“It’s fine,” Travis muttered. He removed his hat, holding the brim in his lap. “I just don’t know how a day can be joyful when it’s my fault he doesn’t have a mother.”
Josie could sense the heartbreak in his voice. The poor man. Here she was, living in freedom, while Travis was still trapped in his own nightmare. Her heart ached for him, and without thinking, she softly whispered, “It’s not your fault.”
“Yes, it is,” Travis said sharply, turning to her. “The doctor said she shouldn’t have any more children, but I didn’t listen.” His voice broke, looking up at the sky. “Sophie wanted another—I could sense it. That is why I talked her into trying again. She was fine and healthy during her pregnancy, and I believed the doctorwas wrong. But . . . he was right,” Travis hesitated, his features tightening. “She was in so much pain, and it was all my fault.”
Josie reached out, her hand close to his but not touching. Her mind immediately drifted to the many babies she lost. However, those had been one person’s fault—Marcus’s. Travis seemed nothing like him; therefore, Mrs. Blythe’s death wasn’t his fault.
“We can’t understand why these horrible things happen, but we have to trust God has a plan.”
Travis looked down as he fidgeted with his hat again. “Whatever it is, I can’t fathom why He’d take four children’s mother away.” He aligned his gaze with hers. “I hope you understand why I cannot give you a proper marriage. I-I can’t go through that again. I can’t risk these children losing another mother.”
Josie’s lips parted in shock, and she fought back a gasp. Guilt flooded through her, making her chest tighten.You heartless fool.It was wrong—so terribly wrong—to be married to Travis. She hadn’t considered how having a baby would affect his family, how it might tear apart the fragile life they were trying to build together.
She couldn’t tell him. Not now. Maybe not ever. Yet she couldn’t make time freeze nor go back. The only way was forward and to tell the truth.
Travis stood, exhaling a breath. He didn’t bother to look at Josie, not since he confessed his inner struggles. “We need to get back to work.”
Josie watched as Travis walked towards the field. She buried her face in her hands. “Dear God, what have I done?”
Fatigued after a long day, Travis swallowed his third cup of coffee, watching the sun set. Josie was inside with the children;the clanging of dishes echoed through the thin pine walls while she cleaned the kitchen. Ivy whined, begging Josie to let her paint instead. Travis snickered to himself. That girl had a bite of her own, just like he did as a child. He’d give anything to get out of field work, but his pa had put his foot down, giving him no other choice but to work.
Yet, Travis managed to sneak off, resulting in his father taking on labors that were too much for one man. Travis closed his eyes and rubbed between his eyes.So many lives gone. So many because of your foolishness.
He wiped his forehead with his hand and sighed deeply into the stifling air. He had exposed himself to Josie. All the shards of his most secret regrets were now in Josie's hands, too, clear as day and utterly unveiled. Travis had killed his wife. Maybe not with his bare hands, but he had cost Sophie her life. That look on Josie’s face said it all—wide eyes and a pale face. She had been terrified of him at that moment. Never once had he seen her so frightened—that look surpassed their wedding night.
How could he tell her about Sophie? Yet it felt good to get it off his chest. Having someone who had been honest from the start sitting close to him made it easier to go on, allowing him to share every detail that had haunted him for nearly a year. Josie hadn’t said much to him since his confession. Perhaps his confession would be the savior of their arrangement. She would remain distant from him, disgusted by what he had done to that poor wife of his, so young and vibrant, taken so soon.
Travis squinted, looking out towards the road where he saw a man riding on horseback. Travis’s inner pain melted away as his heart beat with joy—his friend, Ronan Walsh, was coming for a visit. Oh, how he longed for company right now. Travis stood and waved as Ronan’s horse charged toward him. With a firm “whoa,” Ronan pulled back the reins, bringing the horse to a halt. He gave the animal an approving pat on the neck. Travisclapped, and Ronan bowed, seated upon his panting horse. It leaned down to the water trough, taking large gulps.
“That horse getting too confident for ya?” Travis asked, chuckling with his hands on his hips.
“Ye know me, he’s perfect.” Ronan grinned. He dismounted and rubbed his hand together. He pointed at Travis’s empty coffee cup and full kettle, sitting next to the porch’s rocking chair. “Got another cup?”
Travis patted Ronan’s back. “Right this way.”
Travis handed Ronan his empty cup and poured the coffee. Steam rose from the drink, curling into the air. The smell eased Travis—as though Sophie were in their presence. He could see her as though it was yesterday, ambling down the road with a basket of flowers in hand.
Ronan smiled, taking the cup. “Atta boy. Ye know just how to treat an ole pal.”
Travis sat next to Ronan in the next rocking chair—Sophie’s chair. Ronan rubbed the back of his neck, shaking his head.
“How’s it all goin’? New wife and all.”
Travis leaned forward, folding his hand over his knees. “What you can expect from two strangers.”
“Ye haven’t made her yer wife, huh?”
Heat rushed up Travis’s neck, his face burning as his heart hammered in his chest. “What? She’s my wife. You can ask the reverend yourself.”
Ronan chuckled before taking a sip of coffee. “I ain’t talkin’ ‘bout no weddin’.”
Travis ran his fingers through his sweat-soaked hair. Of course, Ronan would be the one to ask such nonsense. They were close enough to talk about personal situations, and it was part of Ronan’s culture to speak openly about private matters. Travis was just thankful Ronan didn’t have any lewd tavern talking.
“I told her about Sophie today.”
Ronan’s eyes widened. “Aye? What did the lass have’ta say?”
Travis looked towards the kitchen window. He leaned in closer to Ronan, hoping neither Josie nor the children would hear. “She says what happened wasn’t my fault. Then again, her expression said something different.”
