Written in 55 minutes.

It was nearly three hours before a trio of horses rode through the gates of the ranch, and Elizabeth watched their approach to the house, fretting over the dark storm clouds looming ever closer.

The horses came right up to the house, Johnny followed by Dr. Drake and Dillon—Elizabeth went to the door, pulling it open just as the group reached it. “I’m so relieved you’ve made it back, but—”

“Don’t worry about the storm,” Dillon said, patting her arm and steering her away from the door as Patrick and Johnny brought in the supplies that had been stored in the saddlebags. “Patrick and I will get back to town before it hits. I didn’t want him riding on his own.”

“Where’s my patient?” Patrick asked, picking up the dark bag he’d brought.

“Upstairs. I’ll show you—”

“Best let me do that, missus,” Alice said, bustling past them. “Mister Jason won’t want you to get too close—” She began the climb to the second story, and Patrick followed. Elizabeth stared up mutinously. Surely a few seconds wouldn’t hurt—

“Johnny said Jason was handling everything on his own.”

“He worries for the baby.” Elizabeth rested her hand against the curve of her belly. “And I know that makes sense—”

“Here, let’s go in by the fire.” Dillon swept off his hat and led Elizabeth into the parlor. He checked the fireplace, adding another log. “Jason just doesn’t want to risk you. Can’t imagine anything worse than having to lose you and the babe—”

“I—I know that.”

“And the little mite is going to need you when his fever breaks,” Dillon continued. He spied the tea tray Alice kept refilling. “Let me pour you—”

“I just—he’s my son. I haven’t—” She sank onto the chaise, her eyes round with worry. “I’m frightened,” Elizabeth admitted finally. “That all of the efforts will not be enough, and we’ll—” She closed her mouth, unable to even allow the words out into the open.

“If Jason could will it to be done, Cameron would already be skipping around with his dog.” Dillon dragged a hand across the back of his neck. “Don’t know how he’ll manage if it happens again.”

“Again—” Elizabeth paused. “You’re speaking of Michael. Alice said Jason looked after him during the illness.”

“Before, during, and after,” Dillon said with a nod. “My cousin—his brother—AJ wasn’t much of a father. He and the wife, Caroline, were rarely here, always in San Francisco. Once little Michael was able to move around, Jason brought him out here a few times a week.”

“Oh. I didn’t—”

“Wouldn’t be surprised if Michael knew Jason better than his own father. When Michael fell ill, Jason wouldn’t let anyone else touch him. Don’t know how he did it. Barely slept. Barely ate. But nothing seemed to help. Michael couldn’t keep anything down. Jason kept dribbling water and broth—anything he could. But he just…faded.” Dillon’s voice was rough as he stepped over to the mantel, resting a hand against it. “Jason washed him once last time and put him in the coffin himself.”

“I didn’t realize—” Elizabeth fisted her hand in her lap. “He’s spoken a time or two of his nephew, but I don’t think I realized that Michael was more like his own son.”

“Yeah, well, I guess I didn’t think about it much until Grandmother sent me out here with the cradle. Jason sent me back almost immediately. Michael was the last baby to use it. Probably can’t stand to look at it.”

“No, I don’t imagine he can.” She rose. “You’ll want something warm to eat before you head back, and so will Dr. Drake.”

—

Upstairs, Alice hovered in the doorway, worried to come any closer as Patrick leaned over Cameron, laying flat on his back, his skin still hot.

“Fever dropped a bit,” Jason said, lacing both his hands at the back of his neck. “After a snow bath. We gave him honey syrup with ginger for the throat. It worked for a while, but it’s wearing off.”

“Won’t hurt to repeat that every few hours, but best I can tell, Jase, you’re doing all you can here.” Patrick straightened, went to the wash stand where a pitcher of water awaited. It had been set out the night before so that Cameron could wash when he woke in the morning. Now, Patrick used to wash his hands, face, neck.

“All I can.” Jason flicked his eyes back to his son, restlessly turning back and forth, unable to become comfortable. “But it might not be enough.”

“We never know, do we?” Patrick murmured. “Maybe the day will come when we do. But until then—you keep up with the usual. Wash with soap every time you leave the room. Have your housekeeper do the same—” At Jason’s confused glance, he continued, “Read a new article from a journal in San Francisco. Dr. Lister’s germ theory. Anyhow, you want to make sure your wife doesn’t fall ill. She won’t have the same reserves to throw it off, and unborn babies don’t do well with fevers.”

“I’ve told the others I’ll handle it.” Jason followed Patrick to the hall. “But that’s it. Nothing else we can do?”

“It’s the grippe, Jason. There’s no cure. We treat the symptoms. Keep his fever down, make he rests. Eats, drinks. Ease the pain in the throat to make that easier.” Patrick pressed his lips together. “When this storm passes and the roads are safe, I’ll come back out this way.”

“Thank you.”

“Soap and water,” Patrick tossed over his shoulder as he headed to the stairwell. Jason grimaced and went back to Cameron’s room. He peered out the window. The storm was still another hour or so away—they’d need to do another snow bath quickly or else it would be too dangerous to leave the house.

“Papa…”

The slurred words drew Jason’s attention, and he all but leapt to the bedside, kneeling down so that his face was only inches from his son’s. Cameron’s eyes didn’t open, his cheeks and neck flush with fever.

“Hey, kid.” Jason touched his forehead. “What do you need?”

“Mama. Mama.”

Jason squeezed his eyes closed. Cameron needed his mother, of course he did. Until the last year, she’d been the anchor in his life. He dared not to risk her, but—

“Don’t be angry.”

He whipped his head around and saw Elizabeth at the doorway. He rose. “Elizabeth—”

“Dr. Drake told me about the soap and the water. And he said—” Her eyes were round and wide, hopeful. “I couldn’t—for longer than a moment. But, oh, please, just for a moment.”

“Yeah. Of course.” Jason exhaled in a rush. He went over to lead her to the wash stand — best if hands were clean going in, and then cleaned again, right? That made sense.

“Mama—”

“Hello, my darling boy.” Elizabeth perched on the edge of his bed, and Cameron smiled. “Is Papa taking good care of you?”

“Bestest…” Cameron forced his eyes open. “Hurts. Everywhere.”

“I know, I know—” A tear slid down her cheek, but she made herself smile. “But you’ll listen to all that Papa says, and you’ll be feeling fit in no time.”

“Okay, Mama. Good boy.”

“You are a good boy. The absolute best.” She touched his cheek, then rushed out of the room, her heels clicking hard against the floor. Jason followed, finding her across the hall in her room, washing her hands fervently.

Wordlessly, he joined her there and washed his own hands. Then he drew Elizabeth into his arms the way he’d wanted to earlier, praying Patrick was correct. That the illness was less likely to spread.

“I’ll do whatever I have to make him well again,” Jason found himself promising, though it was a foolish offer to make, and he felt her body jerk in response. “Elizabeth—”

“That is not your promise to keep,” she murmured. She drew back, her eyes searching his. “But I know that you’ll do what you can, and we will pray it is enough. He was a strong, sturdy boy. That can matter sometimes.”

“Sometimes.”

“And sometimes it doesn’t matter how healthy the child or how well-loved he is. How devoted his guardians are—” Elizabeth touched his jaw, the tips of her fingers brushing across his lips. “Sometimes the world is cruel for no reason at all. Whatever happens, I know that you will have done all you could.”

He kissed her fingertips, then drew back. “I need to get back to him.”

“And I need to be sure Dr. Drake and Dillon start back to town and that we are well-supplied. That storm looks worse than the last.”

Jason walked her to the stairwell, gave orders for a snow bath in a quarter of an hour, then returned to Cameron’s bedside. He picked up the book on the table, found their place, and continued to read. “‘His spirit inspired me with great respect…'”

—

Elizabeth watched Patrick and Dillon ride off under the gate, then made sure with Alice that they had all they needed—and checked their supply of soap.

“Imagine a thing such as soap keeping a man from being ill,” Alice murmured, staring at the chunk Elizabeth placed next to the washstand in the kitchen. “Makes sense, I suppose, don’t you think, missus?”

“It can make a man smell sweet which is no easy feat.” Elizabeth washed her hands again, the third time since she’d left Jason upstairs. It had been worth the risk for the moment with her son, to hold Jason in her arms. “And we’ll follow the doctor’s orders.”

“That we will, missus. And that includes making sure you have your meal.” Alice set down a plate at the kitchen table. “You eat up while I take these pails snow upstairs.”

—

Cameron’s fever raged on for five full days and four nights as a blizzard pelted the house with snow for three of those days. Johnny kept them well-stocked with logs for the fireplaces, and he himself hunkered down in one of the guest chambers to be ready if Jason needed anything.

Elizabeth tried very hard not to go into the sick room again, but she hovered in the doorway from time to time. Jason developed a routine quite quickly — medicine and a snow bath every four hours. Alice kept a pot of broth simmering on the stove, ready whenever Cameron seemed able to keep down his food.

Cameron coughed and wheezed, rarely able to do much more than lay in bed or in Jason’s arms while Alice changed his sheets, sometimes more than twice a day. Alice looked for any small chore she might be able to accomplish towards Cameron’s recovery.

Elizabeth scarcely slept through any of it, pacing the floors of the parlor and her own bedroom, worried sick for her entire family. What would she do if she lost her little boy? Would Jason ever forgive himself? And would she able to keep her own promise if the worst happen? Would she be able to believe that they’d done all they could?

But finally, finally on the six day, Elizabeth woke in the early morning hours, the sunlight streaming in through her bedroom window — the first truly sunny days in more than a week, which meant the clouds had gone.

Elizabeth got to her feet, slid her feet into slippers, and drew on her dressing gown. She stopped to wash her hands, then went across the hall.

Jason sat in the big chair by the window, his head lolling to one side, his arms wrapped protectively around Cameron, curled up in his lap, a counterpane wrapped around the little boy. It was the first time she’d seen Jason asleep at all, and it was a—

Her thoughts stumbled to a stop as she looked more closely at the pair, and gasped. She went into the room, pressed a hand to Cameron’s forehead.  Tears gathered and she sank to her knees, a sob rising in her throat.

At the sound, Jason jerked awake, his arms tightening around Cameron. “What—” He stared at Elizabeth, at the tears. “Elizabeth? You shouldn’t—”

“His fever—” Elizabeth could barely say the words. “Oh, his fever. It’s broken, Jason.” The tears slid down her cheek—tears of relief, of victory. He stared at her for another moment, before looking at their son, at the damp sweat on his cheeks, his neck— Jason sat up, his eyes bloodshot.

“His fever is gone—” Jason closed his eyes, pulled Cameron against him, and rocked gently, the little boy stirring slightly. “You’re all right. You’re all right,” he repeated. He kissed Cameron’s damp forehead, a tear sliding his cheek. “You made it.”

+19

Written in 60 minutes.

Elizabeth knew that she ought to simply accept Jason at his word and allow his reassurances to soothe any lingering doubts, but it proved to be more difficult in the days that followed the assembly.  She told herself that Jason had never been anything other than honest, but she also knew he was kind and could find ways to shade a truth and cloak it with that decency.

Perhaps it was the child she carried that had caused these worries to resurface after months of lying dominant. And the cold, bitter winter that set in during early January, she thought, hardly helped. There had been a brief respite from the heavy snowfall when she and Jason had taken Cameron into town for a winter fair, and he’d begun teaching Cameron how to ice skate.

But then another storm hit shortly after that confined Elizabeth and Cameron to the house, only Jason braving the outside to tend to the horses and other animals out in the stables and barn — most of the ranch hands had left for the season, heading south for warmer weather as they did every year.

“How are you feeling today, Miss Elizabeth?” Alice asked cheerfully, setting down a breakfast plate. “Have you felt the new baby kick?”

“Flutters—” Elizabeth pressed a hand to her belly, the curve just beginning to deepen. “It was a few more weeks with Cameron.” It had been such a blessing to feel that movement, even when it had been painful and uncomfortable—it had reminded Elizabeth in the dark days after she’d left home and struck out on her own—that she wouldn’t be alone forever.

Alice drew her brows together. “Speaking of our young master, he’s not come down yet.” She smiled again, touching Elizabeth’s shoulder. “You stay and eat, miss. I’ll fetch him. Likely, he’s been distracted by that puppy.”

“All right. Thank you.” Elizabeth was grateful — she tired easily and the thought of taking those stairs again so soon was too much. She picked up her fork and began to eat.

Jason shoved another log onto the fire in the parlor, grimacing out the front window. He could see the dark storm clouds on the horizon and hoped it wouldn’t bring as much snow as the last one. Otherwise, they’d be trapped out on the ranch for weeks.

“Mister Jason.”

He turned to find Alice in the doorway, her hands clutched in front of her. “Alice? Is something wrong?” Her face was pale, her mouth pinched. His breath caught. “Elizabeth?”

“No, no, the missus is eating in the dining room. I don’t wish to alarm her in her condition—I went to check on little Cameron, and oh, he’s running a fever.”

A fever. Jason swallowed hard. It could be nothing. Children ran fevers. There were small colds and sniffles. But Alice had raised a son. Had looked after Michael and Emily. She knew when to worry. “Be sure Elizabeth stays down here,” he told her. “I’ll check on him.”

He forced himself to take the stairs slowly—the sound of his heavy footsteps rushing up the stairs would only carry and the very last thing he wanted was to worry Elizabeth before there was a good reason.

The little dog, Pip, was whining when Jason pushed open the door, circling and likely needing to be taken out side. The room was darkened — the sunlight was too weak to carry much light.

And Cameron lay on his back in the bed, the bedclothes kicked off. His blond hair was damp against his forehead. Jason gently perched on the edge, his pulse skittering as he drew closer—he could feel the heat from the little boy’s body even before Jason could touch him.

Jason brushed his hand against Cameron’s cheek. “Cam?” he murmured, still hoping it was nothing more than a simply illness. “Cam? Can you open your eyes?”

His eyelids fluttered but didn’t fully open, nothing more than a sliver of blue. “Papa.” The words were hoarse, pained. “Hurt.”

“Where?” Jason murmured, checking over his small body, praying he’d find no evidence of rashes. It could be so many things—

“Head. Feet. All over.” Cameron rolled over and curled his body into a fetal position. “Hurts.”

“Okay. Okay.” Jason smoothed his sweaty hair back off his forehead, then jerked back as Cameron began to cough violently, his small body wracked with tremors. It wasn’t a dry cough—

He exhaled slowly. The grippe. Fevers. Coughs. He’d had it as a child and survived, but he’d known several other children in town that had been killed by the high fevers. The body could only handle so much heat—and it was contagious. Highly contagious.

“All right.” Jason drew the covers back over Cameron. “Stay here. Rest. I’ll bring you something to help.”

“Tired.”

“I know. Close your eyes. I’ll be back.”

Jason left the door open a crack and carried Pip downstairs. “Alice,” he said, finding the housekeeper hovering at the bottom. “I need you to take care of the dog, and then I need—” His mind raced. “It’s the grippe,” he told her.

Alice’s breath rushed out. “Oh, oh. Oh, dear. I have some honey syrup, and, oh, I stocked up on ginger when I was last in town. And I’ll get Johnny to get a snow bath ready.”

“Good. Good. I need to tell Elizabeth. And Alice—” He stopped her as she headed for the back of the house. “It’ll just be me looking after him. I won’t risk Elizabeth falling ill, and you need to take care of her.”

“You can depend on me, Mister Jason.” Alice always did better with a mission, and with her shoulders squared, she continued back towards the kitchen.

Jason went the opposite way, finding his way to the dining room where Elizabeth was finishing her breakfast. She had a teacup in her hand and a smile on her face when she saw him on the doorway. “Oh. Good morning. I slept so late—” The smile faded when he remained where he stood. “Jason?”

“Cameron has the grippe,” he said, and she was on her feet in a flash. “No,” he said, holding out a hand. “Don’t come any closer. I’ve already been in with him, and this can spread fast.”

“He’s my son—”

“And he’s mine, too,” Jason said. “I’ll see to him. We can’t risk you—”

“But—” Her eyes filled even as her hands rested protectively over the child she carried. “Jason, you could fall ill—”

“I know it. But I’m an adult, and I know how to take care of myself. Cameron’s still young. He’ll fight the snow baths and some of the medicine. If you weren’t—”

“If it were just me.” Elizabeth closed her eyes. Nodded. “Of course. Of course. You’re quite right.”

“I better head back upstairs.” He hovered another moment, hating that he couldn’t touch her, couldn’t hold her and offer more hope. He wouldn’t, of course, promise that Cameron would come through this. The odds were in their favor, but Jason knew better than most how fragile life was.

Particularly slight little boys like Cameron.

“I’ll take care of him,” Jason said, instead, holding her gaze.

“I know you will.”

Jason turned and went upstairs to await Alice.

He was right. Cameron fought like a wild man when Jason lowered him into the bathtub filled with snow. “No! No! Burns!”

“I know,” Jason said, wincing. The tiny fists that flew at him barely made an impact, but the tears and sobs of the miserable child did. But Cameron was burning up and he had to cool down his  body.

Alice hovered near the door, the container of honey syrup and a glass in her hand. After a few minutes holding Cameron down in the bath, Jason lifted him out, quickly wrapping him on a long dry cloth.

“Hurts,” Cameron sobbed, but he’d lost much his energy in the earlier fight and just slumped against his stepfather. “Papa.”

“I’ve got you,” Jason murmured, sitting in a chair in the corner of the room, cuddling Cameron in his arms, keeping him as far away as possible as Alice and Johnny removed the bath. When they were gone, Jason gave Cameron the syrup, unsure whether to be relieved or worried when Cameron didn’t fight on the medicine, only let the spoon between his lips with a grimace at the strange taste.

He dressed Cameron in a fresh, wool nightshirt, then kept him in his arms, sitting back in the chair as the exhausting and trembling boy curled back into his embrace. The fever still burned, but not quite as high, Jason thought.

“Johnny’s riding to town for Doc Drake,” Alice said from the doorway.

Jason frowned at her. “But the storm—”

“Still aways off, and the snow is packed hard enough. We need a few supplies, and you’ll want your family to know—not Miss Lila,” Alice added. “But Mister Dillon. In case—in case.”

If the worst happened, Jason wouldn’t have to leave Elizabeth to inform his grandmother. He nodded grimly, tightening his hold around Cameron as if that alone could protect him.

“And I’ll see to the missus. She’s already fretting something fierce,” Alice added, “but I know she feel better knowing you’ve got in all in hand.”

Alice disappeared down the hall, and Jason exhaled slowly. He certainly hoped that was true. He readjusted Cameron and reached for the book on the table beside him. “‘At the appointed time I returned to Miss Havisham’s'”, Jason read,  “‘and my hesitating ring at the gate brought out Estella….”

Elizabeth was pacing the length of the parlor, unable to consider the basket of mending at her side. Her little boy, the center of her world, was ill, and she couldn’t touch him, couldn’t look after him—

She knew Jason had made the right choice—that she had more than just Cameron to think of, but, oh, it felt as though she were choosing between her children—and what if—

“Now here, missus—” Alice bustled in, a tea tray in her hands. “You need to rest. Keep off your feet. Mister Jason will do better if I can bring him good news of you—”

“How is Cameron?” Elizabeth asked, allowing Alice to settle her back in the chair. Then the housekeeper poured tea. “I heard—”

“He didn’t enjoy his snow bath, but he already looks better,” Alice said, patting Elizabeth’s hand. “Mister Jason knows all about caring for little ones. He saw to little Michael all on his own, you know.”

“No, I—” Elizabeth took a deep breath. “I didn’t realize that.” And cholera was a nasty illness—it would have been dreadful to watch a small boy waste away like that. “How awful.”

“Wouldn’t hear of anyone else. We were so thankful at first,” Alice said, “for the little master had been tucked away in the nursery and we thought he’d been spared. He and Miss Emily. Such a sweet girl. You have the care of her Ruby, you know.”

“Jason said as much. And I know Cameron’s pony was meant for Michael.”

“We’d already lost Mister Alan and his son. Mister Edward hung on for as long as he could, worried over his Lila.” Alice’s voice had roughened. “And my boy. My Ryan. We lost him within a few days.”

“Alice, I’m so sorry—”

“But little Michael—” Alice pressed a hand to her chest. “Well, that felt too much, you see. As if perhaps we’d been forsaken by a vengeful God. I know that might be blasphemous, but he was just a baby. Only just beginning to speak and be his own person—” She cleared her throat. “But Mister Jason took care of him from beginning to end. You shouldn’t worry about that.”

“I don’t.” And she realized that was true. She knew her son would receive the best care—that Jason loved Cameron as his own. “But it won’t stop me from worrying at all.”

“No, of course not. That’s a mother’s lot in life. But we’ll do our best, missus, and pray for mercy.”

+15

Written in 57 minutes. Final scene took a bit more time.

Time seemed to be flying faster than ever as the days marched towards the end of the year, and the first snowfall of the year threatened the Port Charles annual Christmas assembly. Elizabeth had paced in front of their parlor window, praying that the weather would not keep them out at the ranch. She’d helped plan the harvest festival in September, but that had been at Lila’s side. This assembly had been the first event in which Lila had handed over the full reins, and it would do much to establish Elizabeth as a capable hostess, worthy of taking up the reins of the Morgan family legacy.

Jason had listened as Elizabeth explained the stakes of this evening but with a slightly quizzical expression that suggested he either did not understood or accept that she simply had to be in attendance or it would be more difficult for Elizabeth to make a place for herself in Port Charles. To his way of thinking, he’d married her and his family accepted her just fine. Everyone should just get in line.

But he hadn’t said it out loud, and she’d appreciated it. He was always so kind to her, always so considerate. He really had been the perfect husband and father, and while he might understand right now, he would if the assembly was a disaster. He had never lived without the approval of the world he lived in. He was a man, and it was so much harder for them to fall from grace.

For a woman, it was if they were born at the bottom and had to climb their way to the top, to earn their way into positions men were granted from birth.

The weather cleared and the snow was packed hard enough to travel upon. Cameron was overjoyed at the chance to bring his sweet greyhound puppy, Pip, to spend the evening with his great-grandmother, being spoiled rotten, as his parents attended the assembly.

Jason hoisted Cameron into the winter sleigh, and cautioned him to hold the dog tightly. Then, instead of holding out his arm to help Elizabeth down the porch stairs and over the icy front walk, Jason lifted her. “Oh, this is—I can still walk—” Her cheeks flushed, Elizabeth gripped his shoulder. “I’ve walked on ice before—”

“I wasn’t there to carry you,” Jason said, and she sighed. His overprotective nature could be quite bothersome at times, but it also warmed her soul. She worried, still, that she was little more than the convenient wife foisted on him by his impulsive cousin and lonely grandmother. It had been months, really, since she’d been plagued with those thoughts, but every so often, they returned. She always chased them back by reminding herself that kindness and good upbringing only went so far. Jason could have done nothing beyond marrying her and providing a home.

“We’ll see how you feel about that when I’ve grown as large as the porch,” she muttered, and he just laughed at her, settling her in the sleigh. Before long, he cracked the reins and they were off to town.

—

Several hours later, Elizabeth felt quite pleased with herself as she watched dancers swirl around the wooden floors of the town hall, enjoying the beat of the informal orchestra gathered for the evening. On the fringes of the dance floor, couples and groups milled about. The weather had cleared enough for many of the area’s ranchers to come in for the evenings with their families.

“Here—” Jason appeared at her side, handing her a cup of the punch he’d gone to fetch. “This is, uh, good, right?” He swept his eyes over the crowd. “It’s what you wanted?”

“Yes.” She beamed with pride. “It’s precisely what I wanted, and how your grandmother told me it should be. I was so nervous when she said she would step back, but—oh, your friend Sonny is gesturing at you.” Elizabeth touched his sleeve. “You should go—”

Jason made a face. He hadn’t left her side all night—that overprotective nature again— “I can see Sonny any time—”

“Yes, but you don’t.” And the neighboring rancher hadn’t exactly warmed up much to Elizabeth, she thought. Well, this would be a good opportunity to change that. “Please. I’ll be fine.”

He hesitated, then nodded and squeezed her hand before heading over to Sonny. Elizabeth decided to make a loop around the room to be sure everyone was having a wonderful time.

Halfway around, she came across Robin Scorpio stepping off the dance floor. “Elizabeth!” Robin said. She turned to her dance partner. “Uncle Mac, go find Aunt Felicia.” Her uncle melted into the crowd.

“I was hoping to see you tonight,” Elizabeth said, linking her arm in Robin’s. “I wanted to thank you for all your help tonight—”

“Of course. You’ve done a wonderful job—” Robin paused as a pair of women crossed their path. Her warm brown eyes darkened. “Britt.”

“Doctor,” Britta Westbourne said with a a false smile. “It’s nice to see you out of your office. I wasn’t sure you knew how to dress up for a party anymore.”

“It is nice to see you, Robin,” the blonde next to Brita offered, and Elizabeth dimly remembered that Robin was connected to Maxie Jones in some way. “Mrs. Morgan.”

“Yes, Mrs. Morgan, good evening.” Britt flicked her cold stare to Elizabeth, the expression at odds with the smile on her face. “You always seem to pop up out of nowhere, don’t you?”

“I’m sorry?” Elizabeth said, lifting her brows.

“Well, of course, not quite out of nowhere. After all, you’re an old family friend, aren’t you?” Britt tipped her head. “You’ve known them forever.”

“My grandparents were old friends with Lila, yes,” Elizabeth said coolly. “How fortunate for me to be able to continue the connection.”

“And how fortunate for your son.”

Elizabeth’s face remained blank. “Excuse me?”

“Britta just means that it’s nice that you were able to get married again,” Maxie said in a rush. “And that your son shares a superficial resemblance to Jason. He won’t feel left out.”

“Yes, I’m sure Britt is, as always, concerned with the well-being of others,” Robin said. “If you’ll excuse us—”

“How odd that Jason never mentioned an arrangement with a widow from back East,” Britt said as Robin attempt to pull Elizabeth away from the two women. “He certainly never indicated to me that there was another claim on his affections.”

Another claim—Elizabeth drew her brows together. “I’m sorry?”

“I just find it unusual that Jason never spoke of a betrothal to anyone else. He certainly had ample to time to inform interested parties.”

“I want to introduce you to my parents,” Robin said, gently tugging on Elizabeth’s arm. “Come on.”

Bewildered, Elizabeth allowed herself to be drawn away from the women and in the opposite direction. Another claim? Interested parties? Did she mean—

“Pay zero attention to Britt Westbourne,” Robin murmured. “I had more of claim on Jason’s affections, and that was ages ago—”

“He might not have said anything to anyone—” It was as if a bucket of ice water had been thrown over her. Perhaps Jason had been interested in the other woman—maybe it had been new and unknown to his cousin, too soon for him to think of marriage, but it might have blossomed if Elizabeth hadn’t been dropped on his doorstep—

Somehow, Elizabeth made it through the rest of the evening, pasting a smile on her face as Robin introduced her parents, Robert and Anna Scorpio. Then Jason came over to claim her for a dance, and she must have done an admirable job of keeping her emotions masked for Jason didn’t ask any questions.

As the evening wound down, Jason convinced Elizabeth it would be all right to leave and return to Lila’s home where they’d spend the night. She was relieved to get out of the room, eager to get away from the worries and suspicions that somehow she’d derailed the trajectory of Jason’s life, upending the plans he had made for himself. All those old worries and insecurities had returned in a rush, swamping her.

“You shouldn’t worry,” Jason said that night as she sat at the dressing table Lila had moved into Jason’s childhood bedroom. “Everyone was having a good time.”

“Yes,” Elizabeth murmured, drawing out the pins from her hair. One by one, the metal clinked into a small dish, and the heavy, curling mass dropped down. She reached for a hairbrush. She wouldn’t ask. It was none of her business, after all. Jason had made vows in front of God and his family, and he was an honorable man. She had no right to ask or demand more than he’d offered.

But, oh, how it hurt to wonder if he’d been on the edge of falling in love with someone else, and that her presence had ruined everything. If it had just been her, maybe Jason would have sent her own her way, returning her to the dredges of Port Hamilton or maybe sending her on to San Francisco.

Instead, she’d had a little boy whose story had captured his sympathy, and Jason had a lot of love to give children. Everyone spoke so wonderfully of his relationship with his nephew. So he’d married her instead of sending her away.

It would do no good to dwell on what might lay in Jason’s heart, she argued with herself. It could only hurt—

“Did you have some sort of understanding with Britta Westbourne?”

The question fell from her mouth before she knew that she would ask it, and her cheeks flamed as she caught sight of Jason the mirror, standing at the bed with his eyes wide.

“What?”

“Nothing. Nothing.” Elizabeth rose and dragged a shawl around her shoulders, the winter chill seeping into her skin, despite the fire he’d laid and the thick wool gown she wore. “Just a silly—nothing.”

“It’s clearly not—”

“I should get some rest. It was a long day—” She drew back the counterpane, but Jason tugged it towards his side. “I’m sorry. It’s none of my business.”

“You’re my wife,” Jason told her.

“Yes.” Her shoulders slumped, but Elizabeth forced a smile. She’d received her answer. “Yes, and I count myself fortunate—”

Jason gritted his teeth and rounded the bed. “That’s not what I—of course it’s your business, and no. The answer is no—”

“I shouldn’t have asked—”

Jason caught her hands in his, and waited, but she would not look at him. That would only make all of this worse. “I did not have an understanding with her,” he repeated. “When my grandmother asked me to consider marrying, when I gave her a promise, yes, Britt was someone that I looked at. Someone I considered—”

Elizabeth nodded. “Yes. I understand—”

“You don’t.” Jason exhaled, drew her into his arms, but she couldn’t allow herself to relax. Couldn’t find comfort in his embrace. “I don’t know if I ever intended to keep my promise to my grandmother. If Dillon hadn’t brought you here, I’d likely still be just where I was a year ago.”

“You don’t owe me any explanations,” Elizabeth insisted. “I just—”

“When I realized I couldn’t see a future with Britt, she was angry, and I don’t think she ever forgave me. I didn’t care, to be honest,” he told her. “I had never made her any promises, and we’d only gone out walking a few times. I escorted her to a few assemblies. But I didn’t want anything else. And I couldn’t do it just for my grandmother. I’m sorry if she said anything to suggest differently.”

Elizabeth bit her lip. “So there was no one—” She hesitated. “When I arrived, there was no one you had to disappoint?”

“Just Dillon,” Jason said and she smiled at that. “And we really should think about revenge. He’s been walking around too smugly all these months. I told you that first day — I went to that hotel room to explain the misunderstanding and to promise anything you needed for a fresh start somewhere else.” He brought her knuckles to his mouth. “And then you gave me my walking papers. I knew that I had to take a second, closer look.”

Some of the doubt and worry dissipated, and now her smile was more genuine. “And it was worth it then? That second look?”

“Best decision of my life.”

+21

Written in 58 minutes.

The local assembly hall was richly decorated and adorned for the holiday season, with strands of garland and holly hanging generously from every available surface. Elizabeth wandered over to the tables where the refreshments would be held and ignored the looks and whispers from some of the local women, particularly nosy Amy Vining and Britta Westbourne.

“You shouldn’t pay any attention to them.” Elizabeth turned at the new voice, recognizing Robin Scorpio, the pretty dark-haired woman she’d seen at other meetings. “Britt’s never forgiven you for swooping in and marrying Jason out from under her nose. And Amy’s just a gossip.”

“I don’t worry about any of them,” Elizabeth said, shrugging, though she was grateful every day that she’d hid her scandalous past. No one had ever questioned her life as a widow, and she thought most people would forget that Jason wasn’t Cameron’s biological father. After all, her little boy had Jason’s coloring—

Oh, maybe there would be other whispers, Elizabeth realized with a sinking thought. After all, Lila had put out that she was a connection from back home. What if they thought Jason had come East—

“They’ll have something new to talk about eventually,” Robin said, sliding her arm through Elizabeth’s and walking her over to the stage where a small group of townsfolk would play instruments during the Christmas party. “And you don’t know this, but I’m driving them insane by talking to you at all.”

“What?” Elizabeth frowned. “I don’t understand.”

“Oh, it’s all ancient history, but Jason and I had a little bit of a romance a lifetime ago.” Robin’s smile was genuine as she continued. “We were still at school, and then I wanted to go to San Francisco — I wanted to become a doctor.”

“You—oh. You work with Dr. Drake—”

“I do. I dragged him back from San Francisco. We practice together,” Robin continued, “but I’m sure many of the old  biddies thought Jason was pining away for me. He wasn’t,” she said quickly. “I just didn’t want you to hear any of the gossip and wonder. Jason never really thought about marriage at all. And that was never in our plans.”

“No one has said anything—”

“Not to your face,” Robin said cheerfully. “But you can be sure they have behind your back. Don’t listen to any of them.”

“I don’t plan to.”

“Good. Patrick told me your news, I hope that’s all right. I was so happy to see Jason settling down. He was so good with his nephew, he’s told you that, hasn’t he?”

“A few times.”

“A tragedy,” Robin murmured, her eyes growing distant. “It’s why I came home for good. I was just visiting when the epidemic broke out. I worked for days trying to save as many as  I could, but we lost so many. And Jason’s family was nearly wiped out. I don’t know how Lila got out of bed after losing her husband, both children, and all but three of her grandchildren. Ned lives in San Francisco.” She took a deep breath. “But you and your son, I know that’s brought them all such joy. And this new child. If you ever need anything, please don’t hesitate.” Robin squeezed Elizabeth’s hand and then left her.

Robin’s words were still echoing in Elizabeth’s head a few hours later as she left the assembly hall and walked the short distance to Lila’s grand house to retrieve Cameron. She wasn’t bothered by Robin’s recounting of a youthful romance — Elizabeth hadn’t come to her husband as an untouched saint, and Elizabeth could hardly begrudge him the same.

It was the reminder of how much grief Jason had suffered in the previous years, and wondering if it had anything to do with the strange way he’d been acting since they’d learned of her condition. He was overprotective on the ranch, not letting her near the horses when he’d previously not blinked at her help. And then there had been that dinner—

“Hello, dear,” Lila said as Elizabeth came into the parlor. She removed her reading glasses. “How does the assembly hall look?”

“Like it’s been drowned in garland and holly,” Elizabeth said, taking a seat next to the older woman. “Things are nearly ready for the end of the week.”

“I’m so glad you and Jason have decided to come and stay the night in town. You’ll enjoy yourselves so much more.” Lila set aside the newspaper she’d been reading. “I wanted to apologize for overstepping when you were here last. And for sending Dillon out to the ranch.”

“I—” Elizabeth paused. “When did Dillon come to the ranch?”

“Oh, a few days ago. I know Jason said he wouldn’t need and any of the toys or furniture we’d saved, but I didn’t think that would extend to the cradle. It’s been in our family since Alan was born,” Lila said. “Alan and Tracy both used it, and then all three of Alan’s children. It was meant for the eldest son—” A pinched, pain expression fluttered over her face. “And, well, that would be Jason now.”

“I didn’t—he didn’t—” Elizabeth exhaled. “He sent it back, didn’t he?”

“He did. Dillon said he was quite irritated over the matter. I really hope you’ll both accept my apology.”

“Of course. You meant well. I’ll speak to Jason.”

After reassuring Lila once again, Elizabeth retrieved Cameron from the nursery, hitched up the carriage and horses, and made her way home, wondering how she would broach the topic with her husband, if she would at all. It wasn’t her family. Perhaps it wasn’t her place—

Was Jason worried about the implications? That she’d expect Cameron to inherit the cradle as the supposed elder child? While it might explain his reaction in some ways, it did not sit well with her as the reason. Jason had never once suggested he planned to treat Cameron differently from any future children. Rather, he’d accepted from the first, the responsibility to act as Cameron’s father. He’d seemed to find joy in the prospect.

Once at home, Elizabeth turned Cameron over to Alice and hunted down her husband, still not quite settled as to what she might say. She found him in the training yards, putting Dusty through his paces.

The stallion was pleased to see her and immediately pulled away from Jason to shove his head over the fence to sniff at Elizabeth. “Hello, darling,” she murmured, her fingertips brushing against the velvet of his coat. “I miss you, too.”

“How was your meeting?” Jason asked, glancing behind her to watch Johnny unhitch the carriage and lead the horses inside.

“It was fine.” Elizabeth bit her lip. “Your grandmother wanted to apologize for sending the cradle.”

Jason’s mouth tightened. “Did she?”

“Yes. I—” She paused. “I suppose she was a bit hurt that you didn’t want to use the cradle that your father used,” Elizabeth said finally. “Is—I don’t—is there something wrong with it?”

“No. I meant what I said before. She ought to keep it there at the house for visits.” Jason tugged the stallion back towards him. “We’ll get one for here. I was going to work on it this winter. Cameron can help.”

“Oh. You—you don’t plan to just purchase a new one?”

“No. I was going to make one. Unless you’d rather—”

“No, I think that would be lovely, and such a wonderful way for Cameron to feel included.” Elizabeth’s spirits brightened. “He won’t have been able to use it, but it’ll be his all the same.”

Jason’s face eased. “That’s what I hoped. He should have his own things. Not hand-me-downs from people he never knew. He deserves that much. He’s the oldest.”

“Of course. And Lila will understand completely when you explain it that way.” Elizabeth stepped back. “I ought to go in and check on Cameron. You’ll be in for supper?”

“I will.”

—

Jason watched Elizabeth carefully pick her way from the stables towards the front of the house. The winter had already descended on the area—their autumn shorter than normal this year, and he thought they’d see snowfall before the Christmas. He would have to make sure she had all the clothing she needed for a cold winter. And that they were ready to clear the paths so she wouldn’t be hurt—

Once Elizabeth was inside, Jason turned his attention back to the horse who also seemed to watching her go. The horse and the woman missed one another, and he felt a spear of shame for forcing her to stop coming to the stables. But if Dusty or another horse kicked at her — or she fell—

At least he’d navigated the tricky situation of the cradle. For the first time in his life, Jason cursed his grandmother. Lila knew what she’d been doing by taking her apology to Elizabeth, and not to Jason. She was interfering—

But he’d handled it, Jason told himself as he walked Dusty back into the stable and put him up for the night. Even better, he’d come up with something better than an old cradle. He’d carve one himself, and he’d teach Cameron, just as Jason had been taught by his own father.  Cameron could put his initials into the wood—

It would be something better. Something that only belonged to them without memories of what came before.

—

When Jason had brought the puppy home for Cameron, he’d expected the little  boy to name the greyhound after the little rag doll puppy — Archie. But Cameron had been horrified. Archie wasn’t going anywhere — that had been his first dog. And anyway, the little greyhound wasn’t an Archie. Anyone could see that. He was something better.

Cameron had insisted on pouring over the primary books his mother was always trying to teach him to read, and then tugging novels and other books from shelves in Jason’s study, asking for words, looking for just the right word to describe the puppy with his long nose and spindly frame.

Finally, only the day before Elizabeth’s conversation with Lila, Cameron had dragged down Great Expectations by Charles Dickens and begged Jason to read it to him. Maybe the dog’s name would be in this book. Jason had obliged, and within the first few pages, they’d had a winner. The dog’s name was Pip. Of course it was, Jason thought. But Cameron hadn’t wanted him to stop reading, and decided that it would be his papa’s job to put him up for bed in evening because they would read first.

So Jason perched on the edge of Cameron’s bed, reading and keeping an eye on his son as Cameron drifted into sleep, Archie the rag puppy clutched in one hand and Pip the greyhound’s snout in the crook of his other arm.

Jason set the novel on the bedside table, turned the lamp down low, and made sure Cameron was warm and tucked in, before going across the hall. Inside their room, Elizabeth had brought in a chair that sat before the fireplace, a basket of mending by her side. She’d struggled with that first, Jason remembered, but she’d taught herself to sew without the tip of her finger.

He across from her, in the chair he’d brought because it seemed like a cozy and private way to end each day, just of the two of them. Elizabeth smiled at him, the flames of the fire flickering over her face. She’d seemed sad after that dinner with Lila, and there’d been shadows in her face earlier during the conversation at the stables.

But he’d reassured her, and now she was happy again. “I never thought Cameron would fall in love with Dickens,” she said, pulling out one of Cameron’s shirts and searching her bag for a button that would match. “But he was excited for you to keep reading tonight.”

“He made it through an entire chapter,” Jason said, toeing off his boots and setting his hands before the fire. “We’ll see how how he feels after a few more nights of it.”

“And he loves that dog. Thank you for remembering it. He’s wanted one for so long.” Elizabeth met his gaze. “You’ve always been so wonderful with him. From the beginning.”

“He made it easy.” And so had she, Jason thought. Both of them had just trusted Jason from nearly the first moment. It ought to have been harder to create a life together from nothing — she’d been the bride his cousin had found for him after all — but sitting here, it was as if they’d always been traveling down the road towards one another.

“I was thinking you might want to start training with Dusty again.”

Her fingers stilled, and she blinked. “But you said—”

“As long as I’m there,” Jason added in a rush. “For now. I—he misses you. And, well, so do I. We were doing good work out there together. It’ll be a few more weeks before winter really sets in and we won’t be able to train as much—” His words were cut off as Elizabeth flew out of the chair and launched herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck. Startled, Jason laughed, then drew her into his lap. “I suppose that’s a yes?”

“It’s absolutely a yes. I know you’re worried, and I promise I’ll be very, very careful.” Elizabeth beamed. “You won’t have to worry. The baby comes first.”

“I know.” He kissed her, savoring and lingering. He hadn’t realized how lonely he was until that day in the train station, when he’d walked in and saw her sitting there. Waiting. He would do anything to protect their life together.

+20