Renewing Hope (In Your World #2) (39 page)

"I understand you want to protect me, Nathan. But the doctor says I can do my share of the chores," I argued.

He let out a breath and I couldn't help but scowl when I saw his brow furrow.

"Can we discuss that?" he asked.

"Why don't you want me doing the chores in the barn, Nathan? Or carry clothes, or hitch the buggy? I can do those things," I said, my determination growing stronger.

"I overreacted," he whispered, and then his eyes drew up to capture mine, and I saw it then.

That fear he had. The one I saw when we talked about his family, or when I had been kidnapped.

He was so afraid of being alone.

"I don't want to lose you. Is it wrong that I want to make sure you are safe, always?" he asked, almost pleading.

I touched his cheek, my ire suddenly gone. His family's deaths would always be his burden.

"I'm not going anywhere. I won't get hurt by doing my chores," I replied softly.

"What if the horses spook?"

"They won't."

"What if you fall?"

"I won't."

"What if you get sick? You are more susceptible now."

I took his head in my hands and kissed him hard, shutting up his nonsense.

"Women have been doing this for a very long time, Nathan. I can do this," I whispered.

He closed his eyes and let out a long breath.

"That is what Mark said," he replied. "Can I at least be the one to muck out the stalls?"

"No."

He opened his eyes at my answer, shocked by my resolute answer. I shook my head at him.

"Partnership, Nathan. We are in this together. And the doctor said I could do these things, within reason. I can do my fair share for a while still," I replied.

He thought about my request for a while, rubbing the back of my hand as he processed my words.

"Just promise me you will not over do it?" he begged, a hint of a smile fighting his lips.

"I won't go join the rodeo with Magnus, okay?" I said, trying to be light.

"I will always worry, Kate. Just promise me you will not try to prove yourself. You have done so much for me already," he asked, still serious.

"I promise."

He tugged me close and kissed me tenderly, our dinner long forgotten until he finally broke off the kiss with a low moan.

"Kate," he groaned and let out another long breath. I could tell he was struggling to behave.

"Oh, right. That's the other thing," I said, his eyes opening up to find mine.

"What other thing?" he croaked.

I let my hands slowly trace beside his suspenders, holding him in place when I reached his trousers. He swallowed and made to pull away, only my hands had a firm grip on his waistband, barring him from distancing himself from me.

"Another thing the doctor told me, Nathan," I whispered, raising an eyebrow at him when he jumped at my hand as it ventured further south.

"Kate."

"Don't ‘Kate’ me, Nathan Solomon Fisher," I growled. "You and I are getting naked tonight and I am going to show you that it's okay to make love to your wife while she's pregnant. Doc says so."

His mouth opened and closed, as if he were fighting a losing argument.

"He said it was all right?" he asked instead.

"Yep, he even suggested different positions when I get all big and gross," I said, matter of fact.

Nathan's grin broke out across his face, and I didn't have time to react when he scooped me up into his arms and all but ran up the stairs into our bedroom. He laid me down on the bed carefully and slid in over me, careful not to crush me.

"Firstly, Kate," he said against my neck. "You will never be big and gross, you will be beautiful always."

His mouth found mine and he kissed me fully, leaving me breathless.

"Is there a secondly?" I asked breathlessly when his lips moved to my jaw.

He looked down at me with his playful eyes and grinned.

"Secondly," he said, reaching for the clasps to my dress. "Secondly, I have some catching up to do. I have neglected you for too long and I want to discover these new positions with my wife."

I let out a low moan when his hands found me, so sure and earnest in making me want to feel pleasure.

"Supper?" I gasped, my thoughts scattering at his touch.

"Later. This is what I wish to feast on," he growled and his lips moved down to find my breasts.

Supper was long ruined before we even thought to eat, breakfast perhaps being the better choice given the hour that we finally chose to venture out of our bedroom.

It was difficult to tell. It was still dark out, and a heavy snow was falling once again.

Nathan didn't argue when I dressed with him and made our way to the barn to get the morning chores completed.

Many hands make fast work, after all.

And I had every intention of getting those chores done quickly.

Our warm house was calling.

That warm house was a Godsend when it snowed, non-stop it seemed, for half of February.

Not that I minded so much.

It was cold when we went out to Sermon. It was cold when we had chores to do.

But the rest of the time it was very, very warm.

Nathan made sure of that.

We used our fireplace in the sewing room on many nights.

And the sewing room now had a permanent stack of pillows and blankets to lay on in front of the fire. Nathan always tried to pass off our fireplace lounging as an excuse to read and cuddle. But that usually lasted about as long as getting through one or two pages of verse before I was kissing him and slipping my hands under his shirt and down.

My hormones may have been a little off kilter.

I thought Nathan had been the insatiable one.

But once the initial fatigue wore off, I was full of energy when it came to being with Nathan. There was something about his scent, while he lay there cradling me in his arms with a roaring fire beside us. Or when he laid in bed, exhausted from making love, warm and relaxed beside me. Or when he came in from outside and his cold nose trailed along my neck.

There was a lot about Nathan Fisher that made my heart race.

But it was amplified now.

I could smell more. And his scent when sated only excited me more.

I could taste more. And I really enjoyed the taste of Nathan.

I could feel more. Every touch on my skin aroused me.

And Nathan loved to touch me. Every inch of my skin he traced, every night. It was as if he wanted to mentally document every little change in my body.

My breasts grew fuller within the first month.

My hips were more pronounced the second month.

And into the beginning of March, his hands cupped the small bump along my belly, his eyes always so full of wonder at my changing body.

He swore I glowed.

He kissed every new part of me he noticed had changed, and every day he whispered against my belly. I couldn't hear what he said, but I know whatever it was made him happier with each passing day.

Every day he said I was more beautiful than the day before.

Every day he traced my stretching and growing skin.

Every day he made me feel the love he held for me.

Every day I felt something new.

One entire day I cried, panicked that I would be a horrible mother. Nathan ultimately had to hold me all night, whispering that I was everything he wanted in a wife and the mother of his children.

Another day I was frustrated and moody. It was a good time for Nathan to go with John to mend the Wittmer barn. By nightfall I was myself again. And the house was extra clean.

Yet another day I slept the day away, comforted only by Nathan's soft touch and whispered words in my ear while he read to me.

My hormones were the hardest part of my pregnancy. I had been blessed to have no signs of morning sickness and the only craving I truly had was for butter. Nathan made a deal with the Snyders for more butter and I was content. And I ate a lot of butter lately.

On bread.

On biscuits.

On everything I could.

I wondered if perhaps that would change when spring finally came and we could eat fresher foods. I looked forward to spring and its fresh, clean air. I had been cooped up for long enough in the house for winter. I wanted to start planting and preparing our farm again.

It was with the first thaw that we heard the news about Emma.

She practically danced into the Berger home, her energy brightening an already cheerful kitchen. I knew instantly. Call it pregnancy code.

Fannie seemed to already know as she hugged her youngest daughter tight and cried happy tears at the news.

John stood proudly, so like Nathan had, and Mark before him.

Proud fathers-to-be stood around the kitchen table while their precious women hugged one another tight.

Emma held me for a long time, crying softly into my shoulder until she could finally breathe and looked up at me with glistening eyes.

"It will be the best thing," she whispered and looked between Hannah and myself. "We will have each of our children within a few months. Mother will have her hands full with grandchildren and our babies will grow up together, like one large family."

It was a wonderful feeling being in the arms of my sisters, making me a little nostalgic for my own sister in the English world.

Often on days where I felt truly blessed in the ways of my Amish family, I wondered about my sister, Stacy, and what she was doing. And how I hoped she had found a similar happiness as I had. My Amish family had given me so much, and we continued to grow.

A large family offered bountiful love for all.

Something I had never known, but now knew would be how I should have lived all my life. Children running around, full of life and love. And a wonderful husband who looked at me each day the same way he had the first day he knew he loved me.

As winter fell away to spring a sense of excitement coursed through us as life began again. A new life with a new start. The snow that had covered the sleeping ground soon melted into the earth, nurturing it so that it would be ready for seed.

Nathan spent most of his days in the fields, preparing them for seed while I looked to the garden. Left to myself, I could decide what to plant for the season. The year's crops were more complicated than I imagined, having never worked on a farm before.

Nathan patiently talked through the necessity for fast growing vegetables versus a garden full of slow growers, and soon we had varying degrees of growth in our new garden. It was amazing to me to find that within a month or so, I had the beginnings of a menu from which to pluck fresh vegetables, setting aside the canned greens for fresh ones.

With spring also came less time for idle hands, and I soon discovered that working on a farm, and trying to make some sort of wage to keep that farm successful, came with the price of alone time with my husband. We woke early, sometimes eager, but most times tired, and hurried to start the day to get as much done as we could with only our own hands.

Nathan opened up his acreage to others, delighted that the Bowmans and the Wittmers were the first to accept our sharecropping idea. I saw much of John and Mark as the tilling and planting commenced, which meant my sisters joined me many times a week to help with feeding their husbands. When they were not in our fields, I visited Hannah and Emma in their homes and helped out where I could.

It seemed pregnancy favored me more than my sisters as spring crept forward. I seemed to have more energy most days, eating more but never having any serious cravings like my sisters did. I enjoyed baking more, much to Nathan's enjoyment, and the fact that he filled out well in the winter and spring was noted by many women at Sermons. I gained a new respect from the women of the community for taking care of my husband during the long winter. The only downfall to being pregnant seemed to be my urges, which again, Nathan enjoyed as much as I did.

Emma was put on bedrest in her fourth month when she was told she had an irregular heartbeat due to the pregnancy, and that any hard work, given her medical history, could cause her to lose her child, or her own life.

John was more protective over her than Nathan had ever been with me, but in her case, I did not blame him. She pouted and put up a fuss at first, but with Hannah and Fannie watching over her almost daily, she finally gave in and volunteered to be the seamstress for our families while we handled more rigorous chores for her.

It was what we did, helping each other. My daily walk to visit with my sisters became something I enjoyed immensely. I was able to see the growing green around me start from dark rich earth, sprouting forth in tender vibrant green, to grow and flourish to that rich emerald that covered the landscape around us. Life was thriving everywhere I looked. I had never been so in love with the idea of green before coming to Iowa.

Hannah, with her twins, became more uncomfortable in her own skin as the months passed, and by the time she was at eight months, she waddled slowly here and there and scowled at me when I could still manage to climb into the buggy without assistance to go into town. But for all her fussing, she still smiled more and cradled her giant belly when she thought people were not watching her. I knew from the way Mark doted on her that they would be fantastic parents. Hannah would be stern and protective, while Mark would surely be more carefree, carrying his children on his shoulders whenever he could.

I seemed to expand everyday, with proud observations by Nathan whenever we settled into bed at night. He had taken to laying low beside me, one hand tracing over the rise of my belly while his lips worshipped every mark, every change in my skin. I was often left giggling before he would move up to silence my laughter with a searing kiss. Nathan seemed to love me more and more each day, even as I felt myself growing more ungainly. The happiness on his face whenever he glanced my way was worth every cramp and new mark on my body.

His happiness was my happiness, and with each day I grew more excited for every new life lesson I found with him.

We worked together when we could, early mornings in the barn caring for the animals, and often I helped him in the field, having learned to handle the wagon with Magnus. Magnus worked hard for me, much to Nathan's bewilderment. My grandmother had been right when she said a little sugar went a long way to getting a male to do what you wanted.