Written in 68 minutes. Went over because it was the ending and I wanted to do it right 😛

Jason checked the latch on the horse stall, ensuring it was fastened firmly. Over his shoulder, he heard footsteps.

“Do you know how many replies that advertisement received last year?”

Mystified, Jason turned to find his cousin several paces away, glaring at him. “What?”

“When I decided to find you a wife, it’s not like I chose the first woman who replied,” Dillon said, and Jason clenched his jaw. “I took it seriously. There were twenty women. Elizabeth was the only person I wrote back to.”

“I don’t see what that has to do with anything—”

“I knew from the second I opened her letter that she was the right person—”

“You recognized her name—”

Dillon dismissed that with a snort. “Yeah, okay. Let’s credit all that’s happened this last year by suggesting the only reason I picked her was the name. Maybe it made her letter stand out, maybe it’s why I took a second look. But it’s not why I invited her here.”

Jason grimaced, shook his head. “I don’t know why you’re bringing this up—”

“I spent a lot of time and energy last year finding you someone who would suit. She had to be devoted to her family, but she also had to know how to handle loss. How to deal with grief—”

“Don’t—”

“Shut up,” Dillon said, and Jason closed his mouth, realizing that his cousin was truly angry with him. “We can argue all day long whether I had any right to do what I did, and you’d probably come out on the winning side. But I didn’t do any of that lightly. I wanted you to be happy. I could have sent for the first woman who replied, but I didn’t. And I found you someone who suits you down to the bone. Don’t deny it—” he warned when Jason opened his mouth. “Elizabeth fits. She can handle all the stupid committee stuff that Grandmother thinks is important, she works hard, and she loves her family. Which includes you, jackass.”

Jason exhaled on a harsh breath. “I’m not doing with this you. It’s none of your concern.” He started towards the door of the stables, brushing past his cousin. “You took a risk, nearly humiliated Elizabeth, and put me in an impossible position—”

“It was a risk, but until tonight, I didn’t regret a damn thing. I found you the perfect wife, but I definitely didn’t do right by Elizabeth. She deserves better.”

Jason’s chest tightened and he whirled to face Dillon. “What the hell does that mean—”

“She’s in the house, practically in tears, sure that she’s ruined her marriage by asking you for more than you’ve promised. She’s burdened you with the weight of her love because you don’t feel the same. You told her so—”

“I never—” Jason swallowed hard. “That’s not what I told her—”

“You didn’t reject her?” Dillon wanted to know. “You didn’t tell her not to say it, to keep it to herself?”

“I—” He dragged a hand through his hair. “She thinks she loves me, but I know it’s not—it’s gratitude. For not sending her away last year. For Cameron—”

“Gratitude,” Dillon sneered. “Aren’t we full of ourselves? Then you don’t love her, either? All you feel is grateful? She’s given you a son to love. Another child. She’s made Grandmother happy. She’s impressed all the busybodies in town. She’s learning how to train horses—yeah, you have a lot to be grateful for.”

“I—”

“You and I both know it’s bullshit. You’re so stupid in love with her you can’t see straight, but she can’t use those same facts to be in love with you back. Moron,” Dillon said. “You make her cry again, Jason, and we’re going to go another round. I don’t know what the hell is wrong with you, but I worked too hard for you screw it up. So fix it.”

—

His cousin’s words rattled in Jason’s head as he returned to the house and managed to get through dinner. Elizabeth was careful around him, her eyes strained, her movements awkward. His grandmother had clearly taken against him—Lila sent him  several disappointed looks over dinner, and Dillon all but glowered.

Cameron was the glue that kept the evening upbeat. He talked about his pony, about his dog, about learning to read, about being a big brother, about the snow, about being sick — He filled the uncomfortable silences and brought light to his mother and grandmother.

Jason avoided saying goodnight to his family by excusing himself to put Cameron in bed for the night—fleeing like a coward, obviously, but he had no notion what to say. How to put it right.

Dillon had the right of it — Elizabeth was the center of everything. His family, the work on the ranch, and in a few more years, likely even the town itself. She’d slid in so neatly with all facets of his life that Jason hadn’t really appreciated how difficult it must have been for her.

But his world had centered around Michael, once, hadn’t it? Spending time with his nephew, finding an excuse to bring him to the ranch, planning all the ways he’d show Michael the world. Purchasing a pony long before he was old enough to ride—

Jason read to Cameron until his son’s eyes drifted close, his hand curled around the stuffed dog, the living one resting at the foot the bed, snoring softly. Jason tucked the counterpane around him, then took a deep breath.

It was time to face his wife and, as Dillon had commanded, fix what he’d broken.

—

When she’d retired for the evening, Elizabeth had nearly retreated to the bed, pretending to be asleep as she had the night before. But Lila had advised her to find some way to clear the air with Jason, to move forward. There was Cameron and this child to consider, and oh, Elizabeth wanted more children.

She wanted that ease back—the comfort and sweetness they’d brought to each other before she’d opened her mouth and ruined it all. Jason was a good man who cared about her, and he loved their children.

So she sat in the chair before the fire, working with her needlepoint—it was still a bit awkward as she retrained herself to avoid the use of her index finger, but it was more than she’d had before.

Jason came in, halting at the door, his expression blank. Elizabeth lowered the hoop to rest on her belly. “Cameron is asleep?”

“Yes,” Jason said, a bit warily. But then he came and sat in the chair across from her, both angled slightly towards the fireplace. She’d miss this when the weather turned warmer — there’d be no reason to sit before a cozy fire and speak of the day that had passed or the one yet to come. But perhaps it would be for the best if they didn’t have these moments—

Should she just pretend it hadn’t happened? Ask about the horses or the nursery? Or should she clear the air—

“I’m sorry,”  Jason said, breaking into her musing. Elizabeth blinked, then focused on him. “For yesterday. I hurt you—”

“I’m sorry for making you uncomfortable.” Her voice sounded strong, but her fingers trembled, the needle slipping. “That was not my intent. I just—I wanted to share how I felt.” Elizabeth met his eyes. “I never meant for my words to feel like a burden. They shouldn’t, you know. I don’t require you to share my feelings.”

“Elizabeth—”

“Love should be a gift. Offered freely. And mine is.” Here it was. The clearing of the air, the words spilling from her lips with little thought or consideration with what came next. “It needn’t change things between us. I’ve told you how I feel, and that’s—it’s what I wanted. I promise I won’t say it again—”

“That’s not—” With a grimace, he leaned forward, bracing elbows on his knees as he bent his head, dragged his hands through his hair. “I hurt you,” he repeated.

“It’s all right—”

“It’s not.” He rose to his feet, all but stalked across the room. “You could die,” he muttered, and she frowned. “Women do, you know. In childbirth.”

“Yes—”

“And the baby—” Jason shook his head. He gazed out the window, over the dark landscape that was scarcely visible. “Dillon was right,” he added, and her confusion deepened. “You’ve been the perfect wife since the moment you stepped off that train—”

“You aren’t—” Elizabeth made a face, her bewilderment shifting to irritation. “You needn’t feel guilty for not loving me. That was never my intent—not in the saying of the words nor in anything else I’ve done since I’ve arrived. I—” Her face flushed. “I wanted to be a good wife so you’d never regret—”

“I don’t feel guilty,” Jason cut in, turning back to face her. “I feel—” He paused. “Unworthy,” he said finally. “I’ve done nothing to deserve all you’ve given me. And you owe me nothing. There’s no regret to be had, Elizabeth. I’ve told you that, over and over again. When I asked you to marry me, it had little to do with how you got here. I never made any damn sacrifice—”

His face was flushed, his brows pinched together, and something hopeful began to swirl. He really believed that, she realized. There’d been no sacrifice on his part. “Before the lake,” she said. “Before the lake, I worried all the time if I’d be good enough for you—”

“Damn it—”

“But I stopped. Because you looked happy that day. And you made me a promise that day would just be ordinary. That we’d have such memories, so many that Cameron wouldn’t remember just one. But I told you I’d never forget it.” Elizabeth rose to her feet, set aside the needlework. “Because I loved you that day. Yes, for the kindness you showed Cameron. To me. For the gentle way you taught him, and how you made me feel when I was in the water, in your arms.”

His expression eased as she approached him. “I’ve worried,” she said softly, sliding her arms around his waist. “Because I was scared you didn’t love me back. I was jealous of any woman who might have had your attention—”

“There wasn’t—” Jason framed her face, his touch soft against her skin. “There wasn’t anyone but you.”

“But I wasn’t sure of it, you see. Until these last few weeks. I’ve grown as large as a house—”

“You haven’t—”

“And I’ve driven you senseless with all my small worries about Cameron, the nursery, the horses—” She smiled, because it was so lovely to just know. “Yesterday, my love for you just spilled over, and I had to share it. Because it made me so happy. But it worried you. It scared you.”

“Elizabeth.”

“Because you love me, too.” A tear slid down her cheek, cool and quiet. He brushed it away with the tip of his thumb. “And you’ve had such a hard lesson to learn—that what you love—who you love—we have such a finite time in this world. And sometimes, our time ends before anyone is ready to let us go.”

Jason rested his forehead against hers. “Is anyone ever ready?”

“Maybe not.” She slid her hands up his chest, her palm resting over his heart. “But I would rather have a short life with love than a long without it. I love you, Jason.” His chest trembled beneath her hand. “And all I wish in this world is to hear the words from you. Just once.”

“I love you.” He captured her mouth for a quick, but soft caress. “I love you,” he repeated, and a soft sob slipped past her lips. She’d worried he’d say the words and she wouldn’t believe them, but oh, she did. He’d said it, and it was true, and it was real— “You won’t hear it just once, I promise.”

“The words are lovely, and I thank you for them. But you’ve shown me in so many ways, small and giant, that they’re true.” Elizabeth pressed her hand to his cheek. “And we’ll hold on to it for as long as we can.”

“A lifetime won’t be enough,” Jason said, taking her hand in his and kissing her fingertips. “I will always love you.”

—

Spring had blossomed by the first week of May. Dillon drove his grandmother back to the ranch as Lila bubbled over with happiness and plans for the wonderful summer getting to know her new great-grandson.

Dillon was feeling pretty smug when they arrived, and his cousin greeted them, tired but happy. He’d been responsible for all of it, he thought, meeting the new bundle of joy who looked like a red wrinkly mess to him. He’d found Elizabeth and brought her here. And then when Jason had nearly faltered, Dillon had fixed it all.

Lila returned from visiting with the new mother above the stairs and they went back to the carriage. He helped her over wheel, then swung up next to her. “Well, that’s a relief. For Elizabeth to be safely delivered, and all in good health.”

“Yes.” Lila smiled. “Your cousin is all settled. It’s your turn.”

Dillon dropped the reins. “What?”

“It’s time for you to write another advertisement.”

He paled. “Another?”

Lila snorted, then set the reins in her grandson’s hands. “You don’t really think I ever believed Jason advertised for a wife, do you? Foolish boy.”

Feeling less smug and vaguely ill, Dillon took his grandmother home.

In the bedroom, Elizabeth sat propped up against the headboard, cradling the day old newborn. Jason lifted Cameron onto the bed beside them both, then sat on the edge. “What do you think of your little brother?”

“He’s awfully red and angry looking,” Cameron said, peering at the swaddled bundle. “Not a lot of fun yet. He can’t play with me.”

“Not yet, darling. But soon. You’ll have to help us teach him everything he needs to know. How to talk, to run, to play—”

“I know. I know. Big brother. Big responsibilities.” Cameron crawled in close to her, laying his head on her shoulder. “I have to make my promises now.”

“Promises?” Elizabeth echoed, meeting Jason’s eyes. “What do you mean?”

“You made promises to Papa and he made them, to you. Then I had to make promises, too. Papa, you told her I made my promises, right? Because I’m a Morgan, too. Just like Mama.”

“At the wedding,” Jason clarified. He raised his brows, suggesting he’d explain more later. “Cam—”

“He’s too little to make promises yet, so later for him. But I can. So I promise to be a good brother. To take care of you and help you learn to scoop the poop and clean up. And to find you a dog and pony of your own if you want but it’s okay if you share mine.” Cameron furrowed his brow. “I don’t know how to read a lot yet, but I know more than you. So I’ll read to you like Papa does. Or maybe we can do that together.” He looked at his father expectantly. “Right?”

“Of course.”

“That’s some lovely promises you made,” Elizabeth said. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, Mama. And Papa. And baby Jake.” Cameron leaned down to kiss his brother’s cheek. “And Pip, too. And Alice. And Cinnamon—”

Jacob Martin Morgan yawned and then settled in for a nap, falling asleep before his brother could finish listing all the things he loved.

THE END

+21

Written in 65 minutes.

The weather continued to improve as February faded into March, and Jason was relieved when the last of the snow had melted, leaving the ranch free of dangerous ice, and if a doctor was needed, they could arrive safely.

Elizabeth fretted over nearly everything as the birth of their child drew closer. She thought they had maybe eight weeks left, and worried that the cradle wouldn’t be ready or that the room next to theirs wouldn’t be cleared out enough for the nursery, or that Cameron would feel jealous over a new sibling—

Each morning, it seemed to Jason that as soon as Elizabeth opened her eyes, there was a concern, as if she was being chased in her dreams by a never ending list of problems. He’d grown accustomed to spending a few minutes each day reassuring her that the cradle was already finished, that he and Johnny had already cleared out the room they’d chosen for the nursery, and all Cameron could talk about was being a big brother—

This morning, he opened his eyes to the birds chirping outside the window, the streaks of pink and orange outside the window as the sun rose beyond the horizon. And for once, Elizabeth lay silent next to him, still sleeping. Her long hair, braided and tied with a yellow ribbon, lay across her chest. One of her hands curled up next to her cheek and the other resting comfortably on the bulge of her belly. That made him smile — Elizabeth had felt the baby move and shift, but Jason had managed to miss them so far — he and the baby kept a different schedule.

Jason gingerly slid from the bed, hoping he wouldn’t disturb her. It was difficult for her time sleep sometimes, and she’d been up and down through the night. He wanted her to rest as much as possible—

But he made it no further than the dresser to pull out clothing for the day when he heard the bed clothes rustling behind him. He looked back and Elizabeth was trying to sit up—Dropping the trousers in his hands, Jason went to her side and offered a hand.

“I feel like one of the ships back home,” she grumbled, reluctantly letting him pull her to her feet. “The ones bound for the St. Lawrence and the Atlantic. Big, clumsy, taking up space—”

“You’re none of those things,” Jason assured her, touching the end of her braid and flicking it of her shoulder. “And you don’t have to get up—”

“No, no, I do. I have so much to do before your grandmother comes to dinner tomorrow—” Elizabeth moved across the room, towards her own wardrobe, her face already set in a grimace. “I want to show her the nursery and, oh, Cameron and Pip got into the woodshed yesterday—and they tracked mud through the living room—”

“All taken care of.”

“I don’t know what’s gotten into him,” Elizabeth continued to grumble as she sorted through the handful of dresses that would fit. “These all look like sackclothes—”

Jason kept his mouth closed. The first time she’d complained about her clothing, he’d offered to buy her anything she wanted. Which she took as his agreement that she resembled one of the cows in the barn. The second time, he’d told her she looked beautiful just as she was—which was apparently also his agreement that she was a cow.

Simpler to say nothing and stick to the one topic he knew he could handle. “Cam’s just excited about the weather. He knows it means we’ll be back working the horses. And he’s grown two inches since last fall.”

“Almost tall enough,” Elizabeth murmured. “A few more inches. He’ll be over the moon.” She sighed, rubbing her belly. “Still, he has better manners than he’s shown these last few days. I just have to—” Her eyes widened and locked on his. “Oh—oh—come here—”

He was at her side in seconds, his heart thudding, his throat tight. “What is it—”

Elizabeth snagged his hand and flattened it against the side of her belly. Jason drew his brows together in confusion at first—but then it registered what was pressing back against his palm. There was barely any strength behind it—it was little more than a gentle push—

Their baby. Kicking against his hand. Jason raised his other hand to double his chances of feeling it. “That’s—it’s the baby.” He grinned, feeling another kick—stronger this time. And then against his other had, what felt like an arm. There really was a baby growing inside of his wife. Their baby.

“Oh, I was hoping you would get to—” Her voice faltered, and he glanced up, worried when he saw her eyes damp with tears. “I’ve waited for weeks for you to feel the baby, and now you can, and it’s so amazing.” She cupped his jaw and leaned in, their mouths brushing gently at first, then Jason drew her a bit closer and deepened the embrace. When Elizabeth stepped back, her eyes stayed closed another second or so, and then opened with a starry-eyed expression. “I love you.”

Startled, Jason stepped back and his hands fell back to his side. He stared at her for a long moment, her cheeks flushed, her expression expectant. “You don’t have to say that,” he said finally.

Elizabeth frowned, shook her head. “But—”

“You don’t have to—” Jason started to say again, then swallowed hard. “It’s all right. I don’t need to hear that.”

Her mouth closed, and her cheeks lost some color. “I—”

“I—I have things to handle,” Jason said in a rush, before going back to his dresser, yanking out the first change of clothes he found. He hurried out of the room, not wanting to know what Elizabeth might say next.

He changed  clothes in the next room, where the nursery was half-furnished, the cradle he’d made tucked in a corner. Jason dragged his clothes on, his heart pounding so loud, it echoed in his eyes. He knew Elizabeth had meant well by her declaration and he’d nearly blurted out the response she’d clearly hoped for. But he couldn’t do it. Couldn’t accept the words when he knew that so much of what she felt was mixed up with gratitude. How many times over the last year had she spoken of his decision to offer marriage? Her worries that he’d sacrificed too much, her promises that he wouldn’t regret it—

No. He couldn’t stand to hear the words and know they weren’t true. They were much better off leaving their feelings unspoken.

—

Elizabeth nearly crawled back into the bed after Jason’s escape, her cheeks hot with mortification. She hadn’t meant to say the words—they’d just fallen from her lips at the way he’d lit up feeling the baby kick. Everything she felt had bubbled up and spilled over—

But it was just as she’d feared. He didn’t want those words. He didn’t feel the same way about her, and now he knew how she felt—oh, this was terrible.

Somehow, Elizabeth found the courage to dress and prepare for the day, to smile at Alice and Cameron at the breakfast table. To make excuses when Jason avoided the house most of the day, only coming to fetch Cameron to help muck out some of the stables. He’d avoided her eyes and Elizabeth hadn’t been able to look at him either.

Why, oh, why had she said anything? She ought to have kept it to herself. After all all the wonderful ways he’d changed her life and given her so much, Elizabeth had had no business burdening him with her feelings. Jason was so kind — God, what if he had spent most of the day trying to convince himself to return her words? To say he loved her so that she’d feel better?

She’d rather die than hear words he didn’t feel.

“You seem quiet tonight, Miss Elizabeth,” Alice said, setting down a bowl of soup. “You sure you don’t want to wait for Mister Jason to have supper?”

“Oh. No.” Elizabeth swirled her spoon in the creamy dish. “No. I’m feeling a bit tired, and I’ll turn in before he comes in. It’s a busy time—the thaw—”

“Not so busy a body can’t spend time with his wife,” Alice said, but it was a grumble offered as she left the dining room.

Elizabeth did exactly as she said, going to bed nearly an hour before she would normally, and when Jason finally came in much later, the way his footsteps hesitated at the threshold caused the tears to well up anew, but she squeezed them back, hoping her breathing would fool him.

The footsteps resumed, coming towards the bed. The mattress dipped beneath his weight and Jason stretched out next to her, laying flat while she laid on her side, turned away.

It was a terrible long night, and Elizabeth had only herself to blame.

—

The next morning, Jason decided that they ought to just pretend the whole scene had never happened. Especially as his grandmother and cousin were coming to dinner that evening, but Elizabeth seemed more upset than he’d expected. She wouldn’t look at him, not even over the breakfast table where Cameron bounced with excitement about the impending visit from his great-grandmother that evening. Elizabeth was so subdued that Alice sent him dark looks, indicating that Jason was fooling no one.

The carriage carrying his family drove through the ranch gate as the afternoon slid into early evening. Cameron waited on the porch with him, the little Greyhound Pip sitting expectantly at his side.

“Well, look at this handsome welcome.” Lila beamed as Dillon escorted her up the walk. She kissed Jason’s cheek, then leaned down for Cameron. “And it’s good to see you, too, Pip.” The dog yipped, as if reply and she laughed. To Jason, she said, “I hope Elizabeth is inside resting comfortably.”

“She’s supposed to be,” Jason said, holding the door open for his grandmother. “But you know it’s difficult to keep her in one place for long.”

Elizabeth was in the parlor, her face smiling but her eyes still carried a lingering somberness that cut at Jason. He’d hurt her the day before, rejecting her words. Maybe he ought to have just accepted them and said nothing—

“Hello, daring,” Lila said, pressing her cheek to Elizabeth’s in greeting. “And how is my youngest great-grandchild?”

“Restless,” Elizabeth said, touching her belly, hidden slightly beneath the dark blue dress with its higher waistline. “He’s awake when the world sleeps, and sleeps in the day.”

“He?” Lila echoed.

“I’m not sure when I decided it was a boy,” Elizabeth said, her smile a bit more genuine now. “But I just do. I knew with Cameron.”

“I want nothing more than a healthy baby,” Lila declared, “but I must admit, I was looking forward to seeing my Jason cope with a little girl with flowers and lace.”  She smiled at her grandson, the blue eyes they shared twinkling. “Well, maybe next time.”

Jason’s lips curved, but now he wondered if that would even be possible. Would there be another child?

Lila’s smile faltered slightly, and she looked back at Elizabeth, who dropped her eyes. “Dillon,” she said, not actually looking at him, “I think you ought to take your cousin to the stables. Put the horse up while I visit with granddaughter-in-law.”

“Grandmother,” Jason began, but Lila arched a brow, and he closed his mouth. “Of course.” He turned and left, not waiting for Dillon who eventually quit the room. A moment later, they heard the door close.

“And Cameron, take Pip into the kitchen. I think you deserve a cookie.”

“Yay!” Cameron punched the air and then raced out of the room, the dog yipping behind him.

“Now, my dear,” Lila drew Elizabeth to the sofa. “Tell me what’s happened.”

“Everything is wonderful—” Elizabeth started but her throat closed, and she couldn’t push out another word. She curled her fingers into her palm. “I fear I’ve made a terrible error. I—I spoke rashly, and it’s poisoned things between us.”

“Ah, it happens in all marriages,” Lila said. “You mustn’t worry so—”

“I told him that I loved him, and he said that I shouldn’t have said it. That he didn’t need to hear it.” A tear slid down her cheek. “He doesn’t feel the same, you see, and now I’ve burdened him with that—he doesn’t love me. And he can scarcely look at me now.”

—

Dillon had not, in fact, followed his cousin out the door. Instead, he’d lingered by the doorway, hoping to learn the cause of Jason’s glum expression and Elizabeth’s quiet. Then he’d heard Elizabeth’s hushed confession, the words shaky — he thought she must be crying. You could hear it in the words.

He scowled at what she said and tossed a dark look towards the direction of the stables. He’d worked hard to give his cousin a happy ending, and he’d be damned if Jason screwed it up now.

“Idiot,” Dillon muttered, and strode out the door, careful not to let it make a sound behind him. It was time to take matters into his own hands.

Again.

+19

Written in 65 minutes.

Cameron shook off the vestiges of his illness in rather short order, only remaining in bed for another day to get some much needed rest.  On a bright morning in early February, Cameron bounced down the stairs into the kitchen where he was sure to sneak a rasher of bacon from a distracted Alice before taking Pip out for a quick watering of the snowy ground.

In truth, he recovered far more quickly from actually being ill than his anxious parents did. Elizabeth returned to tucking him in every night, listening as Jason read from Great Expectations, and they both lingered in his room until Cameron fell asleep. And during the night, Jason more than once went into the room while the little boy rested to be sure the fever didn’t return. Elizabeth wasn’t surprised when she woke some some mornings to find Jason sleeping in the chair by Cameron.

She pondered the situation over the next few weeks as storms came and went, and the child she carried made itself more widely known. She tired easily, taking long naps in the early afternoon, and ate more than she had in her entire life. Jason’s smiles were tighter than they’d been once, rarely reaching his eyes. Cameron’s illness had been upsetting, but she knew that it must have caused memories of another little boy who had survived to resurface.

Elizabeth left Cameron in the kitchen, grinning and dusted with flour as Alice showed him how to knead dough for their bread and went out to the porch that wrapped around the house. Jason stood there, dressed in nothing than his shirtsleeves. The man claimed not to feel the cold—

She grimaced — lucky man. She was already chilled by the time she reached him at the railing, clutching her shawl more tightly. “Cameron is helping Alice with the weekly baking, so apologies if the bread is less than edible.”

Jason turned at her words, and his brow drew down. “You shouldn’t be out here—”

“It’s not as cold as it was a few days ago, and at least I can claim to be wearing wool.” Elizabeth touched the thin cotton of his shirt. “If one of us is to catch their death from the cold, it’s you.”

Jason sighed, then looked out again over the horizon, to the pond frozen over for the season, to the distance foothills of the Rocky Mountains, their snow-capped majesty barely visible. The sky was a clear, beautiful blue with no cloud to be found. She hoped that the worst of winter was behind them, though she’d been told snow could continue to fall into April.

“Johnny said the road into town was passable again,” Elizabeth said. “I’d hoped we could go and see Lila on Sunday. We haven’t been since the assembly, and I know she must miss you and Cameron.” He didn’t answer. “Jason?”

“I’d prefer if we stuck close to the ranch until winter ended. You shouldn’t be traveling in your condition—”

“It’s hardly traveling, and I was operating a textile loom until the day Cameron was born, and then back the day after.”

Jason’s mouth pinched. “The day?” he echoed.

“Yes. He was born in the late afternoon, and he was kind enough to wait until I had completed my work. A quick and easy delivery, all things considered. It was difficult to find someone to care for a baby so young, but I managed.”

“You went back to work the day after,” he muttered turning back to the horizon. “Your parents should be ashamed of themselves. My mother rested a week after Emily was born, and Caroline—” He closed his mouth.

“Women have been managing childbirth for centuries, Jason. Yes, it can be dangerous, and I ought to have been more scared. But I didn’t know any better, which was a blessing in many ways. I had little choice. The only way to have more support from my family would have been to live my life their way. I couldn’t have given my little boy away like he didn’t matter.”  She paused. “So a bit of a ride into town won’t hurt.”

“If that’s what you want, then that’s that we’ll do.” He glanced down at the curve of her belly. “You said sometime in May, didn’t you?”

“Yes.” She hesitated. “When you will begin building the cradle? Will you wait for warmer weather?”

Jason nodded. “Yes. It won’t take above a week—”

“Or we could reconsider Lila’s offer,” Elizabeth said in a rush. “For the family cradle.”

“No,” he said almost before she’d finished speaking, very nearly interrupting her. “No. I told you. I’d prefer to make it—for Cameron to help—”

“You said so before, but—” She tipped her head. “You slept in that cradle. So did your brother and sister. Your father. Wouldn’t it be lovely to have—”

“It doesn’t belong to me. I don’t want it.” Jason took her by the elbow. “You look chilled. We should go inside—”

“It belongs to Michael, doesn’t it?”

He stopped, dropped his hand. He wouldn’t look at her. “Yes.”

“It ought to have been his. The eldest child. Your brother to his son.” He continued to stare straight ahead. “Dillon—when Cameron fell ill—he told me about Michael. How you cared for him—”

“I don’t want to—”

“I know. But I think you might need to. Even if it’s just once. Dillon said you were with him every moment of his illness. Holding him until his last.”

His shoulders were tight, and his expression might have been carved from stone, but his eyes were shattered when he finally met her gaze. “Yes.”

“And then you washed him, carried him to the coffin, and then to the burial.” Her throat was tight. “He was never alone. Not for a moment.”

“He was too young to be scared,” Jason said finally. “He fought the medicine. Fought me. Fought everyone. Until he had no strength left. He just…” He looked away again. “You can’t know what it’s like to hold a child in your arms, and actually feel the life leave them. There’s a terrible stillness—it’s different than sleep.”

Elizabeth exhaled slowly, tears burning her eyes. “No. I can’t know. And I hope to God I never do. I am so sorry for his loss.”

“He wanted to play,” Jason murmured. “To go outside. It was the last thing he said. Just before the end. Could we go outside?” He dragged a hand down his face. “I don’t know what good it does—”

“Because a few weeks ago you held another little boy and cared for him every moment of his illness. Making sure he was never alone. That if, God forbid, he left us, you’d be there to hold him.”

“It’s not the same. I don’t—I’m not replacing Michael with Cameron—” His voice was rough as he turned to face her. “You can’t think that—”

“I didn’t—”

“I was very careful about that. I wouldn’t let Lila send any toys or things that belonged to him—and I never took Michael fishing or riding—the pony—”

“Jason—” Elizabeth put her hands on his forearms, and he closed his mouth, the strange rush of words cutting off abruptly. “You’re an amazing father, and I know that Cameron loves you. He couldn’t love you more if you’d been present every day of his life. And Michael is a part of your family. He will always be part of you. You needn’t hide anything about him. And it isn’t replacing him to love Cameron or let your children use his possessions.”

“I—” Jason took her hands, closing them between his larger palms. “I know that logically—”

“We don’t have to use the cradle. I like the idea of Cameron helping you build something his little brother or sister will use. I just worry if you keep holding in this grief, Jason, it will continue to sneak up on you the way it has.” Her eyes searched his. “You rarely speak of the family you lost.”

“It’s difficult,” Jason said after a long moment. “We were—I wasn’t on the best of terms with my father or grandfather at the end. I had left home, started the ranch. My father wanted me to go into business in San Francisco and my grandmother wanted me to take over the mines—” He shook his head. “And I just wanted the open space and to be left on my own.” He waited a beat. “By the time word got to me out here, by the time I got into town,  my parents had already died. My aunt, too. AJ and Caroline lingered for a few more days. And then Emily got sick—”

“Alice told me you’d thought Michael was spared.”

“He hadn’t had any contact with anyone—they’d kept the nursery maid clear, but somehow—” Jason stopped. “It was Michael, I think, that killed my grandfather. He’d lingered, fought harder, I think, but once Michael was sick, all the fight just disappeared. Michael was the last. I don’t know how my grandmother survived burying a husband, two children, two grandchildren, and a great-grandson.”

“You and Dillon, of course.” Elizabeth wound her arm through Jason’s and let him lead her back into the house. “She’s special, your grandmother. I might have crawled into my bed and stayed here.”

“No. You wouldn’t have.” Jason brought her hand to his mouth, brushed his lips across her knuckles. “Look at what you did for Cameron.”

“You do what has to be done. And worry about everything else later.”

—

The conversation they’d shared on the porch lingered with Jason for days, as he thought about how much lighter he felt, having acknowledged that some of the fear driving him during those dark days of Cameron’s fever had stemmed from the misery of Michael’s death.

He’d been so terrified that he’d feel Cameron’s body go limp, that he’d feel the heartbeat slow and stop—but he hadn’t. And that was important. Jason had to remember that Cameron hadn’t died in his arms. There would be no miniature coffin for his son, no burial in the graveyard.

A few days later, Cameron was excited when Jason took him into the carpentry shed attached to the stables. The little boy practically hopped and skipped along the thawing ground — they hadn’t had another snowfall in the few days and the temperature had risen above freezing.

“I get to cut stuff,” he told Johnny on the pathway. “Papa will let me use the big knife.”

“No, I won’t—” Jason put a hand on Cameron’s shoulder and edged him into the shed. “You’re going to sand things down. And maybe, maybe,” he stressed, “I’ll show you how to carve your initials.”

“Initials?” Cameron’s sandy brows drew together as he watched Jason look over the collection of wood, and gather pieces that would suit them. “What are those?”

“The first letter of your last name and first name. CM.” Absently, Jason reached for a woodturner from the shelf—then caught Cameron’s bewildered look. “Cameron Morgan.”

“Mama say I’m Cameron Webber. When we rode on the train, she made me say it over and over and over and over again.” Beleagured, he sighed. “Case I get lost, so I could tell everyone I Cameron Webber, son of Elizabeth Webber, bound for Port Charles, Colorado.” He beamed. “I remembered.”

Jason nodded. They hadn’t discussed it yet, but likely because he’d assumed it was understood. “That was smart. And I’m glad you didn’t get lost  before you and your mother got to me. But now you’re here. And we agreed a long time ago I’m the papa and you’re the son.”

“Oh.” Cameron considered that. “And Mama is the mama.”

“Yes. Do you remember the church last year? You and Mama came down the long aisle with me, and we said words?”

“Yes. Because I got my room. I never had a room before. Not all to myself. And then I got Cinders. And Pip. The words changed things?”

“They did.” Jason knelt in front of Cameron. “I made promises to your mother, but to you, too. They’re called vows. People say them when you get married. You promise to honor and cherish. To take care of each other. And when you marry someone with a child, like I did, you make those promises to the child. Your mother became Elizabeth Morgan, and you Cameron Morgan. When you go to school next year, you’ll answer to that name.”

“I didn’t make any promises.” Cameron looked worried now. “I shoulda made promises.”

“You don’t—”

“No. No. I make promises. Um—” He screwed up his face. “I don’t know what to promise. You need to tell me. I’ll do it.”

“All I need from you, Cameron,” Jason told him, “is a promise to be kind to other people, to look after your mother, and to be yourself.”

“That doesn’t seem hard.” Cameron nodded. “Okay. I promise to be kind, take care of you and Mama, and be me.” He beamed. “Good. Now I’m Cameron Morgan.”

Jason tousled his hair, charmed as always by Cameron’s easy acceptance and zest for life. “You already were, but I’m glad we made the promises.”

“We keep promises,” Cameron said soberly. “Mama said.”

“Mama’s right. Let’s get this cradle started or your little  brother or sister won’t have a place to sleep.”

+17