This chapter is accompanied by 6 photos taken by myself in the Cali side of the Sierra Nevada mountains last year, to serve as setting. You can find them on Ao3: archive of our own / works/27153388/chapters/76503251 (dot org after "own" and remove all spaces).
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That evening Arthur rubbed his eyes as he lied back on his cot. But when he drifted to sleep, he saw his younger self rubbing his eyes and propping himself up on one arm from the bed of the hotel suite.
His younger self looked up just in time to see Eliza's pale chemise fall over her bare bottom where she stood dressing.
"Not a bad way to wake up," he mumbled groggily, still rubbing one eye.
She looked over with a grin as her golden waves fell to her back. "Mornin'." She pulled up her pantaloons under her chemise and turned to face him. "That's sleepin' in for you. Must've slept well."
"Mm," he smiled at the sight of her coming towards him and climbing back into bed beside him. "How was that dream a' yours?"
"Perfect," she whispered, smiling bright as she pulled the covers over the top of her shoulder and scooted in close.
He sighed through his nose as he brought his arm over her waist beneath the covers and felt her do the same to him. "Can't we just stay in bed?" he whispered through barely open lips, burying the side of his face into the pillow, looking at her across it before closing his eyes. "Make the world go away."
"Mmm… Wouldn't that be nice," she moaned with a little chuckle. "We have to get up though. Someone promised our oldest a train ride."
He opened his eyes to see hers glaring at him with a deep, sarcastic smirk.
"And I seem to remember that same someone promisin' me a 'bright future together here,'" she added.
"Yeah—that's right. We gotta get up," he said, lifting his arm above the covers and bringing it down to slice the puffy comforter. "'Cause I'munna buy us a great big piece a' land somewhere, and build you a house."
"What! Build me a house," she guffawed.
"You heard me. Big ranch house. With…lots a' room, for raisin' horses an' kiddos," he said, coming close and kissing beneath the apple of her cheek, close to the corner of her widening grin. "Aaaand…a water closet," he said before kissing her jaw just under her bottom lip.
She gasped with wide eyes. "Stop."
"Unh-uh," he shook his head with a grin. "Aaaand…an ice box," he said before kissing her neck underneath the angle of her jaw.
She gasped again. "Ooohh, Arthur Morgan! You're gonna get lucky again, right here right now."
He wheezed against her skin, in the middle of another kiss. "All part of my master plan." He went on kissing her, his lips smacking against her skin. "Time is it?" he mumbled.
"Time for the kids to be up. Can't believe they ain't—"
She didn't get another word out before a knock sounded on the door joining their two rooms.
"We're hungry," they heard in Isaac's muffled voice.
"Yeah, can we have, um, oatmeal with blueberries, peas?" came Hope's little voice not far behind.
"Nah, I want flapjacks with blackberries."
Eliza grinned and moaned, while Arthur let his head flop into the space above her neck.
"You always get blackberries. I want blueberries for once."
"Okay, well, maybe we can get both."
"Maybe you can get none at all!" Arthur shouted with a smile.
Silence.
"Well, what're we gonna eat then?" Isaac finally piped up.
"Whatever you get!" Arthur shouted again, letting his voice sound matter-of-fact. "Who said California had any berries?"
A longer silence.
"I think you're pullin' my leg, Daddy..." Isaac said, and they could hear the smile in his drawling tone.
Eliza let a bubbling laugh burst through her nose.
Arthur smirked softly. "Yeah, I'm tuggin' it pretty good."
"You'd never bring us anywhere where they had no berries…" Isaac mumbled wryly.
"Yeah, never! You a good daddy," Hope added.
While Arthur snickered, Eliza kissed him on the cheek as she rose from the bed. "Get dressed so I can let 'em in."
When they were all dressed and packed, they headed downstairs together and were pleasantly surprised to find a bowl of fresh fruit and a percolator of hot coffee prepared for guests. The children immediately ran up to the bowl.
"Bananas!" Isaac said. "We hardly ever got to have these!"
"Yeah, we're near San Francisco," Arthur said, setting their carpetbag down. "One of the largest ports in the country. So they get things comin' in from different places all 'cross the world."
"On boats?"
"Yup. Big ones," he responded as he poured himself a mug of coffee.
Hope struggled to break her banana open and finally held it up to him. "Daddy?"
He set his mug down and peeled it halfway. But as he held it back out to her, she simply leaned forward and bit from the top.
He wheezed as he watched her from under the brim of his black hat. "Take it, ya silly. You're a big girl."
She slowly grinned. "Oh yeah," she mumbled past the bite of banana. As she took it from him in her little hand, she tucked the side of chin and swiveled on her hips a little side to side. "Sometimes I like to still be your baby though," she said quietly.
He grinned bright. "You are my baby. And you're always gonna be my babygirl. Don't you worry."
She smiled up at him, big and bright, until her baby teeth were showing, the apples of her rosy cheeks had risen, and her doe eyes were twinkling.
Smiling, he ruffled her curls. And as he resumed his coffee drinking, Eliza came to his side and silently wrapped her arms around him, closing her eyes and nestling her cheek on his broad chest with a peaceful smile. Arthur noticed Isaac rise on his tiptoes to him. Gently breaking away from Eliza for a moment, Arthur leaned down to the side to catch what Isaac was wanting to say.
"D' you guys cuddle real good last night?" Isaac whispered past a bite full of banana.
Arthur paused and whispered in return, "We did. Thank you." And as he straightened, he caught sight of Isaac's smile. Bringing his arm back around Eliza and gently rubbing her back as she returned her cheek to its place on his chest, he took another sip from his mug and sent a single wink Isaac's way.
That day he took them into San Francisco, about an hour by horse. When they got there, he stabled the wagon and took them by the hand to the edge of the city.
"You've heard a' the Wild West," he said.
"Yeah," Isaac looked up at him by his side.
Arthur nodded, still looking out at the densely populated place—smoggy wharf dotted with sailors and dock workers; narrow, muddy streets crammed with industry and boisterous people. "This is it." As they matched his gaze over the place, he added plainly, "As west as it gets. This ain't a city to be trifled with. It can be even filthier than Saint Denis in places. And the folk can get…rowdy. I don't wanna be here long. We resupply, and we move out. And you never, ever let go of one of our hands," he looked down at the children. "Understand me?"
They both nodded quickly.
When they walked down a couple streets and turned a corner, they were standing at the end of a long, bustling bazaar. People were hurrying up and down the center shopping as sellers barked their wares from booths that stood on either side, covered by colorful awnings.
Arthur and Eliza began to slowly wade into the hubbub, each holding one of the children's hands. As they passed produce, dry goods, and salt beef stands, they began to fill paper bags together with their free hands.
Arthur paid and let Hope dig into one of the bags for an apple. Taking a bite out of one himself, he turned back to Eliza just in time to find her trying on a tawny tan cowboy hat from a nearby apparel booth. She was ducking just a bit to get a glimpse of herself in a little tarnished mirror that hung on a beam beside the booth, gripping the soft suede-like felt brim to adjust it to her liking. But when she caught sight of him noticing her, she quickly removed the hat and replaced it on its display peg with a bashful little smile.
"No, no..." he said with a growing grin, moving the bite of apple around in his mouth. "You look fantastic. Put it back on."
Glancing from him back to the hat and still unsure, she started to reach out for it.
"Don't be shy!" the male owner of the booth came forward. Clad in western wear from his hat down to his boots, yet clean and well-groomed, he himself was not shy about peddling his own wares. "That one was made for you!"
Arthur wore a subtle smirk beneath his own brim, letting his gaze drag from the gaudy goods seller back to his wife as she placed the hat back on her head. It somehow both accentuated the softness of the color of her hair, the wisps that framed her face, the freckles on her nose, the pale skin of her jaw near the corner of her mouth—and brought forward the strength, confidence, and vibrancy he already knew was there. And he nodded with a tip of his chin to the side. "He ain't wrong."
"They're made of the finest materials, I assure you. Bound to be family heirlooms! I've got some in smaller sizes too! Perfect for little ones," the seller said, glancing down at the children. He rushed to pick a couple more hats off their pegs. "Maybe one each, so all the family can enjoy?"
Arthur looked down at the children, each still holding one of their parents' hands. "You want one too?" When they nodded slowly with soft smiles, their eyes gazing out over the array of hats, he grinned and added, "All right."
Isaac picked out a brown leather one, and Hope a pale cream one with a chin strap. As Arthur looked over his family and paid the man, the thought flitted through his mind that it was perhaps the best purchase they'd made all day.
As they continued down the bazaar, a man in a black vest and white shirt, bowler hat and elbow cuffs, rushed up to them.
"A photo, a portrait of the lovely family! How about it?" he said, gesturing for them to come inside.
They paused and hesitated.
"Well, come on! A moment you can take home and treasure forever! Don't you wanna remember this time, years from now?" he smiled wide.
Arthur and Eliza looked down at their children, who were both munching on mouthfuls of apple, chins dripping with streaks of juice. And they couldn't help but grin.
"It's a flat rate per photograph. Don't make me beg," the man chuckled, coming behind them and practically shooing them inside. "You'll be very pleased, trust me."
They walked inside his studio to see a little cushioned chair and a little table topped with flowers in a vase and decorative fruit. Behind the chair and table was a background displaying a scene in the streets of the upper-crust side of San Francisco—fancy two- and three-story houses, women in fine dress with parasols, men in suits and top hats.
Eliza immediately scrunched her nose, and Arthur tipped his head to the side with a frown that slid to one side.
"Got anything else, mister?" he asked.
"Sure, sure!" he said, hurrying to pull down another scene from the rolled wallpapers at the top. What they saw next was a tranquil scene of the California seashore.
Eliza smirked and squinted a bit. "Better..."
"But—it can be better!" the man held up one finger. "You're a family of rugged outdoorsmen and women, I see. How about this one?" And he pulled down a scene amid a lush green forest, with jagged indigo mountains shooting up in the distance between the trees.
"Yeaaah!" the children nodded heartily.
"I can ollmost hear the birdies," Hope said, about to take another bite from her apple.
"Mnh-mm," Eliza whispered, rushing to take the apple away. "I already have to wipe your face, baby," she chuckled. "I think that's just right," she said with a smile to the photographer.
As he began to adjust the chair and table to accommodate four people, Eliza removed her hat and tried to let go of Hope's hand so she could wipe the children's faces with the skirt of her gown.
"But you said no letting go!" Hope said, refusing to remove her hand.
"You can let go for the photograph, that's okay," Eliza smiled as she crouched before them. "Hats off," she told them.
"But, we just got these. What if I wanna wear it for the picture?" Isaac said.
"No hats in the picture."
"Daddy's gonna wear his hat," he said with half-mast eyes and a flat expression.
"Daddy can wear his hat 'cause he wears it a lot. It's a part of him."
Isaac grumbled and slumped his shoulders.
"Hat. Off," she said simply, tipping it from his head with one finger. "We're havin' fun, Isaac. Don't make trouble."
She straightened and began to smooth her skirt and hair.
"Oh, mirror's just on that wall, madam," the photographer pointed.
As the others took their places in the camera's view, she hurried before the mirror to fiddle with the stray hair framing her face. She finally sighed, which fluffed a bit of it away.
"You're beautiful," Arthur said with a smile, holding his hand out to her as she joined them. "You get to stand right by papa."
She smirked and let out a quiet, sardonic groan as she took her place by his side.
The children stood in front of them, and Arthur rested his hand on Isaac's shoulder.
"All right, nice and still for me please. And look right here," the man said as he pointed to the lens for them. "One, two, three." And in just a few minutes, they had their photo.
Arthur gazed down at it in his hands—each of them had an easy, comfortable, faint little grin on their faces. But they were all stiff and rigid where they stood.
Eliza noted his vaguely dissatisfied expression and came beside him to look at it. She tisked her tongue when she saw it. "Look at that. It's beautiful, honey. What's wrong with it?"
"Somethin'...somethin' ain't quite right about it." He looked up at the photographer. "This is great, but we'll need one more."
"You got it," he smiled. "No skin off my nose."
"All right," Arthur said as he went back to his spot. "No stiff poses this time."
The children both looked back at him with puzzled looks.
He grinned down at them. "Only silly ones."
With slow realization, they smiled big and quickly turned back towards the camera, readying themselves for the silliest expressions they could think of.
"You ready with that camera?" Arthur asked the photographer.
"Ready."
"What?" Eliza said, trying not to let her voice edge with panic. "Silly?" she gestured between her and her husband. "What're we supposed to do?"
"One...two..." the photographer began to count.
Arthur quickly wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her close and planting a sloppy kiss on her cheek, and at the same moment Hope let out a whooping cackle.
"Three." And a few minutes later, the photographer was grinning down at the photo. He turned and held it out to Arthur. "Wish I could keep it. Wish everyone who came in here would pull somethin' like that. You're a visionary, sir. Leaps and bounds ahead of your time, I'm sure."
When he saw it, Arthur could not contain his smile. Isaac had brought both hands near his ears in mock antlers, scrunched his nose, and stuck his tongue out at the camera. Little Hope had done nothing but laugh at her brother—her partly blurry smile was big enough he could still hear the shimmery sound of her cackle.
And there were he and Eliza above them. The brim of his hat just covered his eyes, and what was left of his face was a burgeoning smirk where his mouth met Eliza's cheek. Her shoulders were a bit scrunched up in surprise as he pressed her to his chest, her arms still swaying from the opposite direction, a result of the inertia of his sudden tug on her waist. And though her eyes were closed, the radiant, contented smile she wore beneath them spoke volumes to him—about the joy she'd felt, but more importantly, about their relationship.
It was their little family, encapsulated perfectly in one moment in time. Exactly what he'd wanted.
When Eliza came close and looked down at it with him, a tinkling laugh racked her chest and leapt from her mouth. "It's perfect. H-how did you do that?" She smiled up at him and back down at the photo. "It's perfect, Arthur!"
"I'm thinkin' we oughtta do this once every year," he grinned. "A photo of the family, I mean."
"To capture how they grow," she brought her hand down to the back of Isaac's golden head. "It's a brilliant idea."
"Well, I'm not sure where you good people are headed, but I'm here all year round," the photographer said as Arthur placed his payment in his hand.
"Oh, we ain't stayin' round here," Arthur smirked with a shake of his head, eyes still glued to the photo.
And that same day, with their supplies and newfound little treasures, Arthur took his family and started to make northeast a ways, toward the mountains. Each night they'd camp and sleep in the wagon, as they'd gotten so used to doing. And as they made it up into the California side of the Sierra Nevadas, Arthur made it his business to ride around with the family each day, keeping an eye out for a plot of land that felt like home. And when they finally found it—a wide, expansive clearing with soft, rich soil, nestled in the mountains and bordered by forest trees, with creeks nearby and a beautiful lake not too far, just low enough in altitude that he was sure they would not see much snow in winter—he wasted no time taking them back down into the valley to purchase the deed outright, so he could hold it in his hand himself.
But before they ventured back up the mountain, Isaac held his father fast to his promise for a single train ride.
"One train ride," Arthur said firmly as he helped the children down from the wagon one at a time and paid to stable it with the horses. "Short enough to make it somewhere and turn around and be back here before dark tonight."
He bought their tickets at the nearby station, and before they boarded, Isaac's eyes were plastered wide, watching closely as the wheels slowed to a stop, watching the plume of steam overhead and listening to the hooting whistle blow.
"Keep your wits about ya," Arthur said once he'd boarded the section that joined the cars as he held out a hand and helped them all step up onto the train. "This ain't one a' them fancy lines. 'S more for...workin' folk." Once he'd helped Eliza up, he added quietly, "Might be best for you to head in first, and I'll...bring up the rear. Just so I c'n keep my eyes on all of ya."
She brought her brows together as she gave him a quizzical look. "You really are on edge about this, Arthur. I'm sure there can't be much to worry so over. It's just a train."
She stepped past him and the children and pushed her way through the door and into the train car. She'd only made it a few steps, just enough for all of them to make it inside behind her, when the smack of knuckles hitting skull abruptly rang out, accompanied by the sight of one man hitting an older one in the aisle before her. As the older man's head whipped to the side, a spray of blood and other things that clattered to the floor burst from his face, and he stumbled back a few steps.
In a split moment, Arthur's hand instinctively went to his holstered pistol, but he waited to see if the conflict would resolve itself.
"I told you to stay the hell away from me, old man!" the man who'd done the hitting shouted. "Damn wonder they let folk like you on this train. Ya ain't gettin' my hard-earned money. Go pickpocket some other damn fool!"
He sat back in his seat, and the hullabaloo was over as abruptly as it had begun, with not a single look of shock from among the other passengers.
Blinking, Eliza watched the damaged man grip his mouth with both hands. When he dipped his fingers inside his mouth and felt around, his eyes shot wide with panic.
"Muh—muh teeth!" he lisped. Noticing Eliza standing there, he leaned forward and strained in a whisper, "They're gold!"
Her brows rose, and she promptly spun on the balls of her feet and looked down at the children. "This gentleman has lost his teeth," she whispered. When they simply stood there looking up at her with scrunched noses, she let her eyes pulse wide and instructed, "To the floor with you!"
Without another word, they quickly dropped to the floor of the train car and began scavenging the aisle and underneath the seats.
"Bubbie!" Hope whispered. "'D you hear what that man's teeth are made of?"
"Gold!" Isaac whispered back.
"What you suppose his toenails are made of?"
"Whatever his fingernails are made of, I guess."
"Gold too?"
As the children crawled along the floor and Eliza tried to calm the old man, Arthur nonchalantly tugged the brim of his hat down over his eyes, hoping to avoid the possibility of anyone recognizing the one part of him that had been visible with a bandana on. All the while, the children continued their hunt below.
"Ha! I got it!"
"Aw, that was mine! Ha! It's okay, I got another one!"
And in less than a minute, they were back on their feet, each holding out a handful of gold teeth to their mother.
"Thank you, sweets," she smiled to them. "Here you are, sir," she said to the man as she handed them to him, choosing to ignore the kerfuffle he'd been the cause of in her use of the overly kind address.
"Ah, thankee, ma'am," he said, digging into his pocket. "Here. For your kindness. Got it off that feller." And with a tip of his head towards the man that'd punched him, he handed her a silver-plated pocket watch before walking past them all and exiting the train car.
Eliza's eyes slid half-mast. She immediately walked over to where the first man was sitting, cleared her throat, and held out the pocket watch over his shoulder, grinning when he took it with a roll of his eyes.
Arthur quickly gestured them all to a pair of bench seats facing each other that were isolated from the rest of the passengers.
Isaac slid in and bounced with excitement onto the cushion, rushing to the window as the train slowly started on its journey. "I never been on a train before! You ever been on a train before, Daddy?" he asked without turning back from the window.
Sitting beside him nearer the aisle, Arthur was slumping his back against the seat and adjusting his hat to block part of his face from the aisle and the rest of the passengers. "Yeah... Daddy used to, uh...jump onto movin' trains, actually," he said quietly.
"Really?" Isaac whipped his head back to him.
"Yeah."
"Like, to catch up, when you were late?"
"Sure... But I don't want either of you ever goin' near a movin' train, all right? Ever. Even when you're grown. Ain't nothin' to mess with."
"How come you did it?"
"'Cause I—" Feeling his voice rising to speaking volume, he brought it back down. "'Cause I was young an' dumb. All right?" he said low in a lilting, sassy tone with a lift to his brows.
Even with all Isaac's excitement, it didn't take long before he was beginning to reach boredom.
"Think they have fiddle and banjo players in Callyfornia, Mama?" he tried to make conversation.
"I'm certain they have, son. The only question is if they're as good as in Misty Willow."
Isaac turned and dipped his head, looking up at her with a smirk as he chuffed a scoff from the back of his throat. "Nobody could be that good..." he said wryly.
She grinned.
He looked out the window again and grew quiet. "So...what do we do? On a train?" he said, sitting back in his seat and looking at her.
"We ride it," she chuckled.
"But I mean, what do we do...?" he said again with a pucker to his lips.
She smirked knowingly. "Well... We can practice our Spanish!"
Isaac groaned just a little. "It's hard, Mama."
"Hello." When he didn't respond, she eyed him. "Hello."
"Hola."
She smiled. "Good job. Blue."
"A-Azul."
"Mm-hm. Red."
"Roja."
"Right again. Apple?"
"Um... I forgot that one, I think."
All the while, Arthur was slouched a bit in his seat with his hat tipped a bit to the side, keeping his eye on all the nearby passengers and the ticket checker, listening for the sudden pound of footsteps on the roof. Balancing staying alert for any kind of conflict while remaining invisible himself was proving enough to need all his focus.
"Manzana."
"Oh yeah! Manzana," his wife and son were saying while Hope silently looked back and forth at them.
"Now what about 'red apple'?"
"Um..."
"Remember, it's opposite ways from English."
"M-Manzana roja?"
"Great job," she smiled. "House."
He quietly grumbled again. "I don't remember all this stuff."
"Yes, you do."
"Can I see your special dictionary?"
Eliza went into Arthur's satchel at his waist and pulled it out, without him ever moving or taking his eyes back from the other passengers.
Coming to sit beside his mother, Isaac looked down at the book as she opened it. "Did you get any other languages too? That aren't so hard?"
She smiled. "You been doin' good with Spanish, Isaac."
"Yeah, but, I wanna know what else there is to try too."
"Like what?"
"I dunno. Didn't you say your grandpa spoke somethin' else?"
"Yup. My grandpa, your great grandpa, spoke both English and Gaelic. He came here from Ireland."
"Wow."
"But I don't know any Gaelic, that's for sure. Anyways, it might be even harder than Spanish."
"And what about, um, Daddy's grandpa?"
"Hmm... Not sure. I don't think Daddy knew his grandpa. But Daddy's surname is...Welsh, I think."
"Daddy, you know any Welsh?"
Eliza continued with a laugh, "I don't know if that's what the language is called, Isaac. Or even if they speak anything besides English there."
"Daddy, is it called Welsh?"
But Arthur's focus was on the ticket checker as he stepped down the aisle past their seat, who seemed just a little too familiar for his liking; on the greasy man sitting to the left and three rows back, who had an unsavory look about him; on the ranch hand sitting across the aisle and a couple seats ahead, whose armed holster remained at the ready on his hip.
"Daddy?"
No answer.
"Daddy?"
Finally, Eliza cleared her throat. And when his attention didn't budge, she repeated the gesture, more loudly. When she'd succeeded at eliciting a stuttered glance from him, she said, "Your oldest is trying to speak to you, dearest."
He mumbled a bit but kept his gaze where it had been. "Uh, it's uh...hola."
Cocking her head and with her jaw a bit loose, she closed her eyes a moment and worked to smooth her expression. She smiled and spoke calmly. "We're about three conversations on from that, Arthur. Arthur."
She finally snapped her fingers repeatedly right in front of his eyes. When he blinked and finally turned to look back at her, she lifted her brows and let out a long, low whistle.
That afternoon on the ride back home, after the children had eaten their fill of venison jerky and dried fruit that their mother had wrapped in a cloth napkin and packed away in Arthur's satchel, with the steady rhythm of the train, they drifted off to sleep. Hope was nestled peacefully with a leg on either side of her mother's lap and her cheek on her breast, and Isaac was slumped against his father's right arm where he sat beside him.
As the ride jostled them just a little in their seats, Arthur watched Eliza's expression where she sat directly across from him. Their gazes connected, and her eyes wouldn't budge from his. He couldn't help but begin to smirk.
"I know what it is you're about to say, before you say it," he said quietly.
"Oh, you do, huh?" she said as she rubbed Hope's back.
"Yup. Told you. I know everything there is to know about you, Morgan." Letting out a breath, he shifted and brought his arm around Isaac so he could rest his temple on his chest.
"All right, mind-reader," she fought to keep from matching his smirk. "What am I gonna say?"
"You're gonna say to me...in a vexed tone, though you'll try to hide it, 'You gonna be lookin' over your shoulder for the rest of forever and a day?'"
She paused and squinted at him, pursing her lips until they were reduced to a wobbly grin, and she finally relaxed her shoulders. "Well. Are you?"
He looked away, remaining quiet for several moments.
"You said yourself you didn't want to live lookin' over your shoulder."
The train jostled him as he finally looked back at her. "That was nigh on three weeks ago. Lot's happened since then."
"Sure, but—"
"I won't let my life before you, hurt you. Or them. I will not." He sighed through his nose and clenched his jaw a bit. "I swear to god, I will run myself into the earth before I ever let that happen."
She sat back in her seat and ran her fingers through Hope's light blonde hair. "Life is made up of little things, Arthur." She smiled down at her daughter. "The way the sunlight shines in Hope's curls. The way they bounce whenever she's excited." Lowering her head to the side to see her face, her smile brightened. "This here," she said, pointing to the way Hope's plump little lips were scrunched unnaturally in her heavy slumber.
Arthur grinned softly at the sight.
She rested her head on the back of the seat again. "The sound of their breathin'. The freckles on Isaac's nose. The way he looks at you, every time he looks at you, Arthur." She watched him glance down in thought. "You remember...holdin' his tiny face in your big hands, when he couldn't hold up his own head?" She smiled, lost in the memory. "Kissin' his face, and laughin' when he tried to nurse on your nose or chin?"
He grinned warmly, and it brightened further when she let out a little laugh in response.
Her smile softened as she continued, "Helpin' me adjust him in my arms, so I could hold him to my breast and nurse him?" She let her head loll back on the seat and closed her eyes a moment before opening them again to look at him. "Then sittin' in the quiet, just the three of us. Now look at him," she gestured with her eyes to Isaac at his side. And when he followed her gaze, his own heavy with love, she added, "They can't know how much we love 'em. Not 'til they have their own."
She let out a long sigh as she spoke the next words. "Life is made up of little things. I know you know that as well as I do. And it's all pourin' from our hands, so fast, like the sand on that beach. Blink and you'll miss it, much less look away altogether. And if you miss it, what'll you be sacrificin'?"
Looking up again, he met her eyes. "Guess I'm prioritizin' makin' sure all those 'little things' survive."
She lifted her head and nodded. "And I know you will. I don't worry myself about it, Arthur. No matter what happens, or where or when it happens, I know you'll take care of us. Just by being there, you will."
He cocked a brow for a moment and tipped his head. "That's one way a' lookin' at it."
"Well..." she started to smirk. "You know, I'm no Arthur Morgan, but I'm pretty decent with a gun myself these days. Don't count me out when defendin' my family."
He smirked. But it wasn't long before his smile faded away again. He watched her smooth throat as she swallowed, keeping her eyes on him as her expression slid just a little to match his.
"It won't always be this way for them. Right now, all they want in this life, is to be near you. I have to say the same." She held his eyes as the train jostled once more, and Isaac stirred just a bit against his father's chest. "Don't take that away from us by parsin' yourself out amongst worries. What'll you be askin' us to give up?"
Arthur watched his younger self blink and fill his chest with a breath. "You said it yourself: she's got a one-track mind, though usually right. And anyways, you promised 'em. Promised her folks, when you stood there at their graves, that you wouldn't let their lives be lived runnin'. That they wouldn't know that kind of f—"
"I just don't want us to live in fear, Arthur," Eliza said. "It's no way to live."
"I understand," he said simply and quietly, with a nod. "It'll be different now. Now we've got our own place out here," he mused. "Been so long since I been this way, I expect all that's long gone and done with. And we're just out of the way enough, kids can still go to school, and we can make it down to civilization, and...I can feel a little better about it." He blinked slowly and nodded again. "It'll be all right, sweetheart. It'll all be different from now on."
When they got back to the town at the foot of the mountain they now called home, Arthur promptly drove the wagon to the architect's office that he'd seen across from the deed and title agent's office. He hopped down, went inside, and walked back out to the wagon in less than ten minutes.
"That's quite a smile," Eliza said.
"Told you, I'm buildin' you a ranch house. Hired a contractor. Told him what I got in mind. He's gonna gather a crew and the materials; we start on Monday."
"Well, where'd you get the money for all that?"
He cleared his throat and shifted in his seat. "Remember, right after we got married, I mentioned I had a hefty sum from, uh...you-know-what?"
"Sure."
"Well, it...was more than I ever thought I coulda possibly had comin' to me," he chuckled airily. "Hosea made sure I got my fair share when I left. And I'd be lyin' if I said I hadn't always planned to get us up outta that town, and that little cabin. So, I set it aside as a special fund for that from the get-go. I sat on it, didn't wanna touch it; really, I wanted to forget it was even there. So when I told you I'd saved up for that gem, well, that was true," he nodded. "Came off the top a' what I was makin' bounty huntin'."
Her expression relaxed, and she started to grin.
"What I got in mind for the ranch is gonna take the lion's share of it. But I still got some from the sale a' the cabin. And we'll get to horse-breedin' and ranchin', and we'll be all right. Maybe I'll even sell a drawin' or paintin' here and there," he glanced at her from the corner of his eyes with a latent smirk. "Don't you ever worry about money, darlin'," he laughed. "We're gonna be just fine."
She couldn't help but match his smile as they road back up the mountain.
They all slept in a tent under the stars amidst the clearing each night, with Boadicea and Samson nearby. And sure enough, early Monday morning a team of many men entered the clearing with two huge carts full of building materials—enough, Arthur was sure, for just the foundation of the homestead to start with.
A man in a black vest and bowler hat, obviously the architect, walked right up to Arthur and shook his hand as he introduced the crew boss to his left—a man dressed a little more like Arthur. The architect promptly opened and propped up a little table, rolling out the blueprints he'd had tucked under his arm.
Eliza watched as Arthur took out his pencil and sketched out the floor plan for each of two levels, and the front and back of the grand house.
The very first thing they did was dig a well for a water pump and lay down pipes in the earth for running water. Next, they began laying the foundation and the frame. Some days, the men of the crew would camp out in tents on the property, and other days they'd head back down the mountain for more supplies.
Each time Eliza brought her husband a bucket of water and ladled him a drink during the day while the children played near the tent, she could catch part of how he was instructing the architect to proceed with the designs.
"...the kids' rooms down the hall there, not next-door to the master bedroom. And some more rooms over this way... A wrap-around porch... No, no, no. The porch swing is important, all right? We ain't givin' that up. ...Got the corral comin' around this part. The barn here. And the stables over here."
Whenever he saw her walking up, he'd smile every time. "Makin' you a sturdy one," he'd say. "To last generations."
Once they'd settled on the designs to Arthur's exact specifications, he rolled up his sleeves and joined the crew himself to take part in the building.
One night Arthur invited the crew boss over to their family's campfire for supper and introduced him properly to the family. "This is Mr. Matthew Knapp. He's workin' real hard to get our house built, as fast as he can," he said as the man shook Isaac's little hand.
He smiled as he took a seat on the log beside Isaac. "You c'n call me Mr. Matt."
"I have one of those," Isaac said, pointing to the cowboy hat he was removing and setting beside him.
"Yeah?"
"Mm-hm," Isaac nodded.
"You gonna be a rancher when you grow up?"
"I dunno," he shrugged. "I like horses a lot, but I never really been on one yet."
Mr. Matt immediately looked up at Arthur with a bright, incredulous smile. "You ain't got this boy up on a horse yet?"
Arthur tipped his head as he scooped some food onto a tin plate and passed it to him. "He's only six…" he drawled self-consciously. He smirked and chuckled, "We've had a lot goin' on."
He looked back at Isaac. "Well. I'm sure your daddy an' mama're gonna get you up on a horse real soon."
"Yeah." Sitting hunched, Isaac watched the flames of the campfire spit and crackle as he ate his supper.
Mr. Matt smirked. "You know...smart cowboy always makes sure to keep from lookin' into the fire."
Isaac furrowed his brows quizzically. "Why?"
Hope perked up to listen to the answer.
Mr. Matt spoke slowly and smoothly for added drama. "'Cause if you look into the fire, and look away into the dark of night, you can't see nothin'. And a smart cowboy knows..." he gave his head a single shake, "he's gotta be ready at any moment, should danger of any kind ever strike."
Considering his words, Isaac's eyes popped up to his father across the fire.
"He's right, actually," Arthur smirked.
Eliza watched as both Isaac and Hope violently whipped their heads away from the bright light of the fire. She looked up at Mr. Matt with a smile, and they all couldn't help but laugh.
As the days went on, Eliza continued to periodically bring her bucket of water to Arthur first, and then to the rest of the men of the crew. One afternoon she walked up to Arthur in her sweet country frock when he'd been working off on his own nailing boards together. He'd long since removed his shirt and was glistening with sweat in the hot sun, his hair dripping underneath the brim of his hat. Though some of the men ignored the scene and continued about their work, a group of them paused to watch from afar off as Arthur straightened and wiped his brow with the back of his forearm when she handed the ladle to him; and after he'd taken a drink, he suddenly tugged her by the waist, kissing and tickling her neck.
"Arthur..." she smiled, playfully trying to push him off her. "You're gonna get me all... You're all sweaty."
"Yeah...so... I thought you liked it," he mumbled into her skin.
"Yeah, but it's smelly," she said as he drew away to look at her. With a repressed grin, she grumbled and eyed him. "It's almost as bad as when you pass gas."
His smile shot wide. "Quit lyin'. Ain't nowhere close!"
"No," she laughed. "I just wanted to see your face."
Having no possible notion what they'd said to one another, the group of men watched as she kissed his grinning cheek and made her way towards them with the bucket of water. They each took a drink from the ladle with a cordial smile and nod, trying not to so obviously keep their eyes on her. But as she walked away back to their family tent, their eyes were glued to her.
"Best part a' my whole damn day," one said to another.
"Gotta hand it to the good Lord almighty for makin' things like that," another said with a brief shake of his head.
"Sweet Jesus..." still another murmured.
"'Ey!" Mr. Matt walked into the middle of the group from behind when he heard them gawking at Mrs. Morgan. "Back to work. Don't get paid to stand around."
And the men quickly scurried about their work.
It surprised Eliza just how quickly the house really did begin to take shape. With the number of men Arthur had hired, he must've wanted it up and the whole ranch finished right quick.
One afternoon when the homestead was about three-quarters done, the men headed down the mountain for more supplies and to pick up the furnishings the Morgans had ordered. Arthur was working on lifting a beam into place near the front of the porch when he felt part of the weight of the beam disappear from his shoulder. He looked up to see Eliza at the adjacent end of the beam with her hair tied back, in a simple white cotton button-down tucked into her slim brown work pants, lifting it in time with him.
He grinned at the sight of her smile. But as she looked forward and they proceeded to lift and push the beam up and all the way into place, his attention was snagged by the sight of her plump little bottom in those pants. They weren't overly snug or immodest, but they happened to be cut in such a way as to delicately hug the widest part of her hips and tuck just beneath each cheek, accented splendidly—perfectly by the way her legs were positioned behind her as she worked to push the beam up. As hard as she was working, her pants were working even harder.
Noticing the way he was leaning back to get a better look, and the way he was subconsciously easing up on the amount of pressure needed to lift the beam, Arthur snapped in front of his younger self's face. "Hey. Hey!"
But it was no use, and the beam came tumbling back down, narrowly missing them both.
Cutting her losses, Eliza quickly ducked and covered her head. "Heeey! What'd you go an' do that for? We were doin' so good!"
Arthur moaned over her voice as she continued to protest. He let his head sag to the side and shook it as he looked at her where she stood. "Honey, it ain't gonna work. All right? Not today."
She scrunched her brows. "What do you mean?"
"I mean, you bein' out here, workin' with me," he gestured between her and the growing house. "It ain't gonna work today."
"What! Why?"
"Because—" Rubbing the back of his neck, he lifted a brow to look at her again. "'Cause you're a…a hazard. All right?"
"I'm a…" She lifted her brows incredulously and pointed to her chest. "I'm a hazard?"
"That's right," he said as she continued to quickly speak.
"Arthur, you're the one who dropped the beam!" she said in a high pitch, vaguely pointing to it on the ground as she kept her eyes on him.
"I know, I know," he nodded grandiosely, allowing for her point wholeheartedly. "What I mean by hazard… It's just that… Well, seein' you, there, in your…very nice britches…" he said with wide eyes and a palm up, making sure his woman heard and understood the offered compliment. He finally brought a hand up to his open collar, quickly lifting it and let it down repeatedly to get some cool air flow over his warm skin. "I guess I…I'm too much in the mood today. Ya understand?"
As she started to do just that, her eyelids slid half mast, and she let her jaw hang limp and to the side, huffing a little as she rested a hand on her hip.
"I know you're tryin'a help. I know you are," he quickly worked to get in, clapping his hands flat together in mock pleading.
"Don't patronize me," she said quietly, eyes squinted at him above a growing smirk.
"No, no—you ain't even tryin'! You really are a help to me. You're right, we had that beam all set to go in its rightful place. It's me, all right?" He said, resting the side of his hand with his little finger on his own chest. "I fully acknowledge that. It's me. And I'm tellin' you…that it just so happens I'm too much in the mood today." He suddenly squatted on his knees just a bit and spoke in a strained tone. "You can't dangle the carrot of my loving wife's beautiful body in front a' me when I'm ripe, and I can't even take a bite!" Straightening again, he wheezed and wagged his head. "Nah, nah. Ain't gonna work."
She began to relax and ease up a bit, letting her hand drop from her waist. "All right…"
"I feel your heart to help, sweetheart. I really do. Tomorrow. Tomorrow I'll be better. Promise."
"All right! All right!" she lightly waved him off as she began to turn. "Tomorrow. I'll hold you to that," she pointed at him.
"Tomorrow you're standin' right here beside me. Workin' shoulder to shoulder." When she turned her back to him, he quickly swatted her behind with a light little smack, delighting in the surprised chirp that sounded from her throat. He made a point to dip to the side at his waist and cock his head to appreciate the subtle jiggle to her rear, and when she turned back with a wry grin, he couldn't help but smile bright.
"Tomorrow!" she called back with a smile as she walked backwards for a bit and then turned, her arms swinging about her as she walked the rest of the way to their tent.
"Tomorrow," he said quietly to himself, watching her walk. "But today and every day, you are a lucky man, Morgan."
Watching his younger self look down and go back to work with a grin still plastered on his face, Arthur nodded and let his head hang low. "I always knew it. Be grateful at least you acted on it."
And the next day, Arthur kept to his promise, remaining focused as Eliza took her place beside him, helping complete the homestead while some of the men worked on building the stables and barn. The last piece to the house was that porch swing, and once that was in place to his liking, he and Eliza moved on to putting up the corral and the property fence. The children even joined in to help as they put up post after post.
Before long, the barn and stables were complete, the fence was taken care of, and since they planned to put up the garden and chicken coop fences later, they took the opportunity to build the very last piece that they'd have the crew there to help put up. With a few of the men tugging it by a rope in the back and Arthur and Eliza pushing it up themselves from the front, and the children watching excitedly, they erected the squared entryway arch, emblazoned with the name:
PINEY HOLLOW MOUNTAIN RANCH
As the crew descended the mountain for the last time, smiles were abundant among the faces of the Morgan family, standing there together gazing at their new home, precisely as Arthur had so beautifully envisioned it.
Arthur brought his arm around Eliza's shoulders to tuck her close and kiss her on the cheek where she stood beside him. But she couldn't take her eyes off the place.
"We did it," she said with a bright smile.
"That we did."
Whooping and squealing, the children ran for the big homestead, stately and imposing as it was, rushing up the porch steps and through the front door.
"Wait, wait!" Arthur said as they hurried after them. "Lemme show you round, give you the grand tour and all."
As he and the children ran ahead, all Eliza could do was slowly walk through the rooms and halls with soft wonderment at the place. The way the sun shone through the windows and lit up the gorgeous rich pine wood of the walls, floor, the vaulted ceiling. The fireplace, with their two family portraits sitting atop the mantle; the brand-new amenities like running water, a working water closet, an iron stove and oven, and an ice box, just as he'd promised. It even had an attic. She was truly amazed at how live-in ready it was, how spacious, and how unspeakably beautiful it all was.
When Arthur found her, he tugged her by the hand toward their private sanctuary as people and as a couple: the master bedroom. It was decked out with a huge king-size bed covered with a plush pale blue comforter, nightstands and dressers, even a wardrobe, and beautiful curtains draped to frame the window.
Her smile was nothing short of glowing, to the point that that familiar vein started to show itself in her forehead. "You built me a house," she breathed with an airy laugh.
"I built you a house," he said with a similar unhindered smile, resting his hand to her far arm to bring her close as he gently kissed her temple.
The children ran into the room just in time to catch sight of her eyes starting to fill.
"Oh no!" Hope gasped. "Why you cryin', Mama?"
"It's good tears, baby."
"There are those?"
"Yeah," she sniffed and nodded. "There are those."
Isaac scrunched his nose and swiveled side to side with his hands folded behind his back. "Uh... You're makin' me feel weird... I don't like to see you cry, Mama."
"But look," she stroked the side of his cheek. "I'm smilin'. Yeah?"
Satisfied, he nodded with a soft grin. "Yeah."
That evening after Arthur and Eliza tucked the children each in their new beds, read them a story, and kissed them goodnight, they changed into nightclothes themselves and climbed into their own new bed. And Arthur immediately propped himself up and came over her, kissing and holding her.
But they didn't get far when a little knock sounded on their door.
"Mama?" they could hear Hope's muffled little voice from behind the door.
Still in his long johns, Arthur got up and opened the door. Hope skipped to their bed and climbed up, finally flopping her whole body atop Eliza, who smiled.
Arthur watched as Hope nestled her head right under her mother's neck with a contented smile. "Aw, no, no, sweetheart..." he said as he went to her and took her by the hand. "You gotta sleep in your own bed," he added quietly as she looked up at him.
Eliza sat up against the headboard and watched with a smile as they rounded the corner hand-in-hand, and he walked her to the children's bedroom.
A couple minutes later he was back, closing the door behind him and walking back to the bed with a smirk and a shake of his head. He climbed back into bed next to her, and she lied down as he hovered over her again, planting sweet kisses to her lips. But another few minutes produced another knock on the door.
As Arthur heard Hope begin to jiggle the handle, he threw off the comforter and went the door. He hadn't opened it a crack when Hope rushed through like a blur, up to the bed, and onto her mother once again.
Arthur moaned and wiped a hand down over his face. He was grateful when he saw Eliza rising out of the bed herself with Hope's hand in hers.
"Come on, baby. Daddy's gonna walk with you back to bed," she said sweetly.
"Yeah, it's time for bed, sweetheart. In your own bed," Arthur said as he took Hope's other little hand and turned to lead her. But Hope paused and turned back to her mother.
"I be right back, okay, Mama?" she said with a simplistic smile.
A chuckle rumbled through Eliza's nose as she rested a hand over her eyes. "Babygirl tells no lies."
Before she knew it, Arthur was back, closing the door and locking it behind him with a tight crescent-moon frown.
"Quick! Quick, now!" he whispered as he gingerly rushed to her where she stood in her white cotton nightgown. "Gotta take babygirl at her word!"
She laughed and wrapped her arms around his shoulders as he came to her and hastily, sloppily kissed her mouth. He was quietly moaning through each clicking kiss, hiking his big hand up her thigh and bunching her nightgown until he could savor the shape of her bottom, running that same hand around the front of her and up over her breast, fondling it through the dobby cotton.
Just when she'd begun to sigh, a little knock sounded yet again on the door.
Arthur broke away from Eliza's mouth. "Go awa-ayy!" he drawled loudly in a sing-song tone as Eliza continued to press kisses along his jaw and down his neck, taking the plackets of his long johns in her hands and working down past his collarbone.
Hope jiggled the handle and paused when it didn't start to give. "Why you lock the door?" she quietly questioned. "I'm comin' in there!"
"No…no, you ain't, sweetheart," he said calmly. He looked back at Eliza and kissed her deeply.
"Yes, I am."
Breaking away from Eliza's mouth again, he whispered, "Shiet. Goddamn! God!" He looked back at the closed door and nearly laughed outright. "Tryin'a feel up my woman, and gettin' derailed at every turn!" he said, shouting the last word with a bright smile, wheezing when he heard the laugh it garnered from Eliza.
"It's understandable, Arthur," she said. "You can hardly blame her."
He shook his head.
"They've gone through a lotta change—sleepin' in different places each night... Tucked so close to us every time. And this is just another new place."
"No, no. We gotta nip this in the bud 'fore it ever starts!" he said in a strained whisper as he made for the door. "Gotta be strong, honey!"
"Well, you try tellin' her no! Go on—" she gestured with a wave as she went to the bed and climbed in, looking at him firmly with an arch to her brow as she pulled the comforter over her, "open that door, look her in the eyes, and try to tell her no."
"Easily," he said low with a sardonic smirk as he pulled on the knob. He immediately crouched before their little daughter and began softly, "Hope...sweetheart..." But he couldn't even finish the sentence.
She wasn't pouting her lip or giving plaintive puppy dog eyes. She didn't need to. Because just by standing there, looking back at him so simply and silently, precious little Hope was capturing his heart in a restrictive lasso—cinching tighter and tighter by the second.
Her feather-light freckles adorning a round button nose. Her light golden curls, growing longer each day. And last but certainly not least, her green eyes, so like her mother's. Captivating doe eyes with a dewdrop gleam to them, framed beautifully by long, curly, fluffy lashes. And most important of all, he could see in them, so plainly, the uttermost trust, the simple longing to be near them somehow mingled with contentment and peace. The love.
Smirking and shaking his head, Arthur watched his younger self stutter just a bit, reaching up and bringing his big fingers through her curls as she stood there quietly. "You're tumbled over."
"You're bowled over!" Eliza called from the bed.
Hope looked back and forth into his blue-green eyes and slowly smiled. "I'munna get to sleep in here, huh?"
His brows drew up. "Yeah," he nodded with a heaving, moaning sigh. "Yeah, you are."
She promptly tucked her chin to her chest, pooched out her little round belly, and gave a single bounce. "Yay!" In her nightgown and with bare feet, she ran and climbed up onto her mother.
Arthur stood and paused in the doorway, finally sighing. "Isaac," he said bluntly, with no affectation to his tone. "I know you're there. Come on in."
A moment went by. And suddenly Isaac was running barefoot in his pajamas past him through the door with a big smile, and hopping onto the bed.
Arthur could only grin and wag his head as he closed the door.
Several nights they went through a similar scene, trying to gently encourage the children to sleep on their own in their bedroom, then giving up and allowing them to sleep in bed with them.
One night after the usual back and forth, when Hope was fast asleep atop her mother's chest and Isaac was nestled asleep near his father, Arthur made eye contact with Eliza. When he pointed to the door, she took his meaning and quietly rose with Hope in her arms, her head limp and little arms and legs dangling. And Arthur did the same, rising with Isaac seated on his forearm, cheek splayed over his shoulder.
The two of them tip-toed to the children's bedroom, gently and gingerly laying them in their own beds and rolling them from off their arms, taking extra care not to wake them.
When Eliza had succeeded in laying Hope in her bed and Arthur was still removing his arm from under Isaac, Arthur looked up at her, and, with a tip of his head towards the door, whispered so quietly it was almost only mouthed: "I think we made it! Go get naked!"
With a big smile and a bite of her lip, Eliza scurried from the room and down the hall, not making it all the way back to their room before she'd pulled her nightgown up over her head, leaving her without a stitch on. As she made it through the open door, she tossed her nightgown on the floor and rushed up into bed, pulling the covers up to her chest, lying on her side and propping herself seductively on her elbow with the heel of her hand under her cheek.
Not a minute later Arthur was walking into the room unbuttoning his long johns when he heard soft snoring. He looked up to see Eliza slumbering like a lump on a log, forearm beneath her cheek, hand dangling limp at her wrist, hair half in her face and swirled like a sleepy golden pond over the pillow.
He could only softly smile at the sight as his shoulders eased. He walked over and lifted her arm, tucking it more comfortably underneath the pillow, to which she stirred and smacked her lips in her sleep just a little bit, though her soft snoring ceased. With one finger, he brushed her fine hair back from her forehead, and he brought the back of the same finger down over her soft cheek. And he leaned over, closed his eyes, and tenderly pressed his lips to her cheek, once, twice.
"Sleep well, Love," he whispered before walking around the bed and climbing in beside her.
The next day the family was walking through the front door and down the porch towards the clearing together. Hope carried the blanket, Isaac and Arthur carried the plates and utensils, and Eliza carried the basket of food. It was their "Goodbye for Now, Sleeping and Eating Outside" Picnic, nicknamed so to appease the youngsters, with the explicit caveat that they could all eat or camp outside together whenever they wanted to.
When they were all situated atop the blanket with the goodies dished out in a banquet before them, the children began quietly munching on fruit and nuts. Eliza sat and reclined back a little, propping herself up by her arms behind her, closing her eyes for a few moments and enjoying the faint breeze. Arthur lied on his back and rested his head in her lap, looking up at the bright blue sky dotted with little fluffy clouds, bordered by the tall flowering grass nearby. She absentmindedly began to rake four fingers back into his thick, tawny, short hair, and he grinned contentedly.
It was a few minutes later when Isaac's little voice broke the quiet with a simple question, mumbled past his bite of food.
"So…when you gonna have another baby?"
Arthur shifted his head in Eliza's lap to look over at Isaac and wheezed, "What'd you just say?"
"I was askin' Mama when she's gonna have another baby. Y'know, like Hopie."
Eliza started to grin as she placed an almond in her mouth. "Wha-hat?" she laughed.
"You know! Like when Hopie was in there!" he gestured to his mother's abdomen. "And she came out, Baby Hope!"
"What!" Hope scrunched her nose. "I was in there?!" she pointed incredulously to Eliza's abdomen. "No way."
"Yup," Isaac nodded slowly, letting his eyes drift slowly up and down for a wiser-than-thou dramatic effect. "Yeah. Yeah, you were. I 'member. I 'member so."
Still disbelieving, Hope looked up at her mother with bright eyes and a big, watermelon-slice smile. And when she saw her mother grin and nod, she lost it, throwing herself back across the blanket, cackling wildly, and kicking her feet.
"It's true! You even danced around in there! Kinda like that!" Isaac said.
"Oh, did you ever…" Eliza moaned low with a sarcastic grin. "Mama had to rush to the outhouse a few times, 'cause you'd kicked me in just the right spot while you were dancin'." She tried not to glance down at Arthur, but was as unsuccessful as she was in keeping from turning pink. "There was once I didn't make it. But your daddy graciously helped me into some fresh knickers," she said with a laugh as Arthur smiled up at her.
Hope sat up. "Wait, so I was really in there?"
"Yeah," Eliza said lightly as she placed a slice of peach in her mouth, returning the heel of her hand to the ground behind her. "So was Isaac once."
"Told you," Isaac said low, glancing at Hope with a smirk. He looked back at his mother. "Mama, you're s'posed to gimme a little brother."
Hope gasped. "I could be a big sister!" But she paused and looked at her brother. "Wait. I was a lil sister, so why can't it be a lil brother or a lil sister?"
"'Cause I already got a little sister, so it's time for a little brother."
"Well, I say either is okay."
"Sh. Hopie. No," he shook his head as he looked at her, reaching out a hand and stroking his mother's abdomen. "We need all the good baby luck for a good baby brother."
Eliza looked down at Arthur, her expression squished with latent laughter and incredulity at Isaac's hand patting her now-slim abdomen.
Arthur grinned up at her and shook his head. "Kid's such a ham."
"Either," Hope said.
"Brother."
"Ei. Ther. Either."
Arthur couldn't help but snicker at their banter, so serious as they were taking it.
"Anyways, what I was sayin' was… You're s'posed to gimme a baby brother." Isaac tilted his head and scrunched his lips up to touch his nose in thought. "I'm thinkin'…Christmas be good. So you better get started! Here you go, Mama," he said, holding the bowl of green grapes out to her. "Eat up!"
"Wa, wa, wait…" Arthur said, pulling himself up to a sitting position. He tried to hold back his smile and push down his laughter as he looked at his son. "Isaac, Isaac… I know how babies are made. But I just wanna know, how do you think they're made?"
"Well," Isaac began, popping a grape in his mouth and munching it in his cheek. "Before Hopie came out, Mama's belly got real real big. 'Member?"
Arthur reeled in his big grin. "Sure."
"And so, I think, when she's gettin' ready to have a baby, Mama eats a lotta yummy food, right?"
"Uh-huh," Arthur said, sticking his tongue in his cheek to keep from breaking into an all-out grin.
"And then," Isaac said, gesturing with his hands to show the travels of the food down her esophagus, "when it gets to her belly, the food gets stuck in there," he said with a scrunched nose, suddenly bunching his two hands together to demonstrate the gigantic food blockage. And just as suddenly, he relaxed his shoulders with a twinkling smile. "And then, God turns it into a baby in there! So that's how we got Baby Hope."
Hope slapped her hand to her face with a high-pitched, uncontrollable cackle. Arthur laughed and wheezed, and Eliza giggled.
His father nodded loosely with an undiluted smirk. "That is…" he held up a finger, "exactly how it happens. Exactly how it happens."
"Yay! I was right! So eat up, Mama!" he said, holding up the bowl of green grapes once more. "Sweet stuff for a sweet baby. And—" he quickly held up the plate of salt beef, "also some salty, so he's funny."
Eliza let out a snicker through her nose. Smiling, she took a grape from the bowl and popped it in her mouth before looking at Arthur. "I like this plan. I mean—not more than reality, of course."
"Yup, eat up, Mama!" Isaac sang. "Gotta get all that yummy food stuck in there, so we can have another baby!"
"Well, well— Just hold on a second," Arthur said lightly, holding up both palms. "We've really been through a lot these last few months. No reason to…jump the gun…or anything," he tried to chuckle airily. He cocked his head just a bit and slowly patted the air. "Why don't we just…take it day by day, and…see what happens?"
Shrugging one shoulder, Isaac slowly brought the bowl of green grapes back down and set it on the blanket. Hope quietly let her curly head hang to one side. And still munching on her grape and propped up by her arms, Eliza looked over and eyed Arthur as he threw a few almonds into his mouth and nonchalantly looked off into the trees.
And that evening, after they'd successfully put the children to sleep in their own beds, Eliza sat peacefully in the warm water of the bathtub in her and Arthur's room. With her blonde hair wet and slicked back, she watched Arthur unbutton his collar and placket as he began to undress at the wardrobe. She readied herself for the familiar jingle of his belt and the sight of him peeling his pants from his legs to reveal his long johns. But those things never came.
When she felt he was about to turn her way, she glanced back down into the water. And she appeared to busy herself with filling and squishing her bathing sponge, dabbing it still damp to her cheek and running it across her neck and chest as the water sloshed a bit. When she next looked up, he was kneeling beside the bathtub, the collar of his soft shirt open and his face close to hers as he looked her plainly in the eyes.
He spoke quietly, gently. "You don't wanna have another kid right away, do ya?"
She maintained his gaze. "'Right away?' Hope's three," she said, the last word having something like a short chuckle to it.
"No, I know," he nodded. "Just… Well, don't you agree? That we been through a lot? Don't you wanna…I don't know. Take it slow? Make sure we get…settled in?"
Standing and watching the two, Arthur took note of her looking back and forth between his younger self's eyes. And after several moments, she simply nodded with an attempt at a smile.
Her husband nodded and offered a small smile in return. And when he came close and pressed his lips to her cheek, she matched it with a little smacking sound of her own, though her lips never made it to him before he'd risen to his feet in one fluid motion.
Arthur watched her silently gaze after her husband as he returned to the wardrobe to continue undressing—her unnoticed expression so softly hinting at the confusion, the melancholy, the longing underneath. At the longing not only for more of their children, it was abundantly clear to him, but at the longing to understand her husband. At the distance she felt and yearned to close.
Furrowing his brows, Arthur looked over at his younger self, who was busy unbuttoning his shirt the rest of the way. "You know better than that. You didn't hear her out, didn't even talk it out with her. You just told her how it was gonna be, and you made it seem you were talkin' it out with her!" He held a hand out to Eliza. "She's worth more than that!" He dabbed his finger at his younger self. "You know better than that, even I know better than that!"
He finally walked over til he was standing before his younger self. "You know her better than that! You know she wants kids. And you know you'll only make her feel dejected an'…belittled by speakin' to her in such a way! You even know she's one to bottle it up if she thinks it'll please you. Why would you do it?"
Looking into his younger self's face, he brought his voice back down to a low speaking volume. "What's goin' on, buddy?" He followed his younger self's expression closely, and at first the answer was almost imperceptible. But when he saw him hang his head and draw his brows up a bit as he looked over at the wall, he could read his thoughts as clearly as if they were on a page before him.
His own jaw hung loose, and his own brows lifted at the realization. "You're afraid," he said quietly. "Afraid for her, afraid a' seein' her in that pain, even one more time. Afraid a' losin' her."
Arthur let his head sag back until it rested on the wall behind him, letting his gaze drift up to the ceiling. He tisked his tongue, "Kid. I was too." He shook his head where it rested back against the wall, in effect only gently rolling it. "I was so sure. So sure, in my bones, I was so sure…that I was bad for her. It didn't save her. Only alienated her while she was alive."
Moving only his eyes and with his head still resting back against the wall, he looked at his younger self, who was now in his long johns. "You and I. When are we ever gonna quit bein' afraid, huh?"
.
Dear Sweet Readers,
Thank you for waiting so patiently and for being here. I unfortunately had to take a hiatus from writing for about a month due to some rocky life things. But I'm glad to be back at it, chipping away at the coming chapters.
I hope you enjoyed the chapter, and I hope you were able to check out the photos. They were taken by me last year from the Cali side of the Sierra Nevada mountains, right before I moved states (💔 I miss my Cali views terribly). I have no one else to share them with, and nowhere else to put them; and I figured they'd go nicely with the chapter. 💛 I hope you like them, but I also hope you enjoyed the chapter as a whole. 💕
We are just a couple chapters away from the work taking quite a turn. I can't say more about it than that, though I wish I could!
I'd like to take a moment to thank a couple guests who left reviews—Paige and TJ—I see you, thank you so much! Thank you as well to any anonymous reviewers, and just anyone who takes the time to leave a sweet review. I can't thank you enough for your kind words. They really encourage me when I'm down about writing, when I wonder if anyone still reads, and when I consider how easy it might be to quit. I'm grateful to every single reader and reviewer. 💗
I hope life is kind to each of you these days.
Love to all,
Rosie