Chapter 18 - The Promise Beneath the Mountain Sky
Josiah became unbearable.
By the second month, Evelyn threatened to move back to Gallagher House.
“You cannot carry that.”
“It is a basket.”
“It’s heavy.”
“It contains yarn.”
“You tripped yesterday.”
“I stepped on Margaret’s shoe.”
“You could fall.”
“So could you.”
“I’m not pregnant.”
“Neither is the basket.”
He glared.
Evelyn glared back.
The girls thought it hilarious.
His fear was understandable.
That did not make it livable.
By the fourth month, Josiah insisted on accompanying Evelyn everywhere.
Mine office.
Town.
Church.
Gallagher House.
Evelyn finally stopped in the middle of Oak Haven’s boardwalk.
“Josiah.”
“What?”
“If you follow me three more feet, I am going to scream.”
His face fell.
That hurt.
She softened.
“Come home.”
They rode silently.
At the estate, Evelyn led him to Clara’s grave.
It stood beneath pines overlooking the valley.
Josiah stopped.
Evelyn rested a hand on the stone.
“You think loving me enough can stop death.”
He stared at her.
“No.”
“Yes.”
Her voice was gentle.
“You couldn’t save Clara. So now you watch every stair I climb.”
Pain appeared.
“I know it makes no sense.”
“It makes perfect sense.”
She took his hand.
“But I need a husband. Not a guard.”
His eyes filled.
“What if something happens?”
“Then something happens.”
“I can’t—”
“You can.”
“No.”
She touched his cheek.
“You survived losing Clara.”
“Barely.”
“But you did.”
“I don't want to survive losing you.”
“Then spend the time you have loving me instead of fearing it.”
The mountain wind moved through the pines.
Josiah looked toward Clara’s grave.
“I’m sorry.”
Evelyn knew he was not speaking only to her.
She squeezed his hand.
They remained there until sunset.
After that, he tried.
Not perfectly.
But better.
The baby grew.
So did Evelyn’s discomfort.
Margaret wanted a sister.
Abigail wanted a brother.
Josiah wanted “something healthy and preferably punctual.”
Evelyn wanted the child to stop kicking her ribs.
Spring arrived.
Then summer.
Evelyn entered labor during a thunderstorm.
Josiah nearly became useless.
The physician expelled him from the room twice.
Evelyn demanded he return.
“I thought you hated hovering.”
“I have changed my mind!”
He held her hand.
She nearly broke two fingers.
Hours passed.
Evelyn screamed.
Josiah looked terrified.
Mrs. Crowley remained calm.
Finally, shortly before dawn, a baby cried.
A girl.
Strong.
Red-faced.
Furious.
Perfect.
Josiah wept immediately.
The physician placed the baby against Evelyn.
She stared.
All the hunger.
All the rejection.
The hotel manager.
The dog.
The courtroom.
The mines.
Everything seemed to lead toward this tiny life.
Josiah bent over them.
“What do we call her?”
They had discussed names.
None felt right until then.
Evelyn looked toward the window where dawn touched the mountains.
“Clara Sarah.”
Josiah stopped.
“For them both?”
Evelyn nodded.
“For the women who got us here.”
He kissed her forehead.
“Clara Sarah Whitmore.”
Margaret entered later.
She stared at the baby.
“She’s small.”
“Most babies are.”
“I thought she’d be bigger.”
Evelyn laughed.
Abigail touched the baby’s hand.
“Hello, Clara.”
The newborn gripped her finger.
Abigail began crying.
Margaret immediately announced:
“Everyone in this family cries too much.”
Josiah agreed.
Evelyn threw a pillow at him.
Life continued.
Not perfectly.
Never perfectly.
Percival served his sentence.
Finch served his.
Everett spent more time in Colorado.
Samuel eventually became a judge and complained immediately that everyone still ignored his advice.
Gallagher House opened branches in two other mining towns.
Evelyn insisted each provide meals before questions.
“No hungry woman should have to explain herself first.”
Josiah funded them.
But Evelyn ran them.
The girls grew.
Abigail discovered a gift for music.
Margaret loved horses and terrified every stable hand by age ten.
Little Clara followed both sisters everywhere once she could walk.
On the second anniversary of Evelyn and Josiah’s unusual marriage, Josiah took her to the magistrate’s office.
Henry Bell remained there.
Older.
Still disappointed in humanity.
“What now?” Henry asked.
Josiah looked at Evelyn.
“I want to marry my wife.”
Henry stared.
“You already did.”
“Properly.”
Evelyn laughed.
Josiah continued.
“The first time I married her because I was afraid someone would take my children.”
He looked at her.
“This time I want to marry her because she became my home.”
Henry removed his spectacles.
“Still absurd.”
“Will you do it?”
“Yes.”
They planned a real wedding.
Not large.
Not for society.
For them.
Abigail and Margaret chose flowers.
Little Clara attempted to eat them.
Mrs. Crowley took command of everything.
The morning before the wedding, Evelyn stood on the balcony.
Josiah joined her.
“Any regrets?”
She looked at him.
“I should have negotiated higher wages.”
He laughed.
Then became serious.
“You saved us.”
“No.”
She rested her head against his shoulder.
“We saved each other.”
Tomorrow, Evelyn would marry Josiah Whitmore again.
Not as a starving woman seeking shelter.
Not as a desperate father’s solution.
As equals.
As partners.
As two people who finally understood that family was not something blood guaranteed.
May you like
It was something people chose, again and again, every day.
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