All I get in return is a small, mocking smile from her chapped lips. Here and now, I silently swear to somehow pull a real smile from her. One of happiness. Oh, I know it’ll take time and patience. Somehow I don’t think she’d appreciate my jokes like Jed and Dove do.
Mainly Dove.
And not just yet anyway.
“You’re tired.” What a smart one I am stating the obvious, but I’m at a loss for words to help her feel at ease. Reluctantly, I reclaim my captive finger from my daughter and unbutton my shirt as I stand. “And so am I. We’ll stay here and head home in the?—”
“What are you doing?” she cuts in sharply.
What am I doing? I glance down at my gaping shirt where a hint of chest hair shows through. Oops. Habit. I don’t usually sleep in anything, but I can’t do that tonight. Or for the next little while. Damn it, I’ll keep my shirt on for now. Running a hand through my hatless hair, I give a sheepish grin. “Just getting ready for bed.”
Mara drags the covers up to her chest, suspicion heavy in her tone. “Where are you sleeping?”
“In that big old empty spot beside you,” I reply lightly as I shove my boots off. “And before you say anything, I want you to know that the sun’s coming up in a few hours and I’m exhausted. Recovering from a head injury, too, so you’re completely safe from me, just like I promised you.” Damn that man to hell and back for getting the drop on me in the church. “Not to mention you just had a baby and need lots of rest yourself. So if I snore too loud, just put a pillow over my face and smother me.”
Probably not the best thing to tell a woman who just married a man against her wishes. Acting as if I didn’t say that last part, I ignore Mara’s stiffness and lean over the dresser drawer to see Emmaline has already fallen back asleep. “Sleep well, little one,” I whisper to her. I wonder just how much sleep she’s going to let us get. Maybe she’s just as exhausted as us. Can’t be easy being born.
To my wife, I say, “Want to keep the lamp on?” The good doctor has electricity, as do most of the people here in Hope’s Stand, but oil lamps are a much better substitute for candles at nighttime.
“Yes,” she mumbles through another yawn. With tired blue eyes warily watching my every move, I round the bed and ease on top of the covers. Two half-hearted punches make my pillow the perfect shape, and then I carefully rollto my side so I don’t startle my wife. But she still stiffens and inches away from me, wincing all the while.
Don’t touch.No matter how much I want to make her feel safe by knowing I’m here, it won’t work. Not tonight, and not for a while. “Good night, Mara.”
Mara Shay doesn’t answer.
That’s okay, though. I’ll show her what it means to be the wife of a Shay—to be the wife ofthisShay. After all, with the year-long honeymoon newlyweds get, there’ll be plenty of time.
The soft cryof a baby has my eyelids popping open. Wait a minute. Not just any baby, but mybaby. A goofy grin forms as I rub the sleep away. Judging by the light creeping in underneath the heavy curtains, looks to still be about midmorning. Guess I got a few hours of rest, then.
I wonder if Mara...yep. She finally fell asleep. She’d stared at me for long minutes, refusing to be the first one to give in. Can’t really blame her, though. Sleep makes a person vulnerable. Especially women. Even in slumber, a scowl decorates her forehead where it peeks through her dark hair that came undone at some point. Thick lashes hide the matching scowl I’m sure her eyes hold.
Now that her baby’s here, it’s alarming how scrawny she is. I’m gonna need to feed her every chance I get. I allow myself one lingering glance before easing out of bed. As much as I’d love to have those pretty blue eyes on me, they need to stay closed a bit longer so she can recover.
Padding silently to the drawer, I gently pick up the fussy newborn. “Look at you being cute as a button,” I murmur. She’s wide awake, deep blue unfocused eyes moving fromside to side, and one of her little fists waves about with what looks to be a small birthmark on it. Just another thing to add to her beauty. “Bet things look a lot different here in the real world than when you were inside your momma.”
The word “momma” seems to break the spell because Emmaline’s tiny mouth stretches wide in a snorting cry that exposes her red gums and curling tongue. “Oh, shit. Shit shit shit.”
Damn it, I need to quit cussing in front of them.
My head jerks, looking for a parent to hand her off to. But wait just a damn minute—this is different than when my nephews cried and I handed them off to their parents. I push down my panic and awkwardly bounce her up and down. “It’s me. I’m the damn parent since your momma’s sleeping. Okay, it’s okay. What’s the matter, huh?” Her little fist jerks as she tries unsuccessfully to stuff it into her mouth. “You getting hungry? Because if you are, that means I’m gonna have to wake up your momma. I don’t have what it takes to feed you.”
“I’m already awake,” a sleepy voice says grumpily. A quick glance confirms Mara is indeed awake, even if only just, with her scowl still firmly in place. Taking care with her movements, she sits up and ties her hair back. “Let me have her.”
The matching wrinkles in Emmaline’s forehead beg for one last kiss before I give her up. Only a few hours old, and this baby already has a grip on my heart. “Morning,” I offer up to my wife with a charming grin. “Here you go, Momma.”
I expect Mara’s face to soften with her fussing baby in her arms, but that’s not the case. In fact, I’d almost wager that it tightens with pain. But whether it’s physical or emotional—or both—is difficult to say.
Without a care for my presence, she undoes some claspson her borrowed nightgown. I stop dead in my tracks as the barest hint of warm brown skin is revealed. Emmaline’s cry cuts off as soon as she understands her needs are being met. I’ve never seen a woman feed a baby before. Never heard these gurgling noises as an infant drinks. But this is my wife and child. My family. I want to be there for all of it.
A rumbling from my wife’s stomach diminishes my wonder. She’s feeding her child, but how long has it been since someone fed her? She’d refused food last night, but it’s been too long now. “I’m gonna go poke around in the kitchen and see if anyone’s up yet.”
“Fine,” Mara sighs tiredly as she closes her eyes and leans back into the pillows.
Damn it. She seems so miserable and I don’t know how to fix it. At least I can help with food and safety. The rest will come later. Pushing my need to stay with her aside, I head downstairs. No one’s awake yet. Not surprising considering how late—or early—it was before we finally got to bed. Exhaustion still has a bit of a hold on me, too, and I’m sure I’d still be sleeping if Emmaline hadn’t woken me.
I may not be able to bake mouthwatering pies like Dove, but I’m no slouch. I can fix eggs and toast and ham as well as the rest of them, and I don’t think Mrs. Smith will mind me puttering around her kitchen. After all, she’s known me since I was a wee babe myself. Water sloshes over the pot as I set it on to boil and then add a measurement of stone-ground corn. Grits ought to stick to her ribs well enough.
Ham, too.
