49

Victor surfaced from sleep and cracked one eye open to look at the alarm clock. He sighed. Two minutes before it was due to go off. Most mornings he woke just before the alarm. Good news for the rest of the house, as its ring was terrible and made the baby cry. He should buy a new one.

He reached and disabled the bell. As he moved he felt Victoria turn beside him. One of her arms curled about his waist as she snuggled into him from behind.

"Morning," he whispered as he patted her arm. He made to slide out of bed, but her grip tightened. He could feel her face pressed into the middle of his back.

"Sorry," Victor said in a low and genuinely reluctant tone. "Must get up."

"I know," she said into his back, making no move to release him. "So must I."

Victoria held him close for another beat, then sighed as she loosened her grip. She rolled onto her back and rubbed at her eyes.

"Sorry," he said again as he sat up. Lazing in bed with Victoria was a much nicer prospect than a day at the wharf, but two boats needed maintenance and he had to supervise. He'd likely also have to help haul as they were a bit short this week. Victor ran his hands through his hair, not relishing the idea of an armload of dead fish. He'd much rather have an armful of wife.

"Don't be," Victoria said as she sat up. "I'm merely stealing as many small moments with you as I can."

It had been a busy time lately. Busy year. New baby. Older children who needed lessons and, likely soon, a tutor or governess. The cannery going full-tilt. These moments of just the two of them in privacy and quiet did feel stolen, now that she mentioned it.

"Sorry," Victor told her yet again, uselessly. He leaned over and gave her a peck on the cheek, truly all he had time and energy for at this precise moment. Besides, even if they did decide to attempt some intimacy, they'd be interrupted. The baby was like clockwork and would start to fuss in the nursery next door in about ten minutes. Victoria, he knew, was also aware of this.

She shrugged, a tiny raise of one shoulder. But her eyes looked wistful. Victor got up and made for his room to wash and dress.

"Remember when we could not seem to get enough of one another?" Victoria asked softly. He stopped in the doorway to his room and turned to her. "Before all this. Our honeymoon period, I suppose."

The room was dim with the curtains still pulled against the dawn, but he could see that she looked forlorn. She was sitting there on the edge of the bed, braid slung over one shoulder and her hands in her lap.

"I still can't get enough of you," he told her softly. "I simply don't get enough of you. If you see what I mean."

Victoria smiled wanly. "I do," she replied. "I feel the same. Forgive me for being silly."

Victor shook his head. "You're not silly," he assured her.

In his own room he opened the curtains to a cloudy, foggy morning. He washed his face and dressed. As he did he thought about Victoria's words, her expression, her tone. Her embrace in bed. He sighed. Then he put his shoes on.

Jacket in hand, he went back into Victoria's room. She was behind the dressing screen. He went over and stood beside it, respectfully looking away. He was tall enough that the screen only reached about nose height, so he could see over it if he wanted to. But it was more polite not to. He listened to the rustles of Victoria's dressing.

"Hello," came her voice. "You may look, if you like."

He peeked over the top of the screen. Victoria was pulling on a petticoat and met his eye with that same slightly sad look from earlier.

"I think about you all the time, you know," he said. He watched her finish with her petticoat and reach for a blouse, just his eyes peering over the screen.

"Likewise," she said, slipping a skirt over her head and adjusting it just so. "I only wish...well. I miss you, I suppose."

"Yes," he agreed. "Me, too."

Just then the baby started to fuss next door. Victor glanced at the clock. Twelve minutes. Little Mary was learning to sleep in. Victoria went to tend the baby and let the older girls get a bit more sleep. Victor really had to dash, if he wanted to eat. He had to say a hasty goodbye that Victoria barely had time to return.

Much later that night, after they'd changed into their nightclothes and were about to turn down the covers to retire, Victor handed Victoria a small slip of paper, creased from being in his vest pocket all day.

"Pardon the scales," he said. "And damp spots. I was unloading and sorting this afternoon."

"A good catch?" she asked as she unfolded the paper.

"Yes," he replied as he got into bed and propped himself up against the headboard with a couple of pillows. "Ankle-deep, I was thankful for my waders." He watched her study the collection of hash marks on the paper he'd given her, brow furrowed.

Victoria glanced at him. "What's all this?" she asked.

Victor grinned and settled back. "That is every time I thought of you today."

He'd not been fibbing this morning. Victor really and truly did think about Victoria often when they were apart. Even when they were together. She was never far from his mind and always in his heart. Just a shame he didn't get the chance to express it all that often anymore.

A slow, radiant smile spread across Victoria's face. Her cheeks grew a little pink. "That is many times," she remarked, obviously pleased. "That was sweet of you. While you were working, and all."

"Well, I wanted you to know I was telling the truth this morning," he said. "You looked very sad."

Victoria reached across the bed to stroke his hair. "Not sad," she said gently. "More...rueful, perhaps? But this is lovely, thank you."

Then, her expression grew amused. "Just a moment," she told him, and went to her vanity. "I was telling the truth, as well."

She came back to the bed with a page of her stationery. Almost shyly, she handed it to him. He examined it, finding a list of hastily scrawled words and phrases. Rosebush. Study sofa. Teatime. Hall table. Liddie's nose. He looked at her questioningly.

"That is every time I thought of you today," she explained. "What made me think of you."

"I wish I'd had time to do that," he said, warm all over. "I just had time for the marks."

Victoria joined him in bed and they sat close beneath the covers, each holding a list like a love letter. She snuggled up close, just as she had this morning, sharing his pillows.

"What are the little stars for?" Victoria asked, pointing them out where he'd scribbled them near a few of the hash marks. Victor scratched the back of his neck.

"Oh, er, those are...well, I thought I'd make a note when the thoughts were...uh...romantic," he explained, trying to be delicate. It had been a busy day, but the carriage rides to and from work had given his imagination time to wander.

"Oh," she said. Then, again almost bashful, "I used flowers."

Victor looked again. Indeed, she'd drawn small flowers next to a few of the words.

"Ah," he said, flattered and impressed by how many there were, given how busy Victoria was on any given day.

"I shall keep this always," Victoria told him, as she placed her slip of paper on her bedside table.

"Me, too," he replied, carefully folding his in half and in half again, and propping it up against his alarm clock.

It was nice to have a reminder that they always kept one another close, even when they hadn't time to be close.

Victoria put out her bedside lamp. Victor set his alarm clock and then did the same. In the darkness, beneath the covers, they wrapped their arms about each other.

"Why were there two flowers next to 'study sofa'?" he eventually whispered into her hair.

"For emphasis. It was a strong thought," she replied huskily.

"What of?"

"To say it would be very improper. But perhaps I could demonstrate?"

"Only if I might assist."

"Oh, of course."

Those were the last words they spoke for quite a while.