Becky was up early the following morning. The baby had been active all night, and she just hadn’t slept well. She spent an hour sewing curtains for the kitchen before she started breakfast.

When Amos came down the stairs, he found his beautiful new wife in the kitchen making him pancakes. There was already a plate full of bacon beside her, and he plucked a piece off it. “Good morning.”

Becky grinned at him, shocked at how much her life had changed in just a few days. “Good morning. Coffee is ready if you want to pour yourself a cup.”

He did as she suggested. “Thank you for getting up early to cook for me.”

“I couldn’t really sleep anyway. The baby was kicking all night.”

“Have you thought about names?” he asked, sitting at the table with his coffee and another piece of pilfered bacon.

“I have thought a little, but I have no idea what I want. Do you have any ideas?”

He looked at her in surprise. “You’d let me help you name the baby?”

She nodded. “Absolutely. You’re going to be his father. Cliff never knew he existed. You’ll be there for skinned knees and long sleepless nights.”

“I’ll think about it then.” He liked the idea of helping her name the baby, but he hadn’t thought she’d even consider it.

Becky put a stack of pancakes on a plate, along with some bacon. “I forgot to get the maple syrup out!” She reached up into a cupboard and pulled down the syrup and put it on the table. “Hurry up and build that barn and buy the cow. I’d like to be able to make my own butter.”

“Fresh butter does have a special taste to it, doesn’t it?”

“I’ve always thought so.” She sat down across from him and buttered her pancakes, adding syrup. “I’m going to pack you a lunch today, but since I haven’t really had time to cook much, it’ll have to be bacon sandwiches. I’ll do better tomorrow.”

He smiled. “Everything you do seems just right to me.”

She blushed, looking down. She’d had no idea a marriage to this man could seem so intimate. It had seemed like a business arrangement on Friday, and now it seemed like so much more. “Tell me about your mother.”

He sighed. “She’s a society woman. She’s not going to like the house, because it’s in the country and not in a large city. She’s not going to like the fact that I married without her present at the wedding. We’re going to want to keep her out of town because we don’t want her to find out that the baby isn’t mine, but if she does, I have a story planned.”

“You do?” She looked at him inquiringly.

“I’ll tell her that you were engaged, but we fell in love. When your fiancé died, we thought we should wait to marry, to avoid tarnishing his memory. So the baby is still mine.”

“I don’t like the idea of lying to your mother.”

“My mother will never accept you if we don’t. I’ll tell you that now. She will think of you as a tarnished woman.”

Becky frowned, looking down at her plate. “Just like everyone else around here.”

“I don’t think of you as tarnished. I see in you a beautiful innocence.”

She looked at him like he’d lost his mind. “How can I be innocent and eight months pregnant?”

“I don’t know. But you manage it well.” He drank down the last of his coffee and stood up. “Is my lunch ready?”

She jumped up and went to the counter where she quickly put together two sandwiches. “Will that be enough?”

He shrugged. “I’ll run to the store for more if I need it.” He took the bag with his lunch in it and grabbed her waist, kissing her softly. “I’ll see you at supper time. Miss me.”

She smiled as she watched him go. The man was so full of energy, she could just imagine what all he could accomplish in a day of work.

After a moment, she shook her head and got back to her own work. She needed to finish the curtains, bake bread, make some pillows, and start sewing for the baby. She wanted as much done before his mother arrived as humanly possible.

* * *

During his lunch break, Amos went to the dry goods store and chose some white cotton. “Could you cut this fabric up into diapers for me? I’ll pick them up on my way home.”

The proprietor nodded. “I’ll have my daughter get right on it.”

Amos grinned, knowing it was the perfect gift for his new wife. That and one other thing. Hurrying over to the mercantile, he spotted Toria behind the counter. “I need a vase.”

Toria smiled. “You’re going to be a good husband to Becky, aren’t you?”

Amos nodded. “I’m going to do my very best.”

Toria led him over to their selection of vases. There were only three, and he didn’t have a preference, so he purchased the most expensive of the three. “May I leave this with you and pick it up after work?”

“I’ll put your name on it.” She waved at him as he ran out the store and headed back to work.

* * *

By supper time, Becky had accomplished most of the things on the short to-do list she’d made herself. She’d made several loaves of bread, so she could send more food with Amos for lunch the next day. The curtains were finished and hanging at the windows. And most importantly, there was a pot roast perfectly cooked with potatoes, and carrots ready for them to eat.

Amos walked in at just past six, sniffing the air. “Becky, if you weren’t already my wife, I’d marry you all over again, just so you’d cook for me!”

She laughed, giggling as he caught her in an embrace. “But we are already married, so there’s no need!”

“But there’s still a need to treat you like a princess.” He gave her the vase. “I thought you might want this for your flowers.”

She took the vase, and tears popped into her eyes. She swiped at them with the back of her hand. “No one has ever done anything so thoughtful for me!”

“You like it?” He hated that she was crying, but he hoped the tears were happy tears. He would wait to give her the diapers after supper.

“I love it.” She walked to him and pressed a kiss to his mouth. “Thank you, Amos.” She still didn’t understand how she had found such a sweet man and ended up as his wife. Hopefully she could live up to his expectations of her.

“Supper’s ready. Sit down, and I’ll serve it.” As soon as she had supper on the table, he took her hand for their prayer.

“Thank you, God, for this beautiful woman, and for the food that you have provided. Thank you for blessing me. In Jesus’s name. Amen.”

She blinked away tears once again. “You have to remember that women are more emotional when they’re expecting. You’re making me want to cry every few minutes.”

He grinned at her. “I’ll try really hard to stop that.”

“I’d appreciate it.” She took her first bite of roast beef and smiled to herself. It was as good as her mother’s, and that’s all she’d been shooting for.

“How on earth did you learn to cook like this at your age?” he asked.

“My mother always let me help her in the kitchen, and then Mrs. Franklin taught me a lot too. I do love to cook. I would seriously spend all my time cooking if I thought I could get away with it. I sew, but I don’t enjoy it the way I do cooking.”

“Well, I’m all for you cooking just as much as you want.”

She laughed. “That’s not at all self-serving, is it?”

“Not at all.” He forked up another bite of his roast beef. “Thanks for throwing yourself into being a good wife the way you have.”

As soon as they were both finished, she pulled a cake out of the ice box, carrying it to the table. “Room for more?”

His eyes were wide as he looked at the cake. “I’m sure I can find a little space for that.”

“Good. I wouldn’t want to think I made it for no reason.” She cut them each a piece and served them, settling back down in her chair. As soon as she took a bite, she felt a kick against her ribs. “The baby likes the cake. He’s making that very clear.”

“Oh?”

“He’s kicking my ribs. He only gets active in the middle of the night or if he likes what I’m eating. He’s finicky that way.”

He frowned at her belly, seeing it move. “Could I feel?”

She nodded, taking his hand and putting it on the movement on her side. “Did you feel it?”

His eyes were wide as they met hers. “Wow. Does it hurt?”

She shook her head. “At first it felt like little butterfly movements, but now I can usually make out if it’s a foot or a hand. It’s not strong enough to hurt, but it’s sure strong enough to keep me awake at night.”

“I’m glad it doesn’t hurt.” He grew silent, thinking about the baby. He had known there was a baby in there since the moment they’d met, but that was the first time the child had seemed real to him.

“Is something wrong?” she asked, frowning. She didn’t want him to be upset about the baby. He’d known about it before they married, so how could his mood suddenly change when he touched her stomach that way?

“No, not wrong. I guess the baby wasn’t exactly real to me until a moment ago when I felt him kick.”

“Is that good or bad?”

“Probably a little bit of both. I want him to be real, but I’d like a little longer with just the two of us before he comes. Does that make sense?”

She nodded. “It does. I wish we had a little more time, too, but I have to admit, I’m ready to evict him. He’s taking up an awful lot of space, and I’m not always comfortable.”

He grinned. “How can I make your life easier until he comes?”

She shrugged. “You already have. Not having to wait tables all day and all night has already made my life a great deal easier.”

“I’m glad.”

While she did the supper dishes, he ran out to the wagon and grabbed the diapers for her, carrying them in. He wasn’t sure if he’d overdone the amount of diapers she’d need, but it wouldn’t hurt to have too many. Besides, hopefully they’d have another child before too terribly long, and then there would be two of them in diapers, and they’d need double the amount.

He shook his head at himself. He was getting carried away.

Becky turned as the back door opened, and Amos walked in with two armfuls of diapers. He set them on the table and left again before she could say a word. He came back three times, setting more diapers on the table each time. “I think I may have bought a few too many diapers, but I wanted to make sure you had enough.”

Becky stared at the table, completely covered in diapers. “There must be over a hundred there.”

“A hundred and twenty. Is that enough?” Amos asked, having no idea how many diapers a baby went through.

“I’ve been told to expect the baby to go through about ten per day, so that might be a few more than we need, but I will certainly put them to good use.” She stepped toward him and wrapped her arms around him. “How did you learn to be such a thoughtful man?”

“It just comes naturally, I guess. When a woman is special enough to deserve a man’s attention, he becomes more thoughtful as a direct response.”

She kissed him briefly, embarrassing herself. “Get out of my kitchen and let me finish the dishes.”

“Do you need help with them?”

“Not at all. You might have to do a few after the baby is born, but for now, I’ll do all of them.” She pushed him toward the parlor, not wanting his help because she needed a few minutes to come to grips with his kindness. She knew Cliff never would have done the same things for her that Amos was doing.

Amos went into the parlor and picked up a book he’d purchased for himself that day, all about being a father. He hadn’t known there were books to teach a man things like that, but if they were available, he’d read them because he was determined to be the best father to that baby he could possibly be.

When Becky joined him, she’d come to grips with her emotions, and she sat down beside him on the sofa. “Have you thought about any names?”

He nodded. “How would you feel about naming him Sebastian, if it’s a boy? It was my father’s name, and he was a good man.”

“What happened to him?”

“He died of a heart attack shortly after I left New York.”

“I’m very sorry.” She considered the name. “I think Sebastian would be a good name for a baby. Would you mind if we named him Sebastian Clifford? So he would have something from his birth father?”

Amos didn’t like the idea, but the child should have something of his father. She was right. “I think that would be good.”

“What about a name for a girl?”

“I was thinking something like Anabelle, and we could call her Belle for short. Belle means beauty, and with you for a mother, there’s no doubt she will be beautiful.”

Just like that, Becky was tearing up again. “You have to stop making me cry!”

He reached out and flicked her tear away with his thumb. “I don’t do it on purpose.”

“That’s a good thing. If you made a concerted effort to make me cry, I know it would be much worse for me.”

“I’m not trying to make it hard on you at all.” Amos looked into her eyes. “I just don’t think you have any idea what a very special person you are.”

She took a deep breath. “I hope you always see me that way.”

* * *

By the time his mother arrived on Friday afternoon, Becky had the pillows made and the curtains all hung. She was waiting in the parlor when he came home from the train station, his mother behind him. There was another girl there, too, and Becky couldn’t help but wonder if this was the girl his mother wanted him to marry or one of his sisters.

She got to her feet and smiled at the visitors. “Mother, this is my wife, Becky. Becky, this is my mother, Josephine, and her traveling companion, Patricia.”

“It’s nice to meet you both.” Becky smiled sweetly. “I have some tea and cookies ready if you’re hungry.”

His mother looked her up and down, her eyes stopping at Becky’s enormous stomach. “That would be very nice.”

“Have a seat, and I’ll bring them.” Becky walked toward the kitchen, not letting his mother’s obvious interest in her condition bother her. She needed to carry on as she was and not let something like that completely derail her.

Amos followed her into the kitchen. “I’ll carry the tray.”

As soon as they were away from the others, Becky looked at him. “How did she take the news that you were married?”

“Not well. Patricia was one of the young ladies that I escorted for a while in New York.” He shook his head. “Mother was hoping I’d marry her.”

“But you’re already married.”

“There is that.” He tapped her nose with the tip of his index finger. “Get that tea. Mother’s liable to come looking for us if we make her wait too long.”

“Did you tell her I was expecting before you came here?” Becky asked as she took down the silver tea set he’d gotten her as a gift the previous day. The man had yet to come home for supper without having a gift in hand.

“I didn’t. I thought she’d see that for herself when she arrived.”

“I see.” Becky was more nervous than ever. The woman had wanted her son to marry someone else, and she’d brought a former flame. How was she going to compete with that when she was so far along?

She put the tea onto the tray and added two different kinds of cookies. She put milk into the small pitcher and put sugar cubes into a bowl. “There. Would you carry it?”

“Of course. And don’t be nervous. She can’t make me divorce you and marry Patricia. Nothing could.”

Becky took a deep breath and preceded him into the parlor, going to sit on the open spot on the sofa beside Patricia. His mother frowned at her. “You sit in the other chair, dear. You’re going to crowd Patricia with your big belly.”

Amos shook his head. “No, Becky’s more comfortable on the sofa, and as she’s carrying your grandchild, she should have choice of places to sit.”

Becky stood up. “I really don’t mind, Amos.”

“I do. You sit where you’re comfortable. If Patricia feels crowded, she can trade places with me and take my chair.”

Becky nodded, sitting down on the couch again. “Would you care for tea, Mrs. Bowen?”

“Yes, and one of each kind of cookie please.” Mrs. Bowen waited to be served, and Becky was certain it was because that was what she was used to back in New York. She had served enough people in her life that it didn’t bother her to do it either. Yes, she was one of the people who served others while his mother was one who she would serve. It seemed hardly fair.

She handed the older woman the tea and plate of cookies before looking at Patricia. “What would you like?”

“Tea and both types of cookies as well, thank you.” Patricia had an air to her voice that made Becky want to shove the cookies up her nose.

“How long will we have the pleasure of your company?” Becky asked, praying they planned to only stay for the weekend.

“Are you already trying to get rid of us?” Mrs. Bowen asked, a frown on her face.

“No, ma’am. I was merely inquiring. I do need to make sure I have enough food on hand to cook for everyone.”

Mrs. Bowen looked at her son. “You’re letting your pregnant wife cook? Why don’t you hire help for her?”

“I enjoy cooking,” Becky said, wondering if anyone would listen to her.

“If my wife wanted help, she’d have it. At the moment, she’s enjoying cooking and cleaning. Maybe after the baby comes she’ll want some help, and in that case, I’ll provide it for her.” Amos wasn’t going to let anything his mother said upset him. He was too happy about spending the night in bed with his wife that evening.

“I think you should get her help now.” Mrs. Bowen crossed her arms under her large bosom.

“I’ll make note of your thoughts.” He accepted tea from Becky and bit into one of the cookies. “These are amazing as always, my love.”

Her heart seemed to stop for a moment as he called her that, but she realized immediately it was for his mother’s benefit not hers. “Thank you.”

He took a sip of the tea, winking at her over it, and she shook her head at him, embarrassed that he would flirt with her in front of his mother. “I plan to start building a barn this weekend. We want a cow for milk. After that, I’ll build a chicken coop. Becky wants to have farm fresh eggs to cook for breakfast every morning.”

His mother shuddered delicately. “And who will milk the cow and collect the eggs?”

Becky shrugged. “I’ve done both more times than I can count. I would be happy to continue doing both.” She truly didn’t mind doing chores. Work was a part of life, and if you refused to be happy while you did it, there was much misery in your future.

“Don’t encourage him, dear. You’ll end up being his slave for life. You need servants.”

Patricia made a sound of disgust. “It’s just as well you married before I arrived, Amos. There’s no way I would have been able to perform all the duties of a houseful of servants the way your . . . little wife seems to be doing. And in her condition!”

Amos smiled at the young lady. “Which is why we never would have suited as husband and wife, Patricia. Becky suits me perfectly because she expects no one to wait on her, and she simply works as hard as she can for both of us.”

Patricia looked over at Mrs. Bowen. “I really hope we can head back to New York on Monday. This has been a failed trip.”

Mrs. Bowen looked at Becky. “When are you due?”

“In about three weeks.”

“Then yes, Patricia, we’ll head back Monday. I’ll have just enough time to return you to your family and come back to be here for the birth of my grandchild.”

Becky’s eyes widened. “You will?”

“I will. I hope you’ll be ready for me.”

“Yes, ma’am. Of course, I will.” Becky’s eyes met Amos’s, and hers were filled with trepidation. She didn’t want his mother there when the baby was born.