Early the next morning Arthur sat alone on a log by the gang campfire, holding his mug of coffee in his lap.
From a little ways off, John stood watching as Arthur gazed down at nothing, his soft smile slowly brightening until he chuckled to himself. Then in the matter of a moment his smile melted into a frown even more tense and sorrowful than that of his usual sober expression.
"You…all right there…Arthur?" he asked.
A little caught off guard, Arthur looked up, then glanced away, trying to play it off. "Just fine."
He tossed the dregs of his coffee, now long cold, into the grass as he quickly stood and walked off. And before he realized it, his feet had taken him to find Hosea. But he was grateful it was him, and no one else.
"How are ya this mornin', Arthur?" came the words in his familiar, nasally voice.
"I'm—" he found himself about to lie. He shook his head and stepped closer. "I need to talk to you."
His expression shifted a bit. "All right. What about?"
"I been…" He cleared his throat, thankful there was no one around to overhear them. But he still went into a quieter tone. "I been havin' these dreams."
"Sorry, what was that? Dreams?"
Arthur winced a bit as he looked up at him and nodded. "Dreamin' about 'em."
"Them? Them who?" When their eyes connected, a sober realization filled his expression. "Ah. I see."
Arthur swallowed. "I went a few years without anything like this, and then—bam. Every single night now. Every time I close my eyes. I see 'em. And they're so…real. It ain't foggy or blurry at all. It's like I'm there. But I ain't. It's…torture."
"Eh… Who said it was such a bad thing?"
"I live in the real world, Hosea," he bitterly wagged his head. "They're gone. Long gone." He looked down and rubbed his neck. "It's a strange way of havin' 'em haunt me. Startin' to think there's somethin' wrong with me. But I can hardly keep from closin' my eyes." He sighed. "Guess I deserve it."
Hosea grimaced as he looked at him. "Arthur…" he sighed, his tone growing deep and quiet. "I know you don't like to admit it out loud. Probably don't even like to think it, because it hurts ya. It hurt then, 'cause you thought you couldn't be with 'em. And it hurts now, 'cause you can't ever be again. But that woman and child… They were your family."
Hosea watched Arthur's eyes close as his brows drew up tight at the words. And he continued, "Sure, we're your family too, in a way. But they were your blood. Blood, and…blood of the heart. There's nothin' sweeter. You forget, I saw how you missed 'em when you were here. How you loved 'em. And I know you, Arthur. You like to talk big and tough, 'specially when you think it'll keep folk at a distance. But you can't help but be gentle with those you love."
Arthur swallowed. "It twisted her up inside. That I was a lamb by the hand, and I could be a wolf by the mouth sometimes. Confused her, poor thing." He tisked his tongue and let his head sag back a moment, his brows drawn painfully together at the thought. "And she never knew, Hosea. She never knew before she died. God."
Hosea's brows rose a bit at that remark, because it was the closest to an admission of love that he'd ever gotten out of him. And if that wasn't enough, the shattered expression on his face was. Even without words.
Arthur finally glanced up at him. "I miss her. Miss both of 'em."
Hosea shook his head in remorse. "You did what you thought was best by 'em at the time, and they were ripped from you. In the most cruel and brutal fashion. And Arthur, there's nobody I know who deserves that less. No—don't argue. I suppose I…" Hosea continued, nodding as he looked at his downcast face, "suppose I shoulda pressed ya harder at the time. To get out, and choose them over us. And I know that you even…had another by her, that she lost…right?"
He nodded sullenly.
Hosea shook his head in remorse. "Your life's been fraught with pain. It's no wonder you can be so sad and angry sometimes." He watched his jaw tense as he looked away. "Say, why wrestle with it—huh?"
He looked back at him warily. "What you mean?"
"Well, like you said, you can hardly keep from sleepin'. So why fight it?"
Arthur's eyes drifted down as he contemplated what he was getting at.
"Maybe…" he started to shrug, "if it'll help you get past 'em—"
And his eyes shot back up to him. "I don't wanna get past 'em." Tilting his jaw to the side and shaking his head, he abruptly walked off while Hosea was left sighing.
And that night as he sat on his cot, Arthur opened his journal. As he flipped backwards, his hand began to tremble, knowing he was getting closer to their pages. And he finally shut the book with a sigh, stuffing it back into his satchel and lying down to sleep.
But sleep provided no escape.
She came into view, the sunlight dancing across her golden wisps of wavy hair, pinned up into a tousled bun as she strolled down the boardwalk of some bustling town. And there was Isaac on her hip—same golden hair, same freckles, same smile as his mother.
"Plants!" an old female vendor at a booth nearby could be heard barking. "Plants from the far, exotic reaches of the Amazon! Plants with every health benefit you could wish for!"
Arthur watched her begin to curiously walk up to the booth, though his younger self strolled right past it. They must've been on another of their now-and-then trips to the slightly bigger town for supplies.
As Eliza stepped up to the booth, the vendor held out a peculiar potted plant with leaves that had crinkled purple edges. "Sure to enhance fertility with only a touch!" the vendor said just as Eliza was reaching for a leaf.
"No—thank you," her husband said in a light tone as he popped between them in the nick of time, taking the pot and setting it back down on the booth. "My wife's plenty fertile just the way she is, thank you very much." He took Eliza's hand and began to turn.
"With just the one…?" the vendor pointed to Isaac.
"And another you can't see yet," he said with a toothy smile.
"Ah," she nodded with a grin.
As they darted off hand-in-hand, Eliza struggled to keep up with him for a few steps, her stray hair fluffing away from her face for a moment. "Well—Arthur!" she huffed a laugh. "How do you know it's me?"
"What you mean?" he paused to look at her.
"I mean, how do you know it's me? Maybe you're the 'fertile' one, Arthur," she said cheekily as she continued to walk past him.
Glancing down, his brows came together for a moment at the thought. Then he quickly ran a couple steps to catch up with her. "Well all right, so it's probably the both of us," he mumbled, garnering a laugh.
When they passed a jeweler's shop, something snagged his eye. As Eliza continued walking down the boardwalk, he paused and peered through his reflection in the window to see a sapphire necklace with a gold chain on display. He grinned to himself before turning to catch up with her again. And with that, Arthur knew he'd saved up for over three years to buy her that thing. And then gave it to her on a normal, average day, for no particular reason.
The three of them continued towards the grocer, Arthur and Eliza walking falling into step side by side. When they passed the train station, a flurry of people came out onto the boardwalk. And just like that, Eliza realized only after it had happened that she'd taken a step alone. She looked up and turned to see Arthur staring wide-eyed at a woman who'd come out of the train station—dark hair tied neatly back into a low bun, dainty brown eyes, and a clean, fine, distinguished dress.
"Mary."
The sound of her name on her own husband's lips was like a thunder clap overhead and sent her face spinning back in his direction. Nothing but the shade in his eyes was recoiling, looking as if he'd been snapped at by a viper.
She looked back at the woman. She seemed normal, sweet, even with kind eyes. She seemed no viper.
She looked back at her husband and saw the look in his eyes—blue-green eyes she knew so well, better than the back of her hand—but it was a foreign look in them. And only when she looked again at the woman did she realize she was looking at him in a similar way. And it all happened so quick—the sinking realization that knowing her name was only the beginning of what he knew.
"What are you doing here?" the two of them said at the exact same time.
"Well, I…" the woman swallowed and glanced down, her face draining of color. "I'm visiting an old friend who moved to this area."
"What the hell is she doin' here?" Arthur said, his jaw jutting to the side as he stared warily from the corners of his eyes at the brewing predicament. "She don't belong in my dreams. I don't want her here. Get her out!" he waved an arm angrily.
"What about you?" the woman asked, glancing to the side and only just then realizing Eliza was standing there with Isaac on her hip.
Stuttering a bit, he replied, "We're makin' our trip for necessities. This is my lovely wife, Eliza," he brought his hand to her back as she took a tiny step forward, "and our son Isaac."
Eliza smiled and bent at her knees, dipping just a little for a curtsy, then looked at Isaac. "Say hi, Isaac."
"Hi," he smiled big. Holding up to fingers he added, "Ine two."
"Two and three-quarters next week, actually," Eliza chuckled. "He likes to tell everybody. And we got another on the way," she looked down and brought a hand to the small bulge of her belly. "I'm just a few months along." But when she looked up again, the woman's face was hazy; her eyes were on them, but her brows were lifted, and her expression was somewhere far away.
"It's—" she cleared her throat. "It's a pleasure to meet you." She slowly looked back at Arthur and addressed only him. "It's been so long."
"Yeah, I…guess so."
As Eliza stood adjacent to them, she looked up at Arthur's eyes, then at hers, and continuously back and forth between them.
And suddenly the woman was taking Arthur gently by the elbow, and the two of them were walking off several feet away. He didn't say, 'Wait here a minute.' He didn't even look back. And she watched as they exchanged words out of her ear shot. Her husband. And a stranger.
"Mama, Mama," Isaac murmured, pointing to a newspaper barker just a couple steps away. "I ca have, peas?"
She walked over and took a coin from the hidden pocket of her waistband, placing it in the newsboy's palm and letting Isaac take the newspaper.
"He likes the pictures," she tried to smile. But before long, her smile had faded, and she was forlornly looking back in the direction of Arthur and the woman.
"No, no, no!" Arthur shouted. "Look, you're leavin' little Eliza out in the cold! It ain't right, now! You get back over there and fix it! Don't you dare ruin the best thing that ever happened to you!" he demanded, pointing back at Eliza as he stomped over to where the pair were chatting. And he was just in time to hear part of what they'd said.
Mary gazed off in Eliza's direction and commented quietly, "Salt of the earth…I see?"
He followed her gaze to see Eliza hurriedly bending to pick up a page of the newspaper that Isaac had dropped with him still held to her hip as his melodious giggle lilted through the air. While she was midway back to a standing position, he began to peel another page away with the clear intention of dropping it, having enjoyed her response a little too much and beginning to make a mischievous game out of it. But she caught sight of him and quickly stopped him before he could.
"Unh-uh, little mister," he could just barely make out her laugh.
He grinned at the sight, and it quickly bloomed into a bright smile. "Yeah," he nodded. "Yeah, that's exactly right."
When Eliza had gathered the newspaper pages and stood up straight, she saw Arthur walking back to her with strong, firm steps and a grin, and the woman was nowhere to be seen.
When he got to her, he immediately brought both hands to each side of her neck under her jaw and planted a big, deep, sloppy kiss on her mouth, not letting her get away for a breath for several moments.
She closed her eyes and brought her free hand to his back as the newspaper crunched between them, tilting her chin up just a little to properly meet him. And when he finally slowly and gently drew away from her lips, she was grateful and relieved for the look she saw in his eyes.
On their way home in the wagon, Isaac sat between them. She looked over him at her husband and finally nervously asked if she could ask.
"'Course you can," he chuckled, keeping his eyes on the rugged path as it jostled him in the seat. "I got no secrets from you, Eliza. She was… Well, we were engaged. Back in the day. Never made it past that."
"Fiancée?" she whispered, her brows pinching up a bit as she looked forward at nothing.
"We were young. Real, real young. A bit younger than you when I first met you. She went off and got married, and…I had the gang."
"You musta been heartbroken."
"Sure," he drawled. He peeked over from the corner of his eyes to see her downcast face as she mulled over this new pain from his past.
"Did—" she almost swallowed back her meek voice. She couldn't understand why she wanted to know so much, especially why this one question was bludgeoning the back of her mind. "Did the two of you…ever…?"
"Nah. She wanted to wait 'til we were married, and…that day never came." He thought a little more about her perspective. "But sweetheart, you know I'd been to see…workin' girls…a couple times before you. Wasn't a saintly monk, by any stretch a' the imagination," he tried to chuckle as he looked over at her.
She nodded.
"Ain't the same as when I'm with you. Ain't even on the same planet."
She looked up, a little grin starting to appear on the corner of her mouth.
"Yeah, you like that," he smiled. "It's way off even farther the moon!" he proclaimed, standing for a moment and waving his arm off the side of the wagon seat. And when he sat down again and looked back at her, she was grinning brighter, trying to hold down a chuckle.
"Hey. You an' me? We're one," he continued. "Celtic souls. Huh?" He watched her nod again as he held the reins. "We made a vow. An oath. Ain't nothin' comin' between us. It's all in the past, darlin'. All of it. Only thing that matters about it, is it brought me to you." He smirked and gave his head a single shake as he looked forward again. "You make me a better person, Eliza. You and Isaac. Ain't no two ways about it."
After it had grown quiet she asked, "What…what'd you say to her?"
"She asked me if I'm happy." He turned to look at her with a small grin and a soft gaze. "Told her I'm happier than I've ever been or ever thought I could be."
As she looked back at him, her smile finally grew the brightest it had been all day.
A little while later Isaac noticed something that peaked his curiosity on the side of the dirt road, and he shouted, "Daddy! Stop!"
Arthur pulled the reins just as Isaac began to stand and look past his mother over the edge, and Eliza brought her hands around him to steady him.
"Doggy, Daddy! Look, doggy!" he pointed.
Arthur stood and looked over the two of them to see a sorry sight. The black, white, and red hound was lethargic and forlorn as he lied alone with his chin in the dirt and his paws near his face. His eyelids were drooping up and down, and a couple patches of his fur were missing right down to the skin.
"We ca take him hooome? Peeaaas?" Isaac asked.
His father grimaced and winced sourly. "Eh…he's sickly, Isaac. Don't know how long he'll even last."
"He need a fwend! He sad! I be his fwend, Daddy! I his fwend!" He nodded back and forth between his mother and father. "We ca take care a' him! An' make him all bettew!"
Eliza clucked her tongue with empathy. "Look at him, honey…"
"Oh, no. Don't do that to me."
"Well, Isaac's not far from wrong! We can do what we can for him. Look, he's all alone…in distress…"
Arthur groaned and wiped his hand over his face before looking back at the dog. "You sure that's the one you want, Isaac—" But when he looked back at the two of them in the seat beside him, they were already looking up at him with big, pleading doe eyes. "Agh, god!" he slapped the heel of his hand between his eyes and scrunched his nose.
He immediately hopped down from his side of the wagon seat. "Bleedin' hearts, the both of 'em," he muttered, though he couldn't avoid a smirk.
He came around and stooped to pick up the dog, but when he moved him, he let out a little yelp of a cry and began to squeak and whimper and whine.
"Ah, sh… He's got a broken hind leg. Most would just put him down."
"Poor thing, I can make him a splint when we get home! I bet he's starving!" Eliza said.
He sighed and proceeded to carefully scoop him up to his chest and take him to the back of the wagon. "Probably infested with fleas…" he murmured.
Isaac intently watched him place him in the wagon bed. "Yay! I name him Bustew," he clapped with a big smile.
"Buster?" Eliza asked.
He nodded quickly.
"That's a perfect name," she smiled.
"And you make him your special soup, Mama? When we get home? So we ca' make him all bettew?"
"Sure, I can make that for him, Isaac," she said as his father got back into his seat and rode on. "But he's gonna need a lot more help. All different kinds. And we'll be sure to give him all the help we can."
She kept waiting for Isaac to turn back around in his seat, but he stayed on his knees, looking back into the wagon bed at the dog.
Arthur watched a slow flash of images as over the next number of months, they brought the dog as close to mended and healthy as they could get him. Fed well, rid of fleas, walking again, with a replenished, shiny coat of fur. He even had a spark in his eyes, though his lethargy seemed to hang on a bit. And he and Isaac became thick as thieves. Wherever one went, the other followed not far behind. Isaac would talk to him, and Buster would cuddle up and kiss him. They were so close that when Isaac turned three, he said he didn't want anything for his birthday. He already had all he wanted with Mama, Papa, and Buster.
When the images stopped playing, he watched his younger self step through the front door, dressed in his vest and hat, to find Eliza sitting at the kitchen table with a plate of food. He sat across from her and handed her a brown paper bag.
"Dropped Isaac and Buster off with Addie. She griped about the dog, but I told her they won't be separated," he chuckled.
Eliza quickly licked her fingers and opened the paper bag, but paused. "No pickles?"
His eyes went wide, and he hung his head. "Knew I forgot somethin'."
"It's all right. I can make some," she smiled, taking out the bottle of hot sauce he'd gone all the way into town to buy for her.
He watched her uncork it and pour it onto her bowl of mashed potatoes, letting it run freely. And when he'd thought for sure that she should've had enough, still she added a bit more. Watching her stir it into the mashed potatoes and take a bite, he grimaced.
She quickly scarfed it down and moved onto a plate covered with biscuits, roast chicken, and green beans. Without missing a beat, she was halfway done before long.
When she noticed him staring at her, she almost whined, "I'm so hungry, baby, I'm so hungry."
He started to smirk. "Me baby, or that baby?" he motioned to her abdomen under the table with a smirk.
"You baby," she smiled bright with a chuckle.
Watching the two of them, Arthur walked around the table to see her big belly. From what he could tell, she must've been somewhere around six or seven months along.
"Well, you're eatin' for two, so makes sense. You eat to your heart's content. Ain't nobody stoppin' ya," his younger self said, letting his hand rest on the table top. "Just the cravin's that got me gawkin'. I know pickles are your favorite thing, but the way you put 'em away these days…" he shook his head. "And the way you pour hot sauce…"
Wiping her hands on her apron, she watched him as he spoke, hardly hearing a word he'd said for a moment. And with a rosy grin, she said warmly as she reached out and touched his hand on the table, "You know…what else…I been cravin'?"
When he saw his fingers interlacing with hers, his eyes popped up to her. "Oh no. No. I've told you already!"
Her shoulders slumped, and she groaned. "Arthur! This is ridiculous! You ain't gonna hurt me or the baby. You ain't! And I'm just burnin' for my husband," she let her head sag back and pouted her bottom lip, blowing her air out of her face as she looked at him.
She reached out for his hand again, her voice growing soft and dreamy. "You know I don't regret Isaac at all. Sometimes I wish though, that…we had a little more time to ourselves. Just you an' me." She looked past him, biting her lip as she began to daydream. "I'd take you out in the wilderness, find a nice little waterfall. Get our clothes off and get you under it, and kiss you all over. All over." She glanced back into his eyes. "'Course, in my imagination, I've got my slim tummy back."
Lifting his eyebrows, he swallowed and blinked as she brought him back out of the daydream.
"Well, you'll just have to give me a trimmed-down version of that," she said.
"Damn. Pregnancy really has gotchyou hot-blooded."
"I'm just achin' for you, honey, please?"
"No," he shook his head with a wheeze, "no."
"I thought you said you'd do anything to make me feel good."
"Anything but that."
"Well, you…you make me feel like I got the plague or somethin'!" she flew her arms up and let them drop, beginning to go into a tizzy. "I blew up like a hot air balloon, and sometimes I feel about as appealin' as a gap-toothed beaver," she grumbled. "Meanwhile, you're over there lookin' like a…like a…" she bit her lip as her eyes drifted down over him.
"Careful."
"Like a mythical creature damn near carved from marble and come to life. Anyways—" she shook her head to clear it. "I know I ain't much of a sight right now, but am I that repulsive to you?"
"Eliza," he sighed, "it ain't that. That ain't a problem at all, believe me. I've told you—"
"I thought you were supposed to be studyin' midwifin' stuff, like Addie told you, in preparation! She told me I'm built tough! And I'm tellin' you," she got up and came around the table to sit in his lap, "you can't hurt me or the baby," she said quietly and sweetly.
She kissed his neck over and over and whispered, "Please, baby, please. Nothin' in the world compares to you, and I miss you. It's only right." She inched her way up toward his ear lobe, taking it in her mouth and giving it a little suck before nibbling it and letting him hear her sigh softly. "Look how nice I'm askin', hm?"
"Shyit," he finally muttered, scurrying up out of the chair and leaving her to plop onto the seat by herself. "Enough, all right?" He tried to chuckle, but it left him in a nervous, wheezy way. He cleared his throat and smoothed his voice, trying to sound stern and certain of himself. "Doctor's on his way, probably be here any minute."
She let out a loud, throaty groan and threw her head back in frustration as he walked off. "Oh, come on!"
And when Arthur blinked, he was standing back in the bedroom watching the doctor conduct a routine check on Eliza where she sat on the edge of the bed while his younger self stood nearby. He was timing her pulse, taking her temperature, and making sure everything was normal.
Finally he asked her to lie back on the bed while conducted his last medical test.
"Any overly severe aches and pains to report?" he asked while she removed her drawers and lifted her feet onto the bed. "Heart palpitations? Blood when you relieve yourself?"
"No, nothin' like that," she replied.
"I appreciate you comin' all this way, doc," Arthur said as he held her hand. "She'll have me and the midwife, come delivery. But Eliza had some concerns a while back, got it in her head she could miscarry, and… Well, I just wanna make sure we're doin' everything we can to prevent that."
"Miscarriage can happen from time to time. Usually when something's wrong with the mother's health or she isn't getting proper nutrition," the middle-aged man said quietly. "But I don't see any cause for alarm so far. While it can happen when nothing seems the matter, that's a bit more on the rare side. Now you'll feel a bit of pressure, Mrs. Morgan."
She nodded, and they watched as his hand went under her skirt and up between her thighs.
"Ah!" she suddenly whimpered with a hiss.
"Did I hurt you?" the doctor asked, looking up.
"No, it's… Arthur, dearest, you're gonna break my hand."
Arthur looked down and let go of her hand, though his jaw still flared.
"Sorry to make you uncomfortable, Mr. Morgan."
Arthur lifted his hat and ran his hand through his hair before replacing it. "Nah, I…saw the midwife do somethin' similar when she delivered our first. Now the doc… You'd think by now I'd 'a gotten used to folk puttin' their hands where they don't belong," he mumbled.
She looked up at him from the corner of her eyes with a deep smirk.
After a couple minutes, the doctor declared everything on Eliza seemed as well as could be. Arthur paid him, and she offered him lunch for his travels. And as the three of them sat at the kitchen table, Arthur by her side and the doctor across from them, an all-too-wicked but delicious idea presented itself to her. And she just couldn't resist.
"Doctor," she began sweetly, "in all your study and medical expertise…" she looked down at the table with a sober expression, "is there anything you know of to suggest that a husband and pregnant wife couldn't…" she looked up at the ceiling, "or shouldn't, rather…" she looked him in the eyes with a smile, "enjoy those most…intimate of relations?"
Arthur immediately choked hard on his bite and fought to get air flow. Meanwhile she kept her eyes on the doctor, her smile sugar-sweet and undaunted.
"You didn't," Arthur rasped, looking at her beside him as he pounded his own chest.
"I'm askin' the good doctor to give his expert medical opinion about somethin' that vexes me, a pregnant woman," she said calmly.
"That's right, a pregnant woman! Look—I ain't talkin' about this with another man, all right? Ain't decent," he waved her off, as if trying to make the whole situation go away as he shook his head and took a sip of water.
"He's a doctor!"
"I've made it my life's goal to understand and try to mend the human body," he said, wiping his hand on a napkin. "And I've been married for over thirty years," he smiled simply at Arthur. "You can hardly scandalize me."
Eliza looked at Arthur to her right with big, brazen eyes as she held her palm out before her to make her point. "Please tell him he can't hurt me or the baby," she said as she slowly looked forward at the doctor.
"Ah," he said, looking up at Arthur. "While I appreciate your concern and do admire your commitment to abstain from something you thought might harm your wife and child, Mr. Morgan, there is absolutely nothing to suggest you could do so."
"See!" she exclaimed.
"I mean, barring any discomfort she might feel…" he continued under her voice. "You might have to…get creative…adjust a few things…from your typical romantic interlude, depending on the day, how she feels of course," he nodded his head to the side.
"Aaagh…" Arthur grumbled low and rubbed the back of his neck, already far too uncomfortable.
But the doctor continued, "And being overly rough, while certainly not necessary, probably isn't a good idea."
"See!" he fired back at her.
"No, no," the doctor chuckled, waving a hand. "I didn't mean to say… Lovemaking during pregnancy can actually help to alleviate a lot of aches and pains, improve sleep…help prepare for a better delivery… It can be quite natural considering what her body's going through. And…most importantly, you'll both need to feel as connected as possible to each other right now. I meant to allay your concerns, Mr. Morgan."
"Well, I ain't convinced. She's the one was concerned. And I ain't willin' to risk it. Jesus! As it is, our baby's gonna be a feisty firebrand," he gestured to his wife and let his hand drop.
"Hey. What I am, is a properly married woman, livin' in my own damn house, raisin' our son, growin' a baby, and burnin' to no end for my baby."
The doctor's eyes slid over to Arthur. "And your pecker's been hangin' limp and dry for how long?"
"PFHAH!" came Eliza's immediate and involuntary burst of squeaky laughter, and she quickly covered her wide smile with both hands, while at the same time her husband shook his head and let out a weak, whimpered sigh of air as he lifted his hat, bringing it down to cover his eyes for a moment.
"Oh, good god…" Arthur groaned and rested his hand over his face in severe secondhand embarrassment as he shook his head. "It's just too much. Cut a man down to size, why don't ya?"
As his younger self replaced his hat atop his head, he connected eyes with his wife, her hands still plastered over her mouth. "W-well, we h-haven't…" he began, gesturing to her.
Her brows drew up tight and her shoulders slumped as she removed her hands. "Oh, it's been months and months, doctor," she whined as she looked back at the doctor. "Since before my belly was still small. I don't even think we've made love at all since we found out! And it makes me feel like some disgustin' wretch."
"I told you that ain't it, darlin'!"
She looked down over her husband and said through clenched teeth, "And you're keepin' that fine, tight…scrumptious, delicious body from me. No more!" she slammed her hand flat down on the table with the last words. But looking into his eyes, she immediately fought a bubbling little laugh through her nose.
"Well, don't objectify me at all, now," he fought a smirk.
"Oh…you'll just have to make love to your adoring, pregnant wife. Poor baby," she pouted her bottom lip in mock sympathy.
"Eliza! What has gotten into you, woman?"
"Aw, look, he's embarrassed!" she clucked her tongue with a big smile and glanced in the doctor's direction. "Ain't he so charmin' when he gets like that?"
"Hoohh, god, I can't win," he whined. "You know, this really has gotten outta hand. She ain't usually like this," he looked at the doctor, shaking his head with a nervous chuckle.
"No, no! Don't change the subject!" she said, touching her finger to the table top. "Your wife needs you in a very specific way, and it's time you helped her out. Damn well past time," she nodded matter-of-factly.
He finally paused and sighed as he looked at her. When he spoke, his voice was somewhat quiet and timid. "Well here I was thinkin' it was s'posed to be special," he shrugged one shoulder up just a bit. "You know…mean somethin'."
Her shoulders relaxed again, and she reached out to cover his hand on the table top. "Of course it does, Arthur! And how you think it makes me feel that we've gone so long without it?"
Moving only his eyes, the doctor looked back and forth between them and finally began to stand from his chair. "I think it's time for me to go," he said, picking up his leather tote and donning his bowler. "And if it helps you sleep tonight, Mr. Morgan, you can tell yourself that doctor's orders are for you to comfort your wife. Have lots of sex," he nodded with a smile as he walked around the table.
Arthur got up to see him to the door, and Eliza followed behind, hopping out of her seat and nearly clapping.
"Hey, thank you again, doc, for comin' all this way and for…bein' patient with us," he chuckled as he opened the door for him.
"Yes, thank you, thank you, doctor!" she grinned and waved, biting her lip and rocking onto the balls of her feet.
"My pleasure," he lifted a hand as he walked towards his horse. "Best wishes for a healthy delivery. I look forward to seein' that baby."
When Arthur closed the door and turned, Eliza was standing there looking up at him with a big grin.
"Hmm-hmm-mmm," she mumbled and lifted her brows a couple times, turning gently back and forth at the hip with her hands behind her back. And her own brazen absurdity forced her to hold down a bubbling laugh.
A truncated chuckle caught in his throat at the sight. "Such a dope. Come on," he nearly rolled his eyes with a grin as he took her by the hand and headed for the bedroom.
She immediately responded with an ecstatic, giddy whoop as he tugged her and she hobbled to keep up. "Oo! Could you do that thing where you kiss my neck? Pretty please?" she begged as they crossed the bedroom threshold and he closed the door behind them.
"What, like this?" he said wryly, swinging her gently so her back was up against the wall, matching her smile as he came close and pressed his lips to her neck—softly and rather chastely at first, then letting her feel the warmth of his mouth and listen to the clicks of his tongue against her skin until she was moaning.
"Enough! Enough messin' around, Arthur! No more!" she suddenly erupted and pushed him in the chest a bit.
"What!" he couldn't help but laugh. "You asked for that!"
"Off," she looked down at him, trying to tear his clothes free.
"Off?"
"Off. Right now."
"Well, don't rip at it. Ain't no need for that," he mumbled, slinking his vest and shirt off and quickly fumbling with his belt buckle while she began to unbutton her day dress.
And before Arthur knew it, they were both naked, hardly able to keep their hands and mouths off each other as they rushed for the bed.
Arthur closed his eyes and turned on his heels before he saw anything else. But he couldn't escape the sounds of their lovemaking, her moaning and whining, whimpering and sighing, louder than maybe he'd ever heard her before.
"Ah, shit," he muttered under his breath, clapping his hands over both ears. "You know—havin' to know it should be happenin' to me, but not actually havin' it happen to me, while havin' to listen to it, is gettin' old real quick. Sure, I miss her in every way, and this is definitely one of 'em. But this is some kinda cruel, twisted punishment. Somehow, I…bet it's even better when you're…close and on good terms like that."
But as he said it, she cried out and started to sigh and calm, and he realized thankfully that she must've been pretty worked up already, since it hadn't taken long.
When he turned back around, they were sitting side by side back against the headboard, and his younger self had a hand under her jaw as they softly kissed.
"Baby liked that," she smiled against his lips.
"Oh yeah?"
"Dancin' all around," she nodded, rubbing her belly.
He brought his hand beside hers, and when he looked down at her belly with a smile, they were cheek-to-cheek. "You'd think we woulda rocked her to sleep."
"Her?" she looked up at him. "You really are set on a girl."
"Nah, just…father's intuition," he grinned and kissed her again.
When they finally drew apart, he turned and reached for his cigarettes on the nightstand at his side of the bed. Dipping her head, she watched as he took one from the pack, left it between his lips, lit it, and took a puff.
Hefting her big belly, she got out of bed and waddled to the vanity, the pads of her bare feet softly tapping across the hardwood floor. She went into the drawer and pulled something with a crinkly wax paper wrapper, pulling it out and promptly popping the end of it into her mouth.
Her husband's eyes came together as he tried to figure out what she had, then his eyes grew wide as he realized what it was. "Where'd you get that?"
"Ain't tellin'," she mumbled past it. But she couldn't keep from grinning. "The grocer's, of course!"
"What flavor?"
"Sassafras."
"I want some," he said, mashing his cigarette in the ashtray. "Give it here."
"No-ho-ho!" she laughed, taking the lollipop from her mouth. "You're worse than Isaac. He always says please." And she quickly popped it back into her mouth.
He looked at her flatly.
Taking it from her mouth again, she said, "Promise me you won't keep yourself from me anymore, and I'll give you some."
He tilted his head to the side and grinned. "You don't need to bribe me, sweetheart."
"It's just that…things are changin', Arthur," she rubbed the top of her bare belly.
"I know, we're goin' through a lot," he nodded as she continued quietly. "You definitely are," he chuckled.
"And…a-and I just wanna know that…that we'll always have each other…and be close, and…"
"C'm 'ere," he said with a soft grin, patting the bed beside him. "C'mon."
She waddled back and climbed slowly, with a tad bit of difficulty all the way back into bed.
"I know you're goin' through a lot right now," he said quietly. "One minute you're wantin' to jump my bones, and the next, you're nearly a little puddle a' tears."
Her brows drew tight, and her expression somehow oscillated between a slight smile and a pained frown as she nodded firmly and slowly.
"It's like…ocean waves. Or shifts in the weather. I know you ain't ever seen the ocean. Yet," he grinned softly, enjoying the sight of her grin in return. "It's a lotta change. It's life. But you know you're stuck with me, honey. We'll keep each other on dry land. Hm?" He brought a hand softly to the edge of her jaw and came close. "You gonna be with me when I'm a crotchety, ornery ol' coot?" He smiled when he'd gotten her to burst into a smile.
"You mean yesterday?"
"Ooohhh! You got me," he said low while she laughed. "Mmm, I am a lucky ol' fool, that's right. 'Cause you're the…mother of my children," he whispered between kisses to her soft lips, "Pretty mama… Best mama I've ever known… My sweetheart."
"I love bein' pregnant—you know that, right?" she pulled back a bit to look into his eyes.
"Mm."
"And makin' and raisin' babies with you."
"Mmm…" he grinned against her lips.
"But I ain't…awful annoyin' to you these days?"
"Mnh-mm," he shook his head.
"Too…needy?"
"Well, my woman needs me! Imagine that. About as much as I need her. Sign me up," he lifted his chin with a smirk. But it slowly grew bright in time with her smile. "And you got it all wrong, you know. What you said before. You're still a stunner, got me practically droolin' at the mouth."
"Nooo!" she said low, her brows scrunched together as she pulled away to look at him in disbelief.
"Mm-hm," he grinned down at her. "And I love kissin' you here…" he mumbled against her mouth, "and here…" he pressed his lips to her chin and jaw, making his way down her neck. "Here…" he mumbled. And though she couldn't see it, he started to smirk wryly against her skin as he brought his hand down under her belly between her thighs. "Here."
His smile brightened when a chirpy giggle leapt out of her, and she teasingly pushed him a bit. But he was undaunted and continued kissing her throat.
"That was a pretty good one, huh?" she smiled.
"One a' the…best we've ever had," he chuckled.
"Lucky Isaac wasn't here. He woulda heard us."
"Heard you, at least."
"S-stop it!" she swatted him.
"Weren't much work," he grinned. "You were already worked up to such a lather—"
"A-Arthur," she laughed, and when he sat up to look at her, she offered the lollipop, holding it out to his face.
And without a word, he took it in his mouth as she let go.
"Don't crunch it," she said.
"Hm?" he gave her a quizzical look.
"You always crunch a part of it off!"
"Well it's candy, ain't it? S'posed to be eaten!"
Pursing her lips, she fought a grin and shook her head.
But he rolled it around, and after a few seconds took it from his mouth and held it back out to her.
She took it and popped it back in her mouth. But before long, she'd removed it again. "Want another go?" she asked with twinkling eyes.
He smiled brightly and came close, kissing her as they reclined back onto the bed together.
Without looking, she hurriedly reached for the nightstand, feeling around for the top and setting the lollipop there.
"Put it back in the wrapper, you'll get the table all sticky," he said.
"Who cares?" she said in a strained whisper, garnering a wheezy laugh.
And the scene melted and blended into something else, until Arthur was watching his younger self come through the front door one day after a long afternoon working hard and tending to the land.
He immediately plopped onto the sofa and slumped deep into the seat with a sigh.
"Hi, Daddy," Isaac said from his place on the bear rug near the hearth with the dog.
"Hey there, son," he smiled at him. And he closed his eyes and listened to the sounds of Isaac playing with the train set he'd gotten him.
"Tickets. We gotta make sure all the people have tickets, Buster. Otay? Or they can't come on the choo-choo. And, um…and we're gonna take 'em from Misty Willow…to Strawberry…all the way to Saint Denis. But you gotta make sure they all got their tickets. Otay?"
But when he felt someone removing his boots, he opened his eyes and looked down to see Eliza on her knees before him. He immediately opened his mouth to protest, but his voice caught in his throat when the feel of release from his boots coming off was just too heavenly. He took exception though, when he saw her with the shoe brush, boot polish, and cloth, and realized she had a mind to bring a shine to them then and there.
"Naw, naw, get up off the floor, darlin'. Up off your knees. C'mon."
She looked up at him. "I don't mean to demean myself, Arthur. I know you like your boots kept. I'm just trying to show you love."
He watched in somewhat of an awestruck and deeply touched state as she quickly brushed the dirt and grime away from each boot and rubbed the polish into the leather until they gleamed almost like new. And wiping her hands on the apron draped over her big belly, she shifted to his feet, rubbing her thumbs into his arches.
"Keepin' you on dry land," she smiled softly up at him when he couldn't help but release a little moan. "Help me back up when I'm done, and we'll call it square."
He smiled. "Deal."
.
Dear Readers,
My sincere apologies if this chapter is uncomfortable/embarrassing to read or if it seems in poor taste. My explanation for *that* scene is just that it's a slice of married life and cute&funny (imho) pregnancy hormones, for which Arthur was indeed a very good sport. And just that they were both taking extra steps to make sure the other felt well-cared-for through uncertainty & life changes.
I also want to say thank you to 'gracie' and the couple anonymous guest readers who've recently left reviews. I see you, and I really do enormously appreciate it!
- Rosie