You can't promise that." "No," she admitted. But I know more about childbirth than most. I assisted my father with dozens of deliveries. I know the danger signs, what to watch for, and we'll get the best midwife in the territory when the time comes. I'm scared, he admitted against her shoulder.
So am I. But we're stronger together than apart. Remember? They didn't tell Sophie immediately, wanting to be sure the pregnancy would continue. But children have ways of knowing things.
And by December, Sophie was asking pointed questions about why Mama Clara was tired all the time and couldn't stand the smell of bacon. "Are you sick?" Sophie asked one morning, finding Clara bent over the wash basin. "Not exactly sick," Clara managed. Sophie's eyes went wide. "Are you going to have a baby?" Clara and Ethan exchanged glances.
"How did you know that?" Ethan asked. Tommy's mama was like this before his little sister came. She said it was called morning sickness, but that was silly because it happened all day. "Yes," Clara said carefully. "There's going to be a baby in the spring." Sophie was quiet for a long moment, and Clara's heart sank.
Of course, the child would feel threatened. She'd already lost one mother. Now she might feel like she was losing her place in this new family. "Will you still love me?" Sophie asked in a small voice. "When you have your own baby?" Clara knelt awkwardly, pulling Sophie close.
Oh, sweetheart, you are my own. You're my daughter in every way that matters. This baby will be your brother or sister, but you'll always be my first child. The one who taught me how to be a mother. Really?
Really? And you know what? This baby is going to need a big sister to teach them everything. How to gather eggs without getting pecked, how to ride a horse, how to be brave. Do you think you could do that?
Sophie straightened, responsibility settling on her small shoulders. I could do that. I'd be a good big sister. The best, Ethan agreed, pulling them both into his embrace. As winter settled over the ranch, Clara's pregnancy progressed normally despite Ethan's constant worry.
He watched her like a hawk, insisting she rest more, eat more, avoid any strain. It was both touching and occasionally infuriating. I'm pregnant, not made of glass, she told him one January morning when he tried to prevent her from carrying a bucket of water. Humor me, he said, taking the bucket. I need to feel like I'm doing something to keep you safe.