When he returned a couple months later, one morning a couple days into his visit Arthur and Eliza found themselves lying side by side, bare in each other's arms, still kissing, still cooling from the warmth that had spread through them just minutes before.

"That a fair way to say good mornin'?" he mumbled into her smile.

"Mmmm… Who needs coffee?" she whispered.

"'Parently not us." His smile brightened when he heard her chuckle. As he looked at her, he was reminded of the sight he'd seen when he'd first opened his eyes: her bright gaze and soft grin as she looked back at him from the next pillow.

.

When she'd come close and kissed him on the lips and neck, his mind had drifted to thinking it was unfair of her to be that beautiful, that she should be considered the criminal of the two of them. She was even more beautiful and appealing to him now than when they'd first met, somehow.

She tugged him by the collar of his long-johns under the covers with her, mumbling a giggle at the strained noise he'd made as she began fiddling with the buttons and working it off in the morning light that filtered through the striped sheet.

"Might as well just quit wearin' long-johns around you," he said with a smirk.

"They are a real obstacle," she chuckled.

He pushed her nightgown up and off, finally bringing his arm up, folding the sheet down, and listening to her laugh as he tossed the nightgown and long-johns away.

.

He kissed her again as the memory of her tinkling laughter filled his mind.

Eliza brought her hands up and gently gripped both sides of his broad back. She closed her eyes and sighed at the feeling of his big hands still wandering over her body, her chest, her waist, her hips. She let her head roll to the side as his lips traveled down to the crook of her neck. Only too well could she remember that he hadn't always been so keen to cozy up after lovemaking; these days it seemed it was all he wanted to do.

She listened to the quiet sounds their lips made as they met and parted and felt his legs beside hers as she softly brushed her thighs together, bringing her ankle up to touch her other calf. The sensations brought her back to just a bit ago, when she was lying atop his chest, and he'd abruptly turned her over to face the other way while they were kissing.

.

With his chin over her shoulder, he'd brought his right hand up and traced her neck. They both watched as he slowly brought his hand over her shoulder, her breasts, and across her abdomen. He kissed the corner of her mouth as she felt his hand venture further down between her thighs and felt just how eager he was behind her. When she realized he hadn't ever meant for her to turn back around, she reached and pulled the sheet up over her until it was up to her chin.

He paused and pulled the sheet off and away.

She pulled it up again.

His brows briefly came together. "Why're you doin' that?"

"Well…if we're gonna do it like this, I don't want you to see me. Not this time. Not while we're…"

When he took her meaning, he almost laughed. "Honey, I see you every time!"

"Really?"

"Yes."

"Even when we're the other way, and your face is close to mine?"

"Yes!" he chuckled.

As she looked into his eyes, she could feel a grin slowly creep up across her mouth, and she removed the sheet for the final time. She brought her hand up to his jaw, kissed him deeply, and let him continue exactly as they were.

.

At the moment they were lying side by side, face to face, and he was playing with the hair dangling near her cheek. And as she looked into his eyes and felt him beside her, she let herself think on the fact that she was thankful for such moments. That after losing their baby, she'd needed to know they could go back to something resembling normal, or what they'd come to know as normal. That they could still have this—being eye to eye and skin to skin. And she was grateful to know he didn't have it in his heart to withhold it from her.

She grinned at the smacking, clicking sounds of each brief kiss he planted on her mouth. "I have a surprise for you," she whispered between kisses.

"Oh yeah?"

"Mm-hmm," she hummed. She moved to get up, and he caught her by the wrist, holding her hand to him and causing her to look back from where she sat on the edge of the bed.

"I don't like surprises," he grumbled with an arch to his brow. "What kinda surprise?"

Eliza grinned at the sight of his wry expression, somehow charming on his handsome face. She flattened her palm against him, slowly bringing her hand through the hair on his bare chest as she leaned forward to place a kiss to his lips. "Wait right there."

Arthur propped his head up against the bed's headboard and lazily grinned as she sat up again, and he let his hand glide slowly down her back as she stood. He watched her swing the pale blue button-down he'd given her around her shoulders, slipping her arms through the sleeves and completely neglecting to fasten the buttons before opening the door. He tried to keep from laughing as he watched her hug the bit of wall between the bedroom door and Isaac's door, looking down and taking a big step to avoid a piece of the floor that she knew was notorious for creaking and would undoubtedly wake Isaac. He smiled when she began softly singing and humming to herself as she disappeared from his view for a moment when she went into the kitchen.

His smile softened when his thoughts strayed to just how well he knew her now, knew that she was always singing or humming, almost every free moment, that you could hardly get her to stop. Knew her to do silly, absentminded, useless things like don a single piece of open clothing to go out into the kitchen when no one but himself was around to see her nakedness. Knew her as one to constantly be thinking of everyone else, not just in thought, but in deed—like keeping from waking the baby. Like going out of her way to conjure some kind of 'surprise' for himself.

You're head over heels. Snuck up on ya, he heard Hosea's words again; and he cleared his throat.

She came into his view again when she reached up and pulled something down from the cabinet before turning around to come back to the bedroom, avoiding the same spot in the floor. She walked up to him with a rectangular little gray metal tin and unlatched it as she began to get into the bed.

He took one of the bottom corners of the shirt's fabric between his fingers. "Take this off before you come into bed, huh?"

Stopping short, she smirked and shrugged the shirt off. With the tin still in her hands, she climbed into the bed and scooted toward him on her knees with the top of the tin still covering the contents. "Close your eyes," she said slowly and quietly with a widening grin, "and open your mouth."

He shot her a very wary and questioning look.

"What, you think I'm gonna give you hot sauce or somethin'?!"

His eyes pulsed wide. "Well, now I do!"

She laughed. "Come on!"

"Eliza…"

"Come on. Just do it."

He smirked but finally closed his eyes and propped his head back. Hesitating, he opened one eye to look at her.

"Don't you trust me?" she said quietly with a smile.

He looked into her eyes, saw her sweet smile, and knew she had him. Trying to keep from grinning, he closed both eyes. "This is ridiculous, you know that," he drawled before letting his mouth hang open a bit.

"You won't think so in a minute." She chuckled. "At least, I hope you won't."

Eliza pinched off a bit of what she'd made and dropped it between his lips. She watched him chew it, and smiled when he began mumbling satisfaction and sat up, immediately taking the tin from her.

"Peach cobbler," she said.

He hurriedly picked off some more and took a bite. As soon as he did, he closed his eyes and moaned a sigh. "It's so good."

"I'm glad. Picked the ripest peaches I could reach a few days ago, and they only got riper. I was glad when you showed up, so I could make it for you."

"When did you find time to bake this?" He was uninterested in having a fork, diving right in with his fingers.

"Yesterday. While you were out huntin' and muckin' the barn. Made a blackberry pie for Isaac too."

He looked up at her as she continued to quietly gab, his hand slowly dropping from his mouth.

"You have no idea how long it took me to pick all the berries," she laughed.

His brows drew up. "Bla…blackberry pie?" he said softly and slowly, almost whining. "Can I have some a' that?"

"'Course," she laughed. "Once we wake Isaac. I just have to warm it a bit."

He licked his thumb and forefinger as he looked at her and slowly grinned. He reached up and brushed some of her hair away from her forehead with the backs of his curled fingers, setting the tin down on top of the sheet. "Turn around."

"Hm? Why?"

"I did what you asked," he laughed.

Eliza chuckled and turned around for him, sitting with her legs criss-cross. She heard him go into the drawer of the bedside table and felt his fingers gently comb through the hair at her scalp, and she closed her eyes. He was sectioning parts of her hair, and she smiled when she realized with pleasant surprise that he was braiding it. As he came to the end of her hair, he tied it with her faint blue satin ribbon and brought it around to lie in front of her shoulder. When she felt him kiss her shoulder and continue to kiss down her back, she opened her eyes and glanced to the side to see the tin of peach cobbler still sitting on the bed.

"You forgot the cobbler," she said.

"Didn't forget nothin'," Arthur whispered, bringing both palms to her back and pressing kisses to her skin between his hands. "It can wait." He looked up and watched the apple of her cheek rise as she grinned.

Eliza looked down and took the tail of her new braid in her hand. "It's lovely. Neat, even. Where did you learn to do this?"

"Ah…" he grumbled, rubbing the back of his neck with a smirk as she turned around to him. "Guess I just figured it out myself. 'Cause I do it on Bo sometimes."

She smiled and placed a peck to his lips. "Figures."

He suddenly kissed her, this time deepening it quickly.

She grabbed a bit of the cobbler from the tin and suddenly pulled back, quickly stuffing it in his mouth. "You better eat some a' that!" she laughed as she watched him lift his eyebrows and munch it down. "You know how hard I…" she couldn't stop chuckling as he inched over top of her and she reclined underneath him, "how hard I worked…on that?"

Grinning, he came close, little pieces of crumble still on his lips; and her chuckling became mumbled when he kissed her again.

She almost brought her hand to his cheek and stopped. "Wait. Wait," she laughed. "I've got pastry on my fingers."

They both looked at her fingertips as she held up her hand: her thumb and two fingers were covered in gooey peach cobbler bits.

She was about to bring a finger to her own mouth when he beat her to it. She watched him clean the tips of each finger with his lips as if they were his own fingers, and her smile slowly softened with a brief swallow. And she wondered if any other man who could be so familiar and comfortable could also get away with what he could—a sometimes façade of distance.

"You like it that much, huh?" she said quietly, beginning to grin again.

A gleam sparkled in his eyes as he looked up into hers. "I like it that much."

He leaned forward and came close. He had his arm underneath her, wrapped around to her back as they kissed. As she brought her arm up and hooked it around his neck, he brought the hand of his arm that was wrapped around her to the side of her shoulder.

When he finally pulled back for a moment, Eliza looked into his eyes and smiled. "It's his birthday today."

His eyes went wide, and he slowly grinned.

She nodded.

"You're tellin' true—today," he leveled his gaze into her eyes.

"Today." She watched a little dazed expression flutter across his face, and she smiled as he looked away and his grin grew. "I didn't know if you'd be here, and you are."

He looked back into her eyes with a bright, full-on smile on his mouth.

She couldn't help but match it as he looked past her shoulder. "I only waited to tell you now 'cause I knew I'd never get you back after that," she chuckled, "and I wanted to have you to myself for a little bit this morning." She waved a hand in front of his eyes and laughed. "But that time's clearly up."

"Blackberry pie for breakfast it is," he said, hefting himself out of bed. "Let's wake him. Get dressed."

Grinning as she watched him begin to dress, Eliza donned her nightgown and quietly slipped to Isaac's room alone. She went to his crib and looked down to see him slumbering peacefully in his diaper, his face turned towards the wall and his closed, relaxed hand up near his cheek. She brought her finger up and traced the outline of his soft neck, bringing her fingertip down over the pudgy creases created by the crook of his underarm. She gently brought her hand down over his smooth belly, watching it rise and fall softly.

Arthur silently appeared at the threshold of Isaac's bedroom and watched Eliza kneel beside the crib with her back to him, reaching through the the bars and taking Isaac's hand between her fingers.

"Two years. It's gone by," she whispered. "I remember," she shook her head. "I remember when she laid you in my arms. All squishy and soft and tiny. You were so angry," she chuckled. "I didn't blame you. For so long, you and me were glued. Musta been a cold, rude awakening, huh? You didn't know what to make of the world. Neither did I." She swallowed. "It was like I…I'd waited for you without knowing it. I was the same me, but somehow you made me something else, something new and good. You were mine, and I was yours. So special, precious beyond measure…my baby. You were the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen in all my life," her soft voice broke. "And you came to me. Me," she sniffed. "And I promised myself, promised you that no matter what came, we'd get through it together. You and me."

Arthur clenched his jaw and looked down, preparing to leave the doorway.

"And then your daddy came," she whispered.

He stopped stock still with his back against the wall just outside the door. She wasn't breaking their deal, because she wasn't naming him, and Isaac was asleep anyway.

"You wouldn't be here if it weren't for him," she laughed softly. "He came back, and we weren't left alone in the world anymore. And he gave us hope, didn't he? He made life lighter and brighter."

Arthur rested his head back against the wall and looked up, swallowing hard as he heard her take a breath.

"He thinks he ain't part of us. I don't know why. But I know he loves you, Isaac. I know as surely as I know anything. And I know you love him. I just sure hope he knows it. We both do, huh? Yeah…we love him. And I know you love your mama too."

He could hear the smile in her voice.

"And oh, I love you so, Isaac. My sweet, sweet baby boy."

He heard a kissing sound, and then a soft,

"Hi, Mama."

"Hi, baby."

He turned his head and watched her carry him on her hip to the bed to change his diaper. He quietly came into the room and sat on the floor at the end of the bed, with his left side to them.

From his place lying on his back on the bed, Isaac looked over in Arthur's direction as his mother changed him. His face relaxed into a smile when he saw him, and he lifted a hand to wave at him.

Arthur chuckled quietly and waved back.

"There. You're all done," his mother said, patting his thigh.

Eliza smoothed her nightgown over her knees and sat with one leg folded up on the bed and watched Isaac immediately stand and run—as much as a toddler could on the fluffy, unstable surface of a bed—to his father. She nearly laughed when she saw him take a step right off the bed and seamlessly into his father's arms that had come up at the last second, without either of them missing the slightest beat—as if Isaac either thought he could walk on air, or he knew Arthur would catch him.

As the glow of warm morning light fell in ribbons through the curtains, she watched Arthur bring his hand beneath Isaac's underarm and his forearm under his diapered bottom. She listened to him whisper softly to him and couldn't decide if quiet sweet-nothings were what morning hours called for, or if it was simply Arthur's nature. She was ready and willing to accept both explanations.

"Mama made you somethin' real special today," he whispered to him.

"Mama?"

"Mm-hm. You wanna go give her a hug and kiss?"

"Yeah," Isaac smiled bright. When Arthur returned him to a standing position atop the bed, he ran back to his mother. "Mama…" He folded himself in half and plopped his head into her lap, resting his cheek on her bent thigh with a contented smile and dangling his short arms over either side. "Luvoo, Mama."

Eliza smiled and stroked the short, wispy blonde hair at the back of his head, letting her nails lightly scratch his scalp. "Love you, Isaac. So much."

Arthur watched Isaac open his eyes and look back at him with a soft grin as his mother brushed her fingertips through his fine hair. He could feel the simple contentedness radiating from him; and he found himself almost yearning for what he had in that moment—the deep, unconditional, lasting love of a mother. What he was left with was gratefulness that his son had it.

His eyes traveled upward to see Eliza's gaze still fixated on Isaac. She glanced up and looked back again when she saw him looking at her.

"Pie for breakfast?" she said with a smile.

He smirked and gave a single nod.

Anticipating a mess, they left him in just his diaper. Eliza got dressed and met them in the kitchen to find Arthur seated at the table with Isaac in his little cubby chair. She popped the pie into the iron oven, and while it warmed, she pulled a jar of pickle spears down from the cupboard and sat down across from Arthur.

He eyed her as she unclasped it and began to hand one to Isaac. "Has he…had that before?"

She lifted her chin, grinned devilishly, and shook her head as Isaac reached out and took it without hesitation.

"Oh, Eliza…" Arthur scolded as he sat back in his chair.

They watched Isaac put the end in his mouth and begin to take a bite. His teeth were halfway through it when he squeezed his eyes shut, squished his face up in agonized distress, and slowly retracted the traitorous pickle from his puckered lips. With his mouth hanging open, his head and shoulders shivered like a wet dog; and Eliza lost it, going into hysterical giggles.

Arthur slid a hand over his mouth to hide his burgeoning grin. "That's about as criminal a thing as I've ever done."

With a pained and disgusted expression still on his face, Isaac looked up at his mother and tried to return the pickle to her, but she was too busy cackling. His brows were pinched up as he slowly turned to hand it to Arthur.

"I don't want it, bud," he wheezed a chuckle with his hand up and a shake of his head.

"Blech!" Isaac wagged his head.

"No, don't throw it on the floor!" Eliza laughed, catching the pickle as he began to flick his little wrist back to toss it away to the abyss. "Mama'll eat it!"

"Yucky," he mumbled. "Poopy yucky."

A boisterous laugh rumbled up through her nose, and she covered her mouth. "Ah! Mama's favorite food is poopy yucky?"

Arthur watched Isaac nod. "Our son just told you what you fed him is shit…" he drawled with incredulous smirk and an amused nod. "I have to agree. Keep it away from us." He noticed Isaac rolling his tongue against the roof of his mouth in efforts to rid himself of the flavor. Arthur lifted a glass of milk that he'd had ready to go with the pie to his little lips. "Here, have some a' this, babe," he mumbled under his breath as Isaac placed a hand on either side of the glass and began to gulp it down. When he'd had enough, Arthur set it back down and took a sip from his coffee.

"I have a whole jar of 'em right here!" she smiled sweetly, lifting it.

"Oh, no!" Isaac wagged his head again. "Poopy yucky."

A truncated little chuckle got stuck in Arthur's nose, and he abruptly set his mug down to avoid spewing. "Don't make him say it again," he laughed. "Bring out the damn pie!"

"Well, come help me get it out of the skillet," she said, getting up.

His brows came together as he stood and went to the counter with her. "How big is it?"

They carefully pried it from the cast-iron skillet and set it on a big plate. Eliza lifted it in the air and began singing as she brought it to the table, and Arthur joined her in song. Isaac smiled big, clapping and bouncing in his chair as he tried to mumble along.

"For he's a jolly good fellooow…which nobody can deny!" they finished as Eliza set it on the table and plopped into the chair with a grin.

"It's true, nobody!" she smiled, looking at Isaac and setting her elbow on the tabletop and her cheek on the heel of her hand.

"Happy birthday, Isaac," Arthur leaned forward and brought his hand around to the back of his head, kissing his temple.

As they sat, several seconds went by as Isaac looked at the pie with a blank expression in his doe eyes and looked back at them in silence.

Eliza sat up. "All right, I know the pickle thing was bad," she waved her hand, "but…you don't…like it?"

Arthur noted the slight concern in her eyes. "Well, just…hold on, now," he mumbled, reaching for the pie. "Let's get a look inside. What's inside here, bud?" He tapped the top of the pie until the crust broke, and the warm, rich blackberry filling came oozing out onto the plate.

Isaac's pupils dilated, and his mouth popped into a big smile as he gasped and clenched his fists. "A-bocca… A-bocca… A-bocca-beeee!" he shouted, trailing off with a throaty cackle as he trembled violently as if in the midst of a freezing snowstorm.

"Oh my god, look at him!" Eliza smiled.

"He's so excited," Arthur chuckled.

Eliza pushed the plate towards him.

"Well, get in there, bud!" Arthur said.

Isaac stuck his hands in and squeezed his fists before bringing them right to his mouth to devour it, mumbling loud satisfaction. He looked up at his mother, giggling and squeaking incessantly. "Mama." He lifted a fistful of pie filling to her.

"You want mama to eat some?" she smiled.

He nodded with a grin, watching her pinch a piece of crust and eat it. He turned to Arthur and pointed, his pudgy little finger and thumb still covered in bunches of squished berries. "Yoo."

Arthur sat back and lifted his brows. "Well, I ain't messin' around, if this thing's as good as I think it is." He dipped his fingers in, scooped up a bunch of the filling, and took a bite, causing Isaac to throw his head back and laugh.

Isaac again lifted his finger to Arthur and looked at his mother.

"Like that? You want mama to eat it like that?" she said.

He nodded with a smile. "Yeah," he giggled.

She sighed and smirked. "It really must be your birthday, baby boy." She scooped up a bunch of the pie as Arthur continued to munch from his hand.

Arthur watched as she ate it and smirked when some of the gooey blackberries dripped onto her chin and down to her chest. "Don't worry, I'll get the mess off mama later."

"Hm?" She looked down and smiled, beginning to wipe them away.

"Naw, leave 'em there!"

"Arthur, no!" she laughed.

He got up, came around the table to her, and wrapped an arm around her waist, bringing her closer. "Leave 'em there, I said…" he grumbled low with a wry smirk, kissing her neck and listening to her laugh as he inched his lips down to pick the blackberries off her skin. As he did, he reached down and grabbed some of the filling, bringing it up and smearing it across what was visible of her chest.

She took in a big gasp through a widening and incredulous smile. "You are in rare form!"

They looked down at the sound of Isaac's giggle and laughed when they saw him excitedly and haphazardly smearing blackberry filling across his own chest and belly, his nose and cheeks covered in it too.

As Eliza grabbed a dampened washcloth to wipe her chest, she glanced up at Arthur's face as he gazed down at Isaac with a grin. She scooped up some pie and quickly plastered it across his face and chin. "Oh-ho-hooo!" she laughed as Isaac cackled and screamed.

Smirking, he shook his head. "You got the drop on me, Eliza. It's hard to do." He began wiping it off and licking his fingers. Glancing down at the few bits of pie left on the plate and seeing Isaac licking his palms, he asked, "What else does he like?"

"Well, let's see…" she looked up. "Baths," she touched her fingers together, "running away from me naked before and after a bath," she laughed. "Oh, he loves drawing with the colors I make him."

"What you mean?" he asked as he cleaned the last of the pie smudged on him.

"I have a roll of parcel paper, and I made these color crayons for him to draw with, out of leftover candle wax and dye or things from outside. See, look." She turned and pulled an old salmon can and a jar of the already-made crayons down from the cupboard. "After I mix the color in the wax, I pour it in a clean one of these, wait for it to cool, pop it out, and cut 'em in long strips for him." She grinned at his subtly flabbergasted expression as he took the jar of crayons in his hand. "Come on, wipe him down, and we'll show you."

She took the jar of crayons and a roll of brown parcel paper from the corner and met them on the floor of the sitting room, where she rolled out the paper and set the open jar down. As she sat with her calves to the side, Isaac got on his hands and knees and immediately dove his little arm into the jar to pull out a yellow crayon. Eliza dumped the rest of the crayons onto the paper and took one up herself.

Arthur watched closely as Isaac scribbled. He would periodically switch from being on his hands and knees to sitting back on his calves or on his bottom. Keeping his chin level with the floor, he would drape his eyelids low and look down at the paper through slivers above his freckled button nose and plump little cheeks and lips. He glanced up at Arthur, picked up another crayon, and handed it to him, immediately going back to scribbling. Arthur smiled, looking down at the purple color. "What do you use for dye?"

"Oh, different things," she said. "Beets, spices, flower petals… The one color I haven't been able to come up with is blue."

"My favorite," he said as he began sketching a pastoral scene.

"Really?" she smiled. "Mine too."

"Which shade?"

"Oh… Like the sky."

He smirked. "But there're plenty a' different blues in the sky. Day and night, dusk and dawn…

Eliza looked up at him and watched him continue to sketch.

"My favorite blue is when the sun is just beginnin' to set," he said, "and it's that place right above the horizon. Right between day and night. Between what you knew, and…what's new. Sorta bright, but somehow sorta quiet. I dunno if I'm makin' any sense…"

Her grin brightened, and she tried to look back down at the paper before her, scribbling a picture along with the two of them. "You're a poet, Arthur."

He glanced up at her and snorted a scoff. "What a piss-poor example of one. Can hardly string a proper sentence together."

"Exactly," she smiled. "From what poetry I've managed to get my hands on, it seems it's more about the feelin' than anything." She watched him look away and go back to drawing, and she knew him well enough to know it was a rare instance of his shyness peeking through. "I told you 'the sky,' and that wasn't good enough for you. You just spoke to me of the different shades of blue in the sky, 'cause unlike most folk, you actually notice 'em." She waited for him to glance back up at her. "You're a poet." She grinned as she watched him finish his sketch. "At least at heart, you are."

He smirked and looked down at the purple crayon in his fingers. "These are genius, Liza. Wonder if I could take a couple of 'em on the road with m—" Just like that, it snapped between his fingers.

"Oh…" she smirked, "they can be pretty brittle. I don't think they'd travel very well."

At that moment Isaac stood and, still crouching, walked over the paper between them, dragging his crayon across it all the while, covering his father's drawing in a jagged scribble.

"Isaac…" she grumbled.

"It's all right," Arthur chuckled.

She grinned. "Well, let's see all our drawings. Lemme see yours…" She cocked her head to look at Arthur's, which was flipped upside-down from her, facing the opposite edge of the paper. It was a calm scene of a peaceful meadow at the foggy foot of a mountain range with a buck lazily grazing in the distance. "You had that stored up in that head of yours? Goodness, wish I'd seen that with you." She looked at it more closely, noting the details of little prairie wildflowers dotted here and there in the long grass. "How did you… In a few minutes and with just a few crayons… It's beautiful," she looked up into his face with a smile. "Of course it is."

"Look. Isaac claimed it as his own," he smirked wryly as he looked down to see Isaac on his knees beside him, scribbling with red crayon near his father's flattened hand and over part of his drawing. They looked over the paper to see his little scribbles everywhere. "Now this is all his artwork. Little mastermind." He chuckled and scrubbed the top of his head. "Let's see yours," he cocked his head to look at Eliza's.

"Oh…no, mine's horrible," she mumbled meekly.

"Well, let's see it!" he said in a high pitch. He took her hand away to see a few squat scribbles of some kind of animals. He slowly grinned. "It's…imaginative."

"Ah! It's no better than the baby's! Worse even! Look at my horse; it looks like a pig!" she laughed.

"A horse?" he spoke flatly and rubbed his neck. "Is that what it is?"

"Oh…!" she put her hands atop her head.

He chuckled. "So you're a lousy artist. You had to have some kinda weakness," he mumbled as he went back to drawing.

"What does that mean?" she eyed him.

"Well, you're a wonderful mother, incredible singer, terrific cook, lucky as sin at cards… Kind, patient, and lovely to boot. So you can't sketch worth a damn," he shrugged. "Was bound to be one weakness you had." He tried to keep from grinning when he heard her scoff. "Well, that and…" he glanced up, "booze."

Her eyes shot wide, and she gasped and guffawed. "Arthur!" she nudged him in the arm and tisked her tongue as he laughed, letting himself be moved back with the push of her hand.

When his chuckle faded, he asked, "Okay, what else does he like?"

She pursed her lips to the side and finally grinned. "He loves animals. You know that."

He nodded and gave a meek little shrug. "I could catch a rabbit…" He watched her grin spread and widen.

Later that afternoon the three of them were outside standing behind a tree, Arthur holding twine that was slung over a branch and focusing on the thatched basket it was attached to, keeping one side up in the air. They'd waited long enough, and finally a little rabbit was nearby, wiggling its nose for the scent of the bait Arthur had left under the basket. When Isaac saw it, he gasped in his mother's arms, and she gently shushed him. Arthur's lip tensed in anticipation as he held the twine tight to keep the basket still. When it finally ventured all the way beneath the basket, Arthur let it drop at just the right moment.

"Ha!" he shouted.

"Ha!" Isaac mimicked, hurriedly clapping his hands with a big grin, in a long-awaited release of pent-up excitement.

His parents laughed, and Eliza planted a kiss on Isaac's cheek as Arthur walked over to the basket, sat criss-cross, and scooped the rabbit out from under it and into his lap, looking up at them expectantly.

Isaac slipped down through his mother's hands and slowly walked over, keeping his eyes on the rabbit.

Eliza came and sat across from Arthur. "Do you hunt these?"

"Naw," he threw his head to the side a bit. "Mainly jackrabbits. This is only a little ol' cottontail. Wouldn't be much meat on 'im anyway."

Isaac squatted, and his eyes were glued to the rabbit as Arthur gently pet its head and back with one hand and stroked under its chin and neck with the other. But Isaac wouldn't come any closer.

"Come on, baby, go pet the bunny." Eliza watched him finally plop back on his bottom in the lush green grass, and she lied on her belly, propping her chin up by the heel of her hand and letting her feet sway up in the breeze as her skirt feel about her knees. She reached out and offered it a lettuce leaf and a couple huckleberries. As it munched them, she stroked the rabbit's back, nuzzling it behind the cheek. "See? Just a lil bunny. He likes it."

"Bun?" Isaac pointed at it and looked at his mother.

"Yup, bunny," she smiled and looked up at Arthur. "He's never seen one right up close. They always skitter away. Definitely never touched one before.

"Bungy?" Isaac said.

"Mm-hmm. He's real soft. Wanna try?"

Isaac quickly folded his hands in his lap and pursed his lips.

"He's more scared a' you, Isaac," Arthur grinned.

Eliza brought her hand down to stroke the rabbit's tiny chest. "Ohh, his little heart's beatin' so fast," she looked up at him. She turned and whispered to Isaac, "Come on, you don't wanna miss out; he's so soft! Here, gimme your hand." She took Isaac's hand and gently rested it atop the rabbit's back.

Isaac slowly smiled. "Ah!" He brought his pudgy little fingers up to his own cheeks and quickly brought them both back to the rabbit's back.

"Gentle, baby," Eliza said. "Look at your d—" she swallowed, avoiding meeting Arthur's eyes. "Look at Arthur's hands. See that? Gotta be gentle."

Isaac brought his face in front of the rabbit's and wiggled his own nose, to which his parents quietly chuckled.

Arthur watched Isaac lie on his belly in the grass beside her as the sun illuminated the grass blades and a dragonfly flew low between them before flitting away.

"John the Rabbit, yes sir, got a mighty habit, yes sir," Eliza began to sing softly, "of hoppin' in my garden, yes sir, eatin' up my cabbage, yes sir, my sweet potatoes, yes sir, my fresh tomatoes, yes sir. And if I live, yes sir, to see next fall, yes sir, I ain't gonna have, yes sir, no garden at all." She brought her cheek close to Isaac's and sang low, "Noooo siiiiiir," before kissing him on his soft round cheek and messing his hair.

"Mama…" he smiled brightly and closed his eyes. When he opened them, he looked up at Arthur and pointed to his mother. "Yoo, yoo!"

"What? You want me to kiss her?" Arthur said.

"Yoo! Yoo, yooo!"

Arthur looked at her and leaned forward. "Well, if the little prince demands it…" He placed a few soft kisses on her lips as she mumbled a little giggle.

A squeal of delight escaped Isaac at the sight before he paused and took in a soft little gasp. "Mama," he called. They both turned to see he was looking at the rabbit and pointing. "Bungy seepee."

"Yup, the bunny's sleeping."

"Is he?" Arthur looked down, his fingertips still deep in its fur.

"Mm-hm," she nodded with a smile. "You put him to sleep."

"Well, look at that."

Still pointing at the rabbit, Isaac looked up at his mother. "Icka up."

"No, we're not gonna wake him up. Well, I guess we sort of are. Bunny's gotta go back home. And you gotta get ready for bed," she ran her nose back and forth across his.

After Arthur released the cottontail and they went inside and had supper, Eliza gave Isaac a bath, and Arthur put him in his diaper. She watched as Arthur held him and again whispered sweet-nothings to him, gently rubbing his hand across his bare back in circles as Isaac yawned.

Eliza went to her room and readied herself for bed. Several minutes later, she returned to Isaac's room to find Arthur lying back on the end of the bed with Isaac atop his chest and his face turned away from her, the both of them fast asleep. She was struck silent in her tracks as she noticed several little things about the scene: Arthur's hand resting gently on Isaac's back, Isaac's dimpled arms dangling in sweet slumber over either side of him, the incredible comparison of the sizes of father and son. She was lucky enough to catch the briefest moment of stirring as Isaac rubbed his nose into the soft flannel fabric of his father's checkered shirt before resting his cheek again on his chest. It was the opposite cheek this time, so she could see both their faces now; and Isaac's cheek was bunched up and squished against his father's broad, warm chest.

She smiled to herself and decided she was just fine sleeping alone tonight. As she turned to go to bed though, she was caught off guard by the painful lump that rose suddenly in her throat and forced her to turn back.

It was the sight of them. How dear they were, how easily they fit together—at peace and at home in each other's company. She thought back over the day—all the little ways Isaac trusted, and all the little ways Arthur cared. In this moment, she tried to take in as much of it as she could—the feather weight of a tiny trusting two-year-old nestled atop the chest of a deeply caring father. No safer place for either of them.

She swallowed and finally returned to her bedroom, sat on the edge of the bed, and took a deep breath as she was soaked with the weight of it: everything she wanted was sleeping soundly in that room; everything she loved with all her heart.

What she'd thought would be a night alone was cut short when Arthur silently walked into the room. She brought her head up and looked at him, swallowing quickly.

Arthur steadily watched her in the dim light of the dark room. With nothing but the moonlight shining on the back of her head, it was difficult to see her face until his eyes adjusted; but he could see that she'd removed his braid and was sitting completely still on the edge of the bed with her hands resting on either side of her, the outline of the moonlight highlighting her flaxen waves and turning her into a somber sort of little hill. There was no way to know how long she'd been sitting there, but he could almost feel that she was weighed down with something. He simply knew her to be easily piled with heavy thoughts after the sun went down, just as he was prone to be on long rides through the woods and over barren plains. And he knew her tone not to match what she was feeling when she finally opened her mouth.

"I didn't expect you to make it in here tonight," Eliza tried to make the timber of her voice sound light and carefree.

"Oh, we both started stirrin', so I set him in his crib," he said quietly.

She nodded smoothly.

He slowly came and sat beside her on the edge of the bed.

Eliza brought her hand up to his where it rested atop his thigh and studied it. Big hands, with jagged scars and course dark hair. She turned it over and studied his palm. Long, thick, sturdy fingers with rough callouses. But she knew them to protect. She finally slipped her hand into his palm and noticed the comparison in size and color of their hands and fingers. He made hers look slender and delicate, though she didn't feel that way herself. It reminded her not to forget just how big and strong this man was. Reminded her not to forget that he knew the power of intimidation he had over people. Reminded her not to forget that every time without fail, he voluntarily put that away around Isaac and herself. Like a kindly giant. She felt a small smile begin on her mouth at the thought, how silly and childish the words and image were in her mind.

But it was true. To see him around them, one might think he was totally unaware of all the sheer might and physical power he could wield. He simply had no desire. He was gentle and caring with Isaac. And with her… Well, when they made love, he was tender and thoughtful. At least he was recently. She used to really be worried that she was allowing herself to be used by him. But these days he really talked to her, and it lent her hope that he felt something for her.

She turned her hand in his so the back of hers was against his palm. "Two years," she whispered. "Can you believe it?"

He whispered a little scoff with a wag of his head. "Don't seem possible."

"Feels at this rate, he might walk off to get married tomorrow if I blink too many times."

"Oh, Jesus. God…" he brought his other hand to the top of his head and let it slide down over his temple. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves."

She grinned and ran her fingers down into the little pocket his palm made. "You remember when his entire bottom fit right here?" Her smile broadened when she felt him nod beside her. "It wasn't plump and round like it is now. It was actually kinda pointy and wrinkly."

"'Magine it was still inflatin' from bein' folded up so tight." Arthur chuckled and listened to her let out a chuff of air through her teeth. He felt her lightly tap her fingers in his palm and watched her blink softly. He knew she was letting her mind mosey down the path of memories that fluttered before her eyes—some different, some overlapping his own, he was sure. "Remember that high-pitched squeal of a cry he could whip out? Nothin' like it. Haven't heard it in ages. Funny thing is, I remember not bein' able to figure out why I kinda liked it. And even now, I sorta miss it."

"It's because you loved him from the very first moment you laid eyes on him. I saw it."

He watched her turn to him, and he softly grinned.

She turned back to look at their hands. "Everybody only ever saw me as nothin' more than a baby with a baby," she said quietly. "But you never treated me that way."

He opened his hand up more for her and slowly looked up from their hands to her face as she continued.

"Maybe I try to hold him too much these days. He's always wantin' down now, and walkin' around on his own. Studyin' the world around him."

"Nah, you gotta hold him sometimes. While you can. Like you said."

"I kiss those cheeks a hundred times a day, maybe a thousand. And it's still not enough," she smiled to herself. "I know it's silly, but it feels like he's gettin' so tall."

"He is," he nodded.

"Isn't he?!" she looked at him.

"At least compared to what we knew 'im as," he laughed and slightly shook his head with a smooth shrug of one shoulder.

"I can hardly stand it!" she looked down at his grin before looking back down at their hands. They sat in the quiet for a few minutes, and she felt the lump return to her throat. "Lots of people wish for children, and they never ever get them, Arthur."

"I know." He took a deep breath. "I want him to be safe and happy. Don't want him to ever know any pain or sorrow."

At the low tone of his voice, she kept herself from glancing up beside her. "He trusts you implicitly. Without a second thought. Without even a first thought," she chuckled with the last phrase.

"You do too."

She nodded as she traced the many creases of his palm and took a silent breath. "I see you with him, and I just…" Her brows drew up, and she gave her head a gentle shake. "There's so much I wanna say to you, Arthur. But when I finally get you in front of me, I can't seem to…" she forced herself to swallow, "say it."

"I feel the same way."

"Really?" she finally looked up at him and noticed his almost imperceptible nod.

"You usually get around to sayin' it, though," he softly smirked.

She managed to match his smirk. "I say too much; you don't say enough." She watched his grin widen at the remark in a shy and painful way.

"I know." His eyes now adjusted, Arthur watched the moonlight bounce on the wet of her eyes as she looked back down with a smile; and he took a breath, finally deciding to say something. "Would you do somethin' for me?"

She looked back up at him. "Hm?"

"Would you think of yourself now and then?" He watched her eyes dart away. "I mean it. I know it's a big job you've got with the way things are, and I don't know all it is mothers go through. But I mean it. Show yourself kindness."

"I can't."

"Why not?" He heard his tight tone come out more irritated than he'd thought he felt, and he tried to settle down.

"Because, I… You don't understand; I can't."

"Eliza—"

"Because the way I do that is by being around Isaac and you."

He watched her shut her eyes tight, and his jaw went rigid.

"You understand now?" she opened her eyes again. She hung her head and said quietly, "I know you want me to be wise, Arthur, but I just can't. I can't be. My heart is only half, and when you come home to us, it's whole."

Still facing her, he swallowed hard and slow, closing his eyes as he let his pulse level out. He opened them again and took a quiet breath. "I wish you wouldn't say things like that to me."

Eliza looked up at him. "Because of the situation we're in, or because you can't stand to be loved?" She was sure she'd said it gently and without a cutting tone, but with the words alone, it hadn't mattered; no sooner had they left her mouth than his head snapped forward, and he nodded. There I go, saying too much again, she thought.

Though his throat was tight and pained, Arthur actually felt a smile want to creep onto his mouth. She could always be relied upon to say things just exactly as she felt them. "Both, I guess."

He felt her draw one knee up onto the bed and turn her body to face him, but it wasn't without lots of fidgeting and agitated, sniffled sounds coming from her throat. He turned to see her face crumpled and tears welling in her eyes as she struggled to look up at him.

"Hey…" he whispered, "don't take what I said to heart. You go on and say what you need to say; don't let me stop you." He brought his far hand up and gently took her jaw in his thumb and forefinger. "What is it you need to say to me, honey? Hm?"

She sniffed as her chin trembled. "Remember me," she whispered. "Don't forget me, Arthur."

He felt his brow tense as he took in her face and shook his head, trying to understand. "I told you, I won't ever forget about y—"

"No, I don't mean about me." She looked down as she brought her other hand to the back of his, so she was holding it in both hands. "I'm no fool; I know my place, and I know I don't mean much in the grand scheme a' things. If all this is about anybody, it's Isaac," she nodded and swallowed. "When I really think about it, what I want more than anything, Arthur, what I want even more than your love, is for you to be safe." She slowly shook her head and tried to look up at him, but quickly looked back down. "I think about you all the time, out there… Bleedin' out somewhere, all alone," she sniffed again, her voice strained with the last few words.

He swallowed and realized it was another way he was hurting her, causing her such worry.

"So if I can't have that—your safety—I'll take makin' sure you don't feel alone. That you know you're loved. So when I say, 'Don't forget me,' I mean, I want you to remember both of us." She curled her fingers between his and finally looked him in the eyes, hers glistening in the pale blue moonlight. "I want you to remember that you are a man who has been truly loved."

Her eyes didn't let his budge, and several seconds passed before he finally nodded. "I won't," he managed, his voice leaving him a little louder than her tone had been. "I won't forget you."

Her face crumpled, and she rested her forehead against his temple. "You say that now, but I've made it so easy for you…"

"No. No," he said, his tone having returned to a whisper as he shook his head. "Just the opposite." He closed his eyes and felt her breath against his cheek as she brought one arm across the slope of his shoulders, bringing her other hand up and tracing the line of his jaw.

She drew close and kissed him on the corner of the mouth, beckoning him to turn just and inch. When he did, she placed a couple simple kisses on his lips as she brought her hand down and traced the top of his exposed collarbone. She let her fingertips glide down to the buttons of his shirt, and when she opened a few, she slid her hand past the fabric.

She looked up at him with a soft grin. "No long-johns."

He looked into her round eyes, her eyelashes still a little wet, and smiled.

She looked away shyly, and a little chuckle arose from her throat—with the leftover sniffling, it almost sounded more like a scoff. She turned back and looked into his eyes again. "I know you're trying to look out for me, and…what's more, I'm certain even now that I still ain't terribly good at…this," she whispered. "I always want you to know, Arthur: we don't ever have to do this, if you don't…want…" She leveled her eyes and stuttered a bit, finding she couldn't finish the words.

He looked over face and back up into her eyes. He leaned forward and took her mouth in his, kissing her deep and full. He pulled away only to finish unbuttoning his shirt; but her mouth was on his again as he unbuckled his belt and removed his jeans.

She straddled his thighs and pulled her nightgown up over her head, leaving them naked to each other.

Arthur spent a few extra moments taking in the sight of her skin—the dip between her collarbones, her chest, her breasts and abdomen—all of it completely smooth, save for a few beauty marks sprinkled across her neck and chest. He found it just as soft and warm as it looked when he lifted a hand to her neck and brought her mouth down to meet his again.

Eliza slowly slid down onto his lap, and when she was finally settled there, she couldn't keep from closing her eyes, letting her head loll back, and releasing a low, quivered groan at the blunt abruptness of their union—familiar, but somehow new every time. She opened her eyes when she felt his big hand rubbing soft circles across her back, the same way she'd seen him do to Isaac to soothe and comfort him.

Smiling though her vision blurred just a bit, she brought her head forward again and held his gaze as she lifted a hand to either side of his neck. "I love you, Arthur Morgan."

.

Dearest Readers,

I hope this isn't boring you yet! I have just a few more chapters in mind before finishing this work and going right into the third and [probably] final work in this series, which I sincerely hope will not disappoint.

These are the first fan fics I've ever published, and I can't say enough how thankful I am to all of you who choose to keep reading, and for letting me know your thoughts. It means the world, and it truly is so sweet and encouraging. You are each SO special. Thank you!

- Rosie