Hoar frost clung to every surface and early morning light reflected through the tree branches. The few remaining leaves clinging stubbornly to their twigs hung motionless in the still air. Krista puffed out her breath and watched the momentary cloud dissipate. A tall, gawky child still, the thinness of her face gave testimony to a recent growth spurt that had left all her clothes too small.
Pulling her mother’s jacket close, she shivered. A creature who delighted in the hot sun, she did not welcome the onset of winter. Latching the barn door behind her, she trudged up to Mr. Hansen’s house for breakfast. Each step hurt as her feet protested being bound in last year’s shoes. Krista winced at the memory of her parents’ faces when she had thoughtlessly complained of their tightness; she knew they couldn’t replace them and hadn’t said a word about it since.
There were a lot of things they were doing without. The last time her father had attempted to buy supplies in town, he had been turned away, politely, but firmly. When she had protested to her teacher about the unfairness, he had asked her what she thought the consequences of the policy would be. He often did that, turning a question around and challenging her to discover the answers herself. In this case, she decided the town was being short-sighted; by not helping the rural folk they created bad will, made it more difficult for the farmers to produce and possibly lost a source of food.
Inside the mud-room, she kicked off her shoes with relief; Mr. Hansen was a stickler for cleanliness and didn’t allow shoes inside the house. After hanging up her coat, Krista warmed her hands over the living room stove. The tingling of almost pain in her fingertips made her twitch. Then she went to the cot in the corner of the room and neatly folded the blankets she had left that morning to help with the milking. She often spent the night here instead of across the road at home. Four inquisitive, and frequently chaotic, younger sisters made it difficult to concentrate on her studies; she found that she liked being around them more when it happened less often.
Mr. Hansen called her to breakfast. “Go easy on the syrup,” he cautioned. “When it’s gone, there won’t be more until spring and that’s only if I can remember how to tap the trees. I haven’t done that since my grandfather was alive.”
“Did your grandparents farm here, too?” Krista asked around a mouthful of pancakes.
“Mind your manners. Yes, they were here their entire lives. My parents moved us back east, but I always wanted to come back.” His attention returned to the present. “Do you have school today? I suppose I’ll be doing the afternoon milking by myself again.”
She grinned at his pretend crabbiness. In fact, he was adamant that her lessons not be curtailed by anything. Her parents certainly didn’t understand her hunger to learn; while her mother was teaching her sisters the basics, Krista suspected her schooling would have been over if left up to them. Instead, she spent four afternoons a week at the Stevenson farm under the tutelage of a real college professor.
Krista took her plate to the sink to rinse. Mr. Hansen was fortunate enough to have a spring on his land that was piped directly to the house and barn. He had never even bothered to hook up to the rural water supply and didn’t have to adjust when that stopped running. Her parents, on the other hand, had to make do with an old hand pump for the animals and the house needs.
Quickly gathering her study materials, she paused to remind Mr. Hansen that they were both going to the Stevenson’s for lunch the next day. He didn’t know yet, but she would be playing her first piano recital. The family had borrowed his piano for a wedding and he had insisted they continue to use it since he couldn’t play. Her parents had been invited also, but refused.
Lindy’s fingernail scraped a curl of frost off the inside of the picture window. She hated the thought of losing the natural light, but didn’t see how they could avoid covering it now that the cold had settled in. Holding her hand an inch away from the glass she felt her warmth being pulled out. She nodded resolutely, there was no point in letting the heat escape. It was enough work just keeping the stove going.
Cold hands slipped around her waist under her sweater and an even colder nose nuzzled the back of her neck. “Ack!”
“Brrrr, warm me up.”
Lindy spun around and wrapped her arms around James. “We really need to have a chat about what you think my role as your wife entails.”
“Well, obviously, hand and nose warmer is non-negotiable.”
“Oh? So what are you giving up in place of that?”
“Um.” He stared off into space thoughtfully. “Nope. Can’t think of anything I can do without. Maybe I can do something more for you?”
“Well!” Her wicked grin elicited an ‘uh oh’ from him. “You know how cold I am after a night time visit to the outhouse...you can’t pull away from my feet next time.”
“Do you know how much of a shock that is in the middle of the night? Like ice cubes!” Lindy raised an eyebrow and his protests faded away. “As if I could say no to you.”
She cupped his face in her hands and rubbed her thumb down the knife scar on his cheek. When his brows drew together in a frown, she rubbed that away with her other thumb. “I love every inch of you.”
“Maybe we should discuss…”
He was interrupted by their housemate, Addie, saying, “Get a room!”
James grinned irrepressibly, “That’s just what I was about to suggest.” Turning, he continued, “I thought you and Alex had already gone over to the farm.”
“He’s working on something; said he needed a few more minutes.” Following the direction of his glance, she burst out, “Will you stop looking at me like that! There’s not going to suddenly be a neon sign flashing ‘pregnant’ on my stomach. I feel like a freaking prize cow the way everyone keeps on about it.” Stomping out, she slammed the door behind her.
James looked chagrinned, “I didn’t mean to…”
“I know, hon. Listen, I’ll talk to her; you talk to your family and get them to ease up on the subject. After all, we’re the ones who have to live with her if she explodes.”
“That wasn’t an explosion?”
“Ha! That was barely a tremor.”
“You know those men who fantasize about having multiple wives? They’re completely insane.”
Lindy chuckled, “They’re just letting one portion of their anatomy do all their thinking. Their egos might be a bit deflated if they knew most women laugh at their delusions.”
“I feel sorry for them. If they had ever felt anything close to what I feel for you, the thought would never cross their minds.”
“Love.” She pressed her forehead against his. “Why don’t you interrogate Alex and see if he knows who riled her up before you and I’ll try to sooth our ginger beast.”
James ran upstairs and tapped on the other couple’s door. Poking his head in, he saw Alex at his desk, chewing on a pencil and lost in thought. Leaning on the corner of the desk, James twitched the top sheet of paper off. Alex snatched it back. “Hey! Leave off!”
“You’re writing poetry?”
“Addie likes it.” A flush slid across Alex’s face. “Besides, you’re the one who started me writing, so don’t laugh.”
“I don’t think it’s funny. I never could get the hang of poetry myself, so I’m a little envious. Anyway, Addie just got upset with me. I’m really sorry; I never meant to annoy her, but do you know if anyone has been bothering her about getting pregnant?”
Alex threw the pencil down. “Who hasn’t been? It’s even getting on my nerves and I don’t catch half what she does.”
“I would have guessed that Steve and Kat weren’t going on about the subject.”
“No, I don’t know how she takes it. I’m glad when we do, at least we’ll be over here and not at the main house.”
James thought his way through that rather convoluted statement until he was certain he had followed it correctly. “Okay, do you want me to talk to the others and get them to back off?”
“Would you? That’s a relief. I’d end up shouting and hurting Mom’s feelings.”
Lindy found Addie in the kitchen, still fuming. “I’m sorry, Addie. I didn’t realize how badly we’ve been behaving.”
“Oh, you’re alright. It’s the rest of them, it feels like we have no privacy left. I just don’t get it; they have Kat right there and she even looks pregnant now, but they’re all so anxious for me to have babies, too. It’s not like we need to repopulate the world. I bet there will be a baby boom about nine months after the power went out anyway.”
Lindy laughed, but said seriously, “You know I wish I could take some of the pressure off you.”
“I’m scared too, Lindy. What if I can’t get pregnant? We’ve been married three months already.”
“How long were you on birth control?”
“Hmm, about eight years. I had horrible acne, so my dermatologist prescribed birth control when I was still pretty young. Why?”
“Isn’t it possible that you could have lingering effects from that? Like a build up in your system that has to be flushed out before a baby can get rooted in?”
“Do you really think so?” Addie looked hopeful.
“I think it’s very likely. And this way, I get to practice being an auntie on Kat’s baby.”
Later, as they walked over to the main farm, Lindy commented, “It occurs to me that I haven’t received any poetry from you.”
James shook his head, “Trust me; you don’t want my version of poetry. How about a fairy tale? I bet I could manage that.”
“Oh!” Lindy stopped walking. “That’s a brilliant idea.”
“Really? I was kidding.”
“Think about it. You could write a few fairy tales and we could ask Pat to illustrate them. Then, when we do adopt, we will have a special book just for them.”
They resumed walking and James thought it over. “Well, okay. It shouldn’t be too difficult. Will you help me come up with story ideas?”
“I’d love to.”
Something Else
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