Epilogue

Their darling Millie thought it time to enter the world on a blustery morning in September. The midwife had a tragic collection of orange and brown leaves clinging to her skirt as she swept through the door and puffed her way past an anxious and pacing Ben before promptly ascended the stairs to the birth. She considered it odd that so few were present—only Mrs. Merriman stood by—but counted it a blessing in the long run, for Lissie only needed one friend to dab her head and pronounce soothing words when the midwife was not making her fetch things to aid in the delivery.

"Far less to get underfoot, or wail and whimper at the blood and fluids," she decided with a nod.

At an early age, it was clear Millie would take after her mother, in appearances, at least. Before she could even walk, she had a full head of thick, red hair; and her sharp eyes, also so like her mother's, missed nothing of the world around her. Her baby cheeks were plump, and rosy, whether from amazing good health and spirits or the constant kissing they received, no one was quite sure.

When the innocent gurgles first formed into real words, she unwittingly named the cat—now a much larger, fluffier version of her kitten self, though still a resident of the stove-side basket—by mistaking her for another furry creature Ben had pointed out by name. Ben and Lissie had never gone beyond calling her Kitty for convenience sake, but when Millie stretched her chubby infant hands towards the long, white mane of her gentle friend, and declared her intentions, Ben and Lissie knew it only right to have a cat named Bunny.

Lissie continued to keep to her housework with only minimal assistance from Dina. She found it no great chore, as tucked away in their little cottage, society scarcely sought Mr. and Mrs. Davidson out, and she did her utmost to avoid all but the strictest obligations to dine with others in town. This meant undivided attention could be placed in matters of the household, and there was nothing Lissie loved better than to help Millie up on a stool to learn everything she knew regarding the preparation of a family dinner. She took great pride in perfecting the apple butter recipe Madeline Merriman passed on to her, and took no pains to limit the jars she filled with its sweetness.

That is, until she grew heavy again; and though Lissie protested the necessity of it, Ben gave Dina the difficult task of making his wife take her rest.

It was one such forcible rest she was taking when Dina scurried in from completing her outside chores. "'Tis awful cold this evening!"

Lissie did her best to sit up in the rocking chair, but with the weight of her second babe still growing within her, and the plethora of pillows encasing her body, she didn't find the energy to do so. "Is it so cold already? Ben would not have thought to bring Millie's spencer along as it was so fine this morning. I hope they're on their way back."

As if in answer to her worries, a giggling child stumbled inside, dragging a long, woollen train behind her. The sudden cold had nipped a brighter pink into her nose and cheeks, and her fiery curls brushed against the shoulders of a coat that swallowed her up.

"Mama! We've brought you apples!" she cheered, waving the arms of the coat in excitement.

"But where are your hands, Millie?" she teased the bouncing child, who was unsuccessful in removing the apples from the coat pockets.

"Oh..." she momentarily frowned, peering into the depths of the coat's great arms. "They've gone!" she laughed the harder. "My hands are gone."

Millie squealed as her Papa hoisted her in the air unexpectedly, looking quite unsuited for the chilly evening without his coat. "Papa's big coat has swallowed them up!" he cried, "and now Millie can't hold the cup to drink her apple cider!"

This did not cause her any alarm. She giggling, wrapping her arms, and the giant sleeves around his neck. "Then you can hold the cup to me!"

Ben chuckled and released his daughter, but not before kissing her frozen nose and cheeks. "Go fetch your slippers and I'll warm your feet by the fire."

Once he saw she'd made it halfway up the stairs without causing any injury to herself in the cumbersome outer layer that dragged behind her, Ben turned to his wife. "And how is my Lissie?"

She refused to answer until after he'd paid his due in kisses, and greeted his second child with a loving pat to her rounded belly. "I am sore, but well. Supper is nearly ready."

"I told you there was no need. Millie and I ate our fill of apples."

His stomach growled in betrayal of his words, and Lissie laughed. "I know that apples could not possibly be enough for you, husband. Fear not. I hardly lifted a finger tonight."

Satisfied that she had not overtaxed herself, Ben set his hands on his hips and looked up to the staircase. "What can be taking that child? She's absconded with my coat."

"At least you had the sense not to give her your breeches," Lissie said saucily.

Some hours into the night, Lissie had stolen into the larder to imbibe on what temptations she could discover from its stores. She knew it was impossible to steal away without Ben's knowledge. Every movement from her caused their bed to creak and moan in protest, and Ben was no heavy sleeper. However, he was sweet enough to ignore the many trips to the larder and the privy, and feign sleep.

Something heavy knocked against the door, and Lissie dropped the tin of biscuits in surprise. She thought the wind may have thrown a broken branch against it, until the sound was repeated, in a solid rhythm.

She ran to scoop Bunny up, who made no complaint to be used so, and held her close for comfort's sake. Ben had already fetched his rifle, and stood at the ready. "Stay back, Lissie," he warned. She nodded as she pressed herself closer against the wall, but not escaping far enough to be spared a view of the stranger on their doorstep.

Ben kept his rifle close, but did not immediately take aim at the man. "What is your business at this late hour?" he asked.

"I came to say goodbye," he said, head down, and concealed beneath the brim of a hat. "I know I have no right... no right 'tall to be here, and I've kept away just as ye said. But I had to give her... yer Lissie a message."

"You!" Ben said in recognition of the voice. The rifle's barrel was aimed at his heart in an instant. "Back away this instant. I will not hesitate to shoot."

Jiggy Nye held his hands up, and did as instructed. "Please, I mean no harm to ye."

"Your presence alone is a painful reminder of the harm you've caused!"

"Ben." A loving hand soothed his shoulder. Lissie had followed, with Bunny still happy in her clutches. "I think... I should like to hear what he has to say."

"He can speak from where he stands. A step forward, and I'll shoot."

Jiggy Nye nodded and he seemed to be sober, Ben thought wryly. He had no idea if that made him less dangerous, or more, as there was never a time in his life he'd been near Jiggy Nye without the stench of liquor hanging about. His finger tensed at the trigger.

"'Tis not... of any help to know I'm free, or that my debts are gone, and I'm a new man. But I am leavin' and maybe that'll please ye some. I'm goin' for some honest work, and won't be back this way for good. I ain't..." his voice caught, and it was difficult to hear the rest for his croaked words, "Not a day goes by when I ain't made low by my past evils. I know I got only myself to blame, and I do. Almost... don't seem right to be livin' in the same world as ye gentle people, but I tried to take me own life once, and was stayed by the same preacher who taught me to seek forgiveness."

Ben stayed fixated on his target, not budging an inch. Lissie was sniffling quietly, using poor Bunny's coat as a means to catch the tears that escaped. "Please don't come back, Mr. Nye. I may forgive you as conscience demands, but that does not mean I can forget. I do not wish you ill, but still, I cannot abide the thought of you."

"Aye. I'll be leavin'. Again, I had no right to come in the first place, but I wished to see you... livin'. Yer so pretty, Felicity. Like yer mother... before..." he broke, and could not continue. After a dreadful silence, he collected himself, and said, "I'll not bother ye again."

With those words, Jiggy Nye turned about, and disappeared into the night.

Ben and Lissie stood a while in sombre silence, until Bunny nosed her mistress with a mewl, reminding her of the warmth and love awaiting her in the cottage.

Primrose Davidson followed in the footsteps of her sister with bonnie cheeks, bright eyes, and the same reddish tint to the few locks of hair she had as a babe. Though her features were not so round as her sister's, and her disposition of a more delicate nature, Ben was thankful to have two such close copies of his dear wife, and rejoiced to be in possession of the three merriest ladies in all of Virginia.

Millie was delighted with "Papa's Rosie Posie," as Ben would call the little one, and asked as each week passed whether baby was now old enough to go apple picking.

At last, Millie had her wish. The first harvest in which Rosie could walk, Ben and Lissie took their girls to the Robin's orchard for the choicest fruits of the season.

Lissie could now walk without a cane, though she had to take care not to twist her foot at all, or the old injury would flare up anew. She kept close to Ben, not solely for support, but as much for the enjoyment of his nearness.

Millie held out her apron to catch the falling apples that Christopher dropped down from the higher branches. He was the youngest of the Robin lads, and promised to become apprenticed to Ben as soon as he came of age.

Rosie stood quietly beside her sister with a finger in her mouth, staring up in awe at the boy's daring heights. Christopher clambered down a branch or two and returned her stare with a cheeky expression until he coaxed a smile out of her.

"Mrs. Davidson!" he called, "Rosie can't catch the apples this way!"

The problem was soon amended, as Lissie held her up long enough for Christopher to pick an apple, "not too big for Rosie Posies," and place it in her hand.

Lissie was all smiles as she returned to her husband's side. "I'm so glad you've agreed to take Christopher on," she said, removing her hat so that her head could rest in its proper place at his shoulder. "He'll make a fine husband for Millie one day."

Ben chortled outright. "I am not taking an apprentice for the purpose of marrying my daughter off."

"Of course you are! What better way to ensure the lad has all the proper training and qualities our Millie deserves?"

Ben watched the young boy running barefoot between the rows of trees, taking care not to spill a drop of the water he'd fetched for Millie.

"He's still just a boy, my Lissie. What makes you so certain he'll be a good husband?"

"I see him, and remember what you were like as a boy."

Ben ducked his head, and Lissie laughed to know he was blushing.

"I do love you, ever so much, Ben."

"And I you, Lissie Davidson."