Healing Montana Sky (12 page)

CHAPTER TEN

A
fter the Nortons and Carters left, silence settled over the house. The new family sat around the table. Antonia held Jacques, who was almost asleep. On her right, Henri nodded over his tin plate. The baby slept in a cradle near Antonia’s feet.

Outside the windows, the velvety purple dusk softened the landscape and darkened the interior of the house. A glass lamp burned on the table, another luxury Antonia wasn’t used to. At night, the fire had been their only illumination, and in the warmth of summer, they often let it go out after she’d cooked supper. The breeze through the open window brought the faint smell of kerosene her way.

Erik sat across from her. The lamplight cast shadows over his weary face. He rubbed a hand over his eyes.

He’s probably desperately tired but doesn’t want to go sleep in the bed where Daisy died.
Antonia didn’t blame him. She wouldn’t want to, either. “You probably didn’t sleep last night.”

Erik shook his head. “Daisy was in labor the whole time.”

The words had to be said, and Antonia braced herself for the conversation. “Why don’t you go on off to bed?”

He shifted. “Don’t know how I can. . .”

Antonia hastened to talk over his words. “The boys and I be used to sleeping on bearskins on the floor.” She pointed to the corner of the main room where Erik had piled their possessions. “We be spreadin’ them there and be just fine. Don’t you be worryin’ ’bout us at all.”

His brows drew together. “You sleep on the floor?”

“Yes.” She tried for a brave smile. “All of us be together like a litter of puppies.”

“Sounds cozy in the winter.”

“It be so. Iffen one of the boys leaks through his. . .” She shook her head.

Erik let out a brief bark of laughter. “Bet that would be mighty uncomfortable.” His expression sobered. “I could take the floor, and you all could have the bed.”

She shook her head. “No, I’d rather keep the ways the boys be used to. Later, after they be familiar. . .”

“I’ll build you all a bedroom.”

Antonia let out the breath she hadn’t known she was holding.
Thank goodness, he doesn’t expect us to sleep together as man and wife.
“I’d be much obliged. . . .”

He made a cutting-off motion. “We’re yoked now, you and I and the children. No obligation about it. But. . .tonight’s not the time to ponder the wherefores.” He glanced at the table and looked helplessly at the cluttered kitchen. “Daisy’s ghost will probably haunt me for saying this. She was awfully particular about a tidy kitchen. . .but let’s leave the dishes be. They’ll still be here in the morning.”

Antonia nodded.

He gestured toward the rifles resting on top of a bookcase. “I’ll make a rack for your rifle next to mine.”

She followed his gaze to the gun over the door.

Erik lifted his chin to the pile of their belongings. “Tomorrow, you can unpack and put away everything.”

Antonia thought of the awkwardness of placing her possessions among Erik and Daisy’s.

He seemed to understand for he ran a hand over his head. “Anywhere you choose will be fine. I’m sure I can get used to the changes.”

Unspoken between them was the knowledge of how much bigger change they’d suffered. Clutching Jacques, Antonia started to rise.

Erik waved for her to remain seated. “I’ll spread out the furs, then you can lay the little shaver down. I’ll watch over the babies while you and Henri use the privy. Then I’ll take my turn. I’ll bring in water from the well for washing up. You don’t mind cold?”

“We’ll make do for tonight.”

“We have a basin in the bedroom, but mostly, we wash up on the porch unless it’s too cold.” He glanced down at his new shirt. “Except when I’m too grubby, then I just stand on the dirt near the well and toss the water over me.”

“Sounds like that be a fine plan.”

Erik pushed the two chairs together. He knelt by her furs and unrolled the bundle. Then he spread them out to form a comfortable nest. He raised an eyebrow in askance at Antonia.

“That looks fine.” She rose and laid Jacques down. Then, placing her hands on Henri’s shoulders, she urged him to his feet. He made some sleepy protests, but she guided him out the door and to the privy.

As they walked through the deepening shadows, Antonia uttered a prayer of gratitude, thanking God for bringing her here. If she had to lose Jean-Claude, the Lord seemed to have provided a satisfactory situation to their dilemma, with a man who seemed hardworking and considerate. That didn’t make the pain of Jean-Claude’s death go away, but the tight band of fear she’d worn about her body had loosened like that awful corset, and Antonia could take a breath of relief that she and her children had landed in a safe place. She prayed it was so.

Once inside the house, Erik turned toward the bedroom then lingered, his body conveying tenseness. “Do you have a nightgown to sleep in?”

In the summer, she and Jean-Claude slept nude. But she couldn’t scandalize her new husband by telling him that, so she shook her head.

“Daisy’s will be short on you, but I guess that doesn’t matter. Let me get it.”

He took longer than she expected to return. She knelt to tuck Henri into bed and kiss his forehead before rising to her feet again.

Erik emerged from the bedroom carrying a folded white bundle. He thrust it at her, his expression almost angry.

Feeling uncomfortable, Antonia took the soft garment and held it, waiting for him to leave.

Erik waved toward the cradle, which earlier he’d brought from the bedroom. His daughter was snuggly tucked inside. “You’ll be all right with the two babies?”

“Jacques usually be sleepin’ through the night. Camilla be wakin’ for feedings several times, but don’t you be worryin’ ’bout that.” She hesitated. “I be findin’ that sleep don’t be comin’ easylike since Jean-Claude died.”

“I don’t suppose it would.”

She shrugged. “Although I be sure some was due to me a worryin’. Maybe it be different for you. But this be a hard, hard time. Take what sleep you can be gittin’.” Antonia leaned over to blow out the light from the glass lamp.

“Wait,” Erik said. He walked over to the lamp. “Turn down the wick before you blow it out. The wick will stay cleaner and burn brighter that way.”

Antonia hoped he wouldn’t see the red flaring in her cheeks. She didn’t want Erik to know how long it had been since she’d used an oil lamp.
I have a lot to learn.

“Good night.” He moved through the darkness with the ease of knowing his home and shut the door of the bedroom behind him.

Quickly, Antonia took off her new dress and slipped out of the undergarments. She spread them over the chair so they wouldn’t wrinkle, and then pulled on Daisy’s nightgown, which smelled like lavender and cedar. The sleeves stopped mid-arm and the shoulders were snug. She ran a finger around the cuff, feeling the thread pattern of lace.

Her hand went to her throat, to the lace that edged her collar. She’d never owned anything with lace on it before. She remembered, as a girl, longing for beautiful clothing with pretty fabric, embroidery, ribbons, and lace.
I’ve gotten my wish.
The irony of the situation almost made her weep.

The gown came to her knees, and, in feeling around the front of the garment, Antonia couldn’t discover any panels for breast-feeding. She frowned, realizing she’d have to push the material up to her shoulder when nursing one of the babies.

Antonia dropped onto the bedding between her sleeping sons and pulled up a fur to cover herself. Through the open window, she heard an owl hoot. A cloud must have moved across the moon for the grayness she saw through the window faded to black.

Lying in complete darkness, unable to sleep even though she felt exhausted, Antonia couldn’t stop her mind from thinking. Too much had happened today—this week—for her thoughts to calm. Everything should feel comfortable—the furs beneath her, the familiar sounds the boys made in their sleep, but she was already on edge from listening for Camilla—a reaction she remembered from when her boys were newborns.

The baby in her cradle made a little sucking noise in her sleep—a reassuring sound. But still, Antonia knew she’d be waking often to check on frail Camilla.

Even in the blackness, Antonia could feel the difference in the space around her. She didn’t feel snug, cocooned by familiar log walls. The sounds and smells differed. She missed the wind whispering through the trees, carrying the smell of pine and lulling her to sleep. Here, the breeze brought the smell of dried grass, dirt, and cow droppings.

Antonia started to relax, her eyelids growing heavy,
when a creak from the kitchen area brought her wide-awake. With her heart thudding, she listened intently. Then she realized the sound was only the house settling, and she subsided. She’d moved enough through the years to know it took time to become used to new creaks and groans that a house made.
But with familiarity she’d stop hearing them—probably far quicker than any other adjustment she’d make to hernew life.

Erik couldn’t ever remember dreading going to sleep. But tonight, his feet dragged as he approached the bed. Mrs. Norton had made the bed with Daisy’s company sheets, and he felt some relief that he didn’t have to sleep on the soiled bedding.

He sat in the ladder-back chair and pulled off his boots and socks, then stood and divested himself of his clothes. He fished under his pillow, grateful to discover that Mrs. Norton had replaced his nightshirt where it belonged, and yanked the garment over his head.

Once he slid into bed and pulled the sheet and blanket over him, he tried to relax. The sheets and pillowcase smelled of the lavender Daisy had tucked between the folds. A familiar smell, but not as comforting as the scent and feel of his wife lying next to him.

Erik stared unseeing into the darkness, reliving the events of the day. He replayed Daisy’s death over and over, wondering if there was anything, aside from finding her early enough to get her to the doctor’s, he could have done differently. But he didn’t see any other path but the one they’d taken.

His thoughts turned to Antonia and his mixed feelings about the woman. He shouldn’t resent her presence, but he did. He pondered the emotion—an odd feeling, really, because of his gratitude toward her and the fact that he liked her, which was a blessing given that he could have ended up with a wife he disliked.

Wife.
He was the one who’d jumped to suggesting matrimony, something he didn’t want. But to see Antonia attacked by those women after all she’d endured was just too much for a man to bear.

Marry in haste, repent at leisure.
The old adage taunted him. He’d almost repented when he’d taken Daisy’s good nightgown from the hope chest at the foot of their bed. Resentment had stabbed him that he had to give the garment to a stranger.

For a moment, Erik had buried his face in the soft cotton material and drank in the scent of cedar and lavender, remembering his excitement when he’d first seen Daisy wearing the nightgown on their wedding night—how his fingers fumbled with the small buttons, his rough hands snagging on the fine fabric. He’d felt like a clumsy oaf, all the more so because Daisy had been fearful, while he’d been crazy with excitement and love. He’d believed that night would be the beginning of a long life together—the days and nights stretching into the horizon. Never had he dreamed they’d be cut short.

He’d emerged from the memory when a practical inner voice reminded him Antonia needed the nightgown and urged him out of the room. He’d given her the garment, hoping he appeared civil, but he suspected perhaps not.

Finally, exhaustion pulled him under, and he slept.

Erik awoke. From the gray light, he could tell it was time to rise and see to the stock. He reached a hand for his wife, only to realize he was alone in the bed. Daisy must be up already. He listened for the sound of her cooking breakfast and sniffed the air, hoping to smell bacon frying, but then realized the door was closed.

That’s odd.
He turned his head, saw the pristine pillow next to him, and like a blow, the memory returned.

Erik groaned as everything that happened yesterday came crashing back. He knew if he stayed in bed for a minute longer, he’d start bawling like a calf who’d lost his mother. Forcing himself to sit up, he pulled off his nightshirt, rose, and moved to the washbasin on top of the dresser.