was de- mure, her bodice seemed unchaste because of its tightness. She smoothed her hands over it critically, then compromised on a light shawl over her shoulders to camouflage the tight- ness.
Aaron finished dressing before she did and went past her door again on his way out. 'I'll bring the wagon up,' he said as he passed.
When she and the baby came out, he was tacking a dish towel over the small area that would act as Sarah's crib. He had already spread the quilt beneath a sunshade.
She was pleased by his ingenuity. A thrill of pride rippled through her as she complimented him, 'You think of everything, don't you, Aaron?'
'I try,' he grinned. 'There's a length of canvas under the seat in case it rains.' 'I left Sarah's things in the house. Can you hold her while I get them?' And before he could answer, Sarah was on his arm. She blinked up at him from under a scalloped bonnet, silently studying his face before she reached out one inquis- itive hand and caught the corner of his lower lip. It was a kind of introduction, one that caught on his heart and made him purse his lips to kiss the tiny hand. This was his daughter, whom he'd never kissed before.
When Mary had shut the house and returned, he laid Sarah in her spot and handed Mary up. It was a perfectly polite excuse to touch her hand, but their touch was brief. She clustered her sprigged skirts, stepped up, and they were away.
The ride couldn't last long enough for Mary. Eager as she was to get to town, the ride was probably the better part of going. There was a growing feeling of rightness about the three of them being together. Their increasing awareness of each other was at once multiplied and mellowed by the common, everyday thing they were doing, going to town like an ordinary family.
Unconsciously, Mary found herself counting the months since Jonathan's death. When she realized what she was doing, she brought her thoughts up sharply.
Both Mary and Aaron acted with the utmost propriety in town that day, knowing that curious eyes were on the new widow appearing in public for the first time. There was no hand to help her down from the wagon seat this time. Mary her self lifted Sarah from the wagon bed. She and Aaron separ- ated on the boardwalk before the dry- goods store, he going to the barbershop for a haircut and the latest gossip, Mary going to select goods for the baby, staples for the pantry. While looking through the bolts of cloth, her eye fell on one of a creamy ribbed faille. Its soft sheen tempted her fingertips, and as she touched it, she gave in to temptation and asked Sam to have a length of it added to her order. Next she went to the bakery and indulged in a jelly-filled Bismarck, giving Sarah a taste from her fingertips. The baby was the center of attention wherever she went. The taste of the jelly made Sarah demand more, and Millie Harmon at the bakery invited Mary to avail herself of the living quarters at the rear of the building so Sarah could be nursed.
The nursing finished, Mary walked to Doc Haymes's office to ask his advice on what to feed the baby. Sarah was growing fast and needed more than a liquid diet. Doc Hay- mes greeted Mary in his gruffly affectionate manner and chucked Sarah under her double chin. Noting the baby's obvious robust health, he advised Mary, 'You should wean her now.' At Mary's look of surprise he went on, 'Babies get too fat when they nurse too long. Make it easy on yourself and better for Sarah, here.' He instructed her on getting the baby used to soft foods, on binding her breasts and taking in less liquids when the time arrived, and finally sent her to the drugstore for Lydia Pinkham's Patent Medicine, to be taken for the discomfort.
Aaron was waiting at the dry-goods store when she got back. Sarah was grumpy after her long, unaccustomed outing. 'Do you want a bite to eat before we head back?' Aaron asked.
Mary remembered the ham dinner they'd shared together once, but wistfully declined this time. 'Sarah couldn't take it, I don't think, and anyway, I had a sweet at the bakery.'
The baby was spluttering noisily now, complaining aloud. 'It sounds like she's tuning up,' Aaron joked. 'You're right. We'd better roll.'
The ride back went faster than ever, for they talked all the way. After getting away from the townspeople, once again a natural ease fell between them. 'I splurged on a length of faille,' she confessed. 'Oho!' 'But I still save by making it up myself.' 'You don't need to make excuses, Mary. You can buy anything you want, and it's okay with me.' 'Yes, but I really have no need for it.' 'You deserve it,' he declared, angling a half-smile sideways at her before adding, 'Besides, needing it takes all the fun away sometimes.'
She smiled at his impracticality. 'You're right, Aaron. I'm not going to worry about it or make excuses…just like you said.' 'So what else did you do?' he asked. 'I visited Millie Harmon at the bakery and ate a big, fat Bismarck, and gave a taste to Sarah.'
'And what did she think of that?' 'Oh, she loved it! She fussed when I wouldn't give her any more.'
He screwed his head around to glance at the sleeping baby behind them, smiling at the picture of Sarah eating Bismarcks. 'See that you don't give in to her and spoil her. Nothing worse than a spoiled kid.'
It was the first confidence about child rearing they had ever shared. She marked it in her mind for future reference. 'We went to visit Doc Haymes, too,' she said, changing the subject.
A fleeting look of concern puckered his brows as he glanced at Mary. 'Is something wrong?' 'Wrong? Oh, no. I just had to ask him about feeding her…ah…other foods, that's all.' 'Already?' He seemed surprised. 'Well, you know Doc Haymes. He never prescribes the usual thing. Sometimes I think he amuses himself by shocking his patients. He's usually right, though.' Then, quickly shifting, she pulled a knee up on the seat and faced his pro- file, asking, 'So what did you do?' Surveying his hair with a twinkling eye, she noted, 'I see you got your ears lowered.' 'That I did,' he laughed. 'Also got 'em filled. According to the boys at the barbershop, we can be expecting another wedding around here.' 'Whose?' She leaned toward him expectantly. But he hesitated and Mary thought he was teasing her again, so she grabbed his earlobe, pulling it. 'If you don't want this lowered some more, you better tell me and tell me quick!'
He let her pull, feigning helplessness and pleading, 'Okay, okay, let loose and I'll tell!' But she held on until he revealed the names of the lucky couple: 'Priscilla and Willy Michalek.'
She released his ear then and quickly faced front again. He could sense questions forming in her mind. They were quiet for some time before she ventured, 'How do you feel about that?' 'I'm happy for them,' he answered without hesitation. 'Nothing more?' 'What else should there be, Mary? There's nothing between Pris and me.' 'But there was once.' 'Yes, I won't deny it. You know what there was between us because I told you.' 'Well, it's not a thing you take lightly, Aaron. I just wondered if you had any regrets about leaving her.' 'None whatsoever, Mary,' he assured her. 'Do you believe me?'
She looked at him then, studying him momentarily before shrugging. 'I want to.' Looking away again, she asked, 'When is it supposed to be?' 'Right after harvest, I guess, if you can believe all you hear in the barbershop.' 'That's a nice time for a wedding,' she commented. 'It should give you a chance to wear that new dress you're talking about making.'
She cheered a little at the thought, and they talked of other gossip the rest of the way home.
Sarah was still sound asleep when they got there. Mary turned to pick her up, but Aaron asked, 'Could I carry her in to bed, Mary?'
There'd be no harm in that, she thought. 'Of course, Aaron.'
It was turning dark when he left that night, acting as though he hated going. She walked down to the elms with him, twiddling some grass between her fingers, sorry he had to leave. 'Aaron,' she said, looking at the blades she toyed with, 'you're awfully good to Sarah and me. Not just today, the trip to town and all. I mean…every day. I just wanted to thank you.'
He steeled himself to keep from pulling her into his arms. 'Hey,' he told her quietly, 'I told you once there's no need to thank me. You just somehow make me want to work for you. You do that to a man, Mary girl.'
At his words a cherished, protected feeling stole over her. She crossed her arms and rubbed them under her sprigged muslin sleeves and for a moment imagined he held her. The words brought warmth, but she wished, too, for the warmth of his real arms around her.
But seeing her full, swelling breasts where she hugged them, he left quickly before he gave in to himself.
