Chapter 26 #2
Susannah got bored and fell asleep. Cassie’s eyelids drooped. He insisted she go back to bed, and although she protested, he won the round and settled her and the baby in the back room.
He cleaned up the kitchen without paying attention to his work. He was busy reliving Cassie warming his face with her hands. And with her lips.
With Cassie at his side, he could learn to love the bitter Montana winter.
Belle struggled to her feet after milking the cow. The animal was as round as Belle and would have her calf around the same spring date as Belle got herself her last child. She swore to herself it would be the last.
God, please let it be a girl.
Anthony chose that moment to stroll into the barn from the bitter outside.
The man was a living, breathing, walking, talking testament to the general worthlessness of men—Red Dawson notwithstanding.
Coming close enough to see how awkward she was, fat with their child, Anthony never so much as offered her a hand, and he certainly didn’t say he’d do the milking.
The rat didn’t even offer to carry the bucket of milk.
Belle didn’t snap at him as she would have at one time.
Making a serious effort, she kept the scowl off her face.
Instead, she smiled. “Let’s walk back to the house and talk about what we’re going to name the baby.
There should be hot coffee and I…uh…we could use a cup.
” She could use the coffee, because she’d been freezing in the bitter cold of the barn and had been outside working all morning.
Two hours before breakfast, and now two hours since.
She had three more hours to go before time for the noon meal.
Anthony, on the other hand, had gotten out of bed to eat then had gone back to sleep for a while. He claimed his back would fail him completely if he got up and moving around too early in that cold little cabin. And it was too cold to sit under the Husband Tree or atop the house.
She mentioned none of that. She was a changed woman. A woman trying to do her best to be a good wife. As if doing all the work didn’t make her good enough.
Sorry, Lord. I didn’t mean to let slip with evil, unwifely thoughts.
At least, with the gap snowed shut, Anthony hadn’t been able to go to town. Which saved him wheedling a dollar out of her. Of course, that meant he was underfoot all the time. His absence was well worth the dollar she gave him twice a week.
She didn’t say that either. But oh, how she wanted to. Inhaling slowly to regain her self-control, she smiled at Anthony. “Now then, about the baby…”
“Her name will be Caterina. It was my ma’s name, and it’ll be my child’s if it’s a girl. It’s likely a useless hope that you can birth a son. If it’s a boy, it will be named after me—Antonio.”
“Antonio is your real name?” This was beyond bad that she’d never known. She’d always thought it was Anthony.
“Yes, I adopted an American form of it and my son can, too, but I am named for my father, and now my son will be named for me.”
God, please let it be a girl. Please, Lord. Please, please, please.
“Those names will be fine.” Caterina was no decent name for a child.
And if, God forbid, she had a son—God, please let it be a girl—she would do her best to train him up to be less useless than the average man and she’d call him Tony.
Although she was assuming Anthony would be dead and would have no say in the child’s name.
There were, of course, no guarantees. It was most certainly a sin for her to hope against hope.
In the house, Sarah had a stew cooking, savory and warm.
Belle smiled at her daughter and handed over the milk.
“Thanks, Ma. Coffee’s hot.” Sarah poured a cup, giving Anthony a doubtful smile. The child had to work on her false politeness. Hopefully, Belle’s attempts at being nice were more successful.
“We’ve just been talking about the baby. Anthony wants the name Caterina if it’s a girl and Antonio if it’s a boy.”
“You think you might have a boy?” Sarah frowned little furrows into her forehead. She pulled the cloth out they used to strain the milk and worked as she talked.
“Most likely not.” Anthony sneered. “Your mother doesn’t seem able to produce a proper male child.”
Sarah’s eyes narrowed. “Those are weird names. Can’t we call her something normal, like Elizabeth or Ann?”
“It’s settled.” Anthony took the cup from Sarah as she extended it toward Belle.
Sarah rolled her eyes behind Anthony’s back and poured another cup.
It was moments like this that Belle remembered clearly why she’d never wasted much time talking with her husband. It was a useless pastime.
“Thanks.” Belle accepted her cup of coffee. “The dinner smells great. You’ve got it on early enough that it can simmer a long while. It will taste perfect this cold day.”
“Sarah, go outside. I need to have a long talk with your ma.” Anthony looked at Belle, and she shuddered, though she tried to hide it. She knew that look. Where was her skillet?
Sarah glanced at Belle.
“Go on, honey. We just need to…talk…a bit more.” There was the cast iron, within easy grasp.
Anthony was no match for her. They’d been through this before when he was snowed in overly long.
Sure, she was his wife, but being polite only went so far.
Maybe instead of swinging it at his head, she’d aim for his back.
As long as he used it for an excuse to avoid chores, he might as well really be hurt there.
Most likely, she wouldn’t need it at all. Anthony could usually be cowed with a dark look and a cutting remark or two. As soon as she calmed him down, be it with or without the use of cast iron, she’d go back to being the very soul of kindness.