Still House Pond by Jan Watson Read Free Book Online Page A

newborn. Those moments alone were precious, and she felt it strengthened the couple’s union.
    Exhaustion overtook her, and she paused to rest under the large leaves and low-hanging beans of a catalpa tree. Her shoulders and lower back ached from the day’s hard work. They didn’t call it labor for nothing. But even as her muscles protested, her spirit soared. What sweet glory to guide a new life into the world. Nothing else gave her such satisfaction.
    Looking toward the distance, she watched twilight sashay down the face of the mountains. The vivid greens of the forest turned to shadowy gray and muted khaki. This day would soon be over. She wondered how her children were and what they’d had for supper. She felt a heart pang knowing she wouldn’t be there to tuck them into bed. John would, though. She could count on him.
    As if her thoughts had conjured him up, there John rode across the yard. “Hey, sweetheart,” he said before he even dismounted. “How goes it?”
    â€œA baby girl,” she replied, “six pounds, eight ounces.”
    â€œAnd Mary?”
    â€œShe did great. Everything went smooth as clockwork.”
    John handed over a basket before he tethered the horse. “Manda sent supper.”
    â€œSmells good. I’ll get it on the table.”
    John took the basket back and set it on the ground. “First things first,” he said, tilting her chin. His kiss was light and easy as befitted the place, but it claimed her still.
    â€œThat’s almost as good as the fried chicken I know is in this basket.”
    â€œAlmost?” he said, with a smack to her fanny. “Since when do I vie with fried chicken?”
    She scampered ahead of him through the door. “The last time I ate was breakfast. I’m starved.”
    â€œSo am I. But not for chicken.”
    Way after dark, John took his leave. Copper kissed him good-bye under the catalpa.
    â€œI don’t see why you have to stay,” he said, holding her close. “You said Mary was doing well.”
    She shook her head as it rested on his broad chest. Her forehead scraped across the pocket of his rough overalls. “We’ve talked about this before. Please don’t make me feel guilty.”
    He lifted her up as if she had no more substance than a will-o’-the-wisp. “It’s just I hate being home without you.”
    â€œI know, honey. I know.” She leaned into him as the infant’s cry called to her from the lit cabin.
    She traced the curve of his neck, feeling his strong pulse against her fingertips. His heart beat in perfect harmony with hers—like an orchestra of two. She often thought if his heart stilled, hers would surely follow suit. It was only when she was in the midst of her work that discord threatened their union. It was simple enough to figure out. He wanted her home—always within easy reach. You’d think he would have adjusted to her ways by now. She had to his, but if John was as close as a waltz, she was a square dance keeping a little distance.
    â€œI wonder,” he said in a low, gruff voice, “if you would take down your hair for me.”
    It surprised her that he would ask for something so intimate outside the walls of their bedroom, but her fingers sought the pins and combs and her hair fell free. A rush like a thousand butterfly wings filled her chest when he ran his big hands through her tumbled locks.
    â€œGracious,” she said, breathless. “Maybe you’d best take your leave now.”
    The baby’s cry grew louder—more insistent.
    â€œYour hair is like the hottest flame,” he said. “It draws me.”
    With her hands on his chest, she pushed him away. “John, really I need to go in.”
    â€œAll right,” he said, stealing one last kiss. “But you come home tomorrow.”
    Copper was stacking kindling under the washtub just as dawn broke. She had slept like a cat last