The Endless Forest
Page 60
Elizabeth’s first thought was for Lily, who would miss this annual party to celebrate the spring. There was no viable way to transport her all the way up Hidden Wolf. Unless she were to ride, which Hannah and Curiosity had strictly forbidden, and a wagon on the bumpy path was out of the question.
“Short notice,” Daniel said. “But I’ll be there.”
“You better be, or we’ll track you down and force-march you all the way up.”
As a boy Gabriel had found ways to distract Daniel when everyone else had given it up as a bad job, and it seemed he didn’t intend to let that advantage go.
He was saying, “Blue-Jay wants you to know you had best bring along a woman of your own. He plans to be the only one Susanna pays any attention to.”
The corner of Daniel’s mouth jerked. He said, “Blue-Jay mistakes me entirely. It’s your wife I intend to monopolize tonight.”
“You can try,” Gabriel said. “But I think you’d have better luck with Martha Kirby.”
Chapter XXVI
Lily roused from a light sleep to find Simon sitting on the edge of the bed, grinning down at her. She turned her head to scowl into the pillow, and turned back again when he leaned down and kissed her shoulder.
“I brought you a tray.”
She yawned. “How am I ever supposed to work up an appetite, spending three quarters of the day asleep? Curiosity won’t be satisfied until I’m as fat as a Christmas goose.”
But Simon knew her too well to be drawn into a discussion like this, when she was half asleep and cranky.
“What a horrid crabbit old witch I am these days. I apologize.”
“There’s naught to apologize for. Come, take some tea.”
To Lily’s disgust, there were great fat tears running down her cheeks. She buried her face back in the pillow and wailed.
When it was over she was glad of Simon’s warm presence and his calm.
He said, “Scootch.”
“You mean to come back to bed? But you’re dressed.”
“And you are not. Scootch.”
“Your shoes.”
“I promise not to kick, no matter how you provoke me. And if you’ll recall, it’s no the first time we’ve been in this very bed with clothes on. Some clothes, at least.”
Against her will Lily laughed, and then she gave in and moved. The bed was narrow and Simon was very big. It had always been a comfort, the long length of him like a wall between the world and her small spot in it.
“I remember that,” she said to the ceiling.
“I should hope so,” Simon said. He put his laced hands behind his head and stretched. “We had some memorable times in this room, if I do say it myself.”
Lily put her face to his shoulder. She was mortified, embarrassed, angry, and there was nowhere to go with any of that, except to pour it out on the people who loved her best.
They settled into a silence that was less than companionable. Simon would wait her out; Lily knew that. He had that talent, as did most of the men in the family. She might just drift off to sleep waiting for him to say the first word, and when she woke, ten minutes or ten hours later, he would still be there, waiting.
“I want to be here.”
“Aye.”
“But I can’t keep myself from snapping at people, like a—like a—”
“Like a lioness in a cage.” Simon turned on his side to look at her. “I thought you might take Hannah’s head off yesterday. It’s a good thing she’s so quick on her feet.”
She pressed a fist to her mouth.
“Lily.” His tone had deepened, and she braced herself.
“Lily. Spring is in the air. Ye want tae be oot in the sun.”
She said, “You must really be worried. You’re speaking Scots.”
“Aye, I am.”
“Because I was cranky with Ma and Hannah?”
“Because something is wrong. Something has ye worried, but ye canna speak of it and so ye pick at everything else. Martha Kirby, for example.”
Lily tried not to scowl. “My worries about Martha Kirby are well founded. And don’t grunt. It’s true.”
“We’ll leave the subject of Martha Kirby’s love life for the moment, shall we? Noo, are ye claiming there’s naught else pressing on ye but the idea that your brither is fond of yon Martha?”
Lily had known this moment would come, that Simon would corner her and draw her fears out like thorns. In a way she was relieved. She was certainly thankful that Simon was the kind of husband to take note.
She hated to put the words into the world, but he was right; they were poisoning her.
Simon said, “Are ye bleeding, is that it?”
“No,” Lily said sharply. “I wouldn’t keep that to myself.”
“What, then?”
Lily drew a deep breath and put her hands on the rise of her belly. “I haven’t felt the baby quicken.”
He didn’t jerk or startle; his voice came in its normal warm tone. “And it’s owerlate for the quickening?”
Lily nodded, because her throat was full of tears.
Simon was watching her face. He said, “Have you spoke to any of the women about this?”
She shook her head. He leaned forward to touch his brow to hers.
“Afraid?”
“Terrified.” And then: “But I know, I know I have to talk to Hannah about it. I wanted to yesterday, then the little girls came in to tell a story, and—I lost my nerve.”
“Short notice,” Daniel said. “But I’ll be there.”
“You better be, or we’ll track you down and force-march you all the way up.”
As a boy Gabriel had found ways to distract Daniel when everyone else had given it up as a bad job, and it seemed he didn’t intend to let that advantage go.
He was saying, “Blue-Jay wants you to know you had best bring along a woman of your own. He plans to be the only one Susanna pays any attention to.”
The corner of Daniel’s mouth jerked. He said, “Blue-Jay mistakes me entirely. It’s your wife I intend to monopolize tonight.”
“You can try,” Gabriel said. “But I think you’d have better luck with Martha Kirby.”
Chapter XXVI
Lily roused from a light sleep to find Simon sitting on the edge of the bed, grinning down at her. She turned her head to scowl into the pillow, and turned back again when he leaned down and kissed her shoulder.
“I brought you a tray.”
She yawned. “How am I ever supposed to work up an appetite, spending three quarters of the day asleep? Curiosity won’t be satisfied until I’m as fat as a Christmas goose.”
But Simon knew her too well to be drawn into a discussion like this, when she was half asleep and cranky.
“What a horrid crabbit old witch I am these days. I apologize.”
“There’s naught to apologize for. Come, take some tea.”
To Lily’s disgust, there were great fat tears running down her cheeks. She buried her face back in the pillow and wailed.
When it was over she was glad of Simon’s warm presence and his calm.
He said, “Scootch.”
“You mean to come back to bed? But you’re dressed.”
“And you are not. Scootch.”
“Your shoes.”
“I promise not to kick, no matter how you provoke me. And if you’ll recall, it’s no the first time we’ve been in this very bed with clothes on. Some clothes, at least.”
Against her will Lily laughed, and then she gave in and moved. The bed was narrow and Simon was very big. It had always been a comfort, the long length of him like a wall between the world and her small spot in it.
“I remember that,” she said to the ceiling.
“I should hope so,” Simon said. He put his laced hands behind his head and stretched. “We had some memorable times in this room, if I do say it myself.”
Lily put her face to his shoulder. She was mortified, embarrassed, angry, and there was nowhere to go with any of that, except to pour it out on the people who loved her best.
They settled into a silence that was less than companionable. Simon would wait her out; Lily knew that. He had that talent, as did most of the men in the family. She might just drift off to sleep waiting for him to say the first word, and when she woke, ten minutes or ten hours later, he would still be there, waiting.
“I want to be here.”
“Aye.”
“But I can’t keep myself from snapping at people, like a—like a—”
“Like a lioness in a cage.” Simon turned on his side to look at her. “I thought you might take Hannah’s head off yesterday. It’s a good thing she’s so quick on her feet.”
She pressed a fist to her mouth.
“Lily.” His tone had deepened, and she braced herself.
“Lily. Spring is in the air. Ye want tae be oot in the sun.”
She said, “You must really be worried. You’re speaking Scots.”
“Aye, I am.”
“Because I was cranky with Ma and Hannah?”
“Because something is wrong. Something has ye worried, but ye canna speak of it and so ye pick at everything else. Martha Kirby, for example.”
Lily tried not to scowl. “My worries about Martha Kirby are well founded. And don’t grunt. It’s true.”
“We’ll leave the subject of Martha Kirby’s love life for the moment, shall we? Noo, are ye claiming there’s naught else pressing on ye but the idea that your brither is fond of yon Martha?”
Lily had known this moment would come, that Simon would corner her and draw her fears out like thorns. In a way she was relieved. She was certainly thankful that Simon was the kind of husband to take note.
She hated to put the words into the world, but he was right; they were poisoning her.
Simon said, “Are ye bleeding, is that it?”
“No,” Lily said sharply. “I wouldn’t keep that to myself.”
“What, then?”
Lily drew a deep breath and put her hands on the rise of her belly. “I haven’t felt the baby quicken.”
He didn’t jerk or startle; his voice came in its normal warm tone. “And it’s owerlate for the quickening?”
Lily nodded, because her throat was full of tears.
Simon was watching her face. He said, “Have you spoke to any of the women about this?”
She shook her head. He leaned forward to touch his brow to hers.
“Afraid?”
“Terrified.” And then: “But I know, I know I have to talk to Hannah about it. I wanted to yesterday, then the little girls came in to tell a story, and—I lost my nerve.”
