Something Borrowed

Chapter 21

He laughed and reached out, tugging her scarf back up to cover her face. "I don't reckon they want to die any more than you do, Ames," he said good naturedly, and she scowled at him, hoping he could see it in her eyes since he'd gone and covered her mouth. He laughed again, and before she could tell herself to stop, she shifted on the lacquered bench, closing the distance between them.

"You were right," she told him, her voice muffled by the scarf. "It is colder up here."

"Do you want to move to the back?" he asked, craning to look over his shoulder and frowning at his sister. "We could probably wake her."

"No," she said quickly, pressing herself against him beneath the blanket covering their legs. "I'm fine."

Sometime during the night, the weather had darkened, but the clouds were light and harmless, depositing gentle flakes that swirled in the air around them. The wintery terrain, so blinding and intense under the sun the day before, had turned soft and dream-like. Amelia didn't doze, as she still held the reigns, but she did drift into a languid, contented silence. Her body ached with the exertions of the dance, and the fire. Her eyes burned with exhaustion and cold.

None of the girls were going to die. Melissa seemed confident of that. Vivian's was burned to the ground, but Josh assured her the woman had plenty of money saved up and would find her way back to her feet. In spite of the horror and excitement of the evening, everything was going to be okay.

They reached the house shortly after noon, and Josh never asked for the reigns back. He talked her through steering it over the more complex terrain in front of the house, explaining how to draw them to a halt and how to secure the reigns and the brake handle. Feeling accomplished, she accepted his hand down from the platform and stood, laughing, while he prodded his sister awake.

Stumbling with exhaustion, she and Melissa traipsed inside the house while Josh took the horses to the barn. Mumbling something about dinner, Melissa wandered off to her bed and Amelia knew she likely wouldn't see her friend again until breakfast the next morning. Smiling, she hurried to her room to change, having washed the worst of the fire's residue from her skin at the hotel before leaving. Then, wrapped in a thick robe, her feet in soft, warm slippers, she rushed down to the kitchen and set about boiling a kettle of water.

The water was rolling when Josh trudged in, leaning against the door frame. "Are you hungry?" she asked, looking up at him. He shrugged, and she gestured at the small, battered table in the corner. "I'm starving," she said. "I was going to make myself some eggs and toast."

"I'd eat a plate of green beans right about now," he admitted, slumping into a chair by the table, and she laughed.

"That hungry, huh? Will eggs and toast suffice?"

"Eggs and toast sound fine. Do you need help?"

She shook her head. She thought if she sat down in the warmth of the kitchen she might very well collapse in sleep and never awaken. It would be better to stay moving. She cracked eggs into a bowl and whisked them to perfection, adding a small measure of cream to fluff them up. She diced an onion and some cured ham as well, adding them to the cast-iron pan. The smell of sauteed onions filled the kitchen, and she nearly groaned in anticipation. Her stomach was gurgling with hunger and the baby was unusually active-- as if he, too, was protesting the lack of food.

"Alright, alright," she mumbled absently, rubbing her hand over her belly as she pushed the onions around in the pan.

"Is the baby okay?" Josh asked, startling her.

"Oh, he's fine," she promised, waving her hand. "I think he's hungry, too. Won't stop spinning around in there."

"You can feel him moving?"