Christy During the Blizzard

Author's Note: Okay, last story for a while with another protagonist with Dr. MacNeill. I've had them sitting on my desktop for...well, years, and finally decided to put them out there. Other things will follow, but these had to get flushed out of my system. :)

Disclaimer: I own nothing that has anything to do with the Catherine Marshall book, the movies, series, etc.

It was Christmas time in the mountains – she could feel the cold air sweeping into her bones every time she stepped outside. It reminded her of her soul, and of what her life had become.

College educated, Welsh born, she had been married to the man of her dreams in Llandudno one year ago, right before they took the voyage to America. They found themselves amid the Irish of Boston and the Jews of New York, which served to give their open minds even more to discuss and learn from – for both she and Rhys loved to learn.

"Gwenwyfr, this is the life!" he would tell her, catching her up and clasping her to him. He was wiry and long muscled, but he had an especially thick accent from Cornwall summers, and she loved his consistently messy blond hair.

However, they did end up missing home and their families, and Rhys was intent on finding a place that reminded them of the mountains over the top of the Great Orme, and especially since they desired a family so desperately and wished to be settled when they did conceive.

Immediately once they asked around, they heard tell and saw hazy photographs of the Smokey Mountains, and moved there, to small Cutter Gap, buried in the hills and so much like home it made her heart ache.

"We will be happy here," Rhys said, as he found work quickly with the railroad station, and used the little of their savings left to build them a fine enough cabin that far surpassed those of their neighbors.

Happily, their accents were an automatic ticket to the hearts of these people, who were their kinsmen of Scottish descent. She was humble with the wives, who taught her all they knew, and they were eager to learn her book knowledge. She knew that the schoolteacher, Christy Huddleston, somewhat disliked her for this, but she would not suggest to her new friends that they attend where they were uncomfortable.

It was only two months into this bliss that she discovered she was carrying their first child, and Rhys stopped swinging her around, for he was careful of their babe. He hoped for a son, but she laughed and did not care so long as it was a healthy one.

This joy did not last so long. The typhoid epidemic hit in the late summer, when the August heat let the disease spread quickly, and both Rhys and Gwenwyfr were struck with the spots. She feared so greatly for the child within her womb, that she did not think to hope for her husband.

The Scottish Doctor Neil MacNeill came to attend to them, and there was acute worry in his blue eyes, but through the sickness haze, she could not understand his zeal to her. Perhaps if she looked back in a certain light, he did not look to her husband as much as he could have, for his worry over her body was greater. In this, her Rhys died within two weeks, and the Doctor's cares were aught, for their child was born so early and then stillborn at that.

By the cruelest twist, she remained alive and weak. They brought her to the mission house, but she detested it, for it was filled still with love and hope and God, all of which she did not have a use for any longer.

And so the months passed. She finally convinced them to allow her to her home, which she had cleaned slowly, for the weakness of her miscarriage and illness was difficult, but not so heavy as her heart.

When all was cleaned, she stood back and looked at her spartan home. She put away all the joyful things, and knew that she had become over-practical, and would remain so, for why take delight in anything other than the simple?

The mission folk were kindly to her, and finally Christy Huddleston spoke with her, and they had good conversations, for there were few women who were educated. She spoke rarely of love, but she knew Christy was looking to both the Doctor and the Preacher, as the neighbors said, but anyone with eyes could see that.

Sometimes the Doctor did stop by to see her, and finally one day, this Christmas time day, she thought to ask him,

"Doctor, why do you stop by to see me?"

He looked at her strangely, and said roughly, "You are a miracle to me – that you survived the typhoid."

She scoffed, for she was usually caustic now, and said, "You the atheist speaks of such things. There are many who survived, thanks to your hands."

He shook his head, and put his hands around the brim of his hat, looking at them. "You were with child. The last time I served a pregnant woman with typhoid, both were lost."

She was angry. Did he not understand? She sharply said the truth, "Then you must realize I am no miracle, for both were indeed lost. Did not my husband die, and my babe? With two deaths I am also truly gone."

His face turned ashen and then grew angry. She at first could have regretted her words, for she saw at once they caused him pain. But the anger grew, until he bit back,

"Then know that the last pregnant woman and child I lost to typhoid were my wife and unborn son."

She was ashamed, yet not so, for she appreciated the anger, and his understanding. She was glad for the fight, glad to have him hurt her. She wanted more, she wanted a lashing. She stepped off the porch, closer to him.

"I am sure it's all very well for you, as I hear the marriage was not so happy."

He glowered, and grabbed her arm. "And it's so very sad for you, I am terribly sorry that I made you lose your babe and your husband. Perhaps you should have died instead? "

She laughed at his face, it was so tortured. "Yes, do blame yourself, you selfish man! Blame yourself that it was your fault for your wife and son, for my husband and child! Do not think of my pain, of being left behind, of the guilt of living! You are all powerful and it is all your own heavy weight to carry – you cannot share it."

He looked as if he could not decide if he wanted to cry or shout, and then made a fast decision, grabbing her by the shoulders and staring her down.

"You can cry, you foolish thing! You have been so silent, so strong and stubborn, exactly as you should be, but you needn't lose your faith or your spirit! Stop trying to cut yourself with words! I know, I have done it enough myself!"

And then she was filled with guilt for giving pain to such a passioned man, and turned away from him, feeling her eyes finally fill will sorrow.

"I'm sorry, so sorry!" she gasped, and as she moved away, she felt him grab her hand, to walk with her up the stairs.

"I said cry, I said do not be strong. Do not be strong Gwenwyfr – lean to me, let us share our pain."

How could he read her so easily? She was aghast, and felt vulnerable for the first time in a long time.

He took her inside and sat her down, and began to make the tea, as if it was his home. Strangely, it did not feel as though he was invading on Rhys's place, now that she knew he shared a loss as great as hers.

She began to weep again, softly, and she was surprised that there were tears in his eyes as he gazed at her, and sat across from her, taking her hands in his.

"You must join the world again, Gwenwyfr, you must be lively, and your happiness will slowly return. You will see it in the beauty of the mountains, in the sunsets and the fall leaves. I promise."

He spoke of the simple things that touched her soul, of the practical things she always loved, and she felt something wrap around her heart for this mountain man, who was so clearly of the earth she came from in Wales.

Their accents danced around each other, as they spoke of their marriages. Finally she looked him straight in the eye.

"Miss Huddleston captivates you, as she does the Preacher."

He sighed, and took her hand again. The informality was natural and expected, she was comforted with his nearness, and the idea of his face in her head.

"She is delightful, and a beautiful person in many respects. I admire her gumption and her faith."

"Why do you not propose?"

"I shouldn't like to force her, and she is easily swayed. I hoped she would come to me of her own will."

She looked down. She had gone to Rhys' home the day after she first saw him at the village fair, and she presented myself as his wife. The two of them had never looked back. How much can happen in a year, she mused.

The Doctor smiled at her story, and told her of the whirlwind courtship he had had.

"Do you think it is always so with first loves, so quickly and like fire?"

He looked to the side, where their finished tea was forlornly lying in crumbs. He gave a half shrug. "I do not know. Is it not true that when one loves so honestly, it does not take time? It is immediate?"

She waited, to see if he realized his words, and when he continued to stare away, she said gently, "I think you have just found your answer."

His head jerked up, and she saw he was thinking on Christy Huddleston differently, and suddenly her heart ached. He loved the teacher – this much she now saw. How lovely for him that he had lost his family, only to be in love again. Yet she admired his ability to keep himself apart, to not jump at a young woman.

She stood up, and again was hardened. She would not do as he said now, for he was not to be a confidant, a friend of her spirit. His soul was already moved by another, and at this time in life, she needed someone who would allow her the depths of themselves. Nothing superficial would suffice.

"You ought to go, it is late."

He glanced outside, surprised by her sudden coldness. She did not expect him to understand.

He came behind her, and put a hand on her shoulder. She shuddered at his touch now, for it was vile to her. She did not want to be close to him, only to have him taken away.

"You do not favor Christy?" he had read her silence differently.

"Incorrect – I find her fine, as you say," she said indifferently. She was dismissing him, but he did not wish to leave.

He gave a slight sigh, hesitant to leave, but then he moved to the door, and she was happy to see him ago. A moment ago, she would have thought differently, but now he needed to go, for she was disturbed.

As he turned to go, he came back to take her hand and said with a hint of humor,

"You will allow me to come and get you, and take you to the mission for Christmas?"

"Why? You do not believe in Christ," she was again harsh.

"It is an American holiday no different than in our homes."

She nodded silently, and he left, appeased. She realized then he had decided to take her out, and she had accepted. She could not discover how she felt about it.

So the next day, he arrived, and she was trying difficultly to become gayer, and she realized she was going to go and compete with Christy, a doomed idea.

But she met his blue eyed gaze, and she smiled, and saw him check and look at her face fully when she did so. She resolved to smile at him often. She thought she would flirt a little, something she had not thought to ever do again, for the Doctor had asked for her to be happy again.

So when he swung her up to his horse, she put her arms about his barrel chest and felt herself feel joyful for a moment, and she rested her cheek on his back. He was broader than Rhys had been, and he smelled more wild and yet he held the same vitality that Rhys had, and perhaps that is why she was drawn to him.

The Doctor froze when she placed myself so, and then made a movement to get them along the way. It was a crisp afternoon, with old snow on the ground, and it crunched loudly.

"Gwenwyfr, I hope you will allow me to dance with you? You will find the music much like home."

She gave a small smile. She liked that he referred to Europe as their joined home. "I should take a dance with you, Neil."

It was her first use of his front name, and he took her hand when she said it. She did not draw it out.

So they arrived that way to the mission, and he paused for a long moment in the saddle, breathing deeply the cold air. She did not say a thing, for the silence was good between them and she thought he was thinking to speak, but after a longer moment, he finally slid down, and lifted her off.

Her body was warm next to him, and he looked at her strangely, as if it was something unexpected to be near her, and then nodded for her to go inside. She hesitated.

"I should wait for you."

"They do not bite," he smiled.

"I know this, I am just…awkward now. I have been so distant."

"They will welcome you back, you know this too," he gave her shoulder a squeeze. She still marveled at the easiness of their touches, and squared her shoulders before turning away from him into the house.

When she came in, she was greeted by her neighbors and by Christy and her patron, Miss Alice and the like. It was warmly happy, and smelled of apples and cinnamon. She saw the men warming up the instruments in the corner of the great room, and went to help in the kitchen, where already too many women were joining.

Supper was a merry affair, and as no children were there, and there was punch flowing, she saw many a man bend his wife back for a kiss. It was improper usually, and she laughed, for she recognized the Celtic party in the air.

"It is the first I have seen that in a long while." It was the Doctor at her side suddenly, staring at her as she finished her laughter.

"It is just that I see so much of home here."

"And this too?" With that he whisked her away, and they were dancing the jig and country tunes with ease. She felt his large hand on the small of her back, and once as he spun her, his hand brushed her breast. She inhaled sharply, and by his quick movement, she knew he recognized his touch. She did not blush, for she was enjoying his nearness, and she had been a married woman and was no shy virgin to her body's responses.

At the end of several lively tunes, she asked for a drink, and he took me away to a corner when he stopped.

"Do not pause, Neil, I am thirsty," she was pouting lightly and without malice.

He smiled, and looked up, and she saw above them a mistletoe. She did not ask if he had placed her here on purpose, but she could see by the sparkle in his eyes that he was pleased.

He stepped forward, and put an arm on her waist and lightly touched her face with the other, as if he were being careful, and took a deep breath before bending over her.

It was as if fire and ice burned together in her being, and she was consumed with lust – she thought it was the same and yet not so, for she remembered her attraction to Rhys, though this was different in the newness.

His mouth was hardness, yet the slight slip of his tongue was soft and light, and he kept his hands wrapped on her waist and face. Shamelessly, she looped her arms about his neck, to pull him closer.

A whistle made us part – she saw three mountain men staring and clapping with raucous joy – and behind them, appalled, was Christy Huddleston, who turned away.

She felt the Doctor go stiff, and he dropped his hands, and chased after her retreating back, and she was left alone in the corner. It was a devastating blow, an obvious one. She resolved at once to leave the embarrassment she saw in the faces of her neighbors, for though they loved Christy, she was their kin.

As she wrapped her shawl around herself, and moved to the porch, she saw the snow beginning to swirl around the yard. It hadn't snowed in many days, but it looked as though there would be a pretty fall for the holiday. Shrugging, she moved out.

Voices echoed behind the mission house, ringing clearer due to the snow. It was the teacher and the Doctor.

"I do not understand, you, Neil – I can't read you, sometimes I sense you wish to say something to me, but you never do!"

"What would you have me say, lass?"

"Something – something that tells me what is in your heart! I have questioned you having one, until I saw your…wanton kiss with that woman!"

She winced, not for Christy's mention of her, but that she was so unkind to blame a good doctor for his lack of heart.

"Gwenwyfr—I speak nothing of my heart, hearing nothing from you!"

They were speaking riddles to her, and she did not need to hear more. She was of course of little matter to the Doctor – her relatively new appearance in his life did nothing to change his love of the teacher. She was surprised at Christy's inability to understand the Scotsman, but it was not her heart or her understanding that mattered in this, but Christy's.

She moved away from the warm mission, and over the hill, leaving the lights behind her. She was a quick twenty minute walk into the woods, and it was just twilight, though the clouds were swarming and she knew it would snow soon.

Part of her wondered at sleeping in the snow, whether that would change her existence, if she would be claimed by the neverending sleep so that she might see Rhys again, and feel loved once more.

But she moved forward as the snow began in earnest, and kept an eye on the trees around her so that she would not be lost. Their branches kept the snow from falling too thickly, but still her shoes grew caked with wet mud and she felt tired.

It grew dark steadily, and finally she grew afraid, but did not think it worth the time to stop and quit walking.

She knew she wandered an hour at least, but perhaps she was going in circles. It did not matter, for the snow was falling thick and she was comforted with the promise of coldness.

But it was not to be granted, for the sudden thunder of hooves and a lantern swung up at her out of the night. She felt a cry catch in her throat, and thought the rider had missed her, but the horse came swinging at her, and arms reached down to grab her in mid-stride, and she was suddenly at once in the cradle of the saddle next to the Doctor.

She did not speak to him, though he asked if she was well. He said he had come to find her and finding her lost knew she would have returned home. He said he was sick with grief that she had gone out in the snow, and that she could have become ill. He asked if she was crazy to do such a thing and why.

Finally she lashed back, surprised at how weak her voice sounded. "Think of why, you stupid brute."

He was silent at once, and she felt his shoulders slump behind her. "Gwenwyfr, please, you must know—."

She shook her head. "You will take me home and leave me forever. I do not need to see your face again."

He was resolute. "We are near my home and the weather won't allow for barely that. We stay at the cabin."

She was angry at once. Why would he torture her so? While the horse still moved, she made a fast fight to slide off, but he caught her about the waist, pressing her to his chest.

"Do not even think of it. To think of you lost and dead out here in the storm already has cost me half my heart."

"Ah, to think it was wasted on such as me. It is well you kept the other half for Christy!"

"Again, you do not like her!" he accused.

"You misread me, Doctor, it is you I do not care to look at."

They were at his cabin, where he always kept a few lights burning. He took them both to his barn, forcing her at his side, afraid she would have run off on him, which she was considering of course.

Then he marched her to his home, a firm hand on her elbow, until they were inside his dimly lit kitchen.

He took one look at her, and surprised her completely by grabbing her waist with both hands and pulling her into a large embrace, and he kissed the top of her hair, whispering,

"I thought I had lost you – I could never forgive myself!"

She tried to pull away verbally, "You are indeed stupid, as you have already lost me. You lost me the moment you deserted me after our kiss, as if I was vile to you, and you played the part of desiring two women at once so well."

He did not draw back, but made her face look up at him. She did not meet his eyes, and he sighed.

"I did not mean to pain Christy. I should have told her before, so that it was not an unpleasant thing tonight."

His words worked, for she met his gaze and held it.

"I am captivated by you, Gwenwyfr, and I am not so amazed with Christy's games. I would prefer to have you at my side always."

And there was lust and passion in his eyes, though he was gentle with his words, and she realized that he loved her for many reasons.

"Do you propose marriage to me, a new widow?" she was incredulous, though she continued to enjoy his arms.

"You are not a new widow if you say yes. You are my love, my new bride." There was incredible hope in his voice. She found herself desiring his lips again, and brought them slowly to hers, and when they broke apart they both had tears in their eyes.

"Then I will marry you, Neil MacNeill, for my love for you grows surprisingly fast within me – and I know I should be proud to serve you as your wife the rest of our days."

He let out a heavy breath, and for the longest time, they stood as such, kissing often, and listening to the wild winter outside.

Their kisses grew passionate, and she felt him aroused against her belly, and she felt her own response.

He was mischievous and pulled her upstairs to the bedroom, where they stared at the marriage bed hand in hand.

"I would take you tonight as my wife, Guinevere," his voice was deeper, and she looked at the broadness of him, and knew that tonight she would let him, and for always after this.

"I want you to do this, my husband," she countered, then brazenly grabbed his arse with an old sauciness, something that surprised and delighted him, and his laughter filled the cabin.

"I forget that you and I needn't be shy!" he was joyful, released of worry, and she knew that Christy could not be compared in what he thought now, for her husband was not contrary, and had made his decision. She realized she thought so easily of him as her husband, and said as much.

He was serious, suddenly. "I do not want to ruin your thoughts of God. If you wish a church wedding—."

She waved it away. "I have had that. We can have the Preacher say words next week. Until then, I am not to be bothered with trivial things – I am thinking of greater ideas, such as our children."

Fear swallowed him, and he placed his hands on her hips, brushing her stomach.

"Gwenwyfr, I cannot lose you!"

She smiled up at him. "You won't – you forget I survived even the typhoid." For once the mention of it didn't hurt me. How quickly my life seemed to lay it's path down!

The mention of this reminded him that she should never get the disease again now, and she was safe from it, though she saw in his eyes he was still afraid. She teased,

"Surely, my big strapping Scotsman, you are not afraid of the arts of love? Remember I am a brazen widow, intent on taking her pleasure, for I know well what it can be!"

He shook his head, a small smile on his face. "I will feel better on how you can manage a babe in your womb once I get you with child and see you bear the first."

"The first of many?" she tilted up her face so that he might kiss it, which he did, ardently. This talk of babies aroused her further, and she pulled him to the bed. "Let us get started now!"

With the snowstorm outside, none could or did interrupt them, and she marveled the Doctor's barrel chest, covered in red hairs, and his rounded shoulders and thick arms and legs. He was a man in perfection to her, and she found she would not prefer him any other way. He could never replace Rhys, but he did take his place in her life securely.

Their loving was at first fiery and wanton indeed, for they were both hungry for body pleasures after so many months – or years, in the Doctor's case – but later in the night it was sweeter, and soft.

They slept curled together, with his face buried in her neck, and his hand resting on her stomach. He was awake when she was, as if their bodies were tuned together, and they moved together often under the covers.

He chuckled as they rested after many moments of making love. She looked at him, wondering, and he confided:

"To think the night would end as this! Do you know, when we rode to the mission together, with your body so close to mine – I was aroused at your nearness, and needed to pause before helping you down to the mission – and to think the evening ends with us, here, together and professing love in our marriage bed!" He laughed very loudly, and she giggled with him, cuddled to his side, where he felt the brush of her stomach and her legs curled with his.

"I must confess I was thrilled when we danced, and you touched me so brazenly!"

"Ach, that was an accident Gwen my dove, my love," he said, but his eyes were full of mirth as he kissed her again.

"And you have loved me all this time?" she asked him.

"No, not all the while. But it has grown within me slowly, for many months," he said truthfully. "Though I have neglected telling you, and neglected telling Christy of my lack of affections, though I would have thought she would have noticed my lack of attentions all this time."

"You are a man, what is to be expected," she shrugged. He smiled with delight.

"Oh, and my little wife is so sure she can read me?"

She smiled fully at him. "Of course I am sure, otherwise I would not have taken you to bed."

He hooted. "You – I thought it was I who took you!"

They teased and then would turn serious all the night, until the snow stopped and the sky turned gray. Finally, they crawled out, and he helped her dress, and she put his boots on. It was intimate and comforting and felt so true.

There was a pound on the door shortly after they had eaten some breakfast, and the Doctor went to answer it, already looking to his medical bags.

To their surprise, it was an unescorted Christy Huddleston, who did not see her at first, but she heard her breathless voice.

"I wanted to see you, Neil. I do not understand – so much time has gone by, and I did not know that you had lost your feelings for me, but I feel I must explain my actions, I just—."

"There is no need, Christy," Neil said. "As I said, I have moved on."

"But please – I've been thinking—."

"Christy, true love does not always take years to discover. I have moved on, and I am sorry you have thought I have pined for you all these months."

Behind the door, Neil made a motion with his hands. She went to his side, and he opened the door wider.

"Meet my wife, Gwen."

Against the cold winter, Christy's eyes were a beautiful purple. But she was shocked and looked child-like at her appearance.

"Your wife?" she was puzzled, then her anger became apparent.

"Is she truly, then? I do not recall a wedding – I am sure it would have been said at the mission."

Neil's eyes narrowed, and he put his arm around her waist. She did not change her expression but stared benignly at the teacher.

"Do you call me a sinner? My love a whore? I would have thought that beneath you, Miss Huddleston."

She checked at his swearing, though she did not flinch at his anger. It felt so good to have a man protect her.

"I did not mean—."

"Do come in out of the cold," she said suddenly, breaking the pointless argument. And if they were to exist in the Cove together, they ought to at least try to get along. Neil gave her a grateful but appraising look. He knew she did not much like Christy, for all her goodliness, but now he know she was no longer jealous, only weary of her Christianity.

Christy came in and looked about, though there were little signs of her living there, she held her tongue. She poured some of the last morning tea, and began to make a fresh pot. There was uncomfortable silence before she mentioned off-hand how folks were at the mission.

So they had a brief discussion and Christy finished the scalding tea quickly and left, her gaze going often to her husband, who Christy saw only had eyes for his wife.

When the teacher was gone, he came behind her, putting his hands on her stomach and his chin on her shoulder.

"I am—so happy you will be with me always, Gwen. I love you dearly."

She put her hand to the rough whiskers of his face, reveling in his manliness. "And I love you, Neil, you know."

"I know," he said, and his voice turned wicked. "But show me again anyway."

And so their day melted away in each other's arms again, and when they woke the next day, Neil helped her dress and thought they ought to go talk to Miss Alice.

She was embarrassed. "But she was your mother-in-law!"

"And she loves me as such, and will not judge, as she is Quaker. She will marry us quietly to see us happy."

"You use her religion against her," she said, a little reprimanding, and he gave her a sheepish grin, knowing she understood.

So they married in the sitting room of the mission, with no witness but Miss Alice, and left in time for lunch. It was entirely simple, and yet felt right to finish the deed.

They did not need much to fall into a pattern together. She learned the simple tasks to help Neil on his rounds and they found they always had much to discuss. She was home again, and it was an easy thing.

But when she found she was pregnant barely two months into her union with Neil, she knew her life's cup overflowed finally, for she was certain she would not lose this child.

They went swimming in the eve, in the creek by their cabin, which would always make them feel like naughty lovers. When she was three months along, she rose out of the water before Neil, letting him feast his eyes on her body, and she watched his face as he became puzzled, then hopeful, and then looked away.

She was put out – surely he had guessed? Would he not be wildly happy? She did not comment, and nor did he, and they continued our conversation as though there had been no pause.

Another two weeks passed, and yet she said nothing, and her husband grew quieter when he was home. Part of her ached to share this, but she knew acutely that he was sick with worry, and thought that by keeping quiet he would will this baby to term. However, it made her feel lonely in her pregnancy, and she turned away from her husband in this.

As she reached her fourth month, it could no longer be hidden that she was expecting, and the silence of the child weighed between them.

Finally one fall night, she looked across the fire at Neil and was filled with sorrow and anger. She stood abruptly, surprising him from his book, and said pointedly,

"If you find me ugly in my pregnancy, we needn't share a bed. If I disgust you so that you must ignore me and my belly, that which I thought we both joyful wished, then I wish to be without you near me, to remind me. I am fearful enough myself of what might happen – where is the brave Scotsman I married and love? I do not know where he has gone, but I cannot bear what is in his place."

As her husband stood with such speed, she moved outside immediately after her outburst, and felt her face hot with tears. She did not want to hear his protests. Her babe quickened within her, and she gasped slightly, putting fingers to her stomach, feeling the child move around, would have laughed with joy had she not been so angry.

A clamor behind her came from inside, and then her husband's frame filled the door, black against the lamplight of the kitchen. He came to her quickly, putting a shawl around her shoulders, saying lowly, worrying,

"Come in side, Gwen, it doesn't do for you to be out, or so upset. Please," There was such fear mixed with love in his voice that she silently took his hand and followed him in.

He turned to her, tutting over getting her seated on the couch, which she refused, and stared him in the eye, waiting for him to speak.

He sighed and looked away, until she reached up to bring his face in her hands, and then his blue Scottish eyes met hers.

"What is it, my darling?"

Suddenly, his eyes filled with tears, spilling to her hands and onto his shirt. His broad hands rested first on her thick waist, and then on her belly, tender and masculine.

She was appalled at his open emotions, but waited still.

"You must know – you must – that you are beautiful in my eyes, and your beauty grows with our child. I did not mean—didn't want you to be so pained!"

"I am so – for you have shunned me! You haven't spoken of the child. We're having a baby, Neil – I'm pregnant! What—!"

He stopped her speech with a hard, passionate kiss, and leaned his forehead on hers.

"To hear you say it—Gwen—it's not that I have ignored you with purpose or spoken nothing of my hope that you were with child…I—I suspected a month ago or so, but you said nothing!"

Her eyes were wide with surprise. "I thought you had guessed—when we swim at the river, I thought my belly would show you."

He gave a small laugh. "I guessed—hoped. But I was scared I was wrong. I thought if I said nothing, it would disappear…or you would tell me. And when you have said nothing, I thought I had been wrong in hoping. I was…disappointed to be wrong."

She stared at him, surprised at how easily unspoken words could eat at their marriage. She vowed to always speak to him.

Now she smiled. "So then, I promise you that you were correct in your hunch, Doctor."

His eyes still misted, but with happiness. She saw now that he did not fear for her health, but had been fearful to hope against hope. They were both older, and there was the chance it had been too late of a start for them.

"We must think to prepare, Gwen. Names, a cradle…so much to do! And I must examine you!"

He took delight in this, and was sensitive and sensual, so that the examination became a gentle renewal of their love. They were very much comforted in the open air between their minds.

So they were settled into the gentle curve of time in the preparations for the babe, and she realized how deeply he loved her in all the things he did – from the way he took on the tasks of the cooking so that she did not have to wedge sideways near the stove, and how he whittled the wood of the crib so that it was perfect.

The neighbor women were thrilled for them, and brought over many gifts of thanks. Alice visited with joyful eyes, but Christy was still silent. She wondered if her husband missed the teacher's constant presence, but when she would meet his eyes, she knew it was a silly thought, for he was consumed with their life together.

It was inevitable Neil would be gone when she gave birth, and with this luck in mind, he made sure she knew how to manage on her own, should it come upon her swiftly. She did not tell her husband the fear she felt that were he not there when she felt her pains.

But so it was, the morning he left for his rounds in the Cove, she felt the first slightest twinges. It was not a false alarm as she was hoping it might be, and she swallowed her slightly gasps and went to put the water on boil and unlock his storeroom where she knew she could find additional tools and medicines.

That evening, he arrived to find his wife crouching on the corners of the bedposts, tied in and groaning in labor. Gravity was her husband until the true one arrived, and he leapt into the room in fear and excitement, for her birth was going easily, considering.

"My darling, Gwen, I'm so sorry!" he gasped, taking her sweating face in his hands, and she was too much involved in birthing to recognize the earthiness and immodest way that he found her, nearly naked and covered in muddy liquid. Immediately the physician, he began running in and out, but did not move her from her crouch, as the movement had already begun.

He came up to her, and knelt in front of her burning body. It was in the middle of a contraction, and she could breath easier.

"My love, how are you?" In a moment of tenderness, he touched her bare swollen breasts, and then, almost sensually, traced a hand down her belly and in between her pulsing womanhood. "For our child has crowned. We'll soon be a mum and da!" All the fear had fled his voice now, and she was able to smile at him.

"My darling, help me!" was all she could say. "Please, Neil…"

There was hot heat and ruddy gold light from the lamp and fire, and the sudden rush of liquid and their babe was born into a world filled with joyful love and incredulous exaltation.

But her body did not rest, and her husband could not decide where to turn first.

"What is it?" she croaked, not fully comprehending her continuing pain.

"It is a boy – and there is another!" Breathless, her husband laid their newborn son on the bed above her, quickly washed and easily sleeping, before coming back to his kneel.

"And…Twins, Gwen," he told her.

And then it happened so quickly, that she could not understand what else occurred, and before long, she was nestled in bed amid cool and clean sheets, her hair still damp from a refreshing sponge bath, and Neil placing their firstborn in her hands while he slipped in next to her with their second son in his own arms.

"What is this?" she gazed wonderingly. "Are they identical?"

"I am sure they will appear to many as such, but we will often know who is who," Neil chuckled contentedly. She saw he was in his plaid nightclothes and reveled in the fact that he would stay near her with their babies as she drifted to sleep.

"Perhaps they are a response for our aching hearts. The two holes of our children filled at once," she said faintly, her eyelids heavy.

"Perhaps." He kissed her forehead. "Sleep, my love. I will stay here with you and our sons."

She could tell by his voice that those two words made him feel the utmost pride. "So now you will be able to brag your vitality to all the men, that you begot two at once off your poor wife?"

He laughed loudly, causing one of the babes to wake and give a soft sigh. He instantly quieted, but his eyes still sparkled. "Oh aye, I will be sure to speak highly of my manliness…and my wife's beautiful hips that could accommodate it."

She blushed at the fact that he still found her beautiful though they had just shared another moment of most unusual closeness in the birthing. She fleetingly thought that Christy would not have allowed such a thing to occur – it would have flustered her beyond repair.

She sighed to match her son's and fell asleep, surrounded by all she could ever need.

The End


End file.
