nights ago, that creek had to be close. Hosford couldn’t be more than five or six miles north of here.
Scanning the area again, he pinpointed his gaze. A dot on the horizon could be a tree, or it could be a house. There was only one way to find out.
“These green beans are so delicious, Bridgette,” Emma Sue said with a voice that was little more than a whisper. “How did you make them?”
“I fried them in the bacon grease left from this morning,” Bridgette answered while gently covering the dough she’d just rolled out and cut into strips. Squaring the corners of the cloth to make sure dust or insects didn’t settle upon her egg noodles as they dried, she continued, “I also added a few onions I found growing west of the house.”
“I think that’s where the former owners had their garden,” Emma Sue said. “Cecil didn’t want it that far away from the house. Said it was too far for me to carry water.”
Bridgette chomped her teeth together to keep from making a comment about Cecil carrying the water and pretended to be focused on securing the edges of the cloth with a couple of spoons.
“I’m sure Cecil will like green beans prepared like this. He claims he doesn’t like them, but he must, because he never brings home any other seeds.” Smiling, Emma Sue chewed another small forkful of beans before speaking again. “I got some carrot and turnip seeds, and a few others from my father, but I’m afraid Cecil forgot to water them when I first took ill.”
“He didn’t forget,” Bridgette mumbled as she crossed the room to add salt to the pot of water holding the rabbit she’d shot after tending to the garden this morning. Cecil may be too lazy to see Emma Sue got the proper nourishment, but she wasn’t.
“What? I’m afraid I didn’t hear you.”
Bridgette covered the pot and pulled up a smile before she turned about. “Nothing, just talking to myself.”
“Cecil’s not always this grumpy,” Emma Sue said. “He’s just frustrated because...” Her cheeks turned pink as she laid a hand on her protruding stomach. “Because with me so far along we can’t...”
Bridgette held up a hand, hoping to stop Emma Sue before she finished her sentence, but it was too late.
“Well, you know, be husband and wife.”
Bridgette stifled a groan. She’d known what Emma Sue had been referring to, and hadn’t needed to hear it. If she let that image into her head, she might never be able to sleep again.
Moving and using her hand to gesture toward the table, Bridgette said, “There’s more bread and the beans are on the stove for when Cecil returns. I set the rabbit to simmer while I’m gone, and there’s nothing you need to do with it or the noodles.” She’d hoped to have left long before now—sincerely wished she had—but Emma Sue hadn’t wanted lunch prepared until Cecil arrived home. Not willing to wait any longer, Bridgette had overridden that notion, explaining there were other tasks that needed to be completed yet today.
“Will you teach me how you made those noodles?” Emma Sue asked, gesturing toward the cloth. “Cecil really enjoyed them when you made them last week with the pheasant he shot.”
Bridgette had to bite her tongue to keep from pointing out that she’d shot the pheasant—another skill she’d been taught while being a nursemaid to yet another family. Once the urge passed, she said, “You just beat a couple eggs with enough flour to make a sticky dough and then fold in enough flour until you can roll it thin and slice it into strips.” Pulling the apron over her head, she crossed the room to hang it on its nail. “I’ll be back as soon as possible, and add the noodles to the pot then, so don’t worry about that. They’ll only need to cook a few minutes and supper will be ready.”
“I don’t know what I would have done without you these past few weeks.” Emma Sue sighed. “Walking all the way to Hosford and back to sell the eggs would have been too much for me.”
“Yes, it would have been,” Bridgette agreed. Suggesting Cecil could easily make the trip, considering the money they made from selling eggs was about their only income, crossed her mind, but there was no need in pointing out the obvious. “You’ll rest while I’m gone?” she asked Emma Sue pointedly.
“Yes. I might sew, but I’ll do that in my bed.”
“Good, that’s what I needed to hear.” Bridgette took down her bonnet from the nail in the corner where her personal belongings were folded and stacked, including the blankets she spread out on the floor to sleep upon each night. Twisting the bonnet ties into a bow beneath her chin, she said, “I already have the rabbit fur soaking. Once I’ve tanned it, you’ll be able to make something for the baby. Maybe a warm hat for this winter.”
“Oh, that is so nice of you.” Emma Sue shook her head. “You are so smart. How did you learn about so many things?”
“I’ve been a nursemaid for many families over the years,” Bridgette answered. “And have learned something from each one of them. Opal Andrest showed me how to make the egg noodles and Ted Wilkenson taught me how to tan a rabbit hide.”
“Oh, what are you learning from us?”
How I don’t want to live. Not able to say that, she smiled. “I’m not sure yet, but I’ll tell you as soon as I do.” Since that didn’t sound very flattering, she added, “Someday we’ll have time for you to teach me some of your embroidery stitches. You are very good at that.”
Emma Sue beamed. “Oh, yes, I will teach you.” Her smile faded. “But I’ll need to get some more thread and—”
“Don’t worry about that now,” Bridgette said. “We have time.” Picking up the two baskets of eggs, she added, “But I don’t. I must hurry. Don’t want Mr. Haskell closing his store before I get these eggs delivered.”
“Please remember Cecil’s plug of tobacco.”
Bridgette nodded and walked out the open doorway. If she kept biting it, she wouldn’t have a tongue left by the time Emma Sue delivered that baby. Leaving the door open for some air circulation, she started down the pathway that would eventually lead her to the road to Hosford.
She couldn’t seem to walk fast enough. It was as if she was escaping, running away. That wouldn’t happen. She was only taking the eggs to town to sell them. However, that in itself was an escape. A welcome one. Even though it wouldn’t be more than a couple of hours. She couldn’t be gone any longer than that. Emma Sue’s time was near.
A shiver rippled Bridgette’s spine. “No,” she said aloud, forcing her mind not to bring up any images. Not to remember Emma Sue’s statement. She knew what husbands and wives did to produce babies. She’d helped with numerous deliveries and had performed several alone when Dr. Rodgers hadn’t arrived in time.
Every birth made her think of her own life. Her future. Babies of her own. It felt as if she’d been waiting forever for that to happen. Waiting to start living the life she dreamed about each night. Waiting for her husband.
She sighed at that thought. Garth wasn’t really her husband. It hadn’t been a real marriage. She’d been seven and just learned the truth about her parents,
