- - End of All Things, The (38 page)

Carly listened with sharp attentiveness to the Reverend’s explanation. She had told Justin about similar thoughts she’d had; she and Justin might have been brought together for a reason.

They were a nice couple and pleasant conversationalists, and Justin knew Carly felt bad for sending them on their way after supper. Justin had been generous in his trades. He’d practically given away the clothing they wanted. He knew he could have been shrewder in his dealings, but his emotions led had the way. Perhaps Carly was having a greater influence on him than he’d thought.

“Maybe we should have asked them to stay the night,” Carly mused as their bundled-up figures disappeared down the road.

“Mmm, really?” He bent down to nip her ear. “On our wedding night?”

Her eyes widened, and she turned to him with that look in her eyes that always sent a burning bolt of lust through him. 

“Do you think they’ll be all right?”

Justin kissed her before he answered. “I gave them directions to that little fishing cabin along the creek. I left wood and supplies in case you ever had to go there, remember? They’ll be warm and safe.” His hand toyed with the zipper on the front of her outfit.

“I need to put away the leftovers,” she said reluctantly.

“Leave them,” he said.

“But Tigger and Sam will eat it!” They had seen it before. The cat and dog worked in tandem, with the cat jumping up to places Sam couldn’t reach and knocking things down to the floor, where they could both enjoy them. Sam always looked guilty afterward, but Justin never blamed him for being opportunistic. It was in a wolf’s nature, after all.

“Let them have a treat.” He bent and scooped her off her feet, and she squealed as he ran up the stairs.

“Justin?” Carly said as he placed her gently in the center of their bed.

“Mmm?” He was occupied with yanking his shirt over his head.

“It was a wonderful idea. Thank you.”

“No need to thank me.” He unbuttoned his jeans and pushed them down over his hips and then cursed a little as his feet got tangled and he had to hop around awkwardly to pull them off.

“Of course there is,” Carly said. “It was a lovely wedding.”

“You don’t regret not having a church and a white dress?”

Carly had always imagined she would wear her mother’s dress when she got married, and her dad would walk her down the aisle. Like many girls, she had daydreamed about things like cakes and flowers and bridesmaids, but she realized how unimportant those things were. 

“My wedding was perfect,” she said, “because of the man I was marrying. That’s all that matters.”

She cupped his cheek in her palm and he turned his head to nuzzle a kiss into her open hand. From downstairs, they heard a crash in the kitchen and they both laughed as they tumbled back together into the bed.

For Christmas, Justin went out, chopped down a small pine tree, and brought it into the house. Carly decorated it with strings of only slightly scorched popcorn and put a star, cut from the bottom of a tin pie pan, at the top. Justin helped, cutting decorations out of colored paper they had found in the office and further adorning them by drawing little designs with colored pencils. He made one with a portrait of all three of their animals, which Carly vowed to keep and treasure forever. He was quite an artist, and the portraits were very good.

Carly had no presents for Justin, which bothered her. She made him a peach cobbler on Christmas Eve, just a bit scorched, as well, but she didn’t have anything to put under the tree for him. Justin, the sly dog, had held back some of the things he’d gotten during his last trip to town before the snow fell, and he had wrapped her gifts in white typing paper, decorated with whimsical designs.

Carly brooded on it for days. She considered laying herself naked under the tree, wearing nothing but a strategically placed red bow, but as much as he might enjoy that, it was a “present” he already had. In the middle of the night on Christmas Eve, inspiration struck, and Carly slid out of bed. 

Justin woke. “Where are you going?”

“To the bathroom.” She was being honest about that part, at least. Pregnancy seemed to stimulate her bladder.

Afterward, Carly went into the office and sat down at the desk. There was a new notebook in a drawer. She took it out and began to write. She never did return to bed. When Justin shuffled out of their bedroom, he found her downstairs in the living room, by the tree. “Morning, honey.” He greeted her with a yawn. “I must not have heard you get up.”

Carly let that pass. “Merry Christmas, Justin.”

Justin kissed her. “Merry Christmas.”

She unwrapped her presents first, at Justin’s insistence. He seemed excited by it, as if giving presents was more fun for him than actually receiving them. 

He’d gotten her a new board game; a trivia game because he knew how much she liked them, a bit of a sacrifice on his part since he always struggled with reading the questions when it was her turn. The next package contained more books, which was good because she was running low. He handed another package to her with the same tentative look he’d worn at the wagon after his first trip to town.

“The baby hasn’t been born yet, but this is our first Christmas with him or her, so I thought . . .” The look he gave her was a little sheepish.

“Justin, I think that’s very sweet of you.” Carly unwrapped it carefully so she could save the paper and found a selection of baby items, including more clothing, a baby sling, pacifiers, a rattle, and a wind-up butterfly mobile to hang above the crib.

Justin was building the baby’s crib himself, using tools he’d taken from the small museum in town and that book he’d found on old-fashioned furniture making that had step-by-step instructions. The process seemed to involve a lot of cursing and banging, and Justin had refused to let her see it in progress.

Carly wondered occasionally what the crib meant. He didn’t intend to transport the crib with them when they headed south, did he? Did he intend for them to stay there for a while after the baby was born? Carly was due in early May, the best she could figure, but the book said first pregnancies varied in due dates. When Justin first talked about their winter home, he’d made it seem as if they would move on in the late spring, once he was sure they wouldn’t be caught in a sudden blizzard.

The last item was a baby book, not intended for photographs, but to record memories of her pregnancy and the baby’s first life experiences. Carly’s voice was too choked with tears to thank him, so she gave him a hard hug instead, and Justin smiled, delighted she had loved his gifts.

Carly gave him the only present she had for him. He unwrapped it and found a notebook, with the words
101 Things I Love About You
written on the cover, but she had crossed out the “101” and replaced it with “201,” but then she had scratched out the “201” leaving only “
Things I Love About You.”
He opened the book and found it filled with Carly’s large, loopy handwriting, all the way to the last page.

1) Your smile. When it’s wicked or sweet, teasing or happy. It makes my heart soar whenever I see it.

2) Your eyes. Dark and seductive, or warm and loving.

The list went on and on . . . His strength, his bravery, his kindness, his considerate nature . . . Justin looked up at Carly, and his eyes contained something akin to awe.

“I found more than a hundred things, so I just kept going,” she said, and she felt a little shy about it. He was still staring at her, and it made her a little nervous. He didn’t have a problem reading her handwriting like he did with printed material, but maybe he thought it was a silly idea or— 

“I don’t know what to say,” he rasped and blinked rapidly. “No one has ever . . . God, Carly, thank you. I’ll treasure it, always.”

Carly crawled up onto Justin’s lap and put her arms around his neck. He held her, and they both looked past the Christmas tree to watch the falling snow.

Justin found Carly in the barn and took a deep breath before speaking. He didn’t want to yell at her, but he had been worried when he couldn’t find her anywhere. The barometer indicated a storm was on its way, as though the dark and lowering clouds were not enough warning.

Tigger and Sam were right outside of Shadowfax’s stall. Justin had cleaned it out that morning, and it had a thick, comfortable layer of straw on the floor. There was large helping of hay suspended in a wood rack on the side of the stall, but Shadowfax hadn’t touched it. She was restless, pawing the ground and pacing. Justin had removed the door to her stall so Shadowfax could come and go as she pleased, but she stayed within it, despite the way it shortened the distance she could pace.

Carly looked back at Justin, her forehead wrinkled with worry. “Something’s wrong with her.”

“I was worried about you,” Justin said, addressing his primary concern. “There’s a storm coming.”

“I know. That’s what you said at breakfast,” Carly said in an absent tone. Shadowfax stopped her pacing and lowered her head for Carly to pet. 

Justin took a deep breath. She wasn’t taking this seriously enough. “You shouldn’t have come out here. If the blizzard came—”

“I’d follow the rope.” Carly’s brows crunched together with worry as Shadowfax tossed her head and let out a soft whinny.

“What?”

“You said there might be a blizzard, so I took a rope from the barn and tied it to the porch railings beside the door.” She pointed to the end of the rope, which lay on the floor inside the barn door. “I’d just follow it back if I couldn’t see the house.”

Justin had to smile. “Carly, that was very clever of you.”

“Thank you.” She smiled, too, but hers was tense. “Justin, I’m really worried about Shadowfax. I knew something was wrong when she didn’t come to the kitchen window today to get her treat. Could it be she can sense the storm and is worried?” Carly’s eyes grew hopeful at this last idea.

“I don’t know, honey.” He pressed his thumb into one of the horse’s ears. Her temperature felt normal, as far as Justin could determine. Her huge, bulging belly seemed to have developed a point toward the front. He hadn’t had a chance to check it out when Carly wasn’t around. He hoped to God it wasn’t a tumor. He didn’t know how Carly would cope if her beloved horse died, or worse, if he had to put her down to spare her a slow, painful death. God, it would kill him to have to do it. Shadowfax, Sam, and Tigger were part of the family, and it made his heart ache to think of losing any of them.

Shadowfax pawed the ground and tossed her head. Carly made soothing noises but the horse snorted and pawed again. Justin slowly moved up to Carly’s side in case the horse reared or kicked. He didn’t think Shadowfax would intentionally hurt Carly, but Carly could get in the way of a flying hoof or knocked down by a butting head. Shadowfax resumed her agitated pacing and then went over to the corner of her stall and lay down.

“Oh, my God,” Carly whispered. “She must be really sick.”

He wanted to send Carly into the house, but he knew she’d refuse to budge. To his alarm, she went into the stall and sat on the straw by Shadowfax’s head. The horse made a soft grumbling sound and laid her head on Carly’s lap. Inches away from his unborn child. He was about to go into the stall and remove Carly by scooping her up into his arms when he saw something strange.

Something was emerging from the back of the horse, some type of membrane. Justin knelt to examine it more closely.
An intestine?
he wondered. He was horrified and started thinking of ways he could grab Carly, cover her eyes, and convince her to stay in the house while he—

A small hoof appeared, and the membrane broke with a sudden gush of fluid, splashing Justin from head to toe. He laughed; it was the only way he could react after having just been soaked in such a fashion. “Carly, she’s not sick. She’s having a foal.”

“
What
?” Carly gasped. “Really?”

“Yes. I can see one of the feet.”

Carly hugged Shadowfax’s head, and tears dripped down onto the horse’s hair. “Oh, thank God. Thank God.”

“I can’t believe I didn’t think of her being pregnant.” Justin shook his head with a rueful grin. “She must have gotten pregnant before the Crisis. Your horse book said they have a gestation period of almost a year.”