Leah had given no thought to snakes and only a little to the faraway howls she attributed to dogs. In all likelihood they were wolves. She shivered. “But don’t you ever… miss civilization?” she had to ask.
“At times. But usually if there’s a stormy spell and the ground’s too mucky for work, we all hop into the boat and head downriver to town. Sure as not, we’re out of one supply or another. We eat at one of the restaurants, sometimes even take in a traveling show. Then when we come home, I’m all set to get back to my routine.”
Leah wondered how long it would be before she could feel the same way. With each passing day, she missed Laurelwood more. The fact that Blake was the tender and loving husband he’d promised made her life bearable… when he was around. But that was getting to be far too seldom for her liking. Except for half a day each Sunday, he was always out working. And lately she’d noticed an odd queasiness, especially in the morning, as if she’d eaten something that hadn’t agreed with her. Sometimes she didn’t bother to come to breakfast at all, telling Julie afterward that she wasn’t hungry.
As Julie glanced over at the clock on the sideboard, Leah realized the two of them needed to finish fixing supper for the famished men. They’d be ravenous, as always, certain to devour every scrap set before them. Gulping the remainder of their drinks, they sprang up and tended to the beans and bacon Julie had simmered overnight in a bean hole outside. The beans bubbled over the hearth fire as several trays of biscuits cooled on the sideboard.
Leah lifted the lid of the kettle to stir the beans, and the sight of the greasy bacon on top made her stomach lurch. She swallowed and stepped away, clutching her middle.
“Something wrong?” Julie asked, puzzled. She peered into the pot and gave the mixture a few stirs.
“I’m just not feeling all that well these days. The change of water, no doubt.”
A peculiar smile tipped up the expectant mother’s lips at the corners. “How long has this been going on?”
Leah shrugged. “Oh, I don’t know. Since a little after Blake and I arrived.”
“And what about your cycle?”
“It’s—” As Leah calculated the weeks in her mind, she slowly arrived at the conclusion Julie’s satisfied expression revealed. “You mean, I’m…”
Her fair-haired friend nodded.
The certainty overwhelmed Leah, and an incredible feeling of warmth spread through her. At last, something wonderful to write Mother and Marty! “I–I guess I’ll have to tell Blake tonight when we’re alone. Do you think he’ll be glad?”
Julie gave an off-handed shrug. “No reason for him not to be. Except maybe how crowded that teeny little cabin’s gonna be pretty soon. You’ll have to get him to build you something bigger, like Matt did for me. Of course, they’re pretty busy right now.”
“Yes. But surely he’ll give the matter some thought, at least, knowing how desperately we’ll be needing more room.”
But when Blake trudged in that evening, shoulders sagging, eyelids drooping, even his voice husky from exhaustion, she merely dished up some of the beans she’d brought home for him and put off telling her news.
And that went on for days.
Fortunately, Julie had been sworn to secrecy. Leah ceased helping with meals now that she wasn’t feeling up to snuff. But the more time she spent on her own, gazing at her painting of Laurelwood as she battled through morning sickness and other queasy periods, the more she longed for her home and family back in Pennsylvania. Back there the sweet babe would be coddled and doted upon by his grandparents and relatives. What sort of life would he know here, brought up in the dangers of backwoods Wisconsin? She was fairly certain of one thing: If the hours Blake was putting in gave any indication of what they could expect in the future, their child would see precious little of the father of the house.
And what if something went wrong with her or the baby? How long would it take for help to arrive from Eau Claire? Maybe this hadn’t been such a prudent choice, after all. That possibility made her feel weepy, and she hated feeling weepy.
One afternoon over tea, Julie patted Leah’s hand, drawing her back from a million miles away. “I found some extra flannel in a trunk at home. Do you think you could put it to use? I still have most of Timmy’s outgrown things, and have already made our new baby plenty of new ones.”
Leah brightened. “Truly? That would be wonderful. Thank you so much. I never once thought ahead to bring any yard goods with me. Our marriage happened so fast.”
“I just thought maybe it would help you fill a few hours,” the girl added gently.
“I certainly have plenty of those to fill.” The bitterness in her tone surprised even Leah. But a quick glance at Julie gave no indication that she’d picked up on it. “You know,” Leah said without thinking, “your voice is about the only human one I ever hear, most of the time. Blake comes home dragging his feet, gulps his food practically whole, and falls into bed. Then at first light, he’s out the door. Even Sundays, when the rest of the crew is off, Blake and Matt still put in quite a few hours of work. How do you stand it?”
Julie smiled and answered in a casual tone. “It’s not always like this, I promise. But summer’s when they have to get as much accomplished as possible. Once the weather turns cold, the days grow too short for them to do so much. Some of their time is spent at the shingle mill. They’re underfoot a lot then. You’ll see.”
“I suppose there’s hope,” Leah answered wistfully.
So during the lonely summer days, Leah began sewing tiny garments. And as each new article was completed, she would take it over to show her friend. She often thought back on the conversation she’d had with Julie that day. In particular, the idle comment about rarely hearing another human voice. And the truth of it really started to grate on Leah.
Inwardly, she began to seethe. “I’ve been much too nice to someone who treats me this way,” she declared in the oppressive silence of the cabin. “When he comes home tonight, I’ll be polite, but nothing more. See how he likes that! He hasn’t even given me a chance to tell him he’s going to be a father yet, for pity’s sake.” Pressing her lips together, she imagined her repentant husband fawning all over her, begging her to forgive him for his thoughtlessness, promising to quit work earlier and spend time with her.
Hours later, she heard his familiar step approaching. Hiking her chin, she dished his stew while he washed up outside.
“Hi, sweetheart,” he said wearily, as he came in. He gave her a peck on the cheek.
She said nothing.
“Supper smells good.”
She plunked the bowl unceremoniously on the table.
With a thin smile, he pulled out a chair and sat. He buttered some bread and began eating.
Leah took the other chair and moved it nearer the firelight, then took her sewing out of the basket nearby.
“You’re pretty quiet,” he finally remarked.
She merely shrugged. “I can’t think of anything to say.” Especially since you prefer being with those silly trees to being with me, she wanted to add, but she bit her tongue.
“Was there something you wanted to tell me yesterday? Seems I remember you mentioning a matter I should know about. I must’ve dozed off before you got to it.”
Leah tried for extreme nonchalance as she kept stitching. “Oh, it was nothing, really. Just about the baby.” She flicked a glance at him, mostly to gauge the effect, if any, the flat statement made on him.
“What baby?” His eyes opened to a surprising width, considering the dark circles under them.
“Ours.” She returned her attention to her project.
His chair scraped over the floor and toppled in his haste to get up. “You–you mean we’re gonna… that I’m… you’re— Why didn’t you say so!” Jubilant, he grabbed her and all but crushed her against his solid frame as he swung her in a circle. “Oh, Leah, my love. This is just wonderful. It’s great news. Great news.”
Her own heart softening unde
r the display of the old tenderness she’d been missing, Leah had to smile. Her decision to remain aloof from Blake fell by the wayside as he rocked her in his embrace. “You mean, you’re truly happy about it?”
“Happy! I have never been happier in my life. Just think. A son, to help in the business.”
“Or a daughter,” she reminded him, tipping her head back so she could see his face.
“Naw, it’ll be a son. A man can tell these things.” He gave an assertive nod.
“I promise to do my best to see that you’re not disappointed,” she said with a disbelieving smile.
“You’ve never disappointed me, wife.” He tweaked her nose. “But I might be a little put off right now if you tell me there’s no dessert.”
Her own joy dimmed a little, and Leah had to force a smile. He never once mentioned the fact they’d be needing more space pretty soon… that there wasn’t room in here for a cradle or a rocking chair.
Men. All they cared about were their stomachs.
Chapter 9
Five endless months of this persistent nausea. Would she ever feel normal again? Battling yet another wave of queasiness, Leah lugged the bucket of mop water outside.
“Why don’t you let me do that for you, love?” Blake asked, hurrying over to her.
But she’d purposely saved the chore until he was around. She had a point to make. “I’m used to doing things for myself,” she said coolly, not even glancing his way. She didn’t need to look at him. His whole bearing showed how her tone stung him. Good. Let him know I can get by on my own. He’s taught me well enough.
The caustic thoughts railed against her conscience. But Leah didn’t care. She was weary of being alone hour after hour, day after day, not having anyone to talk to except on Sunday mornings. She was tired of being nothing but a cook, a washerwoman, tired of clothes that were too tight. She detested this rustic cabin and hated having her pretty linens snag on the rough wood. She couldn’t even pray anymore… and she alternated between hating that most of all and pretending she didn’t care a whit. Life was nothing like she’d hoped or dreamed in her naive past. She was fed up. She wanted to go home.
Home to Laurelwood. And somehow, she’d find a way to do it.
Returning inside, Leah brushed past her bewildered husband, avoiding the arms that reached out to her—even though he’d put in the longest day yet and looked utterly spent. Turning away, she shimmied out of her work dress and climbed into bed without a word. And there she lay stiff as a board, facing the wall.
But she would not cry. She was sick of tears.
“Are you sure pregnancy’s supposed to be like this?” Blake asked Matt as the two of them fastened logs together to float them downriver. “Man, it’s almost like she can’t stand the sight of me anymore.”
His brother grinned and brushed wood splinters from his work gloves. “What, you don’t remember the moaning I did when Julie was carryin’ Tim?” He shook his head. “Least little thing would set her off. She’d be fine one minute, sobbin’ the next—liked to drove me crazy, walkin’ on eggshells all those months. At least she’s havin’ it easier with this one, praise be. And now with her mom here to help out with her time bein’ so close, it’s less worry for me. Once Leah’s got that little bundle in her arms to hold and love, she’ll revert back to her normal self. You’ll see.”
Somewhat encouraged, Blake still couldn’t relinquish all his doubts. He prayed for Leah constantly, pleaded that God would give him patience, help him to see beyond this tough spot to happier times ahead. He knew he’d been neglecting her for far too long. This afternoon he’d quit early and take her for a little drive.
Leah heard the wagon pull up. Curious, she peeked out the window and glimpsed her husband striding toward the door. In the middle of the afternoon? she thought waspishly. All these weeks and months I’ve been aching for him to come home and spend time with me, and he finally decides to do it? She gave a little huff and feigned intense interest in the infant sacque she’d just finished embroidering.
The door opened, admitting her cheerful blond giant, an equally cheery smile on his handsome face, dimples and all. “It’s a nice day out. Thought we’d take a drive. The leaves are beginning to turn, and the woods are getting pretty.”
Leah steeled herself against the ridiculous pounding of her heart. “Thank you, but I’d rather not.”
“Don’t be silly,” he said evenly. “You’ve been cooped up in here nigh onto forever. The fresh air will do you good.”
“I’m really quite busy just now,” she fudged, poking her needle into an already completed flower.
He stood there for a few seconds, as if expecting her to change her mind.
Leah was not about to give in. It was too late for him to dote on her now. Too late for him to be charming. If she waited long enough, he’d give up and go back to work. That’s what he preferred anyway. He’d more than proved that since dragging her here.
But Blake didn’t give up. And he didn’t go away. Completely ignoring her stubborn display, he plucked her cloak from the antler rack and crossed the room. In one smooth movement, he swirled it about her shoulders, then scooped her up into his arms. “You need to get out more, sweetheart. Trust me.”
Mortified as he carried her out the door and set her onto the wagon seat, Leah clenched her teeth. So he was bigger than she was. That didn’t make him boss. She’d said she didn’t want to go, and he was making her go anyway. Well, fine. Try your hardest, Blake Malone. I’ll just sit like a post until you bring me back.
He flicked the reins over Butch’s rump and turned the wagon in a wide circle, heading down one of his logging traces, in a slightly southerly direction. The nonsensical tune he whistled made her all the madder.
Her arms folded across her chest, Leah didn’t let on that she noticed the kiss of autumn on the forest. The crew had cleared a huge patch of trees since he’d first escorted her around his holdings, evidence of a lot of hard work. And she couldn’t help but see the golds and reds of fall beginning to gild the edges of the leaves on the perimeter. No doubt Wisconsin would be every bit as breathtakingly beautiful as Pennsylvania in autumn’s full glory.
Neither of them spoke as the horse plodded over a carpet of pine needles, dredging up the tangy scent of pine sap. Leah wondered how long he’d keep her out. There wasn’t anyplace to go to in this direction, not with such thick forest all around them.
Shortly, quite unexpectedly, the wagon emerged from the cover of trees into a wide clearing. One occupied by a building well under construction.
Blake pulled up on the reins, halting Butch.
Leah’s heart leaped with recognition. Her throat clogged. “Laurelwood!” she choked out. “All this time, and–and you’ve been building me Laurelwood!” Burying her face in her hands, she burst into tears.
Blake slid a comforting arm around her, drawing her close. “I had it in mind to surprise you when it was closer to being finished,” he said huskily, caressing her as she wept. “But the Lord finally got it through my thick skull that I had my priorities all mixed up. I should have been nurturing our marriage. I hope you can forgive me for being such a cad, for neglecting you so shamefully. I do love you, Leah.”
“But I’ve been a wretch and a shrew,” she managed between sobs. “A horrid wife. I don’t deserve you. I am the one who needs to ask forgiveness. From you and from the Lord. I am so very sorry.”
He cupped her face in his work-hardened hand. “Both of us are a little new at this marriage business, my love. I just hope all the secrets I had to keep haven’t caused permanent damage. I had my crew working double time on this at the end of every work day. And you might as well know, Julie was in on it—otherwise she’d have been all over Matt for deserting her, too.”
Listening to the voice which had drawn her heart from the very beginning, Leah gradually regained her composure. This demonstration of love humbled her beyond words. She didn’t know if she’d ever be able to forgive herself for a
cting like a spoiled child rather than a grownup married woman. She should have trusted him.
“We’ll do our utmost to finish it before winter sets in,” Blake told her. “I thought you’d want our son—or daughter—to be born here. Start our own traditions.” He smiled into her eyes. “I hope you approve.”
Thinking back on how she’d once questioned the depth of his feelings for her, Leah very nearly started crying again. But she hung on to her control with every ounce of strength she possessed. “I… don’t know how to thank you for this, dearest Blake. I’ll never doubt you again. Ever. And I’ll be the wife I promised you on our wedding day. I’ll make this house every bit as special as Laurelwood ever was. Because you’ll be here, and where you are, my heart will always be.”
“And I’ll be the husband you’ve been needing all this time… with no more surprises.”
Losing herself in his love-filled eyes, Leah raised her lips to his. And she realized at last that it was true, what people said….
Home is where the heart is.
SALLY LAITY
Sally Laity has written both historical and contemporary novels, including a coauthored series for Tyndale House, nine Heartsong romances, and twelve Barbour novellas. She considers it a joy to know that the Lord can touch other hearts through her stories. Her favorite pastimes include quilting for her church’s Prayer Quilt Ministry and scrapbooking. She makes her home in the beautiful Tehachapi Mountains of Southern California with her husband of over fifty years and enjoys being a grandma and great-grandma.
The Midwife’s Apprentice
by Rhonda Gibson
Dedication
To Aili Rae Gibson Tullis.
I love you, Miss Bell.
Chapter 1
Summer, 1860
Form up!”
The words snapped through the hot morning air. Sharper than a mule skinner’s whip, the order was picked up and echoed around the camp. Polly took her place beside the wagon.
Where the Heart Is Romance Collection Page 7