Home Fires (8 page)

“Hurry, darling. Please!”

All thought of restraint fled, and he pushed into her hard and fast. Anne met his every thrust. Erik felt his climax building, and with one final thrust he spilled his seed inside her. For long moments they clung to each other, until the pain in his leg forced him to withdraw from her and change positions.

“Are you all right? Your leg—”

“My leg is fine.” He didn’t want his injury to be all she thought of in their bedroom.

“That’s good,” she said with a sleepy smile. “Erik, that was so incredible. I never imagined it could be like that between us.”

“Neither did I.”

He’d never experienced such joy, such connection with a woman. But then he’d never been in love like this before.

She touched his face and smiled, her eyes half closed. “Good night, Erik. Sleep well.”

“Good night.”

She rolled onto her side. He pulled her against him, her soft bottom resting against his flaccid penis. When he kissed her cheek, she didn’t awaken, even when he cupped her breast and idly massaged the underside with his thumb.

For several moments he listened to her breathe, felt the gentle rise and fall of her chest as he held her.

He loved her. Nothing in his life had prepared him for what he felt for Anne. With her beside him he felt powerful, as if there was nothing he couldn’t do. She made him feel like a whole man once more, instead of a damaged one.

He thought he’d been in love with Daphne, so long ago in England, but he knew now it was only an infatuation. Yet her rejection had hit hard. If he lost Anne—

He didn’t want to think about it. She was his breath and the blood pumping through his veins. He would cease to exist without her. He held her a little closer.

He wanted to tell her how he felt. But she’d never told him she loved him. He’d once professed his love to Daphne and had it thrown back in his face.

He cursed himself for being a coward. When the time was right, he’d tell her.

Would Anne reciprocate with words of love, or look at him with pity? Was she still pining for Anders? Had she married him because she’d been so desperate for a family?

His questions, and fears, kept him awake most of the night.

Chapter Ten

Anne stoked the fire in the woodstove and prayed she’d given it the correct amount of fuel this time. If it was the last thing she did, she’d tame the iron beast. In the month since her wedding she’d subjected the family to both burnt offerings and undercooked meals.

Sometimes she felt overwhelmed by all she needed to learn to be a farm wife. Thank goodness the family was patient with her. More than anything, she wanted to make Erik proud of her.

Ingrid stepped into the kitchen carrying two pails of milk. Anne took them from her and poured them into the separator. Most days she helped with the milking and was pleased she was getting faster. By summer she’d be able to take over the job from Ingrid when she married John and moved to her own farm with him. Perhaps that would help ease some of Erik’s worry about his sister’s impending move. She knew he was concerned, not because he’d told her but because Ingrid had. She wished he’d share his thoughts and his worries with her. She remembered heated discussions in her parents’ home as they hashed out decisions about money, about which schools to send her and her sister to, about what to have for dinner. They’d talked about everything together, shared worries and fears. That was the kind of marriage she wanted.

But Erik was determined to keep his troubles to himself. Was he trying to spare her, or did he not trust her enough to tell her? Either way, she didn’t like it.

Astrid and Erik entered the house a few moments later, Astrid carrying two more pails of milk. She set them on the floor next to the separator.

“The bread smells good,” she said. “When is it ready to come out of the oven?”

“In about ten minutes.”

“Wonderful! I can hardly wait to taste it.”

Anne finished separating the milk, then put the milk and cream cans into the porch, where they would stay cool. She took apart the pieces of the separator so she could wash them.

Astrid checked the clock. “It looks like it’s time to take the bread out, Anne.”

She used her oven mitts to pull the loaves from the oven and set them on the door. They had risen majestically in the pans and were a lovely shade of brown, their tops shiny from the egg white she’d brushed over them.

Astrid rapped the top of each loaf with her knuckles. A hollow echo sounded.

“Perfect,” she said. “The first batch that you mixed, kneaded, and baked yourself. Well done.”

“With a lot of help from you. I hope it tastes as good as it looks.”

Ingrid squeezed her arm. “It will, I’m sure of it. I’m so proud of you, Anne. I knew we could make a farm girl out of you.”

Anne laughed and thanked her. She looked to Erik, who was seated at the table, watching her. He smiled, but said nothing. She turned away, disappointed. Why couldn’t he acknowledge she’d done something right for a change? Why couldn’t he tell her he loved her?

It was only in their bedroom at night that, with passionate kisses and tender touches, Erik showed her he cared for her. The rest of the time she felt he was holding a part of himself back from her.

She wanted all of him, not just bits and pieces.

Perhaps it was up to her to make the first move. Maybe she’d have to take a leap of faith and be the first one to whisper “I love you” in the night.

****

The windows rattled as the north wind vented its fury on the small farmhouse. It howled through the trees protecting the yard, whipping snowbanks into frothy peaks. For the past three days the wind had pummeled the farm, making the short walk to the barn cold and perilous. It was easy to get disoriented in the white-out conditions. Erik had heard stories of farmers becoming lost between their house and their barn, walking out into a field where they froze to death. Some farmers tied clothesline between the two buildings so they had something to use as a guide during a blizzard. Even during inclement weather the cows needed to be fed and milked.

Just as they were sitting down to dinner, they heard a banging on the outside door. Ingrid ran through the porch to see who was there. A moment later she returned with Carl Bjornson. He didn’t waste time on preliminaries.

“Julia’s gone into labor. It’s been ten, maybe twelve hours. There’s no way I can get Doc Brown in this weather.” He looked directly at Anne. “I know you’re a nurse, and a good one. I saw what you did for that boy at your wedding. You have to come with me. Julia needs you.”

“Carl, I’ve no experience delivering babies. The only time I’ve helped deliver a baby was in my training. And I’ve never done it on my own.”

“You’re my only hope, my wife’s only hope. She’s been in labor so long. I’m afraid something is wrong.”

“Sometimes labor is very long with the first child,” Astrid said. “It doesn’t mean anything is wrong.”

“Maybe, but I can’t take that chance. Anne, please, you’ve got to help me. My horses are waiting outside. There’s not much time.”

“Of course. Give me a couple of minutes.”

She turned to look at Erik before heading upstairs with Ingrid to find warmer clothes. He saw apprehension in her eyes, but also determination. She had no idea what she was going to walk into, but she wouldn’t back down without a fight.

Carl anxiously paced the short distance between the door and the table, the snow on his boots making a wet path. A moment later Anne returned. She’d pulled on an extra pair of pants, as well as an additional sweater. She grabbed her jacket from the hook near the door and slipped it on. Erik did the same.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“I’m coming with you,” he said, his heart in his throat. How could he let her face the blizzard alone?

“You need to stay here to look after the animals. And if the blizzard stops tomorrow, we’ll need you to go to town and fetch Dr. Brown.” She touched his face with her gloved hand.

“I’ll take care of her, Erik,” Carl said. “I know the way like the back of my hand. I got here. I can get us back.”

He’d known Carl since childhood, and he trusted him. But did he trust him with his wife’s life?

Anne kissed his cheek. “I’ll be fine,” she whispered against his ear. “I’ll see you soon.”

“I’ll be by tomorrow with Doc Brown.”

She nodded. A moment later she left with Carl. Erik tried to watch them through the kitchen window, but the heavy snow prevented him from seeing much more than the vague shape of Carl’s sleigh and his team of horses. There was no protection from the elements in the open sleigh. Thank God Carl’s farm was only a half mile away across the field.

But what if something was seriously wrong with Julia’s baby? How was Anne supposed to cope with that? She had no equipment and no medicine. She’d already admitted she had little experience delivering babies. Would Carl blame her if either the baby or Julia didn’t survive?

Erik continued to stare out the window long after they left.

****

At first light, he hitched his team of black Percherons to his sleigh in preparation for the trip to Poplar River, the neighboring town where Doc Brown lived. Overnight the storm had blown itself out, but the brilliant sun shining in the morning sky proved deceitful. Though it appeared to be a beautiful day, the temperature had plummeted to frigid depths. Erik donned an extra layer of clothing for the trip.

Since the roads in the area had been blocked with snow since shortly after Christmas, the only way to get around was by horse and sleigh. Erik pushed his team as hard as he could and made it to Poplar River in a little over an hour. Doc Brown was having his morning coffee when Erik arrived, and, though reluctant to leave the warmth of his house, he dressed quickly and joined him.

As they approached the Bjornson farm, apprehension settled in Erik’s gut. What would they find when they arrived? Had Carl and Anne made it back safely? Had Julia and the baby survived?

He dropped the doctor off at the house, then drove the horses to the barn, unhitched them from the sleigh, and led them inside where it was marginally warmer. Once they were safely ensconced in a stall with some hay, he grabbed his cane and made his way to the house, his stomach in knots.

The first thing he saw when he opened the door was Anne standing at the woodstove, frying bacon. She looked up, their gazes met, and he saw relief and then joy in her eyes.

“Erik.”

She pushed the frying pan to the back of the stove and ran to him, throwing her arms around his neck and resting her head against his chest. “I’m so glad you’re here. I missed you.”

He kissed her hair, grateful to have her in his arms again. “I missed you, too. Is everything all right? What about the baby?”

“She’s fine. The baby is fine. Julia too.” She burst into tears, her body shaking, though she made almost no sound. Alarmed, Erik held her at arm’s length to look into her face.

“Sweetheart, what’s wrong? Why are you crying? I thought you said Julia and the baby were fine.”

She wiped at her eyes and gave him a lopsided smile. “I’m sorry, I’m just being silly. I delivered her, Erik. She’s tiny and pink, and she cried like a banshee when she came out. It was so beautiful. After all the death and destruction of the war, it was so wonderful to bring a new life into the world.”

He pulled her against him once more and held her tight. “That’s all right, sweetheart. Cry all you want.”

She laughed at that. For several moments they stood quietly holding each other. A feeling of peace came over Erik.
This is the way it should always be. The two of us together, facing the world.

“Erik, do you want children?”

An image of dark-haired children with Anne’s beautiful brown eyes jumped into his mind’s eye. More than anything he wanted Anne to have his child.

“Yes, very much.”

She looked up and smiled. “Would you like to meet little Wendy Anne?”

“Sure. They named her for you, after all.”

“Well, her second name, at least. But I’m thrilled. I’ll bring her out.”

She disappeared into a bedroom at the back of the house, emerging a few moments later with a small bundle in her arms.

“Here she is. Isn’t she beautiful?”

Wendy Anne Bjornson’s shock of dark hair flew in wispy curls around her tiny head in every possible direction. Her scrunched up face resembled that of the dried apple doll Ingrid had once owned. But the look of awe on Anne’s face as she stared down at the baby in her arms told him she thought Wendy Anne was the most beautiful baby in the world.

He could hardly wait to see her hold their own child in her arms.

****

By the time they took Dr. Brown home to Poplar River and got back to the farm, the cows were ready to be milked and the other evening chores needed to be done. Anne helped with the milking and separating before sitting down to dinner with the rest of the family. Fatigue overtook her. She’d been running on adrenalin to this point, but now her well of energy had run dry.

“You look exhausted, dear,” Astrid said. “Did you get any sleep at all last night?”

“Not much,” Anne admitted. “Julia’s labor lasted until four in the morning.”

“Sounds like you had the same kind of night Erik did. I heard him prowling around the house at all hours.”

“I don’t think he went to bed at all last night,” Ingrid observed. “His bed—your bed—wasn’t slept in this morning.”

Anne turned to Erik, surprised. “You couldn’t sleep? Was your leg giving you trouble?”

Erik drank his tea, avoiding her eyes. “My leg is fine. I was concerned about the Bjornsons.”

Anne nodded. “I know. I was concerned, too. But in the end, Julia did all the work. I only held her hand.”

“You did a lot more than that,” Erik said, his eyes flashing. “Doc Brown said you did everything he would have done. And Carl told me you kept them both calm. Julia was out of her mind with worry, but you reassured her everything was proceeding normally. Things wouldn’t have gone as well without you. You should be damn proud.”

Anne blinked at him, not expecting this passionate defense. Her heart soared at the pride for her she heard in his voice. She reached across the table and took his hand.