she got a mouth on her!" he chuckled. "Right kinda pretty one too, a-and it tastes like honey…"

"You know what your problem is?" she slurred, resting her elbow on the table. "You won't let yourself be loved. And me? My problem is I love you so damn much, I'll let you do whatever you want with me—even leave me! Over and over again! How pathetic is that?" She turned away. "And there you are, somewhere between not caring and love. And I'm not sure if that's a big gap or a real little one. And here we are," she slurred, motioning between the two of them, "pretendin' to be an item of some kind, or pretendin' not to pretend… I can never tell which. And I think I'll only be able to take so many years of it until I go completely mad." She sighed. "I mean, for all I know, you could have some other woman on all the other days you ain't here!"

"Nope," he shook his head.

"Or, you…you could…be visiting brothels or somethin' stupid like that."

"Now if I wanted to go to a whorehouse, I'd be there. I ain't there, am I?"

Still looking away, she shook her head to herself. "What a pair we make. Kinda hilarious, actually," she chuckled as she lifted the bottle to her mouth.

"Yeah, keep drinkin'," he gestured at her bottle. "You ain't there yet."

A few minutes later Eliza was sitting on the table, and they were on each other, her hands in his hair and his hands running up and down her as they hastily kissed.

Suddenly she jerked away and pushed him in the shoulder a couple times. "No. No, you…you stay away from me," she said, catching her breath.

His eyebrows came together as he looked at her with a hand out. "What, you gonna hold me out over the fire like that?"

She put a hand to her forehead. "I gotta get some goddamn self-respect," she breathed. She looked at him and gestured between them. "And neither of us has had enough for this." She jumped down and went back to her bottle.

"Well, that's about the best thing you've said all goddamn night!" he shouted.

She glared at him as she raised the bottle to her mouth.

A little while later after a few more gulps they were sitting at the table again and laughing hysterically.

"It was a shoe!" Eliza snorted and giggled as she keeled over the table. "It was nothing but a shoe!"

Arthur held his belly and slapped his knee as he roiled in hearty laughter.

She looked at him as she laughed. "Oh…" she sighed, "you went and fell in love with a real life wild west cowboy, didn't you, Eliza? Head over heels for a real root-n-toot-n…shoot-n…son of a gun," she stammered with a shake of her head. "Ain't nothin' wrong with that!" she said looking him up and down. "Look at him. He's a sight to see."

"Shut up!" he waved a hand, a hearty chuckle rising up through his chest.

He watched her haphazardly plant her elbow on the table and sit her cheek on the heel of her hand, looking at him with a hazy smile, her eyelids drifting up and down, her head sneaking forward before lagging down completely.

"You…you wanna know my secret?" he said. "Mine is…" He squinted at her, trying to get his balance in the chair. "Well, mine…mine i-is… I think mine is that I'm havin' trouble stoppin'…fallin' right in love with you right back," he stammered in a high pitch with a shaky finger pointed at her. "But, you know, who could blame me," he shrugged, "right? I mean, you're…you're practically an angel right in front of me. The truth is… Actually, there's actually two of 'em. Or maybe three. Three truths," he slurred, holding up two fingers. "One is, I ain't deservin'," he said, touching his index fingers together. "Two is, I'm scared as a stupid lil' kitty. And three is—and this is most important—I think…I think I'm mighty bad for you two, in every way. Every possible way. And anyways, it would only hurt more if I loved you, 'cause I ain't runnin' out on the gang. Can't. Outta the question," he slurred, cutting the air with a wave of his hand. "I been through that before. Ain't fun. Hurts like the devil, actually. So…so maybe that's four reasons," he held up five fingers, trying not to go cross-eyed. "That's a lot. So…you know, it ain't lookin' too good for us. Sorry, darlin'. And you know what? I think I got one even better than that, an even better secret." He swallowed. "It's that I actually wish with all my might I coulda seen you with that big, round belly. As dastardly a bastard as it makes me that I knocked you up, I think it woulda been a mighty special, mighty nice sight for me. I coulda even felt little Isaac move around in there. I even dreamt it up the other day and drew you in my journal without ever seein' you like that with these eyes. That's how bad I wish I'da been there. Just ain't fair!" his voice broke as he lifted his bottle to take another pull on it and stopped to look at her. "Reckon we might have another?"

"Wha…what are you on about?" she groaned and sighed, picking her head up to look at him. "I think…I think I'm only gettin' one of every few words." She giggled through her nose. "It kinda makes you sound like an owl or somethin'."

"I was just askin' if we could have another kid."

"Oh… No, Arthur," she said, her head swaying. "Not if you ain't gonna marry me. Not if you ain't gonna stay. I can hardly keep up with one all on my own, as it is."

He lifted his eyebrows and tilted his head, smirking bitterly as took another swig. "Worth a shot."

Suddenly her head popped up, and her eyes went wide as she hiccuped. "Oh no. I gotta go," she said, getting up and rushing for the front door.

"What?" he squinted after her.

"I gotta pee!" She ran out into the darkness, down the porch steps, and into the weeds in front of the porch.

"Ow, oo, ow!" Arthur heard as he came out. "Hellfire thorny…weeds…"

He stumbled down the porch steps.

"Arthur! What are you doin'?" she whispered when she saw him. She was crouched with her bare bum towards the foliage.

"I gotta go too," he whispered as he walked in her direction.

"Over there! Do it over there!" she laughed, swatting hard and pointing to the other side of the porch.

"Are you tellin' me to piss off?"

She giggled. "If the shoe fits."

They both burst into hushed laughter and snickering.

"Why are we whispering?" she laughed. "The…the baby's inside, we're outside!"

He shrugged as he did his business.

After a few more sips from the bottle, Eliza could hardly see straight, and she couldn't stop giggling. When Arthur went to the bedroom saying it was late, she stumbled after him.

"Uh oh," he said from where he stood at the bedside when he saw her coming. "You got an evil look in your eyes. Never seen that there before."

"You know what I'munna do with you?" she slurred almost completely incoherently as she came towards him.

"D-don't tell me before you do it," he said, bringing his bottle up to his lips.

"I'munna ravage you."

"Oh, sh-sh-shit," he wheezed a laugh, barely taking the lip of the bottle away from his mouth in time and almost spewing his liquor.

"I'munna…skin you to the bone," she pressed a finger to his chest.

"Oh, god."

"I'm just itchin' to touch you, Arthur! Just itchin'! I'munna un-unravel you and find out…just where you begin and end," she stammered, pulling at the opening of his shirt.

"How very ambitious of you."

"Just as soon as I…get these demon, hellfire buttons undone," she said fiddling with the buttons on his shirt. "Maybe if I just tear 'em off."

"Eliza…"

"Oh…" she mumbled weakly in frustration. Finally she leaned forward and started picking at them with her teeth.

"Eliza."

"They'll come off. I know they will. I just know it," she said weakly, sounding for a moment like she was actually going to cry.

"Eliza." He finally took her by the arms and stood her upright.

She looked up at him drearily, her head bobbing. "Well, I…I can't manage it. I guess it's up to you. No matter. I can always count on you to get it up for us, Morgan."

"What?"

"You gonna screw me? I'm standin' here, ain't I?"

"You just call me Morgan?" he squinted at her.

"Come on! Get it up!"

"Shh. Don't."

"Come on!"

"Eliza, you're drunk."

"Come on, you know you can do it!"

"Maybe about as drunk as I've seen a person, and that's sayin' a hell of a lot."

"No? Well…maybe," she said looking down, "maybe you can dip your lucky trigger finger in."

"Oh my god, you are so far gone!" he laughed and shook his head. "One thing we've learned here, hun, is you cannot hold your liquor." His eyes grew, and his expression slid when he saw her begin to lift up her skirts. "Oh no. Don't."

"Come on!" she said pulling her skirts up high over her head to reveal her knickers. "Come on, big boy."

"Oh no…" he covered his face in his hand. "Put it down, sweetheart."

She giggled as she dropped her skirts. "Don't matter much how you do it; you always make me feel real good," she garbled a chuckle as she dipped her chin. "You even put your mouth on me once; you remember that? And I was so embarrassed that I liked it," she cackled. "'Member?"

"Somehow you're managin' to make me embarrassed about it..."

"Oh boy, that feels like a long time ago," she giggled. "But it's the truth," she slurred in a high tone. "No matter what you do, you always make me feel really, really good. Don't you hear me cry and call for ya?" She threw her head back and began to groan and sigh as if they were really in the middle of it. "Mmm, oh!"

His eyes shot wide. "Shit— What—What the hell're you doin' pullin' that outta nowhere?"

"Oh! Oh, god! Oh, Arthur!" she moaned.

"Shhh! Stop! Stop that!" He looked down at his groin and covered it with his hands. "Shut it! Shut it with that, will you? Quit that, now!"

"Oh! Do it to me again, Arthur!" She let out a wicked, bubbling cackle as she looked forward again. When she saw him cupping his hands over his groin, she gasped. "Did that do it?" She clapped. "Oh, let me see it!"

"No, hush!"

"Oh, please? Please! Oh…I just wanna see it!"

"Naw. It's time for bed. You're really gonna hate me if I let you go on like this, 'cause I think I'm just sober enough now to remember this bit. Well…you're gonna hate me in the mornin' anyways."

"Why, what's happening in the morning?" she said, picking at his shirt again as he tried to corral her to the bed.

"Eliza."

"Hm…?" she mumbled, looking up at him. She grinned wide and leaned forward, her eyes blinking one at a time as she fell forward on him and planted her chin on his chest, looking up at him. "I really like it when you say my name. You say my name, and you can have anything you want, you know that?"

He smirked and sighed as he looked down at her face. "You can barely keep your eyes open."

"Oh. Maybe that's true too," she slurred, standing straight. "Guess I'll just have to ravage you tomorrow."

"That word don't seem to fit right sittin' in your pretty little mouth." He turned her and sat her on the bed, lifting her feet up so she had to lie down.

"What, 'ravage'? But it's just what I plan to do to you tomorrow."

"Maybe," he said.

"And maybe you'll love me tomorrow," she said groggily.

"Maybe," he said as he stumbled around to the other side of the bed.

"'Maybe…'" she giggled. "I like that," she said as she rested her head on the pillow. "Maybe we could get a puppy and name her Maybe."

"Maybe."

"No, that's silly! That's silly, Arthur. Maybe ain't a name."

He rested his head on the pillow beside her and yawned. "Maybe."

.

The next morning Eliza woke feeling like she'd slammed her head against a brick wall. "Dear sweet Jesus, have mercy," she whispered as she picked her face up off the pillow. She felt Arthur rustle against her.

"Ah, shi… Fu… Christ," he finally muttered. "Somebody close the goddamn curtains."

She blinked and squinted in the sharp, unforgiving light, and her mouth was like a desert. Her temple was thumping, and it hurt to even lift her eyelids, since it felt like she was raking hot coals across her eyes. "Ooh… Do you hurt as bad as me?"

He sighed. "I don't know," he mumbled with his fingers on his eyelids. "You're probably worse off, but not by much."

Still lying on her belly, she turned to face him bleary-eyed. Only then did she realize they were both still in their day-clothes. "What did we do? Whatever it was, I'm paying the steep price. The last thing I remember is agreeing to have some of that bourbon you brought home."

"That was enough to do it."

She groaned and dropped her head in her hand. "So this is what all those men feel the next morning."

A soft grunt escaped him as he pulled himself up to a sitting position against the headboard. "Yeah…you weren't ever supposed to feel it. I'm sorry, darlin'."

She massaged her temple. "Well, there has to be more to it than I can remember. I've seen people drunk. I'm afraid to ask if you remember what we were like."

"Don't remember all of it," he gently shook his head. "Just the end there. But that was memorable enough," he smirked, giving his head a brief tilt to the side.

"What do you mean…?" she eyed him.

"At one point you were tryin' to tear my buttons off with your teeth."

"What?" her forehead wrinkled up.

"Yeah…you got kinda filthy after that. It weren't very ladylike. At all."

"Oh, no…" she moaned, covering her face in her hands.

"Funny as hell though."

"What are you sayin', I threw myself at you?"

"Darlin'—if you could throw yourself any harder, you'd break your own neck. And it was more than once," he chuckled wheezily.

She took a breath, pressing her fingers to her eyes. "Oh, that scares me so." She looked back up at him, a flush creeping over her face. "Thank you…Arthur, f-for not…"

"While you were in that state? Uh-uh," he shook his head. "No point. Wouldn'a been nearly as fun, and it woulda frightened the daylights outta you in the morning if you couldn't remember it. Wasn't about to do that to ya. I might be a wretch, but I ain't got a totally black heart."

"Thank you." She moaned and covered her head. "I'm so sorry you had to see that. Ugh, and you remember it, no less! I'm perfectly horrified."

"Don't worry about it," he drawled. "Was actually kinda nice for me to see that you ain't a perfect, pristine little doll." He looked over at her. "You really don't remember any of it?"

"Not a thing."

He watched her struggle to get out of bed. "Where you goin'?"

"To check on our son," she said plainly. She gasped and looked down. "Careful when you get up. There's broken glass here."

He sat forward. "You hurt yourself?"

"No…thankfully. I'll come back and clean it up when I finish feeding Isaac."

He half-frowned as he watched walk gingerly to the door. "I didn't mean for you to forget part of your birthday, hun."

"No—today," she said. "Today is my birthday."

As she left the room, he dropped his face in his hand. "Shit!" he bit out in a low tone. He removed his hand and rested his head back against the headboard. "'Happy birthday! Here, have some bottle-ache!'" He rolled his eyes at himself. "Morgan, you really outdone yourself, you moron."

He got up, swept up the glass, and went into the sitting room to see her and Isaac at the kitchen table.

"Oh please, eat it, baby," she said quietly with a spoon in her hand and her temple in her palm.

Arthur poured himself a mug of stale coffee, scooped himself some leftover food into a bowl, and came to sit at the table across from her.

"Won't you please eat it for mama?" she said holding the spoon out.

Arthur watched Isaac turn his face forcefully from the spoon repeatedly, left and right, until she finally succeeded in popping it into his mouth. When she pulled it away, he made a horrible grimace and dribbled something green out onto his chin. Eliza immediately scraped up the bit from his chin and tried to feed it to him again.

He whipped his head away in disgust, his eyebrows drawing up as he whined a little cry. "Nah, nah, nah, nah, nah!" he babbled, slapping his pudgy little hand repeatedly on the table.

"What is that?" Arthur said, looking into her bowl.

"Mashed peas."

He craned his neck back for a second and made a disgusted frown. "Don't give him that shit. Here," he said trading it with his own bowl and feeding a spoonful to Isaac, who tasted a little and reached out for the spoon, not allowing him to take it away. Arthur smiled.

"What's that?" she asked.

"Sweet potato and molasses."

She smirked and sighed, dropping her cheek onto the heel of her hand as she watched him feed him. And she knew Isaac would forever love sweet potato, because his father had given it to him.

He looked over at her. "You still got bottle-ache?"

"Haven't you?"

"Yeah…" he frowned.

"How long does it last?" she said rubbing her forehead. "Feels as if my stomach's a boulder, but somehow it's ready to come up."

He sighed. "You should have some coffee. And drink as much water as possible. I'll fry us up some hash in a bit. I know it don't sound right, but the greasier, the better." He watched her forlornly as she closed her eyes and pressed the heel of her hand between her brows. "I never shoulda let you touch a drop. The drink, it's…it's for sour ol' idiots. It ain't for sweet, pleasant little girls," he said with a shake of his head.

She looked up at him, her head still in her hand. "That's just it, Arthur. I don't want you to think of me as a kid forever."

"Well—" he huffed with a hand out. "It's what you are!" He tipped his head. "…Just about. Anyways, what's so wrong with that? Kids ain't supposed to worry their heads about things, they're supposed to live good lives. They're bright-eyed, and…" he looked back at Isaac as he fed him, "they ain't supposed to be shown the worst in the world, just yet. They see the good in things. I'll say again, what's so wrong with it?"

"Well, they're…they're thought of as silly. Brainless, insignificant, stupid," she shook her head gently as she looked down at the table.

His brows came together as he looked at her, and he sat back in his chair. "Tell me how you feel about Isaac."

She looked up at him flatly. "You know how I feel about Isaac."

He dipped his head. "Tell me again."

She took a deep breath and folded her forearms on the table. "I love him more than life, and I'd give anything for him."

He nodded. "And he's a kid, ain't he?"

"Yes—"

"And do any of the words you just said come into your mind when you think about him?" he said with half-mast, nearly sardonic eyes that signaled he knew the answer as he sat up to feed Isaac the next bite.

She tried not to grin. "No."

"All right then." He cocked his jaw to the side as he reached for his mug. "You just focus on bein' just exactly who you are, Eliza. Don't let me sully you. Or, at least…try not to."

"I—"

"I'm done with this conversation. I don't want you worryin' about it," he said as he brought the mug to his lips. He watched her from over the rim as she looked down and smiled. "'Sides. You ain't just a kid," he placed his mug back on the table. "Like you said last night before we got to drinkin': you're a mother. And a damn good one at that. I've told you before. Best I've seen. Almost noble." He sighed and gave his head a little tilt to the side. "So there it is," he said, going back to scooping a spoonful for Isaac. "It makes me a steaming heap of horse shit, and it makes you noble."

With her elbow still on the table, she rested the whole side of her face in her hand and looked at him with a smile before reaching out for his mug of coffee and taking a sip. She made a face and replaced it before him.

"Well, make a fresh pot then!" he laughed.

"In a minute. I like watching you two."

Arthur lifted another spoonful to his son's lips, and Isaac took all of the sweet potato on the tip of the spoon into his mouth, smacking his lips and making a mumbled gratified sound as he looked up at his father with a bright, squishy smile. He opened and closed his fists and leaned forward with an open mouth for more. Arthur's face smoothed as he grinned and let a breathy chuckle come through his nose.

He looked back at her. "All right," he said. "Second try is always better than the first, they say. What'll you have for your actual birthday?"

"Are you sayin' we'll stop feelin' like this at some point today?" she chuckled, brushing her hair out of her face.

"Yeah, it shouldn't last into the afternoon if we nurse it right. So tell me what you'd like." He took another sip from his mug.

She slowly smiled. "What I was too afraid to ask is… What I really wanted is actually to go fishin' with you, Arthur."

His eyebrows shot up in disbelief as he set his mug back down. "That's all you wanted this whole damn time?"

She grinned and nodded profusely.

"What are we gonna do with Isaac?"

"Don't worry; I can get someone to watch him for one evening. It is my birthday, after all. I'm sure I deserve one night off, with no responsibility. Won't you take me fishin' with you tonight?"

He smirked as he fed Isaac another spoonful, and his eyes slid over to her. "Fishin' it is."

.

Dear readers,

These two are going to kill me. And baby Isaac! I LOVE him. I'm hoping to upload the second part of this tomorrow. :) I was self-conscious about this chapter because it's so off-color, and since humor varies so widely, I never know if others will find the same things funny that I do. But I figured as embarrassed as I am, it has to be that much more embarrassing for the characters, which—what can I say?—is exactly what it was meant to be.

For those interested, I went back and added Arthur's accompanying journal notes to my drawings on Ao3. You know, those notes he wouldn't let Eliza see? ;) archive of our own works/22767514/chapters/57619507

There seems to be a few more of you, which is exciting! I hope you enjoy reading, and I'd love to hear your thoughts whenever you feel so inclined. You guys are the bestest!

- Rosie

P.S. Sweet Gracie, I hate to tell you this, but you should probably get an account on at least one of these sites. ;) It makes it so much more fun. (I'm teasing! You don't have to if you don't want to.)