Authors: Pamela K. Forrest
“I love you, Jim Travis,” she complied readily, raising her head proudly. “I didn’t know what love was, until I nearly lost you.”
Sighing, Jim briefly closed his eyes. When he opened them, March was amazed to see them rimmed with tears. “I love you, March. You’re my love, my woman, my wife. I might never have known it, if it hadn’t been for the fever. I heard your sweet voice calling to me, and I knew I had to fight, like I’ve never fought before, to get back to you. I wondered why, and suddenly I knew.
You are the missing half of my soul, the reason I was put on this earth.”
March shivered and wrapped her arms around his waist. “I’m scared,” she said quietly.
“Why, sweetheart?”
“Can it last? This love we feel is so strong, can it last a lifetime? Or will we wake up one morning to discover that it is gone?”
“I doubt that it will last for more than an eternity or two.” With tender fingers beneath her chin, Jim raised her head and placed a soft kiss on her lips. “I don’t think we’ll have to start worrying about it for a couple of centuries.”
“Promise?”
“Forever.”
“Even when I’m old and gray and wrinkled?” Jim grimaced as he looked at her smooth skin and golden hair. “You planning on doing that anytime soon?”
“No … but I’ve thought about getting fat.” His hands spanned her slender waist. “How fat? Fat like my horse? Or fat like the hog we’re gonna slaughter next week? Or fat like Mrs. Quincey in town?”
“No, more like fat as in the family way.”
She had planned to save her news until Christmas, but suddenly a week seemed far too long to wait. Watching comprehension dawn on his face was like watching the sun rise.
“You’re going to have my baby?” he asked with a mixture of awe and dread. Melanie’s agonizing death was still too new for him to easily forget it.
“I guess I take after my mother.” March smiled, showing her delight at the situation. “I hope you like children, because we may well be starting a calendar of our own … you’ll have to help me with my lessons, so that I don’t forget how to spell them correctly.”
“Twelve babies?” he asked in disbelief.
“I’m young … could be fifteen or sixteen before I get too old.”
“My God … I don’t think I’ve got that much life in me!”
“Don’t worry, my sweet husband.” March lowered her voice and her hand. “If all else fails, I’ll remind you of Saturday.”
Jim’s lips met hers in a kiss of overwhelming tenderness, as memories of the lovemaking they had christened with the names of the days of the week drifted around them.
He wanted to name their new baby … she refused. She was stuck with March for the rest of her life, and it was a terrible name but not nearly as bad as his choice.
When she threatened to never spell another day or month in his presence, he grudgingly conceded; by now he knew that she always kept her promises. She named the baby Katherine Virginia, deciding that it was a beautifully feminine name.
He was soon calling her Katie. However, for the rest of his life, Jim always thought of his first born daughter as Saturday. He just hoped March never knew.
She did.
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