How was it possible, when their baby had been loved and longed for, that it had been taken? He tried to remind himself that the Lord had a plan. In these dark days, it did not seem quite possible, though. He closed his eyes in an effort to pray, but no words came to mind. Finally, he settled on whispering the same prayer for Keturah that he had prayed a million times.Lord, please ease her grief and help her to know that she is not alone.
The words seemed to bounce off the ceiling.
October 16, 1782
Scamper whined and glanced in the direction of the bed, then up at Daniel. The dog’s big brown eyes begged him to explain why his other person was in bed in the middle of the day, instead of outside working where he could run and play.
Daniel frowned down at Scamper as he ruffled his ears. A quiet “I know, buddy,” was all he could manage.
Because in his heart, he was as lost as the canine.More than a month had passed since the loss of their child and still, Keturah did little more than eat and sleep. And she barely ate enough to survive. Daniel loathed to see how her bones had become so prevalent in such a short period of time. His heart ached with not only his own loss, but more importantly, the desire to ease his wife’s pain. He could not stand to see her this way, all the fire gone. For once, he longed for the disagreements of old. Sure, his wife was stubborn and spirited. And she sometimes drove him up the wall. But how he wished to see that passion again.
Settling his Bible in his lap, Daniel watched her sleeping form. Well, her still form, at least. Oftentimes, he was not sure if she actually slept or if she just laid there, as numb and hopeless as he felt deep within. What could he do to bring a smile to her face?
His mind drifted to the cinnamon rolls Nanny had made when he was a youngster. Their delectable warmth had always seemed to make the day better, no matter how his family had treated him. He had not the slightest idea how to make them, but he could certainly try.
He quickly rose from the rocking chair and moved to where Keturah normally prepared such food items at the end of the long dining table. Daniel had watched her make biscuit dough countless times. Surely, he could start with that. Glancing around, he pulled out what he thought she normally used and pressed his lips together as he started mixing.
As Daniel plunged his hands into the gooey mixture, he cast a halfhearted smile in the dog’s direction. “Here we go, buddy. Let us see what we can do for our girl.”
Had their child been a girl? His heart wrenched at the thought. They would never know this side of heaven. Frowning, Daniel worked his hands deeper into the mixture, as though he could work out some of his frustration in kneading the dough.
Just when he and Keturah had seemed to find their footing within their marriage, they were faced with this most terrible heartbreak. Was their union strong enough to withstand this? Or was he destined to watch his wife waste away in bed?
A knot formed in Daniel’s throat. Their home had become as cold and empty as his had been growing up. Keturah remained silent even when he convinced her to eat, and she faced away from him each night. He knew her distance was only due to her grief, but it did not make it any easier to bear.
But Daniel would not stand by while she pushed him away, as his father had done to him. He would do all he could to ease her pain. God had brought them together for a reason. While Daniel had failed time after time in life, he could not fail now. Not when his wife needed him the most. He would do all he could to put a smile on her face. Even if that meant making a fool of himself by attempting baking.
After mixing the dough, Daniel retrieved his tin ofcinnamon and attempted to mold the rolls into shape. He grimaced as he surveyed the sticky mess that looked nothing like the delicious treat he remembered. But with any luck, they would still taste as good. He shrugged as he cast a glance down at Scamper, where he laid patiently at Daniel’s feet, before he moved to stoke the fire. Then he hung the pot over the flames and set about cleaning up.
By the time Daniel had finished with the dishes, the fragrant scent of cinnamon had begun to fill the room. He closed his eyes and let out a sigh. Maybe the rolls would turn out, after all. Hope stirring within, he lifted the washbasin and took the dirty water out to dump behind the cabin. The crisp autumn air nipped at his nose and sent a chill up his arm where he had rolled his sleeves. Daniel smiled. Life on the Kentucky frontier had certainly changed him. But all for the better.
He had only just dumped the water and turned back toward the cabin when Scamper started barking inside. Daniel’s brows drew together, and he picked up his pace. He leapt onto the porch and hurried through the door.
His gaze immediately landed on Scamper, where he stood near the hearth. The dog barked furiously at something beyond the rocking chair. Had a snake or some other varmint made it into the cabin? Daniel moved closer with slow, deliberate steps. When he could see beyond the chair, his heart dropped. As the fire burned, a log had rolled from the hearth.
Keturah’s sewing basket had toppled over, its contents strewn between the rocker and the wall, and the smoldering log lay within the fray. The cloth beside it had already ignited, the perfect fodder for the hungry embers.
The dishwater having already been disposed of, he turned for the only other water he knew to be present in their home—the basin beside the bed. Daniel darted across the room, lifted the porcelain bowl from its perch, and returned. Already, the small flames licked at the wall. But he poured the water atop its fiery orange and gold fingers, effectively dousing them before any serious damage could be done. A little soot and a few ruined pieces of fabric were the only evidence that remained of the fire.
With a sigh of relief, he turned to ensure that Keturah had slept through the ordeal. But she had not.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, Keturah opened her mouth, but no words came out as she took in the scene before her. Scamper watched from near the hearth while Daniel stood behind the rocker, her water basin in hand. The contents of her sewing basket were strewn across the floor in a burnt, watery mess, and black soot marred the back wall.
Keturah’s eyes flew to Daniel’s. “What happened?”Sliding from bed, she moved closer, her gaze darting from her husband’s face to the mess and back.
Daniel’s jaw worked before he spoke. “A log must have rolled from the fire and knocked your sewing basket over while I was out dumping wash water.” Daniel motioned to a charred lump near her basket. “A small fire had caught, but I put it out.”
Fire? Keturah swallowed. They could have lost the cabin, all they had worked so hard to keep. What would they have done then? With no bairn and no home? Tears filled her vision, and she began to shake. “The whole house could have burnt down!”
Daniel’s mouth pressed into a line. “I know. Perhaps I should have checked the fire before I went out, but I was only trying to make you cinnamon rolls.” At that, his eyes widened, and he ran to the table and retrieved a towel. Then he went to the hearth and lifted a pot from where it hung over the fire. The scent of cinnamon registered, mixed with that of burnt cloth. Keturah fought the urge to wretch.
So this was Daniel’s fault. Had she not shown him how to properly stack the logs and tend the fire to prevent mishaps? Her fists clenched at her sides. “Why could ye not leave well enough alone? Ye cannae cook. Ye cannae bake. Stop tryin’. Stop makin’ a mess of things.” Keturah raged at Daniel. All the pain and grief that had been bottled up over the past weeks finally rose to the surface. And she aimed it at the man standing before her. “I dinnae need cinnamon rolls. Ineed our home, safe an’ sound. And…” A sob stuck in her throat, and she turned away. She closed her eyes tight against the tears. “I need our bairn.”
Keturah dropped to her knees and covered her face as she cried. Tears that had remained within for over a month now flowed unchecked. Her grief swallowed her, and she became aware of nothing but the all-consuming pain.
CHAPTER 13
Scamper followed Daniel, barking after him as he stormed out the door. He ignored the animal. He could not think straight and needed space to cool down and get his head right. He needed room to run, room to stretch his legs and get away from the nightmare that had taken over his marriage. He did not know where he was headed, but his feet moved and he followed. Wind whipped at him as he crossed the clearing where their home sat.
