Sarah squatted beside her, her hands mirroring Poppy's motions as they worked side by side, planting seeds that held hope for the coming months. "And how are you feeling about that?"
"Hopeful," Poppy replied, her voice ripe with sincerity. "I see the change in him. It's subtle, but it's there. When he speaks of Lucas now, it's with a kind of peace. It’s as if sharing his memories is helping him."
"That's good, Poppy. Real good," Sarah said, her words trailing off as she focused on pressing a kernel of corn into the ground.
The two women continued their quiet labor throughout the day, each lost in thoughts of the past and dreams of what was yet to come.
With dusk came a weariness that settled deep in Poppy's bones. She leaned back against the porch's wooden railing, her hands resting on the swell of her belly. Jacob had come out to join her, watching the horizon swallow the sun with a reverence reserved for the end of hard-won days.
"I feel like the last two months have brought us closer," Poppy said, offering Jacob a smile that spoke of pride and love intertwined.
"Do you now?" Jacob replied, his dark eyes reflecting the twilight. "Well, I'm trying, for you and for them." His gaze dropped to her abdomen, where their future lay hidden beneath layers of fabric and flesh.
As night took hold, Jacob helped Poppy to bed. But sleep proved elusive for Poppy. A pressure building within her, rhythmic and undeniable, whispered of imminent arrival. With each passing moment, the whispers grew into declarations—she was going into labor.
"Jacob," she called. "It's time."
In an instant, the calm of the evening shattered, replaced by the sharp focus of necessity. Jacob sprang into action, his earlier fears subdued by the urgency of the moment.
Jacob's hands shook as he latched the door behind him and plunged into the darkened world beyond their modest homestead.
"Sarah!" he called out as he reached the neighboring cabin, his voice carrying an edge of desperation.
The door swung open, and Sarah stood there, her eyes widening with immediate understanding. She had raised Poppy from a girl; she knew what the late-hour visit signified.
"Poppy?" she asked.
"Going into labor," Jacob managed to say.
"Elmer!" Sarah didn't waste a moment, turning to shout over her shoulder, summoning her husband. Her older children could stay with the younger ones, but she needed to be with her sister.
Elmer King emerged, rubbing sleep from his eyes but snapping to attention at the sight of Jacob's expression.
"Go for Dr. Bentley and Mrs. Mitchell. Now, Elmer!" Sarah's directions were swift, her tone leaving no room for question.
Without a word, Elmer grabbed his coat and hat, the weariness gone from his face. He vanished into the night, the crunch of his boots fading as he set out on his errand.
"Come," Sarah said softly. "You're no use to Poppy fretting outside. Let's get you back to her."
Together, they retraced Jacob's frantic steps beneath a sky sprinkled with uncaring stars. Sarah's presence was both a comfort and a reminder of the weight of responsibility resting on Jacob's shoulders. Inside, Poppy was fighting her own battle.
As they entered the warm glow of the cabin, Jacob's gaze landed once again on his wife, her face etched with both pain and determination. He took his place beside her, his hand finding hers, their fingers intertwining.
