Read Claimed on the Frontier Online
Authors: Jane Henry
His eyes warmed. “And you are, darlin’,” he said quietly. “I’m so proud of you, I’m not sure I have the words to tell you. Such a brave girl, livin’ in that home you did, but holdin’ on to hope. Comin’ with us, though you didn’t know what the future held. You knew you’d find your way. You came to me and trusted me, allowed me to lead you and teach you. You learned to read. I opened the door, and you ran through. While I laid here in bed listenin’ to you read, my heart swelled with pride over the strong, capable woman you’ve become.”
“I had no idea,” I whispered. “No idea you felt that way about me.”
His hand smoothed the hair from my forehead. “You have a hard time believin’ you’re worthy of love, darlin’. But believe it. We all love you. Ma, and Matthew, Samuel, and Phillip, even Geraldine. But none love you as I do, Pearl. I love you with all that’s in me.”
“And I love you,” I murmured, lifting myself up one more time to meet him in a kiss. Then I settled my head back on his chest.
I would not have to try to earn Aaron’s love. He loved me now and would love me always. His love was unconditional, as fathomless as the ocean, and as wide as the big blue sky. I belonged to him. I would continue to grow and flourish under his guidance. But we would learn together, he and I. The years ahead would loom and we’d have our share of struggles. But we’d emerge victorious.
For in one another, we were complete.
Epilogue
One year later
“It was only a matter of time, you know,” I said to Aaron. He was busily eating hearty portions of roast at the table, an ample portion on his fork halfway to his mouth.
“Samuel courtin’ Ruth?” A year after Ruth and Hannah had stayed with ma, the men of the town had rebuilt the burnt house. It was sturdy and lovely, and Samuel had taken to seeing to the needs of the two. It was no secret now that he was courting Hannah’s ma, and it was only a matter of time before he proposed. We were all eager. We loved Ruth and Hannah, and all felt it fitting that the women who’d lived in such a dismal home would be seen to by the gentlest of the Stanley brothers.
“No,” I said. “We all saw that was coming.”
He nodded.
I patted my ample abdomen, as swollen as a ripe watermelon. “A
baby
,
Aaron. It was only a matter of time with you creaking those bedposts every night before we’d have a little one of our own.”
He snorted. “Creakin’ those bedposts?” he said. “Is that right, you little vixen?”
I stuck my tongue out at him, which was a mistake, for when he scraped his chair away to come and chase me, I could only wobble now. In two shakes he had me sitting on his lap in the rocker. My arms encircled his neck and his encircled my waist.
“It’s a boy. I know it is,” I said.
“Is that right?” he said. “And how, pray tell, do you know that?”
“Because he keeps me up at night and wakes me up in the morning. Already bossing me around and he hasn’t even taken his first breath yet. He’s got his daddy’s genes, through and through.”
He smacked my bottom and chuckled.
And I was quite right. Patrick James Stanley graced our home just a few months later, a lively, ruddy little fellow with his father’s sandy hair and mother’s blue eyes. And the days grew on into years, and our family grew. First Patrick, then Elizabeth, followed by Rachel, then Eli. One day, when the little ones were running about outside in the summer sun, gathering dandelions and violets for me in clusters to put upon our supper table, I whisked a speck of dust off the table as Aaron came in the house.
The pile of our schoolbooks still sat upon the table. We were a family who loved to read, and did so in the evenings before bed and on lazy Sunday afternoons.
“It’s all so fleeting, Aaron,” I said. “I want to capture it all. I want to remember the way you came in the house that first day I saw you and I thought you looked like a king. I never want to forget the way you held me, or the first time you kissed me. I want to hold these fleeting moments in my hand, before the sand of time just flits them all away.”
He came up behind me and wrapped his arms around me. He’d come back from town and was in the house early. Something was tucked in his hand. He opened it, revealing a leather-bound book. I gasped, opening its pages as his chin rested on my shoulder. Every page was blank.
I looked up at him curiously.
“Then write it, darlin’,” he said.
And so I did.
The End
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