“You wrap up warm, and I’ll fetch O’Rourke to let him know,” Jonathan said.
It took all Catherine had not to let out a little shriek of glee as she raced to her room. When she returned to the entryway, Mr. O’Rourke was waiting with Jonathan. He was the boarding house’s longest-running guest, and having gotten to know him, both Jonathan and Mrs. Bell trusted the man. Ever since the incident with Mr. March, Mr. O’Rourke had been more than willing to keep an eye on things when he wasn’t working.
She’d just wrapped her hand around Jonathan’s elbow when the front door opened and Mr. Prince entered. He tugged at his hat as he wished them good afternoon. Jonathan told her that Mr. Prince had been remorseful about his supposed friend’s actions, and Mr. Prince himself had been quiet enough although aloof ever since, spending much of his free time at the saloon.
While Jonathan considered asking the man to leave, Catherine had persuaded him not to. After all, it was hardly Mr. Prince’s fault that Mr. March had been a boor. She tried to tell herself she’d done the right thing, and she thought she had despite the fact that both she and Mrs. Bell had spotted Mr. Prince about town with Mr. March more than once since then.
Mr. Prince headed upstairs without incident, as usual, and Catherine let out a nervous breath. Looking up at Jonathan, all fears slipped immediately from her mind. He picked up the axe he’d taken from the shed in the rear of the building and led her through the door.
Outside, the cold air bit at her face, but the sun lent the town a cheerful air. Christmas would be here soon—the very first Catherine had ever truly celebrated since childhood. Her baby was healthy. And her affection for the handsome man at her side grew by the day.
They walked away from town toward the mountains, passing a run-down and abandoned cabin and then turning toward a copse of pines and spruce trees.
Weaving between the trunks and sinking into ankle-deep snow in the boots Jonathan had purchased for her, Catherine gazed at the trees. Most were too tall, a few were much too tiny, and then—
Jonathan stopped in front of the perfect tree. It was just slightly taller than he was, and under the snow, the needles were tinged a blue-green.
“It’s absolutely beautiful,” Catherine said, reaching out to touch the nearest branch with her mittened hand.
Jonathan shrugged off his coat and handed it to her before beginning to chop at the tree’s trunk. Catherine stood back, admiring the ease with which he accomplished the task. His dark hair fell in short waves beneath his hat, and she could almost imagine the muscles that lined his arms and chest.
Her cheeks flooded with heat at her thoughts. Here she was, an expectant mother, having such thoughts about him. Although hewasher husband . . . She decided then that it was quite all right.
Just as the tree fell, a flutter from inside tickled her belly. “Oh!” she exclaimed, placing a hand on her stomach.
Jonathan glanced at her, his features drawn up in alarm. “Are you all right?”
Catherine’s eyes widened. “I think . . .”
The flutter came again, a cross between the brush of butterfly wings and the feeling one might get after having indulged in too much food.
It couldn’t be . . . could it?
She thought back to Beth’s descriptions of feeling a baby’s movement inside the womb. Even Mrs. Bell had spoken of the moment.
This feeling was exactly as they described.
“Catherine?” Jonathan was at her side, the tree and axe forgotten in the snow. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
She smiled at him, her hands trembling in joy. “Nothing’s wrong at all. Everything is so veryright.”
He knitted his brows together, clearly perplexed. “Because of the tree?”
“No.” She laughed. “The baby moved. At least, I’m fairly certain it was the baby. I’ve never felt it before.”
He gazed down at her stomach, as if it were something he could see. “Are you . . .? It’s not . . .?”
“It’s nothing alarming,” she said with certainty. Losing a baby felt nothing at all like this. “It feels almost magical. I wish I could share it with you.”
Jonathan grinned. “I’m sure I’ll get to feel it soon enough, once the baby is big enough to make more of a statement.”
Catherine laughed. Oh, how she hoped that would come to fruition. Surely God wouldn’t let her go so long with this little one only to take him or her away. But the flutter of the baby’s movement matched the flutter of doubt in her stomach.
She’d be foolish not to acknowledge the possibility. Plenty of women carried babies to term, only to have them be born asleep.
Her enthusiasm tempered somewhat, Catherine watched Jonathan wrap a rope around the end of the tree he’d cut. His face was drawn in concentration, and after a moment he looked at her. He smiled quickly, but not before she noticed the look on his face.
Whether it was fear or concern, she didn’t know. And her insides twisted at the thought of leading Jonathan down this road only to have this great promise of life taken away from him.
