Connor would have thought that he had had enough excitement in his life but barely a month later inactivity began to worry at him again. Visiting the dock he boarded the ship a questioned Faulkner to any pirate activity or attacks in the area. Faulkner shook his head almost regrettably. "I understand lad. She's too fine a ship not to be out doing what she does best." He eyed Connor. "And I think you're too young man to give up doing what you do best. The Patriots have been asking about you, Connor. They still need good fighters and good captains."
Connor scanned the ship, her sides gleaming, the cannons polished. "I suppose it couldn't hurt to take her up for quick run to Boston."
He had not been down to the basement in over 2 months but a few days after his trip to the dock a new portrait hung on the wall and his weapons gleamed newly sharpened. The next day he stood in the den with Faulkner going over maps of his newly acquired target, a sense of purpose filling him once more. He pointed to the shipping line the target usually sailed. "We must leave quickly. If we sail tomorrow we can be sure to catch him in between ports." Faulkner pulled out another nautical map and checked the currents when the front door opened drawing both of their attentions.
Carolyn entered and removed her hat, hanging it on the wall by the door. Spotting Connor she brightened. "You're here! I didn't expect that." He looked up at her in surprise. "I would not have expected you here either. You have class today." She frowned at that pressing a hand to her head. "I cancelled today and tomorrow. I feel awful about it but I think I'm coming down with something and I would not want to expose the children to it. I'm so light headed I had to stop twice on the way back home." Spotting Faulkner and the maps she smiled again her interest sparking. "Have you found something else? Another lost civilization?"
Faulkner glanced and Connor who said nothing. Noting the exchange and the full extent of his weapons realization dawned on her. "Ah no." her knees went weak and she clutched at the wall to steady herself. "You said you were done." She looked at Connor, her eyes begging him to tell her she was mistaken. "We're going on a hunting expedition." He offered but did not meet her gaze. She closed her eyes, focusing on her breathing and tried to get her twisting stomach under control.
"When do you leave?" she asked, her eyes still closed. "Tomorrow morning. The ship is already supplied." Opening her eyes she asked him "So soon? Do you know when you'll be back?" He studied the charts before him "I'm unsure. It will depend on many things." She nodded at that her eyes going to Faulkner. "I think it would best if I go lay down now. I'll make dinner at the usual time." She turned and headed slowly up the stairs.
That evening at dinner Carolyn was in a state like none he had ever seen her since their marriage. She didn't even say grace over her food, sitting instead there and pushing it around in circles with her fork. Finally she put down the fork angrily. "You do not have to go. What do we need that we do not already have?" He looked up at her. "Purpose. You said so yourself when first we met, remember? That you need to do what you are good at. That that is what you are meant for. This is what I am meant for." She looked over at him sadly. "My father was a doctor, Connor. I know the value of a good knife. But there is a difference between surgery and randomly removing limbs. One is a means of healing." He glared at her over the table. "If you wanted a doctor you should have married Dr. White. You cannot change what I am. " She shook her head quietly. "No, I suppose not. You are my husband. Whether or not you asked it when first we met I've sworn obedience to you now."
He finished his meal and stood from the table silently. Heading up stairs he undressed and climbed into bed. Sometime after that he could hear her feet on the stairs. Turning on his side he pulled the blanket up over his shoulders and feigned sleep. At least when he fought with Achilles he was not forced to share his bed with the old man. He pondered briefly sleeping in the bed downstairs tonight but decided against it. For one he didn't think he could pretend to sleep walk. She entered the room quietly but made no move to get in the bed. He could feel her eyes on him but after a moment she sighed and headed back down stairs. Curiously he heard the front door open and close. He actually was sleeping when the sound of the door woke him again. He heard her undress and felt the bed shift as she slid in next to him. Sliding herself up against his back she wrapped an arm around his waist and pressed her forehead to his shoulder. Before he could decide though whether to admit being awake he heard her breathing slow and knew she had fallen asleep.
The next morning she toyed with her eggs lost in thought before suddenly putting the fork down and pushing the plate away. "I have no appetite. My stomach is in knots." She managed a bright smile which did not reach her eyes. "On the bright side since I've already cancelled classes I can come down to the dock to see you off." He considered the pallor of her skin and the dark circles under her eyes. "Did you sleep last night?" She sighed and shook her head. "Not much I'm afraid. I finally went for a walk to try to clear my head."
He finished his own plate and stood, moving to the hall to pick up the last of his supplies. "There is no need for you to come to the dock. It is a long walk down and back. You're unwell. Stay here."
She could only nod to that. He turned and walked for the door but she surged forward and grabbed his sleeve. "Wait!" He was tall enough that she could not kiss him without his cooperation but she wrapped her arms around his neck as he stood there. "Come back safe." Reluctantly she let him go, striding off in the direction of the dock. She kept her face as neutral as she could manage until he was well out of sight. Once he was gone she went to the bushes and threw up few bites of breakfast she had managed.
Climbing aboard the Aquila Connor made sure the rest of the gear was stowed. Faulkner approached him apologetically. "Is your wife not coming to see us off then?" Connor shook his head "No, I've told her not to bother." As the ship sailed out he thought he could see a form standing against the edge of the cliff watching their departure but he could not say for sure.
It was late afternoon three weeks later when Connor and the Aquila returned, task complete. He entered the house and started to head for the workroom when a noise from the sitting room caught his attention. Carolyn sat clearly dozing in one of the large wing backed chairs, a basket of sewing at her feet and a project dangling precariously from her lap. She smiled up blearily at him as he entered before blinking and looking around at the angle of the light coming in from the window. "Ah I must have fallen asleep again". Connor mentally checked his calendar. "Didn't you have class today?" Carolyn grabbed the sewing from where was about to fall and placed it carefully back in the basket. "Prudence agreed to cover for me today. She's a wonderful woman and a competent teacher. She can handle it. I suspect it's not un-similar to herding barnyard animals."
Rising she walked over to Connor and he bent his head so she could kiss him lightly. "Welcome home. Did you get what you sought?" He nodded, "It took longer than expected and I did not have a chance to write. I'm sorry." She sighed at that "That's alright. I'm just glad you're back. I missed you, you know. I'm sorry we fought. I knew what I was getting into. It was wrong of me to try to change you. " She reached for the buttons of his coat "Here let me take your jacket. It will undoubtedly need a good cleaning." She started to undo the buttons of the coat before she saw the damage to the sleeve. "And sewing too it appears." She tugged lightly on the sleeve freeing his arm and froze. His shirt was cut as well and stained with a mix of darker crusted blood and the bright red of fresh. She breathed in sharply and began to remove his shirt. "You're hurt." Her tone held a distinct mark of censure. Connor pushed her hands away lightly. "I'm fine. It's a scratch is all." Carolyn eyed him tiredly. "If it is still bleeding then it's more than a scratch, even for you. Let me see it."
Connor relented and took the shirt off handing it off thinking of their shared fates. No doubt he was also to be scrubbed and mended. Carolyn walked around him surveying the variety of scrapes and bruises covering his torso. Her breath caught at the state of his back. "The scratches as, you put it, will need to be cleaned but two of these will need sewing, Connor. " She looked up at him worriedly. "Do you want me to send for Dr. White or would you like me to do it?"
"Really I am fine. I've had much worse." He realized belatedly that this was perhaps not the best thing to tell his wife if his goal was to make her less worried. "Connor, these are at least two days old and still bleeding! I can't imagine how bad they must have started. Did you even wash the wounds?" the exacerbation in her voice was undeniable. He thought about his dive into the bay. "After a fashion". He tried to be firm but the pain in her eyes was real and he hated that he was the cause. "If you think they need sewing you may sew them. You have a lighter hand." He kissed her forehead and allowed himself to be drawn to the kitchen and seated at the table.
Carolyn disappeared briefly in to the living room and returned with her embroidery silks and a thin needle. Placing them a wooden bowl she poured boiling water from the kettle over the set and sat the bowl down purposefully beside him. Another trip out of the room resulted in a fine linen towel, a strong bar of soap , a roll of bandages and a little to his surprise a bottle of strong spirits and two cups. "Are we drinking to my return?" he asked , surprised. Carolyn grimaced and poured a small glass and handed it to him. "One is for you. The other for your back. This cut is deep enough I want to make sure it's clean before I close the wound". She lightly traced her finger down the cut on his shoulder. Handing him the soap and towel he placed the cup aside and began to wash his chest and arms while she laid out the bandages.
"Let's start with the arm." Surveying the damage she carefully brought the skin together. "This may seem like an odd time to ask" she said suddenly "but I was wondering if you might teach me some of your people's language." Connor looked up at her "You want to learn Mohawk?" Carolyn shrugged lightly. "I've been thinking about it. It would be nice. There are not any other speakers around and you shouldn't forget who you are." Connor looked up at his wife and then down at the cut in his arm and thought of that afternoon on the hill. "Shall we begin with numbers?" "Just what I was thinking." Taking a breath he began " one énska, two tékeni, three áhsen…" by the time he got to nine she was done and wrapped a linen bandage in place. "Before I tie this off make sure it's not too tight." He held his arm out and moved it about to make sure he had a full range of motion. Moving behind him she lifted her skirt and straddled the bench so his back was fully towards her. A tenderly as she could she cleaned the area avoiding the worst of the cut. She slid the first glass over to him. "I need you to lean forward a bit." Grimacing he downed the shot and leaned forward, grasping the edge of the bench in his hands.
The pain was sharp and immediate as she carefully pulled open the wound and poured the liquor down the gash. He took a sharp breath through clenched teeth. "I'm sorry" she whispered and blew lightly on his back, her fingers making patterns against the skin. Contemplating the wound she took her needle and began at the bottom end of the cut slowly stitching her way up. Connor gritted his teeth and began again "one énska…" This time he got up to twenty two before she cut the thread and tied off the silk. She clamped a piece of clean white linen over the newly formed stitches and made him hold out his arms while she wrapped a long piece of linen around his chest and shoulder to keep it in place. She tied the bandage off and sank back to the bench laying a kiss gently to his shoulder above the bandage on her way down. She sighed wearily and wrapped her arms around his waist, resting her head on the good side of his back. She seemed content to rest there but asked sleepily "Are you hungry? I can cook you something if you like. I didn't know when you would be back but there is soup." She stood at that and began to walk to the stove but he caught her hand and pulled her into his lap. She offered no resistance and wrapping her arms around his chest rested her forehead against his shoulder .
Connor looked around the kitchen for the first time since they entered. It was unusually dark with only a small fire burning and the kettle that supplied the hot water for the bowl. "Have you eaten already?" he asked, his concern growing.
"I had some earlier. I'm good." She said without lifting her head up from his chest.
"You weren't well when I left. I think you may be the one who needs to see the doctor." He shifted her in his lap, freeing a hand to press against the side of her face but she felt neither flushed nor clammy that he could tell. "I've already been to see him, Connor. He says I'm fine." Wrapping her arms more tightly around his waist she drew a breath and continued "And that come this spring we will have a child."
"You're sure?" She raised her head enough to nod emphatically and then buried her face back against his skin. "Very sure."
His arms tightened around her and he kissed the top of her head. "That's wonderful!" With a sigh of relief she returned his hug. "I'm very glad you feel that way. It made me think you could teach me Mohawk and we might teach it to the child. I want it to know its heritage." She ran her hand lightly over the bandages wrapped around his chest. "I just need you to be careful." Guiltily he realized how she must have felt seeing him like this given her condition. "I promise I'll be careful." She leaned her head back against his chest "Good. Hunter or no I mistrust this new breed of wolf that uses bayonets." She ran her thumb over the telltale circular bruising at the start of the cut. Connor froze under her hands. "You're not the first person I've sewn up, remember? I don't want to lose you."
"Did you know before I left?" Hearing the guilt in his voice she answered quietly "I started to suspect the day before but I didn't want to say anything as I was unsure. I was afraid I would be wrong. "
He hugged her briefly and pulled back to look down on her. "You're happy about this, right? This is a good thing?" She nodded. "I'm very happy. Really. It's just I didn't expect it so soon. I mean there's still a war and now I've another life to worry about. It scares me. I thought we would have more time. Promise me you'll be here when the time comes? " He rested his chin on her hair. "I promise." Her arms tightened around him. "And maybe next time you could try to let me know? I spent the last few weeks not knowing if I carried the child of a live man or a dead one. If you would ever even know that it was on its way." His arms were warm and strong around her. "I promise."
They sat there for a while, her curled up in his lap, his arms tight around her before she looked up. "Oh and when you get to town everyone will probably be following you around waiting for some sort of announcement." "Everyone knows?" Connor puzzled at the thought that an entire town might know of his impending fatherhood before he did. "Probably by now. It's been weeks and news travels fast. I talked to Ellen when I first began to suspect. Dr. White knew of course, and Diana who he's training as a midwife was there. Which means her husband and brother and his wife most likely know. And Dr. White's drinking buddies. And probably anyone at the inn. And Prudence volunteered to take over classes until I'm feeling better. "
Connor looked down at the last part with a frown. "I'm fine, really. It's just I'm tired and people assure me that will pass soon enough. I've gotten quite good at keeping food down again as long as it's plain." Bending over he scooped her up and headed for the stairs. "If you're tired you should be to bed." "Connor!" she laughed "Your stitches! I can walk. I'm fine, really. I'm not even that tired now!" He sighed forlornly to hear that thinking about the last time he had come back from an extended journey. "It's been a long trip." Reaching up she wrapped her arms around his neck and laid a kiss at the base of his throat. "Yes, it has. It wouldn't hurt the baby, you know. I asked." He blushed hotly. "Don't worry, I asked Ellen. She's more discrete."
He carried her into their room and deposited her in the bed before climbing in to join her. She stood back up and began to undress laughing at how his gaze had strayed from its usual path and stayed firmly on her stomach. She climbed back into his arms and sighed as he kissed her. He made love to her as if she were made of fine china and might shatter in his hands. Afterwards he lay in the bed beside her, his attention once again focused on her softly curving belly. He spread his fingers across the soft skin, feeling the curve and trying to compare it to his memories from before he left. She ran her fingers through his hair letting the strands fall slowly. "When in the spring?" his fingers tickled her navel. "The first or second week of March. Puts it just about 9 months from your return from the ruins. "She snickered suddenly "Someone once told me children should be born in the bed they were conceived in. I don't think I'll give birth on the kitchen table though." He blinked up at her, the image vivid in his mind "Was it then?" She laughed "Not necessarily but it's a better chance than most." She yawned and snuggled down more comfortably in the bedding, a smile playing at her lips. Tucking the blanket around her he watched until he was sure she was asleep and then padded barefoot back down the stairs to basement. Grabbing one of his alternate outfits from the display he dressed and turned his attention finally to the once bare wall by the table. Taking a piece of charcoal he crossed through the name John Blithely and wrote out below briefly "September 26th, 1782".
He climbed the stairs back to the first floor headed out locking the door quietly behind him. The sun was low in the sky as he headed towards the inn. Through the window he could see a surprisingly large portion of the town sitting around talking. He opened the door and stepped through grinning. Everyone looked up suddenly and the conversations died away. Oliver was the first to speak, approaching him jovially with a mug of ale and a hearty slap on the back. "Ah Connor! Welcome back! ...Any news from your trip?"