Me, too, he said simply, before claiming her lips again in a kiss that spoke of growing affection and the promise of something deeper. That night marked a turning point in their relationship. Though Yates still slept in his separate room, respecting the boundaries of their original arrangement, their days were now filled with small touches, shared smiles, and the growing certainty that their partnership had evolved into something neither had expected, but both increasingly cherished. January brought more snow and increasingly frigid temperatures. As Delilah's pregnancy advanced into its final weeks, her discomfort grew, making sleep difficult and movement cumbersome.
Yates shouldered more of the daily chores without being asked, his concern for her evident in a hundred small ways, ensuring the cabin was always warm, fashioning a more comfortable chair for her from an old barrel and some blankets, reading to her from her favorite books when her back ache too much for her to focus on the words herself. They made one final trip to Clearwater before the baby's arrival, stocking up on supplies and ensuring they had everything the medical guide recommended for the birth. The journey, though only 10 miles each way, exhausted Delilah, and she was grateful for Yates's strong arm supporting her as they made their purchases at the general store. Mrs. Johnson, the storekeeper's wife, watched them with curious eyes.
It was their fourth visit to Clearwater since settling in the valley, and the town's people had accepted their story of being a married couple without much question. Still, Delilah sometimes caught speculative glances, particularly when people noticed the timing of her pregnancy in relation to their arrival. "When's the little one due?" Mrs. Johnson asked as she wrapped parcels of sugar and coffee. February, Delilah replied, one hand resting on her pronounced belly.
First baby's always the hardest, the older woman observed. You got someone to help you through it. Before Delilah could respond, Yates stepped forward. She has me, he said, his voice carrying a protective note that left no room for further questions. Mrs.
Johnson raised an eyebrow but nodded. Well, if you need anything, anything at all, you send your man here to fetch me. I've helped bring more babies into this world than I can count. Thank you, Delilah said sincerely, touched by the offer. We appreciate that.
As they drove home through the snowcovered landscape, Delilah found herself contemplating the reality of what lay ahead. In a matter of weeks, she would bring a child into the world Frederick's child, though she found herself thinking of it less and less in those terms. The baby had become simply hers, and increasingly in some undefined way, Yates's as well. "Your quiet," Yates observed as the homestead came into view, smoke curling from the cabin's chimney where they'd banked the fire before leaving. Just thinking about the baby, Delilah admitted.
About what happens when it arrives? Yates glanced at her, his expression careful. Are you worried about the birth? A little, she conceded. But more about after about what this child will call you, how we explain?
She trailed off, uncertain how to express the complex web of emotions surrounding their unusual situation. Yates guided the horses to a halt before the cabin, turning to face her fully. "What would you like the child to call me?" he asked directly. The question caught Delilah offguard. "I I don't know," she admitted.