Naked in the Winter Wind (The Fairies Saga Book 1)

by Dani Haviland

  Wallace grabbed the halter of Jody’s skittish horse and didn’t even get a chance to ask ‘why?’ when Jody volunteered the answer. “Wee Jedediah jest said his father was concerned about a fuss at the mill. He asked if we would make sure that there was nothin’ amiss. Julian and I will look into it and be back in plenty of time fer yer weddin’.”

  “Don’t worry about us; we’ll be fine. And I hope you know that we wouldn’t think of starting the ceremony without the two of you.”

  “Aye, we’ll be quick about it then,” Jody said, and turned the horse around.

  “Godspeed,” Wallace said, slapping Aries on the flank, hoping it would make a difference in the horse’s swiftness and getting the situation resolved.

  Wallace stood with his knuckles on his hips, helplessly watching the backs of his two fathers disappear into the trees. It could be nothing, or it could be a major confrontation that they were riding into. Nowadays, nothing was safe or simple.

  Of course, they wouldn’t—couldn’t—have the wedding without the two fathers. After all, someone would have to give Evie away, and it looked like that was going to be the responsibility—no, make that the privilege—of her father-in-law, Jody. Papa was also part of the wedding party. Even though he was legally Wallace’s stepfather, Julian was offered, and had accepted, the honor of being his best man.

  Ӂ Ӂ Ӂ

  I was trying to suppress an intense negative emotion as I stood on the porch and watched Wallace walk back. He didn’t look too happy about the men taking off, either. I didn’t want to be mad at Jody and Julian for leaving because I knew it was what they had to do; it was a matter of duty. What I had was a case of intense frustration—there was so much going on with this war, and I couldn’t help, or do a darned thing about it.

  I was sure the two fathers didn’t want to leave, but they were soldiers. To them, answering the call to duty was as natural and essential as, well, eating. The gut feeling of frustration that I had was good in a way, though. I didn’t have any anxiety or worries that they weren’t coming back. At least Sarah and Wallace were still here. If I got to feeling too bad, I could always whine at them.

  I wiped my brow with the back of my hand and tried to compose myself. We had guests coming soon—mostly women and children. They probably wouldn’t like it either, but would understand about the delay. Young Hannah, who was now acting as au pair to the four young Donaldson girls and the twin baby boys, was coming along with Mrs. Donaldson. The amiable teenager had decided it was safer to stay with the Donaldson family than to follow Sarah around, learning the doctoring trade, at least for the time being. Sarah had agreed it would be best for her to continue her medical training when ‘things settled down’—meaning when the war was over.

  Wallace hadn’t come back to the house, but had returned to the barn and was finishing the clean hay exchange. I could really use a hug, but didn’t want to call him back just for that. My frustration was beginning to segue into moping: I hated the idea that I had become so selfish, clingy, and needy.

  Darn it! The wedding ceremony wasn’t set up to be a huge or lavish affair, but it was still supposed to be our day! Ergh! Not now, woman… I shook my head, and tried to find a positive outlook. Nope, I couldn’t find one.

  I had fed the boys before the hullabaloo, and now I was hungry. I didn’t feel like making a sandwich, so settled for polishing off a few tomatoes waiting to be sliced for our celebration meal. I heard one of the babies start to fuss and, sure enough, little Wren was winding up her little pink fists, getting ready for her lioness roar of ‘feed me now!’

  I scooped her up into my arms, hopped up the steps, and in three long strides was inside the house, settled back on my chaise, having managed to unbutton my dress and bare a breast as I did so.

  As soon as she smelled skin, she latched on. It was a phenomenon that never failed to occur; as soon as a baby started to suckle, I would get thirsty. I tried to make sure that I either had a cup of water or milk within reach when I sat down to feed a baby. I had been drinking lots of water today, but water didn’t give me the calories I needed to make breakfast, lunch, dinner, and snacks for my three little redheads. I got up and grabbed the pitcher with my free arm. Not bothering with a cup, I slugged down nearly a quart of still-warm goat’s milk without stopping for a breath. I wiped off my milk mustache with my quilt and wished that I had a big bowl of fruit salad loaded with bananas for dessert. Even an apple would do. Maybe Sarah knew of a good substitute. I was craving fruit big time, and the endless supply of tomatoes wasn’t cutting it.

  I laid Wren down on the bed and reached up as high as I could. My fingertips weren’t even close to touching the tall ceiling, but I tried to, just the same. I didn’t want to get round-shouldered as so many women did, from hunching over babies and chores all day and night. I raised my other arm high, dropped it, then repeated the exercise on the other side. Yoda—at least, I think that’s what this was called—was part of my daily routine now.

  My workout session was interrupted by light footsteps coming up the porch. It wasn’t the normal stomping the men used to announce their arrival. My blouse was still unbuttoned. I had been airing out as I worked out; damp nipples soon developed into cracked and bleeding nipples. I quickly threw my shawl over my shoulders and stood up straight, ready to look any stranger in the eye.

  It wasn’t a stranger, though; it was Wallace. “I didn’t walk heavy coming up the steps because I didn’t want to wake the babies if they were asleep. I figured you’d know it was me. Sorry if I frightened you.”

  I hadn’t realized how staid I must have looked, straight-backed, wearing a shawl in this insufferable heat, the milk pitcher in my hand, readied as a weapon. I put down the pitcher, turned around, and buttoned up under the shawl. I looked over my shoulder at my betrothed, gave him a mischievous grin, spun around, and with a grandiose flourish, flung the shawl onto the chair. “Better?” I asked.

  His head literally flipped back at my almost obscene gesture. I guessed if it had been anyone other than a husband—or a soon to be one—that gesture would have been outright nasty for this time, even though I was flashing a fully-covered bosom.

  His mouth worked around a smirk, trying to clean it up to a smile. He hadn’t responded to my question, but knew he didn’t have to.

  “I have something to give you,” he said, his eyes shining, dimples stretching. “It’s not as pretty as your ravishing neck and shoulders,” Wallace paused as he took in my shocked expression, “or any of the rest of you.”

  I couldn’t believe that he had just made me blush, especially since I had just been playing the vixen, but he had.

  “Oh, you are beautiful, all over: nose, elbows, toes... I’m sorry if I haven’t told you enough.” He gave me a quick kiss on the end of my nose. “Nothing can come close, but I thought this might suit you since you had to give up your pretty gold nugget necklace to…well, we don’t need to talk about that now, do we?”

  “No, we don’t,” I agreed sheepishly. “But you really think I’m beautiful? Beautiful all over?”

  “I always have and always will. Here,” Wallace got down on one knee and put out his closed hand. He slowly opened out his fingers, and the ribbon expanded like one of those Fourth of July black carbon snakes after it had been lit. My mind raced through thoughts of Independence Day, fighting, gunpowder, and then slammed shut. Nope, not today. I hoped. I didn’t want to think about any kind of war or explosions, especially today.

  “Are you all right?” Wallace asked.

  I guessed my eyes had glazed over, fearing armed confrontations. “Aye,” I brightened up, and replied in a Scottish accent, “its jest the lack of sleep. I’ll bide fine in a wee bit.” I changed back to the appropriate voice for the occasion. “What do you have there?”

  “It’s something for you until I can get you a proper ring. I’d like you to have a gold setting with lots of big diamonds around another, bigger diamond, or maybe you’d prefer a ruby or sapphire in the c
enter. But for now, would you accept this as a token of my love? I’d like you to wear it for our wedding ceremony.”

  I looked down at the ribbon that was pulling away from the coin in an unplanned, but stunning, animated formal presentation. Wallace had threaded the shiny disc onto a black ribbon, which offset the silver of the pendent beautifully. I picked up the coin and walked through the doorway to see it better in the bright sunlight. “Oh, my,” I said, unable to contain the low groan of dread. I lost my legs and sat down quickly on the porch bench.

  I looked up and saw the shocked expression on Wallace’s face. “Oh, my,” I repeated, but with an inflection of adoration rather than recognition. “This is beautiful, so beautiful that it took my breath away.”

  I doubted that I had fooled Wallace, but he probably would rather believe a lie than to ask me more about it. I recognized the coin, sort of, but didn’t remember from where. I sucked down the enigma and asked, “Would you put it on me? I’m afraid I can’t tie a good bow or knot behind my neck, and I don’t want to lose this—ever.”

  Wallace took the black and silver treasure from my hand. I twisted my hair into a rope and pulled it up into a knot. We did a tiny tango, turning around each other until we were positioned so my neck was presented to his slightly trembling, but warm hands. “It’s beautiful, Wallace. And I don’t care if I ever get a gold ring. I have the biggest treasure right here,” I said as I turned around and put my arms around his neck. “I’m serious, you know. I can’t lose you.”

  I buried my face into his chest. I wasn’t brave enough to look up at him. My tears were brimming, being held back by the rise of my bottom eyelashes. I sucked in a breath of bravery and pulled away to look up into his face. His eyes were every bit as full of tears as mine. I jumped up to kiss him just as he leaned down to kiss me, and we bumped noses.

  “Ouch,” we both squawked at the same time. I reached up and wiped away the tears in his eyes that had spilled over, and he did the same for me. “Love hurts,” I giggled.

  “Hold still,” he said. I grinned and let him lift my chin, my eyes shut in anticipation of a long, warm kiss.

  But nothing happened. I opened one eye. He was bent over to kiss me, but was looking away, his eyes focused on something in the distance. I turned my head and saw a cloud of dust heading up the road to our place.

  “Now you hold still,” I said. I put my hands on his shoulders and tip-toed up to get my kiss. It wasn’t much of a kiss, though, because he was preoccupied with the thought of company. “It’ll be a while before they get here,” I reminded him softly.

  He turned me away from the distracting view of the road, literally sweeping me off my feet, and gave me a kiss commensurate with the giving of an engagement token. “Much better,” I said and smiled. He gave me a quick reassuring hug, and then turned both of us around to face the incoming company.

  Wallace took a couple of steps forward to see better, his eyes squinting, searching the distance. I came up beside him and looked. I knew who it was. “That’s the Donaldsons,” I said. “I recognize the horses. Besides, who else would have that many little people on board?”

  I hurried back into the kitchen and got the ewer to refill with fresh water. The gang was sure to be thirsty after the long ride. I also grabbed the plate of oatmeal cookies I had made for the reception. On second thought, “Not a good idea,” I said. “We don’t want the girls amped on sugar.” I reached into the little cooler I had devised and pulled out the veggie tray that had been soaking in chilly water. The radish roses had filled out and the carrot sticks had curled. The cucumbers were just slices, but I told Sarah I was going to call them cucumber coins. The girls would get a kick out of having their own money.

  I got the fresh water and cups gathered together while Wallace waited for the wagon, ready to grab the harnesses and bring the horses to the barn. The wagon hadn’t even got to him when the girls started trying to climb out.

  “Whoa there, young ladies. Wait until the wagon comes to a complete stop before trying to get out. We don’t want anyone to get hurt. Now,” he said when he had a hold of the horse’s halter, “if you can wait just a wee moment, I’ll give you a hand. Let me help the women first.”

  “Miss Evie!” Miranda squealed, a fistful of blue ribbons in her hand. “Look what I got for you!” She had leaned out so far that she was starting to fall. Wallace saw what was happening and lifted her out the rest of the way.

  “Might as well let them out first,” said Mrs. Donaldson. “It takes a bit longer to unload us,” she observed matter-of-factly. “Miranda, watch out for your sisters, hear?”

  “Yes, mum,” she replied. She looked toward me and waved, but turned back to her mother, still in the wagon, ready to assume her sisterly duties.

  Wallace had all the girls out in three quick lifts and set downs. The Donaldson daughters all held hands as they came running towards me and the house, a chain of calico and curls. “Come on, sisters, I’ll bet Miss Evie has more stories to tell us,” encouraged Miranda.

  Wallace helped Hannah and Mrs. Donaldson out of the wagon, the two women passing the twin boys between them with an ease and familiarity that seemed to be as second nature as scratching an itch.

  Within minutes, our little house had added four little girls, two baby boys, and two women, all talking or squawking. I counted Hannah as a woman although she was only about fourteen years old. My babies were used to being around household noises, family talking, or me singing; we didn’t pussyfoot around them either. I wanted them to be able to sleep through everyday sounds. However, the addition of eight more voices, and a new octave range, into their lives woke up every one of them at the same time. I had to admit the cacophony was tremendous.

  I looked up and saw Wallace through the open door; it was too hot for closed doors today. He was craning his neck, trying to get a peek at me, I think. I picked up the loudest of my babies, little Wren—she had fallen asleep while eating earlier—and fumbled with my buttons to bring out the buffet. As soon as she latched on, I took my free hand and waved at my very, very soon to be husband. He waved back and headed to the barn to take care of the horses.

  What a wonderful noise I was breathing in. The prattle was like oxygen, feeding my heart and nourishing my spirit. The women were talking on top of each other, admonishing the fidgeting girls, telling their baby boys to hush, while straining to look at my two yowling redheaded sons in green calico diapers. I flashed back to my life before I got here, my trek through the wilderness with Ian and Little Bear. I remembered wanting to be in the presence of another woman and estrogen. Well, I was more than in its presence; I was in an ocean of it now.

  I was also surrounded by the smell of babies and what babies do. Only it wasn’t my babies.

  “I told you it was too soon to be givin’ the babies porritch. It jest makes their messes stink,” Mrs. Donaldson said to Hannah. “I know you were jest trying to help me, but we’ll be fine. See, I got lots of milk now.”

  The front of Mrs. Donaldson’s dress was soaked. “Here, give me one of those we’uns,” she told her and pointed to little Judah. “I want to see the difference the three months makes on the sucking.”

  Judah was squalling and hungry, but didn’t recognize the source of the milk. His head twisted and turned away from the proffered nipple. “Here,” I said as I tossed her my shawl, “throw this over your shoulder, and see if that helps.”

  She did as I asked and sure enough, Judah shut up and started suckling, his little fist clutching the edge of the shawl. “How about that?” she said. “Ooh, now that feels right nice compared to those little fiends of mine.” Hannah handed her little George who was making his wants known, too. Mrs. Donaldson leaned back in the kitchen chair, a babe at each breast, and sighed. I think she was actually enjoying the gentle suckling of my baby boy.

  “Here, let me have Leo,” I said to Hannah. “We might as well get all of mine fed at once. Hopefully Jody and Julian will be back soon, the babies can take their n
aps, and we can get on with the wedding. Oh shi… oh dear, where’s the preacher?” I asked as I arranged my two babies so they weren’t kicking each other.

  “Oh, Pastor Lawrence said he’d be right along. He was going to stop and pick up Mr. Rojas. He wanted to see those horses and goats he’s been hearing so much about. By the way, where is Sarah, er, Mrs. Pomeroy?” asked Hannah.

  “Well, speaking of goats, she’s out in the shed, trying to help little Sharona bring forth her twin kids. Or maybe she’s having three. That seems to be the magic,” I quickly corrected myself to these superstitious women, “I mean, the special number around here.”

  The little girls were giggling and dancing around the table, inspecting the colorful vegetable tray I had laid out, hands dutifully held behind their backs. “Did you know I made those radish roses and cucumber coins just for you? Go wash up, and then you can have two of each one.” I said.

  “Can we buy Da a new gun with the coins?” Miranda asked in complete sincerity. “He’s always saying how he could sure use a better one.”

  “No, these are just pretend coins and roses.” All the girls’ faces fell with disappointment. I added brightly, “But you can eat them. They taste mighty good.” I sighed, exasperated that I couldn’t help their father, or anyone else, and said gently, “I’m sure your Da will get a new gun when the time is right.”

  Lord, when is the right time for hoping or praying for a new, or better, gun? Well, I guess now is the right time with our new country on the brink of becoming either firmly established or totally suppressed. “Lord, give us Your strength and wisdom and the tools needed to ensure the success of the independence of this new country, our home, America. In Jesus’s name, Amen.”

  I looked around and noticed it was suddenly very quiet. I must have been praying out loud. Both the little girls and the big girls were staring at me. “Amen,” Hannah and Mrs. Donaldson said solemnly.