Lillian surprised him by reaching up to touch his cheek gently. "It's more than enough, Wyatt. It's a home." Her smile was genuine, warming him more effectively than any fire could have. Mister Henderson helped unload their few possessions and set up the rocking chair in a corner of the main room before tactfully departing, leaving the new family to settle in. The awkwardness Wyatt had feared didn't materialize as they worked together to arrange the cabin.
Lillian placing Emma on a blanket on the bed while she unpacked. Wyatt showing her where everything was kept. As evening approached, Wyatt built a fire in the stove and prepared a simple meal from the provisions Mrs. Henderson had sent with them. They ate at the small table, Emma now asleep in a drawer lined with blankets that served as a temporary cradle.
"Tomorrow I'll build a proper crib for her," Wyatt promised, watching the baby's peaceful face in the lamplight. "She seems content enough for now," Lillian observed. Children are adaptable more so than adults sometimes. And you, Wyatt asked hesitantly. Are you content with this arrangement?
Lillian considered the question thoughtfully. I'm grateful certainly relieved to have security for Emma. And she hesitated, a slight blush coloring her cheeks. I find I'm looking forward to building a life here with you. Her canandor touched him deeply.
I want to be a good husband to you, Lillian, a good father to Emma. I may not always know how, but I promise to try. That's all anyone can ask, she replied softly. And I promise to be patient as we figure this out together. The mention of together brought to mind the sleeping arrangements a subject Wyatt had been carefully avoiding thinking about.
There was only one bed in the cabin, narrow, but adequate for two. As if reading his thoughts, Lillian's blush deepened. "I can sleep on the floor tonight," Wyatt offered quickly. "Until we have time to make other arrangements." Lillian's eyes met his uncertainty mingling with something else. Trust perhaps.
"That's not necessary, Wyatt. We're married now, but perhaps we could take things slowly." Relief and disappointment wared within him. Of course, he agreed. However you're comfortable. Later, as they lay side by side in the narrow bed, Emma sleeping peacefully in her makeshift cradle nearby, Wyatt was acutely aware of Lillian's presence, the faint scent of lavender soap, the gentle rhythm of her breathing, the warmth of her body just inches from his.
They had changed for bed with awkward modesty. Wyatt stepping outside while Lillian dawned her night gown, then Lillian turning her back as he changed into clean clothes he used for sleeping. "Good night, Wyatt," Lillian whispered in the darkness. "Good night, Lillian," he replied, his voice unexpectedly husky. "Sleep well." As he drifted toward sleep, Wyatt reflected on the strange turn his life had taken.
A week ago, he had been a solitary cowboy with no responsibilities beyond his duties to the ranch. Now he was a husband and stepfather with a family depending on him for protection and support. The thought should have terrified him. Instead, he found himself filled with a quiet determination to be worthy of the trust Lillian had placed in him, and a cautious hope that their practical arrangement might, in time, become something deeper. The first weeks of their marriage established a routine that suited them both.