After The Storm

[Lizzie B]

He didn't mention a wife. Surely, he would have, if he'd had one? So he must be a widower? Was that what had inspired him to take her, when no one else would? And then, a horrible thought occurred to her. Was he looking for a mother for his child? Not a wife, but a mother. Violet was not in any way shape or form, a mother.

Ok, well, maybe just a little. But that was only physically.

Mentally, she was not prepared. The youngest in her family, she hadn't grown up around babies. The small children in church often annoyed her beyond belief, and the tantrums they threw sent chills down her spine. She was not entirely comfortable with children, in all honesty. Yes, she knew how to hold an infant. She'd watched mothers coddle their babies, burp them, feed them at their breasts with expressions of adoration. But she hadn't been exposed to it nearly as much as some girls had.

Maybe that was why she had been so terrified, to find she was pregnant. Without her mother by her side, who could she count on to help her become a mother? How to stop an infant from crying, how to bathe them, how to get them to sleep. Sure, she had a vague idea, but vague wasn't what most people shot for when in need of parenting advice. And then there was the whole 'labor' ordeal. She'd grown up around farm animals(Like that could give her any comfort), but as far as women went? She'd heard the horror stories, the screaming, seen the bodies buried soon after.

She hadn't been ready to be a wife, but Johnny had helped her. He'd accepted her, worked alongside her, helped her. She'd been hoping for the same, with the baby. But now...now he was gone, and she was alone.

"How old is your boy?" Violet managed to choke, trying not to sound too panicked. If the child hated her, there was little she could do. There was little she knew how to do. Dear Lord, please don't let me ruin both of these children.

[Ozzie]

Eyes stern and gazing straight down the dusty road laid out before them, Sam took the question with a modicum of concern. Would she not like August? She didn't seem like the type to turn her nose up at children. To him, she seemed like the kind that would take a liking to children fast. The kind that would turn to teaching in later years.

"Five." His voice as solid as his gaze. "Shoots like he's ten. Eats like he's full grown." He made a somewhat nervous -Nervous? Yes, nervous. Why?- glance at the woman, wandering as to whether she would cringe or coo. "He's a good boy. Just tries to outgrow his breeches too fast."

As the road came around a mass of trees nestled against its curvature, Sam's farm came into sight. One story in height, with plane, unpainted wood comprising its exterior, it certainly wasn't luxurious. Paint. The thought made Sam scoff internally. If there was one thing to waste money on.

The porch wrapped three-quarters of the way around the house, with the last quarter in the back having a rough-looking stone chimney built into the wall.

The house sat as the center point for the large oak trees surrounding it. The creaking giants had stood there far longer than the nearby town had, and had the twisting, sky-reaching branches to prove it. Out around back, several smaller trees, even at this point visible to be apricot-bearing, stood upright in the Earth.

[Lizzie B]

Five. Well, maybe that wasn't so bad. Or, at least that was what she tried to tell herself. What had she liked when she was five? Dolls, but this was a boy. What had Jeffry liked? She'd been just a baby at the time, how was she supposed to remember? Eats like he's full grown. That was the one phrase that really stood out to her, the one thing she could comment on.

"I guess it's a good thing I'm a fairly decent cook then." she pondered, more to herself than to Sam. But of course, he was listening, and she was feeling more self conscious than she had in her entire life. "I mean, not that...I'm sure you two get along just fine." Without a woman, without someone to do 'woman' things. Was that what he wanted her there for? Either way, she was in trouble.

Too woman, or not nearly woman enough.

Violet kept her mouth shut tight, until they pulled into the farm. Then her jaw went slack with awe, a sharp intake of breath clearly audible as she took it all in. She hadn't seen a house, a tree bearing fruit, a farm in...months. A year? Close to it, and she hadn't realized how terrible she'd missed it. The place was beautiful, and it smelled like...home. But different. The air was different here, always with the slightest hint of rain. It was, perhaps, the freshest air she'd ever inhaled.

Violet wanted to rush out of the wagon, run into the house, explore every inch of the place. But it was not her home, and it was not her kin waiting inside of that house. Was he even inside? Or was he running wild? What would the boy look like? Would he hate her? Jeremy Barnes had hated her. He was a nasty boy that went to her church, who she'd had the unpleasant task of trying to teach a Sunday school lesson to. He'd made it clear how much he hated her, one even kicking her hard in the leg.

"Do you want to...maybe go in? Talk to him first? I can wait." she offered nervously.

[Ozzie]

The most convenient eye glanced over Violet's face. Had he just caught a quiver of excitement in the girl's previously worry-riddled face? Somehow, it made Sam blush slightly, the thought of the woman actually finding his modest home anything to gaze upon without immediately wanting to move elsewhere.

A calm smile crept across his face, his eyes becoming a little softer. "August." He allowed her to have a name, realizing that he had failed to do so as of yet. " 'Nd he's not here. He's up the road a ways at a neighbor of mine's, Joe-Lee Birch. His wife takes the young'un when I have business to tend to. I was headed into town for some food things before....before that wheel busted." He spoke, not wanting it to sound as though she had ruined his trip.

"They have some children of their own. August runs around doing whatever they do, makin' them do what he does." He changed the subject, still feeling a mite guilty about the situation no matter how long it had been since the lop-sided relationship with the Birches had begun. "Reckon I'll head back into town once you're settled in."

[Lizzie B]

August. He said the name like a treasure, the same look on his face that Johnny had once had when they'd talked about their child. Love. The love of a parents. Even this rugged, quiet man loved his child. Of course he did. But then, how could she even consider Sam to be at all emotionless? Hadn't he taken her in?

It sounded like a wonderful childhood, the one he was describing. Playing with the neighbors, running wild. "That sounds great." Violet told Sam, smirking just a little. She'd had plenty of adventures herself, though it continued on until she was much older than she would have liked to admit. In fact, not three months ago they'd come to a stream on the trail, and Johnny had convinced her to jump in...clothes and all. Later on, another woman lectured her about her 'delicate condition', and she'd cried in the wagon out of shame. What kind of mother would she be? "But Johnny didn't think-," she had protested, and the woman shook her head. "He's a man. What do men know about making babies?" She'd hoped a little bit more than she did.

The last thing Sam said though, brought a sense of shame. He'd avoided shopping with her. Why? Out of kindness? Was he ashamed to be seen with her? It was easier, it truly was, but she still felt as though she were a burden. "I can start dinner." she offered quickly, trying to find some way to make up for his charity. "If you'd like. I mean, I haven't cooked hardly anything but biscuits and bacon for quite some time, but I'm sure I could make something edible." She'd been a fairly decent cook at one time or another, though baking was her real passion. "Desserts just aren't as useful." her mother had told her. "They're a luxury. You should focus on sustenance." But she liked luxuries. Who didn't like a well made pie every now and then?

[Ozzie]

A slightly humorous smile came to the man's face, a playful, stark contrast to his earlier granite demeanor. "You tell me somethin', Miss Sawyer: You ever make mud pies when you was a girl?" The question, as well as the expression on his face, seemed out of place for the time being, as if lightning had just struck against a a clear, midnight sky.

((Shortness for the sake of conversation, will write more once you've replied, I promise.))

[Lizzie B]

(Lol it's all good.)

It was the first time in a long time she'd just...smiled. Suddenly, caught off guard, unable to stop the corners of her mouth from turning upward. He was different, when he was not silent...just as she was different, when she was not nervous or heartbroken...or guilty. No, she wasn't meek and altogether proper as some might assume...but misfortune had a way of hiding the best in people.

"I..." she began, biting her lip and shaking her head a little, as though she couldn't believe she was telling him. "Mud was fine, but it was so...temeprmental. Honestly, I made most of my mud pies out of cow droppings. They stay together so much better, though my Ma was never a fan of the smell. It tends to stay on your skin for a whole after.". She blushed, just a little. Not of deep humiliation, but a slight embarrassment.

[Ozzie]

The kind of smile that made one appear foolish tried its best to break through onto Sam's face. He dominated the feeling for all of a second before it stretched out above his chin, light laughter pouring out with it. "Well them's what you're gonna be making for dinner if I don't get into town for some dry goods." Another laugh. "That cupboard is bare as a bone...but the Birches have near two dozen head of cattle if you want to do the shoppin' yourself." He pointed Southward, trying his best not to make a fool of himself with the amount of laughter he was holding back with iron lungs. Still, slightly suppressed chuckles escaped his lips.

The feeling of sharing a laugh with someone other than August was a long-misplaced sensation. It made a pool of contentment form in his heart for a short while, though it faded as the moment passed. He laughed with her. And it made him feel fine. No worrying about the farm. No worrying if she were looking down upon him and his son. Just warmth.

Composure drew close to him once more, however, there were still traces of the laughter in his eyes as he spoke. "You can come with me if you like." He added, his voice punctuated with a slightly uncomfortable silence. "What I uh, meant to say, was, if you felt comfortable heading back into town after you've left your things...I had misplaced the list of good I intended to get." He looked at her with a divining eye in an attempt to gauge her reaction. "Some of..." He paused. "There's some unused things kept in my armoire...not my armoire..." His voice grew slightly panicked. He had fumbled any sort of composure he regained. He prayed that she knew his meaning as he sat in frustrated but stoic silence.

[Lizzie B]

It was not what she'd been expecting to hear. Part of the shock came from the thought of a bare cupboard. Even in the dead of winter, they'd always had a cellar filled with food to keep them full. Maybe things worked differently here in Oregon? Maybe after months on the trail, scraping by, it was a relief to be able to run into town every time you needed something to eat? The ride wasn't long at all, and it was, in a word, gorgeous.

It took her a moment to understand the joke, but when she did, a choked laugh escaped her. Maybe she should have been embarrassed, but laughing felt so...right. And so, she did. She laughing until her sides ached and her eyes watered. And then it died off, as laughter does, and they were left in silence. She took the moment to study him. His bone structure, his broad shoulder, those eyes...he was a little rough around the edges, but easily one of the most handsome men she'd ever seen. Somehow, she hadn't noticed it before, with her nerves and the tension at the church. Now though, she saw him. She saw the strong jaw, teasing eyes, thick dark hair...she liked it. Violet liked it so much, in fact, that she felt wildly guilty.

She was married. No, she wasn't. But that didn't matter. It was sin, no doubt...sin and loneliness.

He invited her to go back into town with him, and then mentioned the armoire. It was the first hint he'd had, as to where his wife had God. Home with the Lord, no doubt about it. She'd seen that look before, on her own face, in the reflection of a stream. It had scared her to death. Would she have been able to do it? Offer a stranger Johnny's old things? A lump rose in her throat, though she tried to swallow it. No, the pain was still too fresh. "That's very kind of you. I'd...I'd like to go back into town."She tried to meet his eyes, wishing she could just say it. I know. It's hell on earth, and I know it.

[Ozzie]

With the wagon coming to a shaky halt in front of the farmhouse, Sam offered his hand once more to the woman. The moment of playful humor the two had shared seemed as dream now, almost as if it had never happened at all. Painful memories of his Emma had surfaced with the mention of the armoire, and although it hadn't caused him to revert to the pitiful state of years past, it had visibly dampened his mood.

A previously lingering eye from Violet had made him feel embarrassed. True, he hadn't shaved in a few days, and he more than likely looked like he had been doing exactly what he had been doing; And that was tending his land. Streaks of dirt marred his clothing and his hair was matted in locks of dried sweat. A slight resentment twinged the back of his neck. Would she, too, be one of them? The same people he believed he had just rescued her from?

"You can take your time." His words did not betray the notion that he had. His eyes scanned over the house as if he would somehow be able to locate his list from outside. "There's a wash basin upstairs. Room at the end of he hall..."

A whooping bark echoed across the land. It was the distinctive call of a bloodhound, though the dog who bolted toward them appeared as a muddied bloodline, a true mutt in the most general of terms. The appearance of the dog motivated Sam to stand close to Violet. "He ain't vicious, but don't give him the chance to rear up on you." He warned, knowing the dog's adoration for people made him more dangerous than any rabid mongrel when it came to greetings.