Loving Against the Grain (Into the West #2)

Chapter 19

 

“Yoo-hoo!”

Emmie paused in her sewing, looking up from the infant gown she’d been hemming to acknowledge her visitor, Muriel Preston. Smiling, she folded the latest project and set it aside, clasping the arms of the rocking chair and hefting herself up to a standing position on a grunt. At eight-plus months of pregnancy, Emmie found it increasingly difficult to do the smallest tasks such as getting out of a chair or picking up something off the floor that she’d dropped. And it seemed she dropped more items the bigger she got. Exasperated with her growing ungainliness, since she’d seemed to double in size since their idyll in Astoria a month ago, Emmie often left lay items she’d dropped throughout the day. Noah could tell what kind of day she’d had just by the number of objects he found on the floor of the cabin. He’d just grin gently and retrieve the pieces, to her undying gratitude, requesting only a kiss as compensation. He always received much more as recompense.

So now Emmaline stood, one comforting hand rubbing her back, waiting for Muriel to approach the porch. Since her due date loomed within a matter of weeks, Noah had set up a visiting schedule for Muriel, Edward, Cookie, and himself to check in on Emmie throughout each day. He’d started keeping a horse at the house at night also, on the off chance he’d have to fetch the doctor. He’d left nothing to chance, and right now it was Muriel’s turn to visit and see how his wife fared.

“Oh, my! I think it's dropped!”

Emmie glanced down at her stomach, which she absently cupped with her other hand. Dropped? Looking back up at Muriel, brow furrowing, she asked doubtfully, “Really? I thought that only happened right before birth.” Muriel couldn’t be right; she still had several weeks.

As Muriel gained the stairs to the porch, she smiled and nodded before meeting her friend’s gaze. “Yep, I think you have. Did the doctor change your due date at all?” She moved to the other rocker, watching with measured look at how Emmie lowered into her rocker and sighed once she’d settled.

Emmie shook her head. “No. He just said I’m gaining proportionately to my term, and to be aware of changes in my body.”

“Well, that baby is getting ready, hon. Are you sure of the time you, um, got active?” Muriel pinked just as much as Emmaline; discussing physical intimacy between a man and a woman, especially when done outside of the marriage bed, was not common practice.

Without meeting her friend’s eyes Emmie shrugged and replied, “It was late summer; that’s all I could tell the doctor.”

Muriel nodded thoughtfully. “Just be prepared, Emmie, ‘cause it looks different than even last week.” Switching subjects as she started rocking her chair she asked, “Have you picked out any names?” and saw the unabashed smile burst over Emmaline’s face.

“Oh, yes! And not really any argument there. If it’s a boy, we both chose Luke, and Rebecca if it’s a girl.” Here Emmie leaned forward conspiratorially and whispered, though no one but the two of them was present, “I’d prefer a girl myself.”

Muriel paused in her rocking and sat back, surprised. Almost every mother wanted a son first to continue the family name! But then, Emmaline and Noah’s circumstances differed from most people, so she just replied neutrally, “Really?”

Emmie nodded quickly. “Think about it! What if it’s a boy and looks just like Lancelot? That would be just awful!”

Hmm, Muriel silently mused. That would be awkward to swallow, even for such an impartially just man as Noah Lawson. Yes, a girl would most definitely be easier all the way around. Nodding, she concurred. “I can see your point. Well, let’s hope for a girl, or a boy that favors you!” she said lightly, vowing to send a prayer heavenward for a female Lawson. Being a God-fearing woman, Muriel never underestimated the power of prayer, and totally agreed that sweet Noah Lawson didn’t need a daily reminder that he was not the father of the baby.