A Convenient Wife (10 page)

Ellie's head rested on the mattress, her eyes closing in spite of her determination to remain alert, until Kate's urgent moan of distress brought her from the edge of sleep. Lifting her head, Ellie blinked and rose from the floor where she'd knelt for the past three hours. Kate gasped, groaning aloud, her breathing harsh.

“I don't think she can do this much longer, Doc.” James sent a grim look in Win's direction as Kate once more sought his hand, her fingers tightening in a knuckle-whitening grip, as she turned awkwardly to her side, facing her husband.

“She's doing fine,” Win assured him, his level glance at Ellie an unspoken request. Her lips were taut, her eyes were shadowed, and he almost regretted allowing her to be a part of this. And yet, she smiled at him, her shoulders flexing as she leaned over the bed, applying pressure to the small of Kate's back, her strong fingers moving in a circular motion.

“I think we're about there, Kate,” Win said quietly. “If James gets behind you, can you sit up just a little? I need you to push that baby into the world, honey.”

From that point on, there was a feverish, yet controlled atmosphere in the room. Kate, leaning against James, her face contorted as she labored. Win, easing the way with his capable, strong touch, until the slippery, blue form of a baby boy lay in his hands. The tiny mouth opened and a soft mewling sound caught Kate's attention, and she strained to peer toward the source.

Win held the wriggling form higher, and Ellie watched as the infant's chest rose with an indrawn breath. An angry wail, accompanied by fiercely waving fists announced the babe's indignation at being wrenched from the warmth of his mother's body, and his skin began losing its dark tinge, turning pink, as if a magic wand had been waved over his tiny form.

Her eyes blurred by tears, Ellie bit at her lip. “He's beautiful,” she whispered. “Oh, Kate. Your baby's beautiful.”

“Here you go, Mama,” Win said, placing the baby across Kate's stomach. He reached for a flannel cloth. “Hold this over him while I cut the cord, Kate. He's a slippery little fella.”

Kate obeyed, her hands clutching protectively, her fingers encircling small legs and upper arms through the warm flannel. Three pairs of eyes watched as Win tied the pulsing cord in two places and then his scissors flashed as the connection between mother and child was severed.

“Wrap him up,” Win told Ellie, tossing her another flannel square. “Let Kate hold him while I finish up down here.”

Ellie's fingers trembled as she scooped the baby into the square of fabric, and then she folded it around his wiggling form, and Kate's arms were there, eager to accept her child.

 

“I'm proud of you, Ellie,” Win said quietly, opening the back door to allow her entry to the kitchen. The moon was a soft glow at the horizon, and stars glittered overhead. “You must be tired,” he surmised, closing the back door as Ellie lit a candle on the table.

She was silent, and he almost rued the fact that she'd had such a preview of the birthing process. It always looked to be harder on the mother than it really was, he'd decided after his first delivery. And Kate had been no exception. She'd pushed for almost an hour, working hard to bring her son into the world.

James, determined to stick it out, had come close to tears when the red-faced, squalling babe was finally separated from his mother's womb. Win grinned widely, remembering. Kate had reached for her son, and James, kneeling by the bed, had enclosed them both in his embrace. It was a tender moment, and one Win cherished. It made the long hours of labor worthwhile, he decided.

Ellie was at the sink, and he went to her, hands grasping her shoulders. “You need to get to bed, honey. You've had a long night.” She'd been quiet, all during the cleaning up and
putting to rights, and still she was silent. Then with a whimper, she turned to him, and he was dismayed by the tears in her eyes.

“I don't know if I can be as brave as Kate,” she whispered. “She barely made a sound, did she? Only a few groans at the end. And I wanted to cut loose with a yell, just watching her go through it.”

“It's harder to watch sometimes,” he said, “than it is to be the one doing the hard work.” His hands slid to enclose her in a loose embrace. “You'll do fine when your time comes, sweetheart. And I'll warrant Kate will be here for you.”

Ellie looked up at him. “I'm proud to be married to you, Win. I've never seen you do your doctoring before. At least not the way you were when you took care of Kate. It made me feel good to see how you were, helping Kate and handling the baby.”

“Delivering a baby is the best part of my job,” he told her. He bent his head and pressed a kiss against her forehead. “Come on, Ellie. You need to be in bed.”

She swallowed with an effort and her eyes were anxious in the faint light from the candle. “Would you like to sleep in my bed, Win?” A rosy flush colored her cheeks, and she bit at her bottom lip.

“Sleep, Ellie?” His heart began a slow thundering beat as he watched her. If Ellie was thinking to offer herself because it was the expected thing to do, he wouldn't accept. And yet, if he turned her down, it might put a real dent in her pride, and that would never do. Crawling into Ellie's bed was his aim in life these past few days. That was a given, considering his state of mind since they'd spoken their vows.

The single long kiss they'd shared had not been followed up by a second. He'd made a point of touching her frequently during the past week, a caress on her shoulder, an arm around her waist, and bending to press his cheek against her hair several times. She'd responded to his gestures with a smile,
never turning from him. But gratitude was the last thing he wanted from a wife.

Desire was more to the point, and he wasn't certain that Ellie felt comfortable enough with him to allow that emotion to come to the surface.

There was only one way to find out.

“I'd like to sleep in your bed, honey,” he said softly. “Or else you could sleep in mine. It's closer.”

“My nightgown is upstairs,” she said, her glaze flitting from his to rest on his shoulder, and then flicker to the wall beyond.

“You won't need it.”

And at that simple statement, she turned away. “I don't look very good without my clothes on,” she whispered. “I'm bulging in front, and my…” Her arms crossed loosely over her breasts as she struggled to speak. “I'm sort of big.” Her eyes were apologetic as she forced the explanation from her lips.

“What makes you think that's going to bother me?” he asked with a grin. “Didn't you know that sometimes big is better?”

“I'm bigger all over than I used to be,” she managed to whimper, her flushed cheeks seeming to require the presence of her hands. Wide-eyed, she looked up at him, and he clasped her hands in his, lifting them from her face.

“That happens when a woman is going to have a child, honey. It doesn't make you any less attractive as far as I'm concerned. I think you're lovely, Ellie.”

“I'm not,” she said, with a quick shake of her head. “I'm ordinary. I've got brown eyes and brown hair. My pa always said I'd never amount to anything.” She closed her eyes. “He told me I was only good for one thing to a man, and Tommy'd already taken care of that. No one else would ever want me.”

“When did he tell you that?” Win asked.

“The night I told him I was having a baby. And then he got really mad. That's why he hit me. He'd never done that before, Win. He'd never been real nice to me, but that was the first time he ever hit me. And then he told me to get out, after he called me a lot of names, and—”

Win's hand covered her mouth, and his words halted her spoken misery. “What he told you wasn't true. Making a mistake is only human. If he couldn't understand that, then it was his loss.

“And my gain,” he whispered. He ran his index finger across her lower lip. “Look at me, sweetheart.”

She obeyed, and he watched as tears flowed silently from dark eyes that doubted his words. Lifting his hand from her mouth, he wiped at the salty residue staining her cheeks.

“I want you, Ellie. I don't care that you're not slender anymore. That's not important. In about three months, you'll be as slim as ever, but I won't like you any more than I do now because of it. Yes, I want to go to bed with you. But not if you're doing me a favor. It has to be because you want to.”

“Will you kiss me again?” she asked. “I'd like that, Win. It made me feel all soft inside when you kissed me the night we got married.”

“Soft?” he asked with a smile. “I was hoping for warm, Ellie.”

“That, too,” she said with a nod.

He picked up a dish towel from the counter behind her. “Let me wring this out under the pump. I'm going to wash the tears from your face. And then we're going to bed.”

And in the meantime, he needed to figure out how he was going to keep his randy self in line long enough to soothe her fears.

 

By candlelight the simple furnishings took on an aura of beauty. Ellie looked down at the oval, braided rug she stood on, aware that somewhere, sometime, someone had spent long
hours in its creation. The windows, clad in white, sheer panels of fabric were open, and outside, the night sounds blended in a harmony that soothed her like a lullaby.

Win's bed was covered by a handmade quilt, fat pillows topping the soft, muted colors that formed a large star. She pulled it back, folding it at the foot of the bed, then turned back the top sheet before she sat on the edge of the mattress. Her shoes left by the back door, she wore cotton stockings, held beneath her knees with ordinary garters, and she lifted the hem of her wrapper across her lap as she leaned to roll them down her legs.

Win watched from the doorway, lured by the innately feminine gestures, and wondered if all women were so graceful. His mother had used her hands, as did Ellie, with a minimum of fuss, yet telegraphing the silent message of elegance in their movement. Ellie's head was bent, her attention focused on the stockings she folded with precision, laying them aside before she lifted her hands to unbutton the front of her gown.

It was made to fit women of varying measurements, overlapping and tying at the waist, and she worked slowly at the process. Beneath it he suspected she wore new undergarments, and if the glimpses of dainty, pale bits of sheer fabric he'd seen fluttering on the clothesline yesterday were anything to go by, Ellie was clothed in fancies guaranteed to appeal to his masculine nature.

She'd hung them carefully between a row of sheets and another of shirts and trousers. Win had watched from the back door as she pinned them to the rope line and touched them with admiring hands.

His Ellie was filled with mysteries. Raised without the benefit of a mother's care, she had somehow achieved the womanly arts on her own. Much of her upbringing had prepared her for hard work, for the joyless chores of keeping a house and providing for the menfolk who lived there. But
somewhere, she had gained a knowledge of the small touches that proclaimed her femininity.

Her hands lifted to her hair, and she shed the pins in seconds, allowing the dark mass to tumble down her back. His loins tightened at the sight, even as he felt the breath catch in his throat. And then she stood, her dress falling from her shoulders, sliding the length of her arms as she turned to place it over the nearby chair. She bent, and the upper curves of her breasts were full against the dainty fabric of the vest she wore, the darker shadows beneath it catching his eye.

A trace of guilt, that he should watch her as she disrobed, unaware of his presence, nudged his conscience and he cleared his throat, a soft sound that caught her attention. Her eyes met his in the candlelight, and he saw a trace of fear in the quick smile she assumed for his benefit.

Yet, she stood before him, clad only in the form-fitting, long undergarment, with drawers in the same fabric beneath. They reached almost to her knees, edged with a lace ruffle, and beneath them were slim, curved calves and narrow feet.

“I didn't know you were here,” she said quietly. “I thought you were locking up.”

“I did. The cat was on the back stoop. Did you feed it tonight?”

She nodded. “Just leftover scraps. I think it's been mousing. Maybe it'll keep the mice from the house. They'll be looking for a warm place with the cooler weather,” she said. “But I still take out bits and pieces for the cat, just in case. I can't bear to see an animal go hungry.”

“I wasn't sure,” he told her. “So I put out a bit of the pot pie for it.”

“My pa wasn't much for having animals around the house,” she told him. “He said they belonged in the barn. And I know you don't let yours in, either. I won't bring it inside.”

Win shrugged. “I don't mind, Ellie. It's your house. You can do whatever pleases you.” He moved from the doorway,
approaching her slowly, unbuttoning his shirt as he walked across the floor. “Do I have a clean shirt for tomorrow?”

She nodded and stepped to his dresser. “I folded them and put them in the second drawer. Your small things are in the top. I hope you don't mind that I switched them around.” He watched as the second drawer was pulled open and her fingers touched his garments with care, drawing forth a blue-striped, madras cloth shirt. “Will this do?”

“That's fine,” he said, looking over her shoulder at the drawer's contents. “My clothes have never been so well taken care of.” He dropped his suspenders to hang loosely at his sides, then stripped from his shirt. “I may not tell you, but I do appreciate all you do to make my life easier.”

“That was our bargain, Win,” she said simply, placing the clean shirt atop his dresser. She closed the drawer and, watching him, motioned toward a clothes basket she'd placed in the corner. “From now on you can put your laundry there, if that's all right.”