It was late evening. The children were asleep. Daniel sat cleaning his rifle on one end of the table. Rebecca sat at the other with her Bible in front of her. It was closed. She saw her husband watching her and opened it. She did not look at it, but rather stood and crossed to stand next to the fire.
"You want me to read to you?" He asked her.
"Where's Mingo?" She asked him. "We haven't seen him for weeks."
"You're changing the subject." He said laying Tick-licker aside. "Mingo's setting trap lines." He saw the question in her eyes. "My trap lines." He explained.
She looked down. "I'm sorry Dan."
"Sorry for what?"
"I," She hesitated. He waited patiently. She had already said more than she had in weeks. "I feel like I'm letting you down. I can't seem to . . .It reminds me of when I sailed here from Ireland. I couldn't get used to the way that ship pitched and rolled. I could never quite get my feet under me. That's how it is now. I'm at sea and the waves keep tossing me." She kept her eyes down. "I know you must be disappointed." He crossed to her then and put his strong hands on her shoulders.
"Rebecca, I love you. I'm not disappointed." At last, she was able to meet his green eyes, she nodded at him. Sighing she rested her head against his dependable chest. "I just miss you, that's all." He said.
She held him tighter and said, "I miss me too."