by Anthology
“Well,” she said, stepping out of his embrace. “Get out of this cold coat. I have hot coffee ready and supper is almost done.”
He glanced down. He did still have his coat on, and normally hot coffee would sound good, but right now, nothing compared to holding her—perhaps never would again. His gaze went back to her.
Tucked in those sparkling eyes with all the colors of the rainbow was a promise of making his dreams come true. She kissed the tip of her finger and then pressed it to his lips before turning to walk to the table. Morgan shrugged out of his coat and hung it on the hook, then leaned against the wall, taking in the room with new appreciation.
She’d been busy. The pine was covered with bows of shiny ribbons and heart, star and bell–shaped decorations. He glanced to Cora, who was at the stove, pouring steaming coffee into a cup. She was amazing, this wife of his.
“Tookie!” Nathan took a bite out of one of the ornaments.
“Those are for after supper, young man,” Cora said, arriving at Morgan’s side.
He took the cup she held out and wrapped his other arm around her. “I don’t think he wants to wait,” Morgan offered, nodding his head toward Nathan while taking a sip of the hot brew. He could understand. He didn’t want to wait, either.
Nathan took another bite of the cookie. “Dood!”
Morgan laughed. “I’m sure they are good, buddy.” He looked down at Cora. “Life is good.”
She wrapped both arms around him and snuggled in under the crook of his arm. “Yes, Morgan. Life is good.”
A kettle boiling over interrupted the embrace and soon the table was set for the meal they consumed while talking about insignificant things and laughing together at Nathan’s gibberish. After the dishes were done, Cora announced it was bath night, which sent Nathan running across the room as though a band of braves chased him. In some ways that was exactly how Morgan’s heart reacted.
“I’ll get the tub,” he told Cora, walking toward the lean-to, “while you catch him.”
“Thank you,” she said, stepping in his path.
It was obvious she wanted a kiss. He wanted one, too, but the next time he started kissing her, he wasn’t going to stop, not for a very long time. He flicked a finger against her chin. “Catch Nathan,” he said. “I’ll get the tub.”
They’d lived as a family for two months, but Morgan, wallowing in his old dreary world, had stayed away, never partook in the little everyday things that went on around him. After positioning the tub behind the screen, he carried over hot and cold water while Cora wrestled the giggling Nathan out of his clothes. “Need any help?” he asked.
She tugged Nathan’s chubby arms out of the sleeves of his shirt. “No,” she said, glancing his way, “but you can watch.”
All of a sudden Morgan had an image of her sitting in the tub. It was all he could do not to close his eyes and imagine the vision completely.
“Baf, Moga.”
“You could get me his nightshirt,” Cora said. “I laid it on the foot of his bed.”
Morgan took the opportunity to escape. He was worse than a buck in rut. Every thought he had ended at the exact same spot. He’d gone from dreading the act of lying down beside her to counting the minutes until he could, in less than a day. The nightshirt was where she said it would be, but Morgan took his time retrieving it. He walked to the pine tree and examined the decorations.
With icing she’d painted their names on some of the cookies. Near the top, four large hearts hung. Morgan. Cora. Nathan. The final one had 1884 painted on it. A warmth touched him in a unique and foreign way. He’d never experienced anything quite like it, and liked it. Matter of fact, he was not only prepared to accept this happiness, but to cherish it in all the days ahead. He turned then and moved to deliver the nightshirt.
Once Nathan was shiny clean, grinning from ear to ear and dressed in his flannel nightshirt, Morgan picked the child off the bed.
“Morgan.” A blush covered Cora’s cheeks as she folded Nathan’s used clothing and laid them on the bed.
“Yes?” he answered, smiling at the sudden shyness she displayed.
“Could we wait a short time before our discussion?” She gestured toward the tub. “I’d like to take a quick bath.”
Excitement quivered in the pit of his stomach. “Sure, no sense wasting hot water,” he answered while wondering how fast he could convince the child to fall asleep. The wide-eyed happy grin on Nathan’s face said that wasn’t about to happen anytime soon. “I’ll keep this guy busy, take your time.”
“Thank you,” she answered, already on the way to the stove to retrieve the steaming water kettle. Moments later, the swish of her skirts sounded before water sloshed against the tub’s sides.
After five minutes of staring at the screen, imagining he could see faint shadows, Morgan shook his head. He stood, scooping Nathan up with him. There was a pair of tin snips in the lean-to and had to be an old can in there as well. “Come on, buddy,” he said. “Let’s make a star for the top of our tree.”
“Tar!”
“Yes, a star.”
Chapter Six
Cora heard Morgan and Nathan playing and talking, but didn’t let it interfere with her bath. Something had happened while Morgan was outside. He’d released his guilt, she saw that in the way he looked at her, and that had her heart singing.
Tonight, when they crawled into bed, nothing would come between them.
A giggle slipped between her lips before she pressed her hand to her mouth, muffling the sound. The happiness filling her was delightful, as was the warm water swishing around her, but the sizzling anticipation of bedding down with Morgan was what had her soaring through the clouds as if she were an eagle in flight.
The thought of his hands roaming over her skin, his lips kissing her and the heavy, awesome weight of his body pressing upon hers... The soap in her fingers slipped out, hit the water with a splash that sent droplets flying. She leaned her head against the tub’s rim, wondering when she’d ever felt such intensity.
Never. Never had her body felt so in tune to what was to come, to what she needed.
A clatter or thud made her ears perk. Nathan’s gibberish and Morgan’s deep tone both sounded happy, playful. She wasn’t concerned, but curious, since they were almost too quiet, too secretive. Quickly rinsing away the soap from her skin, she climbed out. After combing her hair and leaving it uncontained to dry, she donned her best nightdress, a white chiffon with pink ribbons she hadn’t worn for years. She’d probably freeze without a housecoat, but only until she and Morgan retired. Death wouldn’t befall her before then, and she didn’t plan on that being too far away.
She dipped the empty bucket into the tub and carried it around the screen to dispose the bathwater down the kitchen drain, thankful she wouldn’t need to go outside for the chore.
From the table, Morgan and Nathan looked her way, Nathan grinning ear to ear, Morgan gaping.
She smiled, utterly satisfied with the effect the gown had on Morgan. “What are you two doing?”
“Tar!”
“W-we, uh—” Morgan closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them he said, “We’re making a star for the tree.”
She dumped the bucket and paused at the table before going to refill it from the tub. “I see that,” she said, standing near his shoulder. Several cans, with their tops and bottoms cut away, sat on the table. Three quite disfigured star shapes sat amongst the rubbish. A fourth one, lying in front of Morgan, was perfectly formed. “That’s a beautiful star,” she said earnestly, and reached down to brush a finger over its shine.
Morgan stopped her by placing a hand over hers, sending a firelike sting up her arm, like a string of lit fuse line. “Careful,” he warned, “the edges are sharp.”
She couldn’t tug her eyes away as he gazed up at her. Time couldn’t move fast enough for her. She wanted to be in bed with him now so badly her knees wobbled. He tightened the hold he had on her hand. It wasn’t as if he tu
gged her downward, but yet it felt that way. Slowly, watching his expression, her face lowered. As did her lids when their lips met.
It was pure magic, the soft gentle merging of their mouths. The tip of his tongue, sweetly, leisurely, glided from one corner of her mouth to the other and back again.
She dropped the bucket.
Morgan chuckled and kissed her cheek as he bent to retrieve the pail. She grasped the handle and as off-kilter as a three-legged kitten, maneuvered across the room to the screen. Lowering the bucket in the water, she grasped the edge of the tub to regain her balance.
Never, not once since the moment she knew she carried a baby, had she wished Nathan was anywhere but at her side, but right now, at this minute in time, she dearly wished the child was sound asleep in his bed.
When able, after several deep breaths and a slight mind scolding, she rose and carried the bucket back to the kitchen to empty it once again. Morgan now held Nathan over his head as the child awkwardly hooked the piece of wire twisted on a peak of the star onto the single top branch of the tree.
Cora dumped the pail and went to stand beside them. “That looks perfect.”
“Tar,” Nathan whispered reverently.
“Yes, it’s a star, buddy,” Morgan said, drawing her in with one arm. “And it is perfect.”
“Christmas Eve isn’t until tomorrow night,” she said, wondering if she had her dates mixed up. The moment certainly felt miraculous.
Morgan looked her way. “Maybe Christmas came early this year.”
“Maybe it did,” she whispered, barely able to breathe.
His gaze never wavered as a slight frown tugged his brows closer together. “I’ve been a fool, Cora.”
She bit the tip of her tongue, took a moment to remind herself all wasn’t settled between them. “Oh,” she said, “how’s that?” A groan tried to escape her lips. She hadn’t meant to sound flip or nonchalant, but lucid, serious thinking seemed to be miles away.
A fleeting grin tugged at one side of Morgan’s mouth, but disappeared as quickly as it had formed. “I’m sorry, Cora,” he said. “I...”
In the moment he paused, her insides clenched, tremendous spikes of fear flew straight into her heart.
“I never thought of what you wanted,” he continued. “I told myself everything I did was for you, what you needed, but it wasn’t.”
She was shaking her head, trying to understand, yet not able to grasp what he was saying.
“I was thinking of myself,” Morgan said, glancing toward Nathan still sitting in the crook of his arm. “Of what I wanted.”
“And what was that, Morgan?” she managed to ask.
He steered her to the sofa, waited until she’d sat before he set Nathan down on the floor near the basket of wooden blocks and rag balls. While she held her breath, Morgan’s gaze went from the tree to Nathan before it landed on her. “This,” he said. “This is what I wanted. You. Nathan.” He shook his head. “I was just afraid to admit it.”
“Morgan.” Cora didn’t realize she was holding one hand out to him until he took it, folded his fingers around hers and sat down next to her.
“I was ten when my mother left,” Morgan said, glancing toward Nathan knocking over the small tower of blocks he’d built.
Cora already loved Morgan, but nonetheless imagined her heart expanding. “Left?” she asked softly, knowing he had to tell her in order for him to love her as freely as she loved him.
He nodded. “We lived down in Missouri. Tad and Telly, my younger brothers, and my father still live there. Vince, he’s my older brother, lives in Colorado. I’m sure there was more behind it all now, but then it seemed like Ma was there one day and gone the next.” Morgan turned then, looked at her. His gaze wasn’t cloudy with pain, just crystal clear and sincere. “She left with the neighbor man, Matthew Stone. Of course, I didn’t know that at first. He left behind a couple kids, too, and a wife. Pa sent Vince and me over there to do chores for her, but she chased us away, said she didn’t want any help from the likes of us.”
Cora kept herself from gasping, thinking of two small boys being blamed for something they had no control over. The wheels of understanding started turning in her head. Cora laid her free hand upon his knee. “She said more than that, didn’t she?”
“Yes,” Morgan answered with a shake of his head. “She certainly did. And Vince and I, as kids do, couldn’t believe our mother would have done anything wrong. We figured it was all Matthew Stone’s fault—that he stole her from us. We vowed then and there we’d find our mother and bring her back.”
“Did you?” Cora asked. “Find her and bring her back?”
Morgan made an expression that was half grimace, half grin. “Our father didn’t think much of our plan, so it was several years before we took off looking for her. We did find her grave about ten years ago, down in a small cow town in Kansas. People there knew her, but they’d never heard of Matthew Stone.”
“Morgan, I’m so sorry,” she whispered, clutching both his hand and his knee firmer.
“Don’t be,” he said. “You have no reason to be.”
“I—”
Morgan shook his head. “I’m no longer sorry, Cora.” He reached up and ran his fingers through a mass of her hair resting on her shoulder. “Actually I don’t know what compelled me to tell you all this.”
He had the ability to touch her deeply in so many ways Cora couldn’t stop the sigh that escaped her lungs. “I think I know.”
“You do?”
She nodded. “Sometimes we can’t surrender to love until we understand it. And we can’t understand it until we’re free from the confines it’s placed inside us.”
Silent, combing his fingers through her hair, he seemed to study her face for some time before he said, “You are a very intelligent woman.”
“No,” she said. “Just an honest one.” She waited a brief moment before adding, “That loves you.”
The hand infused in her hair slid up her neck, cupped the back of her head and pulled her forward. “I love you, too, Cora.”
“I know,” she whispered, leaning forward to meet his lips. “And I’m so very happy about that.” The kiss was slow, an undemanding merger that touched her significantly. More so than the heated urgent ones of earlier in the day. When they separated, both smiling, she had to ask, “You imagined yourself as Matthew Stone, didn’t you?”
His smile faded, making her continue. “You even went so far as to blame yourself for Orville’s death.”
“Yes,” he answered, “I did. But how do you know all that?”
“Because I was in your shoes at one time, Morgan. I knew Orville didn’t love me when we married, just as I knew I didn’t love him. He asked me because he felt responsible for me, and I said yes because it seemed to be the right thing to do. It wasn’t until after I gave birth to Nathan that I understood love. Knew its all-consuming joy. That’s also when I knew I had to let my fears go, and—” Cora kissed his chin “—accept that I had fallen in love with you.”
Morgan leaned back, stared at her intently.
Slightly shaken herself by how clear everything now was in her mind, Cora blinked, but then smiled. “I tried to convince myself I wasn’t, but it was a lie. I even wondered, if I’d loved Orville the way I loved you, maybe he wouldn’t have died.”
“You can’t blame yourself for his death,” Morgan insisted, grasping both of her shoulders. “Even Doc—”
“I know Dr. Braun said I did everything I could have, and I know love couldn’t have prevented Orville’s death.” She turned to the tree, looked at the little decorations she’d made while Morgan was out in the barn. “Maybe it’s the magic of the season, a time of miracles, but it wasn’t until last night that I realized what a gift love is, and how it can arrive when a person least expects it.”
Morgan, though his mind was tumbling, could barely resist the urge to pull her into his arms and kiss her until she couldn’t be kissed anymore—which, now that he thoug
ht about it, he hoped never happened. He’d never tire of kissing her. Nor looking at her. Right now, the firelight turning the thin sparkling material of her nightgown transparent, his imagination was running wild. Catching the thought, he tucked it aside for a moment and went back to their conversation. “So you understand you weren’t responsible for Orville’s death?” He might be beating a dead horse, but he had to know she didn’t blame herself.
“Yes, Morgan. The question is, do you?”
“I never thought you were.”
“Not me,” she said. “You. You no longer blame yourself, do you?”
Morgan took a moment to examine his heart in a way he’d never done before. “No, Orville’s death was an accident. No different than the barn.” He spoke the truth, and had to admit, he no longer harbored animosity for Matthew Stone, either. Cora had been right, he’d needed to clear things aside in order to let new emotions in. Like this full-to-the-rim love he had for her and Nathan.
“Are you ready to start over, Cora?” he asked, somewhat surprising himself with the question, but the past was over and he wanted to keep it that way.
The gentle smile on her face faltered. “What do you mean?”
He ran a hand along the length of her hair. The tresses had dried as they sat, and were soft and silky beneath his touch. She was beautiful, this wife of his, and thoughts of sharing his life, living with her at his side for years to come was quite humbling. “This whole marriage thing. I think we should start over. See if we can get it right this time.” He leaned forward, kissed her in a leisurely way that had sparks igniting inside him.
When he lifted his lips, her eyes were closed, and remained that way for some time. He didn’t doubt her love, yet an urgency rose in him. “Cora,” he whispered, kissing one eyebrow. “If I can’t love you soon, lie with you in my arms in that bed of ours, I don’t think I’ll live to see tomorrow. Christmas or not.”