Page 64 of If the Boot Fits

He told me of a line shack out by a creek that dried up last summer. He says they moved all the stock to land with better water. No one has reason to ride over there. Not even Eli. My partner has promised to fix it up, make it fit for a lady. Once he has it ready, this bold plan of mine will begin.

August 4, 1875

Today is the day! Eli will be gone for a week on a cattle-buying expedition. I kissed him good-bye this morning, hiding my guilt behind my wishes for safe travels and an eagerness for his return. I keep telling myself that I am doing this for him, but my conscience doesn’t seem to recognize the nobility of my quest.

———

I soaked in the tub for an hour, but I still feel soiled. I scrubbed and scrubbed, but I can’t erase the feel of another man’s hands on my skin. A man not my husband. What have I done? I have betrayed my Eli! May God forgive me.

———

I am done with weeping. I cannot undo what has been done. I must move forward. Make the sacrifice worth something. I will meet him again on the morrow. The sooner I conceive, the sooner I can extricate myself from this physical infidelity.

August 10, 1875

Eli returns home today, and I fear he will read the truth on my face. I’ll shower him with affection and welcome him eagerly to my bed. With any luck, he’ll never suspect.

March 2, 1876

Seven months and still no baby. Maybe the problem is with me after all. If I’ve forsaken my marriage vows for no reason, I’ll never forgive myself. My lover has urged me to try a little longer. To give him a year. If I don’t conceive by summer, we’ll put an end to our encounters.

June 12, 1876

I am two weeks late for my woman’s time. Please let this be what I’ve been working for.

July 24, 1876

I’m sick every morning, and I’ve never been happier. I am with child! I have ended my affair, and my heart is lighter. I will never betray the man I love again. If I bear a girl, I will make peace with my failure. But I feel in my heart that this is a boy. I have risked everything, and I will finally have my reward.

October 7, 1876

I can feel the baby move inside me. He is more active than Samantha. I’m sure that is a good sign. Eli is delighted. He kisses my round belly every night and talks to the baby as if he can hear him. He loves this child so much already that I’m starting to believe it might be his after all. I want to believe it is his. To erase all memory of what I have done and simply celebrate our family.

February 26, 1877

Clinton Abernathy Dearing is born. Son of Eli Dearing and heir to the Three Cedars legacy. He is all I could have hoped for. Healthy. Beautiful. Strong. Whatever stain marks my soul, I cannot regret this beautiful life that we’ve been given.

February 27, 1877

No! My innocent babe bears the mark of my sin. A crescent-shaped birthmark beneath his collarbone. The cowhand I gave myself to has the same mark. I wanted so badly to pretend that my deeds were nothing but a bad dream, that they hadn’t really taken place. But every time I gaze on Clinton’s unclothed chest, I am faced with the evidence of my betrayal. Will Eli decipher the truth? Will he reject his son? Will he reject me?

August 14, 1877

Clinton is nearly six months old, and Eli has never once questioned why the boy’s coloring is not as fair as Samantha’s or why his features carry different lines. A few months ago, Eli decided that Clint had his chin, and I concurred with great enthusiasm. I pray the boy picks up Eli’s mannerisms and speech patterns to further disguise the truth, but I worry for the day Clint reaches his teen years. What if his resemblance to his true father becomes too obvious to overlook?

March 2, 1878

Clint said his first word today—dada. I thought Eli would burst from the pride puffing through him. Clint IS Eli’s son in all the ways that matter. He is such a cheerful boy, always smiling and trailing after his sister. I can’t imagine our family without him.

Yet guilt eats at my conscience. I try to push it aside, telling myself that the end result justifies whatever tactics were necessary to produce it, but I know that is a lie. I rejected God’s plan in favor of my own. There will be a reckoning. I just pray Clint will not be the one to pay the price for my sin.

June 20, 1880

The parson preached on Psalm 51 today, and I can’t get the words out of my head. A plea for forgiveness from a man who committed adultery. A man who recognized his folly and wanted desperately to be forgiven by his God. A man whom the Lord looked on with mercy when he presented not a sacrifice but a broken and contrite heart.

Tonight, I fall on my knees, my remorse too great to stand. I pray the prayer of David and beg for the Lord’s mercy. That he will blot out my transgressions and cleanse me from my sin. My wrongs are ever before me. In the face of my beautiful son. In the face of the man who fathered him.

“Create in me a clean heart, O God; and renew a right spirit within me. Cast me not away from thy presence; and take not thy holy spirit from me. Restore unto me the joy of thy salvation; and uphold me with thy free spirit. . . . Wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow.”