Dear sweet Readers,
Though you don't have to, please consider listening to the music clip where I've placed the link for the final scene of this chapter. I feel it works best with the music, and it helps liven the scene up a bit more. 😊
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Sitting on his cot and stretching, Arthur tried to ready himself for the dream he knew he'd have that night, whatever it may be. But somehow he knew, prepare as he tried, there would be no avoiding the aching that sat in the pit of his stomach from missing them.
When he closed his eyes and drifted off, he was pulled into the sitting room of the homestead one evening. His younger self sat on the couch with Hope on his left thigh, her little mop of curls glistening like gold by the light of the nearby kerosene lamp as he read her a bedtime story. She must've been somewhere between one-and-a-half and two, and her little doe eyes gazed up at her father's face as he read, far more than down at the page of the book.
Isaac walked over and held up a book of his own. "Tonight was my turn to pick a story. I wanted Tom Sawyer."
"Wapunzel," Hope said.
"It's Hope's turn tonight," his father said. "Come on and sit up here with us."
"But I thought she had her turn to pick last night!" he slumped his shoulders. "It's supposed to be my turn tonight."
His father looked up at the ceiling as he tried to think back to the night before through the blur of story-telling each night.
"Wapunzel."
His father briefly shook his head. "Eh, just…it's Hope's turn tonight. You'll have your turn tomorrow night. Come on," he patted his right thigh.
Hope tapped the open page with her little finger. "Dis. Dis one."
Arthur continued to read the story soft and slow, and Hope rested her temple on his chest with a little huff of a sigh. He brushed his large fingers over her curly hair and kissed her forehead as he continued to read, going into special voices for each separate character.
Watching the pair from the kitchen, Eliza smiled in adoration and bit her lip at the sweet, darling sight of her husband doting on their little daughter. She finally came over and planted a kiss on Arthur's cheek, and he glanced up at her with a smile.
And Isaac stood there, silently observing all of it. He finally plopped down in the armchair across from the sofa, instead of in his father's lap.
"Well, don't let yourself feel like an outsider, kid. Was an honest mistake," Arthur said, leaning against the chair and looking down at the top of his son's blonde head. "Talk to 'em. Tell 'em how you're feelin'. They got a lot on their plates right now. They don't mean to let you feel ignored."
But with his next blink, the scene changed to the next afternoon, when the family was readying for supper.
"Isaac, could you put the cups on the table for me, please?" Eliza asked him.
But he was staring down the other end of the table watching his father kiss and tickle Hope, who sat perched on his forearm, as she smiled and giggled. She was almost like an extension of his arm these days; he seemed to so often be carrying her. Even now, between tickling her he was expertly going about his business putting silverware on the table, holding Hope with one arm as she munched and smacked on a couple pieces of oat bran wafers while he was distracted.
When his father glanced his way, he said simply, "Isaac, your mother asked you to help her set the table." And he immediately went back to grinning and kissing little Hope.
"What about under here?" he grinned, pointing to the crook of her underarm. "Anythin' under here?"
"No," she grinned tight, scrunching up her shoulders.
"Nothin'?"
"No," she quickly shook her head.
"You sure?"
"No."
He laughed. "What's under here, babygirl? Let's see. What's under here?" He worked his fingers into her underarm, and she lost it, tipping her head to the side with a giggle. But it opened a wide space to her neck, and he took advantage of it, quickly bringing his fingers up and tickling her there, causing her to cackle.
Without taking his eyes off the pair, Isaac took the tin cup his mother placed in his hand. He gripped it tighter and tighter, finally tossing it down on the floor with a loud clatter.
"Papa, you love Hopie better 'an me!" he shouted fiercely, his pink face contorted with pain and anger.
His father and Hope both looked at him with stock still, wide eyes. They turned and glanced at each other just a moment, then back at him.
"Isaac, no!" his mother said with a deeply concerned expression, her voice quivering just a bit as she set the plate she'd had in her hands down on the table.
But Isaac kept his filling eyes trained on the ground and stomped away out the front door. Too shocked and dazed, his parents just watched as he walked past them, until he was gone.
When Arthur turned, his and Eliza's eyes connected.
"You've gotta go talk to him, reassure him," she said.
"I know."
"Peepee," came a quiet, simple alert in Hope's little voice.
"Oh, perfect timin'," Arthur said lightly as he began to shift her weight on his arm and pass her to her mother.
Eliza smirked a bit sardonically at him as she brought her into her arms. And as Arthur walked out the front door, she took Hope to the chamber pot in the children's bedroom.
Pulling down Hope's bloomers, she picked her up a bit and sat her on the flat, smooth wooden seat Arthur had carved for her that rested over the tin pail.
As she held her there, Hope swung her little feet and hummed a bit. When they heard the tinkling sound of her urine hitting the tin pail, she looked up at her mother and gasped with a smile. "Yaaay!" she clapped.
Eliza gasped with her. "Good job, sweet girl! You're doin' so good."
Meanwhile Arthur was out front looking around until he spotted Isaac afar off sitting with his back against the barn wall, moping. He immediately walked the long distance over to him and leaned against the barn, sliding down to sit beside him.
"What're you doin' out here, bud? I've taught you better 'an to come out here all by yourself."
"You do it."
"I do it when there's work to be done on the grounds. You're five years old, Isaac!" he said lightly.
Isaac looked away and rested his chin over his little folded arms that sat above his bent knees.
Arthur sighed, knowing he hadn't started out well. "It's because…I love you so much…I don't want you to get hurt. Your papa knows a bit more about the world than you do. Not only do we got nature to worry about, but there's people. It's a big world, with lots of people in it. Lots of different people, with different…intentions." He glanced at him. "'Intentions' means, what you got in your heart, what you wanna do to others. It ain't all nice. I wish it was, but it ain't. Your mama and I, we've raised you, here on our hidden little ranch…to think the best in others. And that's good," he nodded and let out another long sigh, "but I just don't want you to get hurt."
When Isaac didn't respond or move, he continued, "Can't storm out on the people you love, Isaac. I never taught you that. You gotta stick around, talk to each other, work things out. Even when it gets hard, even when it hurts. I know this is all…real big stuff for a kid your age to think about," he mumbled. "Would you like me to storm away on you like you did?"
"No," he sniffed.
"No," he nodded. He swallowed hard and closed his eyes a moment, then turned to look at him. "What you said is wrong, you know. Couldn't be more wrong." He watched Isaac swallow and begin to turn forward. "I love both you and Hope so much. So, so much. And I don't love one of you more than the other." As his son turned to look at him, he repeated and shook his head, "I don't, Isaac."
Isaac finally looked up into his eyes.
"Now…it may look a little different sometimes, because it is a little different. You're different people, different ages. She's my babygirl, and you're my firstborn son. But you know how special that is?" he squinted with a smile. "You bein' my firstborn son?"
Isaac shook his head a little, keeping his eyes on his.
Arthur's smile threatened to grow wide, but he kept it to a smirk as he grew pensive and looked forward. "Holdin' you in my arms for the first time…" He gave his head a brief little tilt to the side. "There was nothin' like it. You taught me that…not only was it okay, but right an' healthy…the love I was feelin' for my family. For your mama, and for you, though I hadn't even met you yet. Taught me so many things about myself, about sacrifice, what I'd do for my family. Taught me the bonds of love are…stronger than fear, stronger than anything the world can throw at us." He looked over at him again. "Taught me it was okay to love."
Isaac's eyes began to fill with a thick rim of tears.
"I love you more than you could ever imagine, Isaac. You know that? And nothin'll ever change that or make it go away. Nothin'."
Isaac's tears finally overflowed down his cheeks, and he lifted his arms to bring them around his neck. "I love you too, Papa."
His father brought one hand to his back and one to the back of his head, with the sound of the soft, dusty dirt shifting beneath them. He closed his eyes, grateful for the unspeakable gift of his son's love.
As Isaac finally pulled away, he sniffed and wiped his nose with the back of his hand.
"Now Hope's a silly little bear, and you know that," his father said wryly, glad when Isaac chuckled. "And we got our hands full with the two of ya. We're gonna need your help with her now an' then."
"What you mean?"
"Well, you're her big brother. She's gonna look up to you. As she grows, she's gotta know she can come to you as a friend. She won't know any better 'til we teach her, ya know?" he grinned. "Two kids is new to us too. We don't know what we're doin' all of the time," he chuckled.
"Really?" his eyes popped up to him.
"Oh, was it a secret?" his father's eyes pulsed wide a moment, and he ducked his head sarcastically. "Jesus, guess I shouldn'a let it slip."
A bubbling laugh rumbled up through Isaac's little nose.
Arthur nudged him in the arm. "No! 'Course we don't have it all figured out. We're workin' through life too. We were five years old just like you once, you know."
Isaac looked down, his gaze soft and full of wonderment. "Oh… I guess I never thought about that before."
He grinned, watching him from the corner of his eyes. "We still feel like that sometimes."
Isaac blinked and looked back up at him. "I'm sorry I got so mad, Papa."
He clucked his tongue and brought his arm over his shoulder. "Isaac… You know when you were in your mama's tummy, she prayed you'd be given a big, tender heart. Guess somebody musta heard her. Least that's what she'd say if you ask her. 'Cause it's right there, right in there." He reached over and tapped his little chest. "It's all forgiven, bud." He looked forward and looked back down at him beside him. "Forgive me for not realizin' I needed to make sure you know I love ya?"
Isaac nodded with a grin.
"Good," he reached up and tussled his hair. "It's all gonna be different from now on. I'm gonna make sure you don't feel left out. Startin' with story time tonight." He tilted his head towards him. "But you know Hope's gonna be upset."
"Yeah…"
"Guess she thought she found a little workaround," he smirked.
"But I'm not mad at her. I want her to feel loved and included too."
"I'm sure you'll figure out a way."
With that, Arthur's next blink swept him up until he was standing in the master bedroom while Eliza was giving Hope a bath after supper that same night. Eliza had filled the tub only a little, and Hope was still nearly swallowed by the mountains of bubbles around her.
She picked up a little clump of them and put it atop her head, looking up at her mother, smiling wide, and scrunching her freckled button nose.
"You're so silly, sweet girl," her mother smiled. "You like the bubbles?"
"Yeah," she smiled, looking down and squishing them in her hands.
"You like to make people smile an' laugh, huh?"
"Yeah."
Eliza watched her beautiful wet eyelashes splayed over her plump little cheeks.
"Iss Bubbie otay?" Hope asked, still focused on the suds.
"Mm-hm, your brother's okay. Daddy went and talked to him before supper, remember?"
"Yeah. I la Bubbie."
"Oh… I know you do," she said as she got a suds going in her soft hair. "Why don't you tell him when you get out of the bath? I bet he'd be so happy to hear that."
"Otay."
She finished washing her, picked her up out of the bathtub, and wrapped her head to toe in a big clean towel.
"Keen baby!" Hope sang.
"Yup, that's right! You're my clean baby!" Eliza smiled, rubbing her head with the towel. "Wanna go tell daddy?" When she nodded, Eliza carried her out into the sitting room. "Guess who's a clean baby?"
Arthur and Isaac looked up from their place on the sofa to see Hope wrapped up in the big towel on her mother's arm.
"Hey! There she is. Been waitin' for you, babygirl," Arthur said.
Eliza began to walk around the sofa, but she didn't make it all the way when Hope gasped. A little look of concern alighted on her face when she saw Isaac on her father's lap, the two of them looking down at Isaac's book. She quickly wiggled to get down, slipping from the towel and through her mother's hands.
"Nooo!" she gasped and ran around the sofa to them, naked as a jay bird, her tiny bare feet clapping against the wooden floorboards. "Oh no! Iss my tuwn!"
"Hope!" Isaac tried not to laugh as he quickly covered both eyes with his hands.
"Iss my tuwn, Daddy! Iss my tuwn!" she said lightly and airily, resting her little palms on the sofa.
"No," Arthur said firmly over her voice, shaking his head. "Hope, you know your turn was last night. It's Isaac's turn tonight. And we're gonna write it down on the calendar every single night so we don't forget."
"Nah, noo!" she began to whimper and whine, pouting her little bottom lip.
Isaac slowly drew a hand away from his eye and realized he could only see her belly and up when she stood so close to the sofa. He grinned empathetically at the sight of her mopey expression. "Hopie, go get your jammies on and come sit on Papa's lap with me so we can listen together. Then you can have your turn to pick a story tomorrow."
She sniffed and blinked, thinking for just a moment. "Otay," she finally smiled, quickly running back towards her mother. "I keen baby!"
Isaac chuffed a laugh and pointed as he said low to his father, "Look at her little bottom."
A snorting laugh bubbled through his father's nose. But after a moment, he looked over at him with a grin. "Proud of you, kid."
When Hope climbed up onto Arthur's thigh in her sleeper pajamas and rested her temple on his chest, Eliza smiled.
"Tell Isaac what you told me in the bath, Hope," she said.
Hope looked up at him across her father's chest and reached out a little hand for him. "I la you, Bubbie."
Isaac smiled. "I love you too, Hopie."
Arthur looked up and connected eyes with Eliza, allowing his grin to blossom into a wide smile, and hers grew in time with his.
"All right, Tom Sawyer, huh? What chapter we readin'?" His grin remained as he looked down.
"I like the part where he gets the other kids to paint the fence for him. It's so funny," Isaac mumbled a little chuckle.
"Where's that at?"
"Over here I think. I marked the corner with a pencil," he said as he turned the pages.
Once again the scene shifted, and the four of them were outside walking towards the big oak tree, where a pine-and-rope swing hung that Arthur had fashioned for the children. Hope must've been two years old now. And Eliza carried a thatched basket filled with goodies and a blanket for a picnic once they arrived under the tree.
Arthur watched as his younger self and Eliza walked arm-in-arm while the children playfully ran ahead. At five, Isaac was easily faster than his younger sister; and Hope's head of goldenrod curls bobbed as she took little leaps, struggling to keep up.
As she went, she would carelessly rub the back of her wrist over the top of her forehead to swipe her curls out of her eyes.
"Hair's gettin' longer," Arthur mumbled to Eliza at his side with a smirk. "She needs a pin or somethin', to keep it back."
"Mm-hm…" she grinned, watching her.
"Oh— she took a little tumble," he said quietly when Hope tripped and fell in the dirt. "Watch. Let's see if she's all right, or comes cryin'."
Hope pulled herself up to her feet and didn't even bother to dust her little knees, going right back to running after Isaac without another thought.
"'At's my girl," Arthur grinned, and they both smiled.
But no sooner had he said it then she tripped again, falling harder than before. And this time a little whine arose from her, growing louder until she was crying.
Isaac immediately stopped and looked back at her. "You okay, Hopie?"
But she had already picked herself up and was running back with a little wail and her arms out: "Daddyyy!"
Both her parents couldn't help but chuckle a little.
"Oh-ho-hoo, what happened, babygirl?" Arthur mumbled empathetically, crouching and opening his arms wide for her as she ran into them, and he pulled her up into his arms with a hug. "Let's see. You scrape your knee?"
She sniffed and nodded with a pouted little lip, tears streaming through the dusty dirt on her face.
Eliza reached up and wiped her cheeks clean as Isaac walked back to them.
"She okay?"
"Yeah, she's all right," his mother answered. "Aren't ya, sweet girl?"
With her lip still pouted and her chin tucked, she snuffled and shook her head.
"Aww, yes you are," Arthur said, bouncing her on his arm. "Just a little scrape, you're okay."
"Don't make Daddy blow on your elbow," Eliza eyed her wryly with a burgeoning smirk. "You know you can't keep a boo-boo lip when Daddy blows on your elbow."
Hope shook her head, determined to hold on to her sniffing tears and pouty lip just a moment longer, and her curls spun from the shake.
"Daddy's gonna do it…" Arthur grinned, lifting her soft little arm. He was testing her, waiting to see if she'd break before he ever needed to try.
She scrunched her brows adamantly, trying for a sour disposition in order to cling to her pouty lip. But her frown was growing wobbly all the while.
"Daddy's gonna blow on your elbow…" he said, turning her arm until he could see her tiny dimpled joint. He glanced at her expression to see she was already struggling keep her upset veneer. And when he puckered up and blew, it took just a couple seconds and she immediately lost it, bursting into a blooming smile and cackles.
"You too good at dat, Daddy!" she laughed.
"Well, I gotta be good at somethin'," he grinned. "Might as well be gettin' my babygirl to smile." He set her back down on her feet. "Go on an' play with your brother. He's waitin' to help you climb the tree."
"Nah, I like da swing bettew!" she said as she ran towards him.
"Okay, climb up the tree with me a little, and then I'll push you on the swing. Okay?" Isaac said as they finally reached the tree.
"Otay!"
Arthur grinned at the sound. It never took much at all for them to work things out between each other these days. He was hoping it would last a good long time, at least to the adolescent years.
As he glanced up, he was glad to see Isaac so attentive to her, holding her and making sure she was always safe, with a good footing in the low crevice of the tree trunk.
"Right here, Hopie. You step right here, and I got you," he could hear him say.
And in return, Hope's eyes were always filled with admiration and adoration when she looked at her brother.
"Wooow. You so good, Bubbie. How you know where I gotta put my feet?" she asked.
"'Cause I've climbed to this point a lot. Mama an' Papa say not to go higher 'til I get older."
When Eliza spread out the blanket, Arthur sat cross-cross and got out their journal and pencil.
"Would you two mind holdin' still for me a moment?" he called to Isaac and Hope.
Isaac gasped. "He's gonna drawl us in their journal! Hold still, Hope!"
Hope gasped along with Isaac and promptly held up both her little arms in a strongman's pose.
Isaac snickered. "Why're you doin' that, Hope?"
"Juss come on!" she whispered. "We on top a' da tree!"
"Not really, but okay," he laughed with a shrug and joined her in her silly pose.
Arthur scoffed a laugh. "Look at that ham," he smirked as he drew Eliza's attention to Hope, and she smiled when she noticed their daughter's big grin and flamboyant pose. "Well get in there, darlin'," he gestured for Eliza to join them in his frame of view.
"Who, me?" she brought a finger to her own chest. When he nodded, she added with a chuckle, "All right." She walked around the tree trunk and stood behind the pair, lifting her arms in the same pose and struggling not to giggle.
Arthur smirked under the brim of his hat at the sound of her laugh as he readied the journal and pencil.
She suddenly bent at the waist and burst into laughter, and the children looked back at her with giggles and smiles. She finally regained her composure with a breathy, "Okay, okay," and stood straight to strike the pose again.
Arthur began to sketch the three of them in the tree trunk, looking up and back down again, feeling it very necessary to pick up speed when he heard little giggles and snickers.
And by the time Eliza had the food spread out on the blanket, he'd compiled that drawing; a sketch of Hope leaning back in the swing with her little feet forward, a joyous smile, her curls in the wind and all about her face; Isaac smiling bright as he pushed her and laughed; and Eliza's expression of adoration as she watched them.
He was just beginning another sketch of Eliza when he heard,
"We've only got 'em this young for so long. Put that book down, and look at our faces."
He looked up to see her big, green, wry eyes gazing back at him.
Arthur looked over his younger self's shoulder to see all the sketches before he closed the book with a plop. "Oh, he has been, Eliza. He has been," he grinned.
He caught a glimpse of their smiles to each other as he put the journal away and she passed him a plate, but with his next blink he was standing back in the kitchen one evening a few nights later while the family was readying for bed.
"Mama? I ca have a spoon a' honey, peas?" he heard Hope ask.
He walked over to the children's open bedroom door to see Eliza hunched over the bed, tucking clean sheets onto the mattress with Hope standing in her sleeper pajamas beside her.
"No, Hope baby," she said with a breath. "It's much too late for sweet things. Anyways, tonight's your first night sleepin' in the big kid bed with Isaac 'stead of in your crib in the corner, and we gotta get ready."
Hope half-frowned and walked through the door to her father where he sat at the kitchen table working on a game of checkers with Isaac, who sat across from him in his pajamas.
Lifting himself up on his forearm, Isaac reached over to the far end of the board and moved one of his pieces. "King me," he smiled.
"Agh," his father grumbled.
"Daddy?" Hope began sweetly. "I ca—"
"Hm, what's 'at?" he mumbled, stroking the side of his chin with his thumb as he focused on the board.
"I ca have spoon a' honey, peas?"
"Eh…it's much too late, babygirl," he shook his head. "You can have a bit of buttermilk, if you want some milk. But no honey."
Scrunching her button nose a moment, she sighed and slumped her shoulders. Before she turned to go back to the bedroom, she eyed the top of the tall countertop, where the jar of golden honey sat glistening against the back wall.
Her father reached over and moved one of his pieces with a smile. "King me," he pointed, and Isaac flopped back in his chair a little with a groan and a smirk, causing his father to chuckle.
After a bedtime story, goodnight kisses, and tucking the pair into their bed, Arthur and Eliza stood in the doorway and pulled the door closed, though they left it open a more than a crack.
"Since this is your first night in the big kid bed, Hope, we're gonna leave the door open, so we can hear you. In case you need us. Okay?" Arthur said.
"Otay," Hope said from her spot beside Isaac.
The two of them retreated to their bedroom and left their own door open before turning out the lamp and getting in bed themselves.
Hope waited patiently. And after several minutes of quiet, she sat up, climbed down from the bed, and walked through both open doorways into her parents' bedroom.
What tipped her father off was the sound of her little tiny bare feet patting across the hardwood floor. He nearly lifted his head to look at her, but when he took note that she hadn't called for either of them, he realized that in this instance, to her mind, she wasn't supposed to be there. She was sneaking. And as he lied there still, he could hear her quiet breathing, which, being barely two years old, she hadn't had time to perfect for the art of sneaking.
He kept his eyes almost completely closed as he felt her carefully climb onto his side of the bed. And for the life of him, he couldn't figure out what she was doing, why she was there. It was when she came over top of him, brought her face extremely close to his, and hovered there for a few seconds that he realized—she was peering at him, checking his eyes to make sure they were closed—and it took everything within him not to burst into laughter and give himself away right then and there.
But he did remain quiet and still as she slowly climbed back down and pitter-patted back out of the room. At which point he lost it, quietly bursting into a rolling snicker, just loud enough to wake Eliza as he turned onto his side to face her.
"What is it?" she mumbled groggily.
"You won't believe what just happened," he wheezed in a whisper. "It's Hope. She came in here and got this close to me," he held his palm flat up to his face, almost touching his nose. "She was checkin' my eyes to make sure I was asleep!"
"What?" she whispered, her mouth breaking into a smile as he started to sit up. "Well, what's she doin'?"
"I don't know, but I intend to find out," he wheezed again, kicking off the covers, getting up, and creeping quietly towards the doorway as Eliza followed.
Still in their nightclothes, they peeked around the threshold to find Hope in the middle of climbing from a chair to the countertop in the kitchen, eagerly reaching for the jar of honey. And they struggled not to burst into outright laughter at the sight.
"Little sneak," Arthur grinned, and Eliza covered her mouth.
They watched as she squatted on the countertop, unclamped the lid, and opened the jar.
"Downright brilliant, is what she is," he whispered. "Clever little mastermind. Got that outlaw gene."
Eliza quietly swatted him and struggled to hold back her wheezes and giggles.
"Shh-shh," he grinned at her, nodding in Hope's direction. "She's enjoyin' her spoils."
They watched Hope dip all four of her little fingers into the jar, bring back her honey-covered hand, and wipe it over her tongue.
Eliza began to hold down snorts, and even Arthur started to lose control—the whole of the scene was just too absurd and hilariously adorable.
"Ohh, Arthur…" she finally whispered with a little tisk of her tongue when she caught her breath. "We have to stop her, look—she's gettin' it in her hair."
"Yeah," he smiled. "Go wake Isaac."
Still in shadow, Eliza quietly crept to the children's bedroom while Arthur produced the kerosene lamp, walked into the kitchen, and turned it on—much to Hope's shock.
"Daddy!" she gasped.
"What're you doin' up, Hope?"
"Um, um…" still squatting, she moved in front of the jar of honey. "I nee go peepee."
"On the counter?" he asked with a high lilt to his voice and a crimp to his brows.
"Nooo, dass yucky," she scrunched her nose.
"Then what're you doin' up there, babygirl?"
"Um, um, I not eateen honey," she shook her head.
"You ain't?" he cocked his head. "You sure?" And when she shook her head again, "Well what's that stuff on your hand?"
She looked down. "Ohh…uhh…"
"I think you're eatin' honey, silly girl," he smiled and nodded slowly. "And I think you're gonna share."
Her face relaxed into a smile. "Yeah."
"Yeah," he wheezed a laugh when she brought the jar out from behind her. "Best thing for honey is spoons, ya know," he went into the drawer and brought out a few. And in a moment's time, they were both digging and into the jar with clinks and clanks.
Isaac walked into the room with his mother behind him and smiled brightly when he saw Hope sitting with her feet dangling on the countertop. "Hopie…" he said as he rubbed his eyes. "You're not supposed to be up there!"
"Yeah, but I got da honeeyy!" she sang, still completely focused on her spoon.
Her father snorted a laugh through his nose where he stood leaning back against the counter beside her, a spoon in his own hand. "And who taught her to climb?" he looked flatly at Isaac.
Isaac's eyes went wide, and he pursed his lips. "Oops…"
"You know the best way to eat honey, don't you?" Eliza came around Isaac and walked over, pulling a towel-covered plate from the back of the counter. "Biscuits," she said as she uncovered it, which was met with immediate oohs.
"Mama makes the best biscuits," Isaac licked the corner of his lips in anticipation.
"And…if we're lucky…we've still got some butter left over from today," she mumbled, looking over the counter for her covered butter dish and finally locating it. "Yup!"
"What about cinnamon?" Isaac said as his father slid his hands under his arms and lifted him to sit atop the counter beside Hope.
"Ooh, good idea," his mother said, reaching up into the cupboard for a shaker.
She slathered them a few buttered biscuits, their father drizzled on the honey, and Isaac sprinkled the cinnamon. And they feasted in the middle of the night, mumbles of satisfaction and smacking lips heard from every direction.
"Y'know," Arthur mumbled past his bite, "this is one a' them things that I'm gonna bring up when you're both much older. And your mother and I are gonna get even more of a kick out of it then."
A grin flickered across Eliza's mouth as she tried to take a bite of her biscuit.
"'Cause we're eatin' sweets when we're not supposed to?" Isaac asked, smiling as he looked back and forth between his parents.
"All of it. Everything about it," Arthur grinned, an airy laugh coming through his nose as he watched Eliza begin to giggle again. "Parentin'? What's that? Never heard of it."
Eliza shut her eyes tight and shook her head, on the verge of losing it.
He gave his head a brief tip to the side and let out a wheezing laugh. "We gave it our best shot, hun."
And a snickering snort finally burst through her nose. "Arthur…" she mumbled, her giggling bouts subsiding as her breathing began to calm again. "You just gotta know that as a family, sometimes it's okay to take it easy and have a little fun. Huh, babies?"
"Yeah. Sometimes is good," Isaac nodded, taking a bite of his biscuit.
"Yeah. Sometimes is good," Hope repeated, licking the top of hers.
Arthur smiled, his gaze flashing to Eliza. "Well then, I guess we're all in agreement." As he looked down at his own biscuit, his smile brightened further when another little mumbled giggle arose from Eliza.
When the scene shifted again, it was a night several months later, when they had a Christmas tree in the corner of the sitting room, decked out with hanging felt shapes, strings of popping corn, and a red tin star.
"Daddy, Daddy! Time for a story! Come on!" Hope was calling, taking him by the hand and pulling him towards the bedroom.
"Yeah, come on, Papa!" Isaac said.
After a full day of work about the property, he was quite obviously dog tired, and he lagged and grunted as they tugged on him. When he finally reached their bed, he plopped down on his back, his muddy boots hanging off the end as they climbed in on either side of him.
"All right, what book is it tonight?" he mumbled.
"No, you're supposed to tell us stories from your adventures! 'Member?" Isaac said.
"Yeah, from your adventures," Hope parroted.
"I like the buried treasure," Isaac added.
"Oh…" he groaned. "Can it be a book tonight? I can hardly think straight, and I bet seein' straight'll come much easier."
"Nah, no… Tell us stories."
"Tell us stories," they whimpered.
He shifted in the bed and rubbed one eye. "Well, why don't you tell me a story for once, huh?"
They stopped and looked at each other across him.
"Okay, what should it be about?" Hope said.
Isaac gasped. "About ice cream."
"And-and—a polar bear who eats it!" Hope giggled.
"A polar bear?" Isaac scrunched his nose and cocked his head.
Meanwhile Arthur's eyelids were quickly growing heavy.
"Why'd a polar bear wanna eat it? He's already in the cold, silly! Too cold for him!"
"That's why it's funny," Hope laughed again.
And suddenly they heard the low, soft rumbling of quiet snoring.
"Look! He's sleepeen," Hope gasped, lifting a hand to his chest.
It was that whispered comment that Eliza first overheard, and popped her head around the corner to see them gazing down at an exhausted Arthur slumbering away in the middle of their bed. And she couldn't keep back her bright smile at the sight.
"No, don't wake 'im!" Isaac said in a strained whisper. "Poor Papa, he's so tired."
"Aw, look at him… He's dreameen," Hope whispered. "Don't you juss love him? He's such a good daddy…"
"'Course. And ya know, he works really hard for us, all the time. To make sure we're all okay an' happy."
"Yeah… But he's what makes me happy. Him an' Mama."
"Yeah, me too. I wanna be just like him when I grow big. Strong and tough and good. Extra good."
Eliza's eyes began to water, and her smile grew beneath them.
"Mama too," Hope said. "She's like an angel."
"Yeah, Mama too."
She quietly came into the room and began removing Arthur's boots one at at time, slowly and gently, so as not to wake him. "Why don't you two come and sleep in our bed with me tonight, let your papa sleep?" she whispered.
"Why can't we just sleep in the bed with him?" Isaac asked.
"Well, he's just…so big," she chuckled. "There ain't enough room for all of ya in this bed. 'Sides, your father, he sometimes…turns a bit in his sleep."
She hadn't gotten all the words out of her mouth, when he turned with a louder snore onto his side, causing both children to jump a bit and look back at him.
"'Liza…" he mumbled hoarsely in his sleep, reaching until his arm fell through the air to the mattress and gently rubbing his cheek back and forth against the pillow. "'Liza… I might be your bear rug, but you're my pillow. Er should I say 'pillows'." He smiled and almost chuckled. "Well, that's what you get for bein' so silky soft."
Isaac and Hope covered their mouths and tried to keep their giggles quiet.
Consternation knitted Arthur's brows a moment. "Come on, get yer arms…round me… You're s'posed to hold me back, baby," he almost whined, his plaintive timbre rising high with the last few words.
Eliza smiled bright and bit her lip. "And he only ever talks in his sleep when he's extra, extra tired," she whispered to them. "Come on," she tipped her head towards the doorway.
And as they climbed down and went to their parents' room, she lifted the blanket and brought it up over his shoulders. Placing a soft kiss to his cheek, she turned out the kerosene lamp. "You'll have your pillows back, and an arm around you tomorrow night. Rest well, Love," she whispered as she straightened.
"Love…" he mumbled in his sleep.
Freezing stiff and still, she held her breath and looked back at him.
"Love…I…love…"
Her brows drew tight as she took in the shape of his face in the dim moonlight. But he eventually carelessly smacked his lips and slipped deeper into slumber.
As he stood watching, Arthur hung his head and peered up at her. "Well, that wouldn't be satisfyin' to you anyways, would it, darlin'?" he looked up at her. "I mean, I know it's hard, but don't go scrapin' the bottom of the barrel. You need 'im awake," he said, leaning forward with wide eyes and trying to slap his palms on the blanket as he stared down the version of himself sleeping peacefully in the kids' bed.
And just like that, the setting around him snapped to a different scene.
Eliza and the children were hunched under the thin crocheted lace tablecloth that had hung over their kitchen table, draping over the sides since Thanksgiving. But the Christmas tree in the corner was gone.
She hushed and shushed their giggling when she saw Arthur's figure in the rain through the window. As he opened and stepped through the front door and hung his coat and hat, she was grateful that the children remained silent. She watched him through the crocheted lace and smiled when he quickly wagged his head to shake his hair free and ran his fingers back through his tawny chestnut locks.
"Eliza, I—"
She watched him pause and turn when he felt something off, when the usual sounds of his family and the hubbub of life did not greet him.
He briskly walked past the table to the bedrooms, his jaw tilted and his eyes wary. "Eliza?" He popped his head into each bedroom, and coming up empty, began to sprint about the place in a near heart-racing flurry. "Isaac? Hope? Eliza!"
Her brows came together at the strain of panic beginning to edge his voice, and she began to panic herself, that her plan would not be perceived as quite the good thing she'd hoped for, if she wasted another moment carrying it out.
"Now, now!" she whispered to the children.
"Surprise!" they all shouted, jumping out from under the table.
The color began to rise to his face again at the sight of them safe and healthy, and he let himself relax and sigh.
Eliza smiled as she came forward and hung a little gold fabric sash over his shoulder and placed a shimmery-painted felt crown on his head. "They made 'em for you."
"King Arthur!" Hope giggled and bounced.
"We got you presents too!" Isaac said, going back under the table and dragging out a big wooden crate.
"A brand new saddle!" Hope pointed into the crate. "I picked this one 'cause I liked the pattern best."
It was a beautiful sable red leather saddle pressed with a sprawling, intricate leaf design, in mint condition from the top of the horn to the back of the seat.
"Wow…" he let out in a breath.
"And new spurs! Gold-plated. I picked those out," Isaac said as he held them up and placed them in his hands.
He looked down at the pair of spurs, so fine and clean that the light was glinting off them.
"They're—"
"And an artist's pack!" Isaac couldn't help but hold out and open the final gift—a small rectangular leather briefcase. He eagerly pointed out the different items. "Loads of sketch pencils—different thickness levels, see? Real graphite! And look—watercolors and brushes! This one was mama's idea. We know you never painted before, but she says she's sure you'll be fast at learnin'."
Arthur's hand gently and slowly ran over the paint supplies, his fingertips running over the pencils, paint wells, and brushes. His gaze finally lifted and slid over to Eliza, who wore a hazy, rosy look in her eyes.
"You… How did you…" he tried to find words.
"I have my ways," she grinned.
He smirked. "That's why you didn't want me to go on that supply run with you three the other day."
"Mm-hm."
"Happy birthday, Papa!" Isaac smiled.
"Happy birthday, Daddy!" Hope clapped. "1894! 1894!"
"No, that ain't how old he is, silly" Isaac laughed. "That's the new year!"
"Well, I'm juss three, okay?" Hope mumbled.
Still looking into his eyes, Eliza began to smirk at the sounds of their children beside her.
His smirk grew to match hers. "Well, it ain't midnight, yet."
"We're gonna play all our favorite games until the clock strikes!" Isaac smiled.
"Then we can really say, '1894!' and 'Happy birthday Daddy!'" Hope sang.
"But first!" Eliza held up a finger, eyeing both kids playfully with a growing grin. "We dance." As she walked towards the phonograph she'd placed in the corner of the room, she caught Arthur's confused expression and tipped her head with a shrug. "Promised Hope."
She put in place a special cylinder she'd bought for the occasion and started the phonograph, looking back at Arthur as the soft, smooth sounds of tinkling piano began to trickle from the horn. "All the way from Saint Denis," she said with a smile as she began to gently sway where she stood.
He was unable to peel his eyes away from her for a moment. She was dressed in a pale blue frock with a pattern of little flowers all over it, a gown she knew was one of his favorites on her. And he was nearly entranced by the sight of her swaying ever so slightly, the gathered skirt of her gown rocking back and forth with her. But he finally removed the crown and sash, setting them and the gifts down on the table as he knelt to give Isaac a hug and kiss Hope on the cheek.
"Thank you both. You're so thoughtful and sweet to me. I love my gifts," he murmured to them. But as he straightened and made a move in Eliza's direction, Hope tugged on his arm.
"Won't you dance with me peas, Daddy? Come on, dance with me!"
He glanced up at Eliza as he let Hope pull him towards the sitting room. When she got him there, he turned and scooped her up, wrapping her under the arms so she was close to his chest. And he swayed with her back and forth as her little legs and feet dangled.
"May I have this dance, Mama?" Isaac asked, holding out a hand to her.
"Why, you certainly may, sweet sir," she tipped her head with a smile as she placed her hand in his. And in another moment they were in the sitting room, Isaac's feet atop hers as she stepped back and forth to the music.
"I love you, Daddy," Hope whispered, throwing her little arms around his neck.
Arthur and Eliza couldn't help but smile brightly at each other as they continued to sway with Hope and Isaac.
When in a couple minutes the recording shifted to a different song, though just as beautiful, they disbanded, and Eliza went to the kitchen counter. Arthur followed her in a heartbeat and stood behind her as she began to pour a small glass of bourbon.
"Happy birthday, baby," she looked at him over her shoulder. When she'd poured it, she turned and placed the glass in his hand, looking up at him with a grin. "Thirty-one never looked so good."
He smirked and glanced down. "Well, you don't know I'm quite there yet. I seriously doubt it's New Years' Day, of all days."
"We gotta celebrate ya sometime. First day of the year's good a day as any. You always said you were all right with me makin' little gestures for ya on New Years'."
He nodded and watched her as she turned back to pour herself a small glass of the bourbon. "Thank you, for all this," he drawled low. "Can't quite seem to find the right words to thank you for the art supplies. Makes me feel you must really…believe in me."
"'Course I do, Arthur," she glanced back at him. "In everything. I don't want you to ever have the smallest doubt about that."
She turned towards the counter again and looked down at her glass. "It's just, you know… I often think about…all the life you've lived already. The pain and the recklessness, sure, but…all the excitement and adventure too. And then I think of you, livin' in this corner a' the world…with a silly little girl and two children," she scoffed a little laugh at the sound of the words leaving her mouth as she lifted the glass to her lips, tipping the edge and taking a little sip. "I get…concerned, you know," she picked at the edge of the wooden counter. "That it ain't enough. That you'll get…bored. And that—"
"That I'll wanna leave?" He watched her eyes go still where they gazed past him at nothing as she held the glass to her lips and took another tiny sip. And he watched her smooth throat swallow the warm liquid. "Careful with that. You know you're a lightweight."
He was grateful when her daze broke and she glanced up at him with a subtle smirk. He reached past her and set his glass on the counter, without ever having taken a drink. And as he did, he turned her until she was facing him squarely, coming close and crowding her a bit.
He gazed deeply into her green eyes, lingering there for quite a few moments. "How many times I got to tell you, woman?" he whispered, and he watched her captured eyes look back into his. "All I need, and all I want, is right here. I ain't goin' anywhere."
Just as the song shifted to swanky bursts of trumpet, he promptly took her glass from her and set it on the counter behind her, slipping his arm around her narrow waist and quickly pulling her flush to him. And she eyed him with an incredulous, wary smirk.
"Saint Denis" phonograph music
you tu . be /fHjZQb-kGek?t=89
He was still leaning forward over her when he brought her with him, swiftly, smoothly swaying together with her all across the room to the music. The small of her back was arched and held close by his big hands, her feet following closely behind his for each step.
She'd never seen him dance once—and at first she'd been so shocked that her arms dangled at her sides while he guided her body to sway with him.
When the children saw them dancing together, they jumped and hoorayed, clapping their hands.
But the way he was guiding her to dance almost brought a blush to her cheeks—with no space to speak of between their waists, and a low swinging nature to his movements. It was almost mismatched with how lively he was leading. But it all somehow did fit the music; and when she was about to ask wryly where he'd suddenly learned such smooth moves, she glanced into his eyes and realized he was merely moving exactly how he felt.
That realization was enough to send her grin spreading wide and bright, pops of laughter erupting from her throat, prickles all over her skin, and bursts of love like fireworks exploding through her chest. All set to the swanky, vibrant bursts of bright Saint Denis trumpets.
She brought her hands up to hold him by his midsection. And as she watched him grin brightly at the sight of her smile and sound of her laugh, and felt him move so carefree, she wondered if he could feel it too, those same bursting fireworks.
"I wanna play Slap Jack first!"
"And I wanna eat poppin' corn while we play!"
they could hear the children say as they sashayed about the room, as if from afar off.
Eliza looked into his eyes and asked softly, "What do you want, Arthur?"
With his face still close to hers, his calm gaze waded down over her face and back into her eyes as her fingertips graced his jawline, and he slowly began to grin. "Nothin'. Absolutely nothin'."
Once again her grin widened into an unbridled smile, bright enough to rival the morning sun.
He inched his mouth closer, inclining his lips to hers until they met for a soft kiss, lingering with their eyes closed for a few moments.
And with his hand to her back he suddenly pressed her even closer to him, relishing in the sound of her laughter when he turned and whipped about the floor just a bit faster, bringing her tightly with him to keep up with the jig of the trumpets.
And when Arthur woke alone in his cold cot, he could still hear those trumpets as they began to die away.
What he couldn't feel, and what he wanted more than anything, were those loving eyes looking back at him, the touch of those soft lips.
.
"What do you want, Arthur?"
"Nothin'. Absolutely nothin'."
.
"Give me a kiss to build a dream on,
and my imagination will thrive upon that kiss.
Mm, sweetheart, I ask no more than this:
a kiss to build a dream on.
.
Give me a kiss before you leave me,
and my imagination will feed my hungry heart.
Mm, leave me one thing before we part:
a kiss to build a dream on.
.
When I'm alone with my fancies,
I'll be with you.
Weavin' romances,
makin' believe they're true.
.
Oh, give me your lips for just a moment,
and my imagination will make that moment live.
Mm, give me what you alone can give:
a kiss to build a dream on."
.
- Louis Armstrong, "A Kiss to Build a Dream On"
you tu . be /fHjZQb-kGek
.
I sincerely hope you enjoyed this chapter. It was a real treat for me to write. 💕 I'll let you know that the inspiration for the scene of Hope sneaking & getting real close to make sure Arthur's eyes were closed was inspired by stories of myself at about 18 months old. 😄
And if you listened to the music and it added to the scene for you at all, please let me know.
I wanted to thank all those who've left reviews since February 15, whether anonymous or not (Ariana & AJ-thank you!). This story went so long with barely any reviews and then-bam! 5 reviews in 5 days? You guys are so great. And it's really amazing and makes all my hard work worthwhile whenever I hear anyone enjoyed it. 💞
I'd also like to offer a specific shout-out to the anonymous guest who left this review on Ch 8: "Bravo. The birth scene, and Isaac as a new born... Just perfect. I don't know anything about you, if you have children or not, but you have so accurately captured everything about birth. The emotions, what the mother and father go through... oh, the pain and the pushing. I remember reaching down and feeling the top of my son's little head for the first time just like it was yesterday, and now he will be 7 months old tomorrow. And, the emotions Eliza felt when she couldn't get the baby to latch. I wish someone had been there to tell me to just do what felt right."
WOW! This is without a doubt one of the most touching and meaningful reviews or comments I have ever received. No, unfortunately I don't have any children. And I have serious personal fears/doubts that I'll ever get a chance to, or that I as a person was meant for romantic love at all. (Hopefully I don't scare anyone off by getting a little personal.) Maybe that's part of why I write; it's a bit therapeutic for me. And maybe my deep yearnings spill out into creativity and imagination for what I wish for. You seem to know that you're very, very blessed, and I'm so glad hearing that. But seriously, I have never had such a meaningful compliment about my writing. I'm so blessed that you came along and read a chapter that touched you. I couldn't have known it, but those two chapters were meant for you! 💞💞💞 I hope you see this!
To all readers here: I think I'd been neglecting posting chapters on this site because I was feeling certain almost no one was still reading here. Also, I really, really draw so much enjoyment from engaging with readers, and it can be difficult to do that here without the abilities to "comment" and "reply." But I won't neglect posting here anymore. :) But I understand if I've freaked you out by writing all this. And I also understand if by now this story is not very interesting anymore and you wanna stop reading. This work is very unique and has gotten quite fluffy, which, though I always meant it to (the sorrow of how the first 2 works in this series ended meant these characters were long due some happiness and fluff), I'm sure will suit very few readers. I'd totally understand that.
Love to all,
Rosie