Ruby was amazed at how light she felt once Archibald had agreed to her plans for Christmas. She wasn't sure if she was asking too much, but it was only after he'd said "yes"—in particular, to having the Nolans over—that she realized how much she'd wanted it, and how much she would have been disappointed if he'd said, "no".
There was bounce in her step after breakfast as she finished getting Archie's corner ready. She shifted what furniture she could and gave everything a good scrubbing with soapy water before he brought his cot in from outside, along with his thin straw mattress that she was sure had seen better days. Ruby couldn't help but fuss over getting him clean linens and tucking the corners of the blankets tightly around the thin mattress, guilt pricking her at the reminder that she was in his cozy bed instead of him.
She could feel the pressure of her little one inside her as she bent over, and she hoped that she still had a little while before he'd greatly impede her movement. As it was, her growing bump was a happy reminder of what was to come, and she hummed to herself as she finished making the bed. Then she stood up, hands on her hips as she took in her handiwork, pleased with a job well done. It was a humble space, but it was clean and, most importantly, warm. Mr. Hopper would not be sleeping out in the freezing cold as long as she could help it.
She gathered up the dirty blankets and stepped around the half-hung curtain. "All done," she announced as Archibald came through the main door. He rushed over and tried to take the bundle from her arms, but she twisted away from his reach. "Honestly, Archie, it's the least I could do."
Goodness, he made it difficult to return his kindness with a simple gesture. Besides, the bedding was overdue for a proper cleaning, anyway.
"I could have made my bed," he insisted, a sheepish smile gracing his features.
"I don't doubt it," Ruby laughed, dumping the heap in her arms into the giant tub by the hearth where it stood, awaiting the boiling water and soap. "But nothing compares to Granny Lucas' tucked corners."
Archie tipped his hat to her in thanks before he placed it on the table, making his way to the corner to finish her job of nailing in the curtain to create a temporary wall. She snatched glances of him at work as she hauled kettles of boiling water from the stove to the tub, the steam curling the stray strands of hair around her face. His brow was furrowed in concentration, his lips pursed to hold a couple of nails at the ready. She flinched at the banging that followed, but continued with her work. There was something nice about having some company during laundry day—usually a solitary task.
She thought she heard a cry from the corner, but when she looked over, she only saw the back of Archibald's head. She shrugged, deciding against saying anything, and continued her paces back and forth between the stove and the hearth. She filled the tub up bucket by bucket, grateful for the pails of water just outside the door that August brought in from the pump for her, an aid that she was not too proud to accept. She was also grateful for the fresh air that swept into the cabin with each swing of the door as she wiped beads of sweat from her forehead, though she noticed Archibald kept his coat on while he worked inside.
It took a little while for them all to grow accustomed to their new arrangements. Though Ruby had only been with them for a couple of short months, she already had her routines, and she thought nothing of drawing herself a hot bath one evening.
Once alone, Archie having left after he'd brought in the last pail of water, Ruby placed it on the stovetop to boil while she unfastened her dress and slipped out of it and her underclothes—a hurried process once she was exposed, eager for the comfort of the bath. The air was cold on her bare skin, but the water was deliciously hot as she slipped into the tub.
The water soothed her muscles and her stretched skin, and she closed her eyes in a moment of indulgent rest as the steam rose up and the water hugged her every surface. She splayed her hands over her belly, so pronounced once she was out of her layers of clothing. "Are you tired now, baby?" she murmured to her stomach, chuckling at the stillness within her, as if the child was at rest, too—not a single flutter.
She lathered the soap onto her washcloth and lazily wiped it over her neck and chest, her arms, and the rest of her body. She bit her lip at the thoughts of Peter that flew to her, unbidden, remembering the caresses of his hands if he caught her during bathtime, or how he would help her dry off.
How he would have loved to watch her grow! She would complain that she was too fat, and he would assure her that she was no such thing. He'd rub her stomach, his hands wandering lazily over her skin, marvelling at the life they'd created together.
She yearned for his touch in more ways than one, and she blinked back tears and willed herself to think of something else—anything else—as she stopped her hand from sliding down her stomach. She thought she was past the danger of losing herself to such thoughts during a moment of rest. Goodness, she needed it, but sometimes the exhaustion was worth it, if to save her from memories that made her ache all over.
Before a new wave of grief could take ahold of her, the main door opened, and Ruby froze. Panic seized her, and she hugged her chest in an attempt at modesty as Archie Hopper strode into the room.
He had already travelled a couple of paces before he noticed Ruby. He jumped back, flinging himself against the stove where it knocked him at the back of his knees. He stumbled, unable to stop himself from sitting on the hot surface before jumping up with a shriek.
"Archie!" Ruby cried, reaching on arm out as she stood straight up, fearing the worst at the loud thud that sounded out of her view. She shot back down, hiding behind the sides of the tub, scrambling to find her towel with one arm stretched out, the edge of the tub digging into her arm as she reached for the covering.
She couldn't see him anymore, and panic rose inside her chest. Modesty be damned, she thought as she jumped up and scrambled over the side, a task made harder by her growing size. She grabbed the towel as quickly as she could and wrapped it around herself in one swift motion, pivoting in place to search for Archie.
She rushed around the table and saw him on the floor in front of the stove, unmoving. "Archie, are you okay?" she cried, trying to bend down to him, but thought better of it as she held the towel in place, her body not letting her move quite as she was used to.
"I'm fine," he groaned, and Ruby let out a sigh of relief at the sign of consciousness. She stood, helpless, shifting her weight from foot to foot while he sat up.
He rubbed his eyes under his glasses before taking in his surroundings, and he quickly squeezed them shut when his gaze landed on her. "I'm so sorry, Ma'am, I didn't mean to intrude—"
"No, no, it's my fault—I should have let you know—I forgot that you were coming back—"
Ruby bit her lip, feeling very silly as she stood dripping in the middle of the kitchen while Archie kept his hand firmly planted over his eyes, his glasses riding up on his face.
"I'll, uh, I'll just leave you to it, if you're sure you're okay," Ruby said, unsure of where to look as she began to shiver, the air chilling her damp skin despite the warm stove beside her and the fire in the hearth behind her.
"Mmhmm," Archie said with a nod, his eyes still closed.
Ruby tiptoed to her room, leaving her dress and underthings on Archie's rocking chair as she closed the bedroom door behind her with more force than she intended. She held her breath, her gaze shooting to August to make sure he hadn't awoke. Then, she stifled a rogue giggle behind her hand, not wanting to wake up a clueless August who had miraculously stayed fast asleep.
She should definitely feel more guilty about giving poor Mr. Hopper a heart attack, but there was something too delightful in knowing she could have such an affect on a man as stoic as him, even when she was a few months pregnant.
Neither Ruby nor Archie mentioned the incident the next morning, though Ruby had to turn away a couple of times to hide a smirk. Still, she hoped he wasn't too badly injured, but she thought better of asking him about it. She could at least save his pride that wound.
Ruby was eager to get through her chores to use what little time she had left in the day to begin on Christmas preparations. It was too early to start decorating with greenery—perhaps she could enlist August to help her with that next week—so for the time being, she decided that she could make some curtains with the spare fabric she had. She hated the thought of having the Nolans celebrating with them in a naked room. It was about time the Hoppers had some proper curtains.
It was nice to be able to throw herself into a special project, and for the first time, Ruby felt she was checking off the days and crossing off her tasks in anticipation of something, not just in the grim acceptance of one getting through another day.
Her calculations proved correct, and she was able to make enough curtains for the main room out of the same forest green gingham fabric. Well, save for one small window at the back of the house, for which she had to make do with the same paisley-green fabric that she'd used for August's vest, but that window was hidden behind Archie's "room", anyway.
She was mostly able to evade August and Archie's questions about what it was she was making at her machine in the evenings, but in the end she had to reveal her secret to the father so she could enlist his help with the rods. She imagined some simple hooks would be sufficient, but she was amazed at the stunning wooden rods he brought back with him from the barn one day.
"Archie, these are beautiful!" she beamed at him, placing a grateful hand on his arm before she took the rods from him. They were so perfectly round and smooth that she couldn't believe they'd come from human hands, and she twirled them around between her fingers in awe.
Then, she remembered herself, and they worked quickly to take advantage of the time alone when August was outside feeding the animals. Ruby fed the rods through the fabric loops while Archie fastened the wooden fixtures above each window. She watched him slip each rod snugly into the wooden brackets, and Ruby stopped herself from reaching up to touch the craftsmanship, the semi-circles hugging the curtain rods in place.
After every window was hung with its matching drapery in the main room—which Ruby was beginning to think of as their "parlour" more and more—she followed Archie behind the fabric divider to help him hang the last curtain in place. She shook her head at herself, her odd hesitancy to enter his space until he gave her a nod, and she held her breath to see the last curtain go up.
"That'll do nicely," he said, taking a step back to join her as she scrutinized her work. She let out a sigh of relief to see that her measurements had been correct, and she flashed Archie a grin.
"Much better than the lean-to, huh?" she teased, giving him a little prod with her elbow as they stood side-by-side.
He nodded to her, a little more serious than she was expecting. "They're great. Thank you." Then, he quickly disappeared behind the curtain, mumbling something about chores and August. Ruby frowned, though she brushed it off as a man's disinterest in draperies.
August was only mildly pleased when he came in with his pa for dinner, though he did mention something about needing curtains in the bedroom now, too. Archibald scolded his son, but Ruby laughed and assured him that she would definitely make them some curtains for the bedroom.
It wasn't the reaction she was hoping for, but oh, well. She liked them enough for the three of them, and she knew that soon the house would be decorated to the roof with Christmas cheer. They would appreciate the end result, surely.
One evening found the three of them gathered by the hearth, the same way they were most nights. Ruby and August were seated close to the fire, side by side, a book in Ruby's hands as she read to them from a worn copy of "Oliver Twist." Archie sat at the table, cleaning his gun with automatic motions, happy to listen to the story while he worked. He chuckled to see August curled up close to Ruby and resting his arm and chin on the armrest of her rocking chair. The firelight made the boy's red hair glow from behind, and he caught the flicker of light in Ruby's eyes as they danced with merriment while she read about the adventures of the Artful Dodger and Fagan.
Truth be told, Archie was not particularly paying attention to the words she spoke. Rather, he let himself be lulled by the sweet tone of her voice, and the excitement that coloured her features.
Suddenly, she stopped, and her eyes widened. For a moment, panic seized Archie, and he felt his stomach drop. "Is everything alright?" he asked, his hands frozen in place.
"August, feel this!" Ruby exclaimed as her face lit up. She dropped the book on her lap and grabbed the boy's hand, pressing it to her stomach. "Just wait—there! Did you feel it?"
Archie relaxed slowly as realization dawned on him. He let out a breath and sat back in his chair, though he kept his eyes fixed on Ruby and August, his grip still tight on his gun.
August frowned, unsure of what he was supposed to be feeling. Then, he beamed. "I feel it!" he exclaimed.
Ruby threw Archie a grin. "He's kicking!" she cried with girlish excitement. Archie felt like he'd lost all breath to see her filled with such unbridled joy, like the way his stomach lurched when he would jump off the cliffs into the pond below in his youth.
He would have given anything to be the one sitting beside her—the one whose hand she grabbed without thought. He shook his head at himself as he realized his foolishness, and he swallowed. "That's wonderful," were the only words he could manage with his lips dry.
He returned to his task, fighting hard to ignore Ruby and August's attempts to feel another movement. Eventually, they gave up and settled back into the story, but Archie had a feeling that they were all a little distracted from the work of Charles Dickens.