Gabe
"Do you need to stop?" Katherine peered at him over her shoulder, that silly hat hiding her face from the silvery light of the moon. He didn't need to see her expression to feel the concern radiating off her.
Fighting not to roll his eyes, he waved a hand. "I'm fine, Kat. Stop fussing."
"You look pale."
"Katherine, we're riding under a full moon. Everyone looks pale in a full moon."
She harrumphed and twisted back to face forward in the saddle, her hips swaying gently with the horse's unhurried footsteps. He'd have liked to have moved faster but Katherine had insisted on this pace the night before, when they'd set out.
"You need to take it easy," she had said, as if he hadn't spent the last three days doing nothing but sleep, make love to her, and consume whatever food and drink she pressed into his hands.
Of course, to his utter consternation, she had been right. That first morning, when they made camp in a small cave by the light of the rising sun, it was all he could do to help her roll out their blankets before his body dumped him into an aching, restless sleep.
Even so, the mother hen routine was getting old, and he really did feel fine. A little weaker than he'd have liked, and his head ached a little, and his throat was still sore, and his voice was still wrecked, but he wasn't constantly hovering on the edge of a swoon like she seemed to think. It felt good to be out in the fresh air, finally moving forward.
Towards Isobel.
Katherine had spent the last three days explaining all the intricate details of the plan that she had glossed over in the beginning. It seemed she had thought of everything. As hard as it had been to send Isobel off with the Tuckers, she had determined it was the safest way for her to travel. Rebecca and Amelia had gone along, so she knew that Josh would defend their little caravan to the death.
Caroline had sent Tiff forward on a train south with a pocketbook full of cash, and by the time Gabe and Katherine reached Powell there would be papers waiting for them—birth certificates and a marriage license.
The evening they had left the cabin, Gabe had startled awake from a doze to the sound of three gunshots cracking the air, very nearby to the cabin. Katherine had only smiled.
"That's Mr. Tucker," she said. "Three shots means the search has petered out and we're safe to travel. Two would have meant we should stay for another day. Four, at any point during our stay, means they are headed towards us and we need to run."
There was little she hadn't considered, and the one time he'd voiced his displeasure with the risks everyone had taken, she had silenced him with a glare so hot he'd felt for scorch marks on his forehead.
"It's just such a huge risk," he had said, stubbornly refusing to melt beneath the heat of her annoyance. "The whole point of turning myself over was to take the attention off all of you—you and Izzy, the girls, the Tuckers... now you're all at even more risk than you were before."
She had only sighed, her glare dissipating as she cuddled up beneath his arm. They sat together on the pallet, backs against the wall, watching the stove. Her answer, when she had finally given it, had shut him up on the subject permanently.
"Well first of all," she had said, "the whole purpose of me rescuing you was to ensure that the attention, as you put it, remained on us—the ones who are running away and will never be seen from again. The Tuckers' involvement will only ever be a myth and the girls have been open for business since the night you were taken away—way too busy seeing to the influx of needy customers to have planned anything so bold.
"And second of all, and perhaps more importantly, it was our choice to make. Just like you said to me the night you left. We love you and we couldn't bear to see you die, so we took a risk. Don't tell me that you, of all people, can't wrap your head around that."
Of course he could, so he had shut his mouth and let the matter die. To be truthful, now that he was with her and on his way to Isobel, all he felt towards any of them was gratitude. Just as, before, he had resigned himself to die, now he had resigned himself to live as long and happy a life as he could manage.
If only this stubborn woman would stop asking him if he needed to stop and rest!
They did stop and rest. Several times throughout the night, as had become their unspoken pattern, they stopped their horses every time they passed a stream, letting the animals drink and settling on the ground to eat a snack of dried fruit and lukewarm coffee. She always sat right beside him, and he usually resorted to eating with one hand in order to keep the other arm wrapped securely around her.
In spite of all the little stops— and the one long stop they'd taken just after midnight, when something in the woods had spoken to them and he had thrown out his bedroll on the ground and taken her beneath the stars—they reached Powell at daybreak on Friday morning, one day ahead of schedule.
"They're at the hotel by the station," Katherine said as they rode down an abandoned side street, the whole city cast in the blue-gray tint of an infant dawn. Powell was barely bigger than their own hometown, but Katherine's eyes were wide in her face as she looked around. He had forgotten, in the face of her recent boldness, that she had not ever had the opportunity to travel farther than Ridgecreek.
Gabe himself had only been to Powell twice, but he cast about in his mind for something to tell her about this foreign town to make it feel more familiar. In the end, he drew Reaper closer to her mount and reached out to take her hand as she reached into her pocket for one of the many maps she had brought along.
"You've gotten us this far," he said, leaning over to kiss her knuckles. "I can handle it from here. I know Powell well enough to find our way to the hotel."
She rewarded him with a tremulous smile and turned her attention back to her surroundings. Most of the buildings were made of the same tired wood she had grown up around, with rickety porches and signs with peeling paint. The road was made of packed dirt, reddish brown and run through with hardened ruts from spring's rainfall. The air smelled vaguely of woodsmoke and baking bread, and Gabe heard Katherine's stomach growl loudly.
"Don't laugh!" she pouted when he chuckled at her, pressing a hand to her belly. "It's embarrassing. Hardly very ladylike."
He snorted and turned them right at the next intersection, towards the three-story brick building that loomed out of the fog in the distance.
"Good thing you're a man, then," he countered, gesturing at her attire.
"A boy," she shot back.
"Mmhm. Prettiest boy I ever saw."
"Oh, stop. Someone's going to hear."
He grunted but obeyed, and they rode the rest of the way in a soft, companionable silence.
"Alrighty, boy," Gabe said as he swung down out of the saddle and passed his reins off to her. "You see after the horses while I go get a room."
Katherine glared at him but accepted the reins, and he saw the pink tip of her tongue poke out at him beneath the shadow of her hat as she dismounted as well.
It pained him to leave her, but he knew she'd be safe in that getup. Although, since he knew she was, in fact, a lady, the sight of her rounded backside in those trousers hit him even harder than the sight of her in skirts. For a second, he hesitated at the door of the hotel. What if some early morning worker noticed that perfect curve and the slight press of her bound breasts beneath the bulk of her coat?
"Kat—"
"I've got a gun, Gabe," she said crossly, waving him toward the door. "Hurry. Izzy is waiting."
Grumbling, Gabe left her outside and strode across the polished hardwood to the tall, unattended desk. A brass bell sat atop the surface, alongside a crystal bowl of hard candies, and he picked it up and gave it a ring, summing a puffy-eyed older man with mussed hair and a crease on the side of his face that matched up pretty well with the seam on the sleeve of his shirt.
"Evenin," he mumbled through a yawn as he emerged from the open door behind the desk. "What can I do ya for?"
Gabe didn't bother to correct him on the time of day. "I need a room."
"Two beds or one?"
Gabe almost said one before remembering that, to all appearances, he was traveling with a work colleague. "Two, sir."
"That'll be five for the night. Seven if you want your meals brought up."
Gabe reached into his pocket and withdrew seven dollars, handing them over the counter.
"You write?"
"Yes, sir."
Stifling another yawn, the man lifted a heavy book and turned it around, dropping it onto the counter in front of Gabe along with a gilt silver fountain pen.
"Just need your name and how many nights you're staying."
Gabe scribbled something false in the column with the names, his eyes subtly scanning the page for the made-up name Amelia told him the Tuckers would give.
Wickman.
He found it several lines up, with the room number scrawled beside it. 310.
The rest of the exchange passed in sleepy silence, the concierge's eyes half-lidded as he scratched Gabe's room number onto the page and handed him a steel key with a little leather tag tied to it, "304" stamped into the stained red surface.
"What time is breakfast?" he asked as he turned to go, and the concierge only pointed at the little chalkboard nailed to the wall behind him.
Breakfast: 6 – 7
Dinner: 1-2
Supper: 7-8
"You got staff to draw a bath? We been on the road for a few days."
A nod and a yawn, and finally the man spoke. "I'll call the housekeeper. Give her half an hour to put it together."
Outside, he found Katherine where he had left her, doing her best to affect the posture of a bored youth, with one boot propped against the wall behind her and her arms crossed over her chest. It was all he could do not to snatch her up into his arms and whirl her around in the street, raining kisses on her face.
"Room 304," he said, handing over the key. "I'll see the horses are bedded down. Breakfast isn't for another three hours. They'll bring it up. Keep your disguise on, though. The housekeeper's putting a bath together."
He heard the muffled squeal of excitement as she clasped the key to her chest. Then she turned and pulled her rucksack from the saddlebags and tossed it over her shoulder. "You're sure you're alright to—"
"Go, Kat," he said, turning her around by the shoulder and giving her a gentle nudge forward. "I'll be right up."
The stablehand was as sleepy as the concierge, and accepted Gabe's money with a mumble of thanks and a promise to brush both horses down before putting them up for the night. Gabe left Reaper with a lump of sugar and a grateful pat between the eyes, and then stumbled off to find Katherine.
She sat on the plush gray cushions in the window seat, her hat still on and her eyes downcast to hide her face while a plump older woman busied herself in the adjacent room—a tiled bathroom with a little fogged-glass window in the corner.
"Let's leave her to finish," he said, nodding his head toward the door, and Katherine pushed silently to her feet. Shoulder to shoulder, they walked down the hallway with its maroon runner and doors with gilded gold knockers, the numbers burned artfully into the wood.
When they reached room 310, he scanned the silent hallway before reaching down and squeezing Katherine's hand. She squeezed back, and he raised his hand to rap three times on the door. A pause. Then two more knocks. A code, of course, because Katherine had planned every aspect of this adventure down to the tiniest detail.
Fifteen seconds later, the door opened a crack and Josh's familiar face appeared against the dark backdrop of the room. When his eyes lit on Gabe they flared wide and the door swung open. Gabe found himself yanked into a suffocating, back-slapping hug, and could swear he heard Katherine giggling behind him. When Josh finally let go, he reached out to pull Katherine into the room as well, and then shut the door behind them.
"Josh?" Amelia's sleepy voice came from around the corner.
"We've got some visitors, Ames," Josh called, holding a finger out to Katherine and Gabe. "Tell me when you're decent."
A gasp. "Already?"
Josh grinned at them as he turned up the lantern that hung on a hook by the door. "Guess it's not as long a ride as we thought."
Gabe heard a rustle of cloth and the squeak of floorboards, and then Amelia was rounding the corner, cinching a robe around her waist.
"Oh!" She flew at Katherine, wrapping her up in a tight hug, and then turned to Gabe, framing his face and studying him with a maternal intensity. "We were so worried," she said, glancing over her shoulder at Josh. "Weren't we?"
Her husband nodded obligingly and tipped his head toward the rest of the room. "Isobel's sleeping. Reckon you came to fetch her before you head back to your room?"
Katherine nodded, brushing her hands on her pants. "I think we'll likely sleep through breakfast, but perhaps we can take dinner together?"
"Of course!" Amelia sidled over to Josh and leaned into him, wrapping her arm around his waist as he draped his over her shoulder. Gabe looked to Katherine and realized that he could do the same to her if he so chose. She'd let him. They could walk the streets together, arm in arm.
Josh and Amelia's suite was bigger than the little room Gabe had booked. The narrow entryway opened up into a large bedroom with a lifted, four-poster bed in the middle, clearly slept-in. Beyond the bed, a door hung open and from the sliver of tile floor Gabe guessed it was the bathroom. Opposite the bed was a second door, which Amelia pushed open slowly, pressing her finger to her lips.
"Try not to wake Reb," she said, sharing a knowing look with Josh. "She's a holy terror if we wake her up early."
Gabe led the way into the dark room. He couldn't seem much through the darkness, but he made out a chest of drawers against the far wall and the little bed that stood beside it. Two motionless lumps lay beneath the quilt, and he could have said with his eyes closed which one was his daughter.
Katherine squeezed his arm and gave him a nudge forward, and he tiptoed up to the side of the bed and gently pulled the covers away. Isobel, sprawled on her back, made a grumpy, sleepy little noise, turning her face away, one arm pushing up into a stretch.
He felt as if something deep within him had burst, bleeding warmth from his chest out into his limbs, making his fingers tingle and his head buzz with the sheer bliss of his new reality. It was one thing to come back to life, but it was an entirely different matter to step into a new one. A new life, with a new name and a future he'd never even chanced to dream.
"Alright honey," he murmured, slipping his arms beneath her and pulling her close to his chest.
She murmured and turned her face toward him, and he didn't even recognize the acidic burn in his nose until his eyes began to water. He couldn't move. He couldn't breathe. He could only stare at the blurry image of his daughter's face, relaxed in sleep, utterly trusting in his arms. And he didn't have to walk away. Not ever again.
Fingers closed around his arm, and Katherine appeared at his shoulder, a small bag hooked over her arm and a happy, understanding little frown on her face.
"Let's go," she whispered.
Josh and Amelia saw them out, and Katherine led the way into their little room, confirming the housekeeper was gone before waving him in. While she shut and bolted the door, he sank onto the edge of the massive bed and told himself he needed to set his daughter down so she could sleep. Not to mention he smelled of horse and sweat and smoke and didn't want to infect her with the stench.
"I'm going to take a bath," Katherine said, from across the room. He kept losing track of her in the haze of disbelief that came with having his daughter back in his arms.
"Okay," he said absently, forcing himself to set Isobel down against the pillows. Her body sank into the thick duvet and she rolled toward him, curling her legs up toward her belly. Looking around, he spotted a throw at the end of the bed and grabbed it, draping it over her. One small hand closed over the edge of the blanket and tugged it closer with an unconscious scowl.
"Iz," he breathed, reaching out to run a thumb over the little wrinkle between her brows. She hummed a little, her lips quirking up in a smile as she snuggled deeper into the pillow. He had to tell himself she wasn't actually perfect. She was a human being and would grow up with flaws. But there was no tamping down the roaring pride that brought those damned tears back to his eyes, because whatever her flaws were, he'd get to watch them form. He'd get to scold her and celebrate her and stay up late with Katherine, talking about how best to raise her.
It wasn't until then that he realized he'd never truly seen that future. Even when they were planning to run away together, before his mother died. He'd planned to build a life with them, but he'd never really seen it.
Now...
"Gabe?"
He turned to see Katherine standing in the doorway, a thin robe around her body and her hair wrapped up in a towel. Damn... he'd lost track of time if she was already done with her bath. The scent of roses wafted out around her and he decided right then that they needed to hop that train as soon as possible and find somewhere to live. Somewhere where he and Katherine had their own room, with a door. And a lock. And maybe they could hang up some rugs on the walls to absorb the sound...
"Water's still warm," she said, gesturing over her shoulder.
He didn't want to leave Isobel's side, but now that she and her mother were both clean and nice-smelling he figured he owed it to them to wash up.
Katherine sank onto the bed beside Isobel, long legs stretched out before her, and ran gentle fingers through their daughter's hair.
"Go on," she whispered. "We'll be right here."
In the privacy of the bathroom, he stripped out of his dirty clothes—the same shirt and pants the sheriff had given him the morning of the execution—and stepped into the tub. The water was, as Katherine had promised, still warm, and it eased the ache in his muscles he had forgotten was there. For a long moment he simply sank against the side of the copper tub and closed his eyes, savoring the sensation of the water lapping against his skin, carrying the scent of whatever soap Katherine had used.
After the moment had passed he washed up quickly, scrubbing himself from head to toe with the small bar of pink soap Katherine had left beside the tub. He'd smell like a woman, but he didn't really care. Apparently he'd taken to crying like one, so what difference was a little rose-scented soap?
Clambering out of the tub, he dried himself quickly and stepped into the pants Katherine had left, carefully folded, on the little stool by the door. There was a shirt as well and he shrugged into it, doing up a couple buttons to keep himself decent, before stepping back out into the bedroom.
Katherine had fallen into a doze, her sweet face smooth with repose. Isobel had turned unconsciously toward her mother, curled up with her forehead pressed to Katherine's ribs and her cheek resting on one small hand.
Katherine stirred as he sat on the bed and reclined against the pillows.
"Better?" she asked, rolling her head on the pillow and giving him a sleepy smile.
"Mmhm."
"I s'pose Izzy will be up soon."
"And breakfast is coming."
"Might as well sleep while we can."
Turning onto his side, Gabe reached across Isobel and took Katherine's hand in his. "Reckon we should."
He waited, watching as her eyes slipped shut and her body seemed to sag into the covers. Her face relaxed, and her breathing became slow and even. Between them, Isobel fidgeted and turned over, and he had both their faces right there in front of him. Safe. Peaceful. His.
He closed his eyes and slept...
... and woke to a small hand smacking his cheek. He started, eyes flying open to bright sunlight streaming through the heavy red curtains. Even the sun, though, paled in comparison to the light that blasted at him from Isobel's face.
She sat cross-legged on the bed between him and Katherine, who was still sleeping. Her eyes were wide and her hair was one massive tangle, having come loose from its braid while she was sleeping. Her hand was still pressed to the side of his face, cool and a little clammy.
"Hey, Iz," he grunted, reaching up to capture her hand and press a kiss to the back. "How's my girl?"
His heart clenched in his chest as he watched the emotions pass over her face, one at a time. Her little shoulders rose and fell with heavy breaths, her eyes wide as she scanned his ace, trying to determine if he was real. Then her face split into a happy grin and her hand turned over and curled around his fingers.
Then she was sobbing.
She threw herself forward and his arms flew around her on instinct as he pushed himself upright. Katherine had jolted awake with her daughter's first strangled sob, and now sat rubbing her eyes and watching them with an amused tilt to her lips.
"You left," Isobel sobbed into his shirt, clambering into his lap without lifting her face from his shoulder. "I woke up and you were gone and ma said you weren't coming with us."
"I know," he murmured, holding her tightly to him, wary of loosening his grip even enough to rub her back. "I know, honey. I'm sorry."
"Ma..." she sucked in a heaving breath, rambling out the words between sobs. "Ma said she was gonna get you. But I had to go with Miss Amelia and Mister Josh and Reb but I didn't want to go even though Reb is my best friend. I wanted to stay until you came home but ma said we weren't going to go home we were going to go to the train but you said you'd be with us but you weren't there and I said we can't go on the train cuz pa's not here so we have to wait, but ma said we weren't going without you but I had to be patient but it was a long time and we rode horses and we read books but Mister Josh doesn't read as good as you and Miss Amelia smells like cookies and ma smells like flowers and I waited and I was patient but I was scared you went on the train without me and—"
"Izzy," he said, swallowing the thick lump in his throat and leaning back. He cupped her chin in his hand, forcing her gaze up to meet his. Her eyes were puffy and red, and a string of snot had gathered on her upper lip. Funny how she was the prettiest damn thing he'd ever seen. "Honey, we'd never leave you behind."
"I—" she broke off on a hiccup and drooped forward, wrapping little arms around his body and hugging him with all her might. "I know."
But she didn't stop crying. Not for a long time. Gabe didn't know what to do, so he looked to Katherine, but she only offered a sad little smile and reached out to rub small circles between their daughter's shoulder blades.
Another part of parenting he'd have to learn to manage: the soul-crushing knowledge that the only thing he could do was hold her and wait for the tears to stop.
Fortunately for his heart, they did. First they faded from sobs to gentle weeping, and then finally to exhausted, hiccupping gasps. When the knock came on the door, Gabe reluctantly passed his daughter into Katherine's hands. "Why don't you two go clean up," he said, and Katherine nodded and slipped away, Isobel in her arms.
He accepted the massive tray of food the doorman brought, setting it aside to pass off a tip before pushing the door shut behind him and barring it. The smell of hot food wafted up and set his stomach to groaning.
"Alright, it's safe," he called, carrying the tray to the bed.
Katherine emerged, leading Isobel by the hand. The little girl's face was still splotchy and red, but her eyes were clear when she looked up at him. "I'm hungry."
"Me too, honey." Reaching down, he swept her up and placed her on the bed before the tray, and he and Katherine sat on either side of her. They uncovered the plates together, revealing toast and eggs and jam and butter. Oatmeal with a little lump of brown sugar melting into the top. Coffee and milk. Orange juice. Crispy bacon and sausage links.
If they were alone, he doubted they'd have spoken as they fell upon their food. But Isobel was there, and now that her initial shock had passed it seemed that she had stockpiled a massive heap of questions and unloaded them one by one while they ate. One after another.
"When are we going on the train?"
"Where are we going?"
"How come you were gone so long?"
"What happened to the bad men?"
"Is Reb coming?"
"Is Reaper coming?"
"Is Miss Chrissie coming?"
"What dress am I wearing?"
"Do I need to use my compass?"
Gabe and Katherine were both crying tears of laughter by the time they finished breakfast, leveled by the sheer quantity of questions and the way they just kept coming. Somehow, Isobel had managed to put away a decent portion of eggs, a slice of toast, and a glass of orange juice, but Gabe didn't see where she'd found the time.
A knock at the door an hour after breakfast brought Gabe reluctantly off the bed, but the visitor was just Josh.
"We were going to go for a ride," his friend said, tipping his chin up. "Figured you and Kat are tired and thought we'd offer to take Izzy with us."
Gabe didn't hesitate.
"No," he said, smiling and clapping the other man on the shoulder. "That's good of you, but I think we need a little time."
Josh grinned and shrugged a shoulder. "Figured as much, but I thought I'd ask. I know we said we'd meet for dinner, but we were thinking of having a picnic while we were out riding. Supper instead?"
"Supper it is," Gabe agreed. "Can you host us in that suite of yours?"
Josh grimaced and shrugged again. "You know me. I'd be happy enough under the stars. But Ames insists we act like we have money occasionally. She says we're raising Reb to be a hellion and we have to try to civilize her."
Gabe laughed and saw his friend off before returning to his family.
They passed the day in a sleepy reverie. Isobel's small bag had several books in it, and he read to her from Robinson Crusoe, which they hadn't even come close to finishing. He and Katherine took turns napping while the other entertained their daughter, and for thirty glorious minutes after their dinner tray was taken away they all sank into a brief, mutual, food-stuffed slumber.
At suppertime, they carried their tray to the Tuckers' and ate in a makeshift picnic, seated on a blanket on the floor with the curtains cast wide to catch the glint of the sun setting on the roofs of the town. They talked of nothing important, except for a brief interlude when Amelia handed over the papers Tiff had brought.
"She said to tell you she's sorry she couldn't see you off," Amelia said, smiling at him. "And that Caroline told her to tell me to tell you," she paused to roll her eyes, "that they love you and wish you the best and that if they ever see you in town again they'll be mighty peeved. Her words, not mine."
The papers revealed that Isobel's name, henceforth, would be Isobel Lathrop. Her parents: Sarah and John.
Gabe glared at the falsified birth certificate. "John Lathrop?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at Amelia.
"John Gabriel Lathrop," she said, tapping the paper with her finger and gesturing at Katherine's. "And Sarah Katherine Lathrop. That way you can still use your real names, and just tell people it's a nickname or something. We thought Isobel would be safe since she's so young, but it'd be best if you had a new name to give to employers, or to put on land deeds. That way there's no chance of folks finding out through official channels that there's a Gabe and Katherine running around raising a little Isobel."
"I'm not little," Isobel piped up from where she sat on the bed with Rebecca, doodling on a drawing pad with a little chunk of charcoal. "I'm tall. Ma said I'm gonna be tall, like my pa!"
She gutted him. There was really no other way to describe the way it felt, when she claimed him as her father so easily and with such innocent pride. It also gutted him when Katherine scooted across the floor and leaned her head against his shoulder, holding the marriage certificate up before them.
"You're going to need to buy me a ring," she said casually. "People will be suspicious if my darling husband John didn't bother to get me a ring."
Maybe Josh and Amelia would watch Isobel for an hour so he could drag his wife off to the bedroom and have his way with her.
* * *
"It's funny, isn't it?" Katherine asked, hours later, while they lay in bed with Isobel between them and a whole new life sitting on the horizon, waiting for the sun to rise.
"Hm?" he forced his eyes open and turned to face her. She lay on her side, head pillowed on her bent elbow.
"We're married," she said softly, reaching out and combing her fingers through his hair. "No ceremony or anything. One second we're us. The next we're..." she wrinkled her nose, "John and Sarah Lathrop."
He sighed and rested his own hand on her hip. "I'm sorry, Katie. I should have got you a ring, at least."
She laughed. "Where? At the gallows?" At his scowl, she poked out her lip in a dramatic pout and tapped his nose with her finger. "Don't be silly, John. You and I don't need a ceremony. I do want a ring, but I don't need to stand in a church and tell God how I feel for you. He knows. And you don't need the threat of a broken vow to care for me the way a husband should. You always have."
Still... they may not need a ceremony, but he wanted some kind of one. Maybe because she had had one with Jacob. He hadn't been invited, of course, but a whole crowd had gathered outside the church and he'd watched from within it as she emerged from the double doors in a white gown and a bouquet of wildflowers. He wanted to do something more than that. He wanted her first wedding—her first marriage—to fade from her memory with every passing day. He wanted to give her memories that would drown out what she'd suffered.
"Gabe?"
"Hm?"
The whites of her eyes sparked in the darkness. "How about we have a ceremony right here," she said softly, the pad of her thumb brushing over his cheekbone.
"Huh?"
"Do you, John Gabriel Lathrop," she said, her voice half teasing and half deadly serious, "promise to meet me, Sarah Katherine Lathrop, at the Bridge tomorrow and for every tomorrow that follows?"
His heart ached in his chest, and he shifted carefully to lean over Isobel's sleeping form to press a kiss to his wife's lips.
"I do."
"Do you swear never to raise a hand against me or our daughter?"
"Of course."
"And to protect us from life's evil?"
"Always."
"And to let me be free in my life."
"Yep."
"And to cherish our daughter and any other children we may produce."
He chuckled. "I do."
"You promise to love me even if I get old and ugly?"
"Especially then."
"And if we lose all our money and have to live beneath a bridge?"
"Reckon that's when we'll need each other most."
"And do you promise to while away eternity with me in heaven, even if it's boring with all the clouds and the harps?"
He laughed aloud at that. "I do."
When she didn't speak, he shifted up on his elbow and narrowed his eyes at her. "And do you, whatever your name is, promise to meet me, Jack Loony—"
"John Lathrop," she corrected with a scowl.
"Right. Do you, Sarah Katherine Lathrop, promise to meet me, John Gabriel Lathrop, at the Bridge tomorrow and every day after?"
"I do," she said with a grin that flashed in the darkness.
"And do you swear to let me protect you, even though you're a crack shot now and don't really need me?"
She giggled. "I swear."
"And to let me provide for you, even though you'll probably find a job before I do?"
"Of course."
"And to cherish every child I manage to give you, including this one?"
"Yup."
"You promise to love me even when I get old and ugly?"
"That's not now?" He scowled and lightly pinched her hip, and she poked out her tongue. "Especially then."
"And to cut me down from the gallows when I get delusions of martyrdom?"
"Always."
"And do you promise to make a bargain with God so we can both get into heaven? Cuz hell will be awful boring without you, Katie."
"I think you'll get in on your own," she said, lifting a shoulder. "But I'll put in a good word just in case."
"Well, then," he said, his hand cradling her cheek. "I suppose that makes us man and wife."
"I suppose so," she said, her voice low and sweet. "Only thing left to do is consummate it."
A laugh bubbled up inside him that would have woken Isobel if he'd let it loose, so he clamped his lips down on it and leaned over to kiss her again.
"Think we've got that part handled," he said, setting a hand on Isobel's back as he relaxed back into his pillow.
The whole world had a dreamy quality to it. Between the darkness and the weight of food in his belly and the smell of Katherine all around him, he could scarcely believe his senses were being honest with him. Perhaps he was dead and this was heaven. Perhaps it was now his lot in life to wonder, every day, if he truly had died and this dream he was living was just a merciful delusion.
"Katherine?" he asked into the darkness, needing the tangible sweetness of her voice to convince him he was alive and awake and here.
"Mmm," she hummed sleepily, shifting beneath the duvet.
He felt silly, but he opened his mouth anyway and uttered a single word into the darkness. "Tomorrow?"
Her giggle was a clumsy, muffled thing, and then her hand found his amidst the sheets, her cool fingers wrapping around his and squeezing.
"Definitely."