Readers, apologies for the long interval between updates. Real life always take priority over this fun stuff. I did a quick proofreading/editing job. It is late now-I'll try to edit and correct again in the morning. Sorry for glaring mistakes!

JScorpio

Epilogue Part 3 Remembering

1804….

"Uh….General."

William stood up straight from where he had leaned against the tree he'd planted in Josie's memory. Evans, one of the young farm hands that had been working on the broken delivery wagon moments before, stood in front of him.

"Sorry to disturb, you, sir," Evans apologized. "We're going to have to take the axel into the village and see if the blacksmith can't straighten it a bit."

"Certainly," answered William. "Have him put it on the mill's account."

"Surely sir." With that, the young man dashed off the get the wagon's axel taken care of.

Tavington's eyes drifted toward his left to where he looked down a slight slope, seeing the family cemetery. His sight rested on one grave in particular: Josie's. He could pick it out from the distance. Though the little girl had been gone six years now and the pain of grief had passed, he still missed her fiercely.

"Watch over her, God," he whispered as he closed his eyes and sighed.

Just then, General Tavington felt a tugging on his pants leg. He looked down and found Millie beside him, proudly holding up a bouquet of wildflowers she'd gathered.

"Fowers, ganpaw," she said in her tiny voice, craning her head back, looking up at her beloved grandfather.

William folded his tall body and half to pick the girl up. He began to walk as he held her in his arms. "Yes, Mil, they're very pretty," commented Tavington, "but not as pretty as you are, my angel!" With that, he kissed her fondly in her blonde, curly hair.

"Do you want to put those on the graves?" he asked the little girl as he strolled toward the family cemetery.

Millie nodded quietly as her fingers played with the petals of the flowers. William walked along, his eyes still trained on Josie's grave a distance away. Millie's sudden wiggling in his arms stopped him in his track.

"Ganpaw! Bunny! Over dere!" she cried, pointing at a wild rabbit nibbling some grass nearby. Tavington set her down on the ground where she promptly dropped the flowers and began to chase the animal.

William smiled as he watched his beloved grandchild chase the rabbit. He sighed as he looked down and saw her wildflowers that she'd gathered, now lying askew on the ground at his feet where she dropped them to pursue the hare.

Still thinking of Josie, his mind traveled back years again to the days just after her death. He felt a tugging on his heart as he recalled how hard her death was to bear; on him, on his children. But it had been roughest on Melanie, who seemed to completely give up on living after the girl died. William recollected how she took to their bed for over a month after the funeral, only rising to go sit on their daughter's grave once a day. Her grieving alone had been hard on their other children, and equally as rough on him.

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Late Spring 1798….

After eating lunch, General Tavington walked upstairs to his bedroom to check on his grieving wife. It was now about six weeks since Josephine, their young daughter, had passed away and Melanie still grieved alone in the solace of their bedchamber.

William walked into the room, his booted feet making a cadence on the wooden floor that Mrs. Tavington hadn't noticed. Indeed, she sat in her nightgown on the window seat, absently looking at one of Josie's dolls as she held it in her hands.

Tavington stared at his wife, who hadn't acknowledged his presence, still gazing sadly at the doll she clutched. As he looked at Melanie, something in him broke. He realized that he could no longer stomach her grieving alone when Josie's loss was something that affected the whole family. He took a deep breath in order to keep himself under control, knowing that he could lose patience with her very quickly.

After another moment, he slammed the door behind him and locked it. This brought Melanie from her thoughts and made her look up at him, finally.

She gazed at her husband who stood staring at her from the door. She said nothing, making no apologies, then looked down sadly at the floor.

"I've missed you," he began simply.

Melanie looked up at him, puzzled. "What do you mean?"

He walked toward her and spoke again, emphatically, his words slow and calculated. "I mean…..I've missed you," he continued, "as my wife, as a mother, and as my lover. I've missed you."

"I'm right here," she answered, shaking her head quizzically.

"No you're not! You cloistered yourself away from everyone weeks ago right after we buried Josie."

"What am I supposed to do, William? How do you expect me to act? I loved her! I miss her!"

"We all loved her and miss her as much, Melanie!"

"But I'm her mother," she countered, tears in her eyes now. "She was my youngest. She still needed me so much."

"And there are four other children downstairs who need you just as much," argued William.

"No. They're older and they can—"

"They may be older," Tavington interrupted, "but they need you in other ways. They need you in the ways that older children still need their mother."

William now stood over Melanie where she sat, looking down at her. "Good Lord, Melanie. Mary needs you. She is getting married and wants to know how to be a wife. And Will is set to inherit this farm. And though he works beside me and I have taught him how to manage this plantation, he really wants to know how Grandfather Prescott handled things, and only you can share that with him."

"Stop it, Will," Melanie screamed tearfully before burying her face in her hands. The guilt was biting at her heart and soul.

"No, I won't! You need to know how selfish you've been!," exclaimed Tavington. "Regina has taken this hard. I've held her as she has cried and tried to comfort her as best as I could, but she needs you."

William went on with his tirade. "She's declared that she doesn't want to have children as she doesn't want to see any of them die. All I could do was apologize to her in advance, for that whoever she marries may demand an heir."

"And Alexander," Tavington continued. "Even though he's 12, he doesn't understand why he's had three siblings die as babes, and now his closest sister is gone."

William took a breath. Telling her about how all this was affecting their youngest son, Alex, threatened to nearly make him break into tears, as well.

"Alex has tried so hard to be brave and not cry—especially in front of me," William informed his wife. "He always tries to prove to me that he's becoming a man, but he broke down last night and wept while I held him. All he could do was tell me that he was humiliated to cry in front of his father, but he admitted that weeping in your presence wouldn't be so embarrassing. He needs his mother."

"I hoped we would grieve as a family," William said, "I hoped that you and I might grieve together."

Guilt completely engulfed Melanie as she listened to her husband's impassioned words. She rose from her seat and threw herself into Tavington's arms, sobbing onto his chest and holding him tightly.

"Oh my God, William," she sobbed, "I'm so sorry. I just…..I just….I didn't know what to do. She's gone."

Tavington kissed her head as he held his wife. After another moment of comforting her, he tipped her chin up to where he looked at her tear stained face. They looked into each other's eyes, each helpless and surrendering to their grief. Both suddenly remembered that it had been weeks since they had had relations, something that wasn't thought of as they sat with a dying child weeks before and in the days after. Now, both wanted to find comfort in each other's body, in their bed.

They kissed for the first time in weeks. A deep, long kiss, both not wanting it to end. William moved them both toward the bed as he frantically removed his cravat, then his vest and shirt equally as fast. At the bedside, Melanie stepped out of her night gown as her hands went to undo the buttons on her husband's trousers.

She laid on her back on the bed as Will joined her, kicking off his boots and pushing his stockings off, the last of his clothes. As they kissed, William's hand moved up and down her skin, reacquainting him with the body he knew so well.

Tavington urged his wife gently to roll over onto her stomach. The man then positioned himself between her legs and thrust in from behind her with a hearty groan of relief. Melanie gasped as she felt his kisses teasing her shoulders and back of her neck. The woman pushed up on her elbows, turning her head slightly, her hungry mouth seeking a kiss from her husband. He rewarded her with a searing kiss as he pushed and swerved insistently in and out of her wetness.

"Oh, William, I've missed you," she murmured as she grasped at the bedsheets, holding on as his body moved hers.

"I love you. I've needed you," Tavington whispered, nearly panting for breath, into her ear.

Suddenly, in the midst of Melanie's euphoria at feeling her husband's hardness inside her again, she remembered her grief. The woman then felt guilty that she and her husband were drawing pleasure from one another's bodies as their youngest child lay cold and dead in the dark ground. She buried her face in the pillow, trying to hide her sobs from William, not wanting to spoil his ecstasy.

But as Will made love to her, he could feel her no longer responding to him. He slowed his thrusts to a gentle sway and put his lips to her ear.

"What is it, my love?", he asked. When she didn't asked her, he rolled her body back over onto her back. Still beneath his body, he looked into her face with concern, and could see the tears in her eyes.

"Melanie, what's wrong?"

"Oh Will, should we even be…." She sobbed questioningly.

He surmised her feelings of guilt for making love while in the midst of grieving. Tavington wanted nothing more than to soothe her regret and put her at ease.

"Darling, we draw strength and consolation from each other," he whispered. "This is just another means of comfort."

"William, tell me that the grief doesn't last," cried Mrs. Tavington as she looked into her husband's eyes.

"It won't, Melanie. We will get through this in time." He brushed a loving kiss across her cheek.

"Promise me that we will be happy again," she sobbed, looking helplessly up at Tavington above her.

William's hand stroked her hair back from her face. "Of course we will," he comforted. "Mary and Jim are getting married, and we'll have grandchildren to look forward to, and joy from the other children, as well."

Melanie threaded her fingers into William's hair, then pulled his head down to hers. Their lips met in a hard kiss, reassuring each other of their love and passion for one another.

She soon wrapped her legs around his waist, holding him firmly between them. With her arms she pulled his body against hers, closing the space between, holding him so tightly; so close.

Soon Tavington's gentle plunging into her became firm strokes again, coaxing both of them toward the edge. After a moment, Tavington lost control to his manly need and drilled himself frantically into her, and both he and Melanie came together, calling out each other's names.

They spent the remainder of the afternoon together in their bed, lying in each other's arms, spending much needed time getting to know each other and consoling each other again.

After that, even in their grief, they never again let so many weeks go by again without having much needed relations with each other.

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Fall…1798

Mrs. Tavington walked out onto the front veranda and looked about the green for her husband. She soon spied the general near the main barn talking with one of the farmhands as the young man got into one of the mill's buckboards, loaded heavily with barrels and bags of milled goods. She waited for a moment, allowing William a minute to give the last minute instructions to his employee before the worker left for town deliveries.

Melanie descended the steps and crossed the lane toward her husband where he stood watching the wagon leave. Tavington turned just as she neared him. He sighed heavily as he gave her a slight smile, saying nothing.

"Are you free for a few minutes," she asked, looking up at him demurely, "Might we take a walk?"

"Of course," the retired officer said in a lost voice.

The two turned to walk side by side. Melanie's hand soon found William's, where she fondly entwined her fingers with his. They walked along for a moment quietly, just enjoying the warmth of the day and being near one another.

"The green seems so quiet today," Melanie commented. "Just a few days ago it was filled with wedding guests and we were all celebrating with Mary and Jimmy."

"Yes," Tavington agreed, shortly.

The two strolled on in silence. William seemed to be lost in his thoughts. His wife wondered what he was thinking.

"You were awfully quiet at supper last evening," Melanie began, "and this morning at breakfast. Something wrong?"

After a long sigh, William surprisingly answered his wife. "Oh, I miss our Mary."

Melanie smiled sweetly up at her husband. She knew he loved his children immensely, but his sentimentality really caught her by surprise.

"I didn't think she'd get married so soon," he sighed. "I'll always think of her as my little girl."

"But she had to grow up sometime, darling," his wife replied. "And you know that she is so thrilled to be married to Jim, she loves him so. They will be such a happy couple."

"I know you're right," Tavington agreed.

"I wonder what they're doing on their honeymoon?" Melanie asked as they walked along. Jim had taken his new bride to Charles Towne for their first time away as a married couple.

William's sudden stop forced Melanie to do so as well. Tavington broke into laughter at his wife's comment, which struck him funny.

"They're doing what all newly married couples do on their honeymoon," he laughed. "They're not leaving their bedroom."

"Oh, William," she said rolling her eyes at her husband. She was glad he could at least laugh in the midst of missing his oldest, newly married daughter.

"He'll probably bring her back to us with her belly already full," William said sarcastically. The man was more than aware that a first grandchild could arrive nine months from the day of the wedding.

Tavington suddenly stopped in the middle of his train of thought and switched directions, his mood becoming serious. "Speaking of which," he contemplated aloud, "we need to get the nursery furniture moved to their house before they return."

Mary had expressed to her mother and father, before marrying Jim, that she would like to have the nursery furniture that they Tavington's had raised her and her siblings in. The girl couldn't say why she found the set so special, just that she wanted it for the babies that she would have with Jimmy. William and Melanie had agreed to let her have it and were happy that she wanted it.

"Um…William…I've been thinking," Mrs. Tavington began, "Maybe since they are starting a new life together, maybe they'd prefer instead to have a new set of nursery furniture. We could pay for a new set of their choosing—"

"A new set?" Tavington questioned. "Mary had her heart set on ours. She wanted it as an heirloom."

"Yes, I know but—" Melanie stopped in midsentence, her puzzled husband looking down at her.

"But what?" asked William, a little irritated.

Melanie was quiet for a moment, then took a deep breath. "She can't have them."

"Why not?"

"Because we're going to need them," answered Melanie. "We're going to have a baby."

William was taken aback, his tongue truly tied. He wasn't sure he'd heard his wife correctly.

"Another child?" he asked, seeking confirmation. "You're pregnant? Are you sure?"

"Yes. I've been sick and I've missed three monthlies," his wife answered.

"Three?" exclaimed William, a little bit of anger showing through. "You're this far along and you're only now telling me, woman!"

"William, I didn't want anything to take away from Mary and Jimmy's wedding day," she said. "And news like this would have just caused gossip."

Tavington turned away and took a few steps from his wife. He was still in disbelief from hearing the news and felt that his legs may go out from under him at the revelation. So much had happened in the last six months of their lives: their youngest daughter died suddenly, their oldest daughter just married, and now, at an older age with older children, they were having another baby!

He turned back to look at his wife. "This can't be. We're too old. My God, Melanie, you're 42; I'm 48! You haven't carried a child in 9 years!"

"Women can have babies at older ages, William."

Tavington kept his trepidation to himself. Ever since Worthe was stillborn 16 years ago, and with the other miscarriages and deaths, William would worry for his wife whenever she became pregnant. The fright was there even more now due to how old Melanie was. The man knew he would have to fight hard to keep his fear inside in order not to frighten his wife.

"Well, I thought the next baby we would hold would be our first grandchild," William said in a resigned tone. "I was wrong."

"It's no matter, Will," she said, beaming happily up at him. "I'm thrilled that we're going to have another child."

William pulled his wife into an embrace where he kissed her lovingly. "It's a surprise I have to admit."

Melanie turned in her husband's arms away from him, her back to his chest. He tightened his arms around her, and his hands instinctively slipped to her belly, hoping to feel the swell of the child within. William leaned down to kiss his wife's head, then nuzzled her ear.

"Mmmm….You haven't had your hands on my belly…. in years," she said slowly, not wanting to say, for fear of going to tears, 'since the day Josephine was born.'

"You haven't had a child in your belly in years," he whispered lovingly.

"Everything will be alright, you'll see," Melanie said hopefully.

"I know," William said as his hands caressed his wife's abdomen.

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