Jess stared into the darkness as her other senses took in her surroundings. Her body said it must be morning, though the cave made it impossible to tell for certain. The steady sound of Gil’s breathing drifted from the floor beside her. Not snoring, just deep and even.
And so close.
In this tiny, curtained chamber, there was only enough room for her bed, a chair, her dresser, and Gil’s long body. If she reached down to the floor beside her bed, she could tap him on the shoulder.
Father's snores from beyond the curtain echoed through the cave, nearly drowning out Gil’s breathing. But that was a noise she knew well. All her life, she’d slept and awakened to his snores.
The steady rhythm meant all was as usual.
Except now it lied.
Nothing was as it had been yesterday morning, though she’d awakened to the very same sound.
She slid a hand over her belly. When she stood or sat upright, she could feel the beginning of a swell. But lying on her back like this, she could almost imagine her life hadn’t forever changed.
How could she possibly raise a child on her own? Would she be a good mother? She’d have to work, but what would she find that would provide enough income and allow her to be with her babe? Would she be forced to leave her child with someone else while she went to her job? Someone she didn’t know? Someone she would be forced to trust?
She couldn’t imagine, didn’t even want to consider it.
She cradled her hands over her middle.I’ll do my very best for you. I promise. I won’t let you grow up in a cave. You’ll have sunshine and freedom and love. So much love.
Tears pricked her eyes, and she closed them to ward away the liquid. A few drops squeezed out anyway, sliding down her cheeks to dampen her hair.
She needed to get up and start her day. Whenever these emotions started to overwhelm her, action was the only way to regain control. And heaven knew she needed as much control over as many aspects of life as she could manage.
As she pushed the covers aside and sat up, she focused on the sounds of Gil’s breathing and Father’s snoring. Both stayed steady. She’d become a master at rising soundlessly to prepare the morning meal.
Father didn’t like unnecessary noises, and she’d learned long ago that the best way to wake him was with the aroma of bacon and hot cakes.
He’d returned late last night, even later than she’d expected. In fact, she and Gil were already preparing to bed down.
Father hadn’t been in the mood to talk, just ate quickly and said goodnight. No civilities, but also no anger. How would he be today?
She slipped out of bed, careful not to let the wood or ropes creak. Walking on the stone floor made it much easier to keep quiet.
As always, her first task was to light the wood in the cookstove’s firebox. Since she’d prepared it last night before bed and left the metal door open, now all she had to do was strike a match and light the kindling. Over time, she’d learned how to keep from making noise—no clanging metal or scraping stone. No dropping anything.
She blew out the match and set it on the stove to cool. She’d already filled the carafe with water and coffee grounds, so it could be heating while she stepped outside for her morning ministrations.
Her shawl didn’t provide nearly enough protection from the icy dawn air, pushing her to hurry through her ablutions and slip back inside. Steam already rose from the kettle in the faint light drifting through the door curtain. She used a twig from the fire to light a lantern, then focused on preparing batter for the hot cakes.
Father’s snores hadn’t stopped, so all was well.
After adding milk and oil to the flour, she stirred the batter, careful not to scrape the spoon against the bowl.
A rustling met her ears, and she froze, straining for the source.
Another noise, this time feet shuffling on stone. Since her father still snored, that must be Gil rising. Had she awakened him? She’d been so quiet. Would he be angry like Father any time she accidentally interrupted his sleep?
When he pulled the curtain aside and stepped into the main room, she raised a silencing finger to her lips.
The sight of him, rumpled and sleep-dazed, swept away all coherent thoughts. He’d looked strong and confident yesterday. Now, with his hair sticking up at odd angles and his shirt untucked, he looked so…tender. So familiar. Like she could go to him, wrap her arms around his waist, and rest her head against his chest. Offer a good morning greeting.
Maybe even cup that scruffy jaw in her hands and pull him down for a kiss.
She turned away before those thoughts could take root. Gil wasn’t her real husband. He was a stranger. She’d best not let quiet moments like this confuse her.
As she scooped spoonfuls of batter and plopped them in circles in the warm frying pan, Gil ambled toward her. She slid a glance to see if he needed something, but he only looked curious as he watched her work. He stopped at the side of the stove, then simply stood there watching the food.
