“No.”
“Emily.”
“I am not riding two hours because you offended breakfast.”
A week later, she fainted while feeding chickens.
Daniel carried her into the house despite her furious protests.
Ruth, now seventeen, rode for the doctor.
Dr. Harmon arrived by evening.
He examined Emily privately.
Then asked Daniel into the room.
Emily sat on the bed.
Her face had gone completely blank.
Daniel panicked.
“What?”
Nobody answered.
His heart stopped.
“Emily?”
She looked at him.
Then laughed.
Then cried.
Daniel stared at the doctor.
“What is happening?”
Dr. Harmon smiled.
“Mrs. Mercer is pregnant.”
Daniel did not move.
Emily laughed harder through tears.
“Daniel.”
He sat because his knees stopped cooperating.
“No.”
The doctor raised an eyebrow.
Daniel corrected quickly:
“I mean yes.”
“I mean—”
He looked at Emily.
“Are you sure?”
Dr. Harmon laughed.
“As sure as medicine allows.”
Daniel looked at Emily.
She whispered:
“Eight years.”
He reached for her.
Then stopped.
The old habit.
“Can I?”
She laughed.
“After eight years, yes, Daniel.”
He wrapped both arms around her.
Then immediately pulled back.
“Am I hurting you?”
“No.”
“The baby?”
“No.”
“How do you know?”
Dr. Harmon sighed.
“This will be a very long pregnancy.”
He was right.
Daniel became unbearable.
Emily threatened divorce twice a week.
He would not let her lift feed sacks.
She lifted them anyway.
He removed the ladder.
She found another.
He questioned the doctor constantly.
Emily finally told Dr. Harmon:
“If you answer him again, I will hold you personally responsible.”
The doctor agreed.
Ruth and Clara found the entire thing hilarious.
But beneath the humor was fear.
Emily remembered the first doctor's warning.
Every pain terrified her.
Every quiet day.
Every strange sensation.
Daniel felt it too.
They rarely said so.
At six months, Emily woke bleeding.
Terror returned instantly.
Daniel rode for help faster than he had ever ridden.
The doctor ordered bed rest.
The bleeding stopped.
The pregnancy continued.
Daniel slept on the floor beside the bed for three nights.
Emily woke the fourth morning.
“What are you doing?”
“Sleeping.”
“You have a bed.”
“I know.”
“Get into it.”
“I don't want to jostle you.”
She stared.
“Daniel.”
“Yes?”
“If you do not get into this bed, I will get out of it and drag you.”
He climbed in.
Carefully.
Too carefully.
Emily rolled into his arms.
The baby kicked.
Daniel froze.
Again.
A second kick.
His face changed.