“I miss you, husband,” she said softly. She felt his ribs move as he let out a sigh.
“I do not go away for long.”
“I’m not talking about just this morning. I miss more than that.” She let her hand slip down over his breechcloth and smiled when his body responded to her touch. He shuddered and let out a strangled groan at the contact, but his hand closed over her wrist and he moved her hand to his chest.
She refused to be dissuaded, and ran her fingers over his taut nipples to entice him further. He made a low choking sound and swung her around into his arms, and she sighed with pleasure as his lips came down upon hers. Needful and wanting, his mouth made promises, but she was left panting and empty when he pulled back.
“You should go back to the cave. I will return soon,” he said. One of his hands caressed the small of her back as he held her, and she felt the fingers of his other hand twisting in her hair. He kissed the top of her head as he often did and made to part, but she circled her arms around his waist and would not yield.
“Please tell me what troubles you,” she asked. She wished it was only the uncertainty of the coming winter, or worry over storing enough food before the first snow, but when his almond shaped blue eyes fell dark and he gazed down at her in despair, she feared perhaps it was something she did not want to know after all.
“I…I will not worry you over my thoughts, ntehem,” he said softly.
“But I would hear them anyway. What keeps you from my bed, warrior? Am I too round now for you to love?” she tried to joke, infusing a bit of humor. The corner of his mouth turned up and he did smile, but it did not reach his eyes and it was rapidly replaced with a frown.
“Of course not. I know my babe grows inside you.” He broke away at the confession, and turned back to the cliff.
Maggie winced at his words and made no move to follow him. So that ghost was rearing its memory, shades of the time they spent apart, and she had no idea how to battle such things. They had not spoken of that time since they were reunited, and although she knew someday it would need to be said, she feared it was still too fresh of a wound to risk bending it.
“Do you doubt this child is yours?” she asked, the words so hoarse as to be nearly silent as uttered from her lips. His shoulders flinched and sagged, but he did not move otherwise.
“I know the babe is my blood.”
“Then what are you getting at, Winn?” she whispered. She felt the sting of tears and thrust the despair away, instead embracing the rising tide of anger as a means to clear the path. He was stubborn, she would give him that, but she was even more so to a greater fault, and she would not let his accusations go unanswered.
She put her hand on his arm but he shrugged it off, turning on her. His eyes flared like beacons in a storm, his cheeks flushed, his fisted hands at his sides. The veins in his neck and arms stood out in rails along his skin.
“Tell me why you went to his bed. Tell me why you wed him,” he said quietly. She swallowed hard before she could summon the strength to answer.
“I was afraid. I was alone and afraid. Is that what you want to hear?” she said. “I didn’t know what to do. You were gone, and I didn’t know what to do.”
“Did you love him?” he asked. His lips thinned with the force of holding back, and his hands reached for her once but pulled away. He thrust his hands up and squeezed his head, then ran his fingers through his thick hair. “I fear to ask it, but not knowing haunts me.”
“Winn –”
“I know you shared his bed. I must know – did you share his heart as well? I will hear it from you. ”
“Then hear this, husband,” she said. “I have loved no other but you. Every moment we were apart, it was always you. Even when I thought you dead, it was still you.”
He stepped back, putting space between them, and when she reached for him he gently pushed her hands away.
She dropped her hand and turned to go as a sob reached her throat, stifling it with a fist clenched against her mouth as she made for the trail. Through blurred eyes she took the path back down to the cave, but instead of returning to the others, she followed the tree line to the crevice where the spring sat beneath the falls.
She wanted to be angry with him, but she could not. Would she be any better, had he been with another woman? She cringed at the thought of her warrior in the arms of another, and with the intensity of disgust that surfaced within her she could hardly hold him accountable for the anger he now felt.
Shedding her dress, she stepped into the shallow pool and sank down onto the flat ledge, closing her eyes to the warmth and wishing it was his arms that surrounded her instead. Was it a matter of forgiveness between them now, some demon they needed to extinguish, or was this the slow tearing of the bonds that held their lifeblood together? Should she feel shame for doing what she thought was best when she believed Winn dead, or should she hold it up and demand it be forgotten, never to be spoke of again? She knew no answer for mending the tear between them.
She felt the water ripple and saw the flash of his bared skin as he dipped beneath the water. His clothes lay in a pile next to hers, and two dead rabbits tied together lay staring with blank eyes at the mouth of the crevice. She closed her eyes when she felt his hands circle her waist and his slick body surfaced in front of her. Like a glorious heathen God, he shook the water from his hair and droplets ran down his rippled chest, dipping into the scarred crease below his left shoulder. She wanted to brush it away, but she was afraid to touch him, fearful to breathe or make a sound lest he go back the way he came.
“Winn, I’m so sorry,” she whispered, pulling back slightly from his kiss. He cupped her face with two wide hands and gently kissed the tear than ran down her cheek.
“As am I, ntehem.”
“But can you ever forgive me?” she whispered.
“Maggie,” he said softly. “You once asked me if I would not do the same, if I was trapped, like you, far away from my home. Yes, I had anger at you! By the Gods, Maggie, I wanted to hurt you for marrying him!” He trembled as he spoke, his eyes skewed into shallow slits and his face contorted in a grimace, as if he pained with each syllable. “But I know why you did it, and when my head cleared, I could not keep anger at you,” he murmured.
“Oh, Winn,” she breathed. “I love you. It’s always been you.”
He pressed his lips to her hair and drew her close.
His hand slid up her back, and she could feel the sensation of something rough yet yielding against her skin. He took her hand in his and placed the object in her outstretched palm. Filled with water and scented with sweet oil, a fat sea sponge sat in her hand. She looked up at him, uncertain of his intention, and was pleased to see the beginning of a smile on his lips.
“Among my people, a story is told of the First Husband,” he said softly. He brought her hand to his chest, where he guided her to make circles across his skin with the sponge. “The man loved a beautiful maiden, and this maiden was as dear to him as the sun is to the moon. He married her, and they lived as one. So blinded by his love for the maiden, he could think of nothing else but her. One day he was called away to hunt, and he left the maiden alone.”
Maggie remained silent, but she followed his lead, and she continued to sponge him gently as he told the story. The sounds of the water lapping against their skin echoed in the cavern, as loud as his shallow breaths upon her skin. His hands settled on her waist and he pulled her closer, her breasts pushed flat against his chest as she gently scrubbed his shoulders and arms.
“The man never returned to the village and the maiden knew some evil had taken him from her, since she knew he would never leave her. Soon her family found her another husband, and she married again.” At this his voice dipped lower, and he took the sponge from her to gently caress along her skin. He dabbed her face and neck, and traced tiny circles over her breasts and ribs. “Many moons later the First Husband returned, as he was not dead at all, but only lost in th
e woods. He challenged the new husband for his wife, and when he won she was returned to him.”
His hand dropped lower to her navel, and paused at her swollen belly before he resumed the gentle rhythm, cleansing the spot where their child grew deep inside her.
“The man took his wife to the river, and there he bathed her. He scrubbed her skin with the bark from a Cyprus tree, scrubbed until her skin lay pink. Then she did the same to him, and they lay together again as man and wife, the sadness of their time apart forgotten. ”
She felt a tear escape down her cheek, and smiled as he brushed it away with the sponge.
“I am clean now,” he said softly. His bright eyes softened of their frantic luster, a calmness washing over him as he gazed down at her.
“As am I, my husband,” she whispered.
CHAPTER 39
“It is finished. The Council speaks, they say they give us blessing.”
Maggie and Teyas both looked up as Winn entered the cave and made his declaration, the joy in his words streaming from his grinning lips. She jumped to her feet and threw herself into his waiting arms.
“Oh, Winn, that is wonderful!” she cried. She had worried for days what it would mean to him by returning to the village to speak with the Council, but with his safe return she had hope that someday they may rejoin the Paspahegh. Although they would remain in their secluded valley until the child was born, the support of the Council meant the Paspahegh would not hunt them. The threat from Opechancanough remained, but it was the best they could hope for at this point.
He kissed her soundly, kicking out at Teyas with his toe when she giggled.
“They say Opechancanough sent you to the English, so he must not need your blood. They welcome you return to the village. It is the best we could hope for.”
“Well, I can’t fault their reasoning, but I wish it had nothing to do with your uncle,” Maggie grumbled. He squeezed her and groaned.
“Ah, woman! You know it has much to do with my uncle.”
“What about Finola?” she asked. Opechancanough had banished Finola as well, but as she had no husband to speak for her, Winn served as emissary to the Council. Maggie held her breath while waiting for his response.
“If she wishes, she may remain there with the Paspahegh. But the Council fear her, and I worry she may want to return to the English.”
“No! Why would she want that?” she asked, drawing back from his embrace to look up at his face.
Teyas interrupted. “She said she fears she will miss it when it happens if she is not with the English.”
“Miss what?”
“The return of Pale Feather.”
Winn stiffened at her words and his hands fell away from Maggie. Teyas shrugged her shoulders and went back to her work, weaving strips of cured deer hide together for a sleeping mat.
“What did the Witch say of my father?” Winn demanded, his words spoken careful but with clear authority. Teyas sighed.
“Finola sees a night when stars fall from the sky. She sees the English send men to look for the stars, and that is the night Pale Feather will return. She says she must stay with the English for it to pass.”
Maggie felt a stirring in her belly and slid her hand down over the swelling. Surely, it was too soon to feel movement, but she smiled anyway and waited breathlessly to see if it would come again. Winn noticed her shift and eyed her expectantly.
“It’s nothing,” she smiled. He grinned and nodded, looking a bit like a wounded puppy, but kissed her cheek quickly and shook his head.
“So another vision then. She can go to the English if that is her wish, I will not keep her from them,” Winn said. “But you, little one, I will keep you here in front of my two eyes, so I may never lose you again.” He squeezed her and lifted her off her feet, and a squeal escaped her lips as they laughed. Teyas rolled her eyes skyward, but she also smiled.
It was a blissful peace for the moment, and Maggie was happy to bask in the glorious contentment as long as it would have them.
*****
Maggie walked back from the waterfall, a basket of damp clothes balanced on her hip. Her belly had grown somewhat large as the birth approached, as pregnant bellies often do, and she found it harder each day to make the trek down the steep path. She managed well with the constant exercise, pleasantly surprised to see how her body responded to the activity during her pregnancy. Yet the fatigue now made even the smallest chore seem much more complicated. At times she felt afraid of the upcoming birth, but Teyas and Chulensak Asuwak were like hovering hens and they kept her too occupied to dwell on her fears too often. She was glad Winn’s family had joined them at the waterfall and she hoped they would stay instead of returning to the village.
She smiled at the thought of their faces when she explained how babies were born in her time. A hospital room, male doctors, and spinal anesthesia made quite the impact on them, but once they heard all about it they assured her their ways were much better. Birthing a baby was a sacred event, and the women would take care of her as they cared for each other. Maggie was glad for their kinship, and thankful for their love.
As the cave came in sight, she looked up ahead and spotted Ahi Kekeleksu leading Blaze into the new corral. He smiled and waved, shooting his hand up so fast that the chestnut colt spooked and reared, but the spry boy dodged the animal and managed to get it through the gate.
Maggie was panting when she finally reached him, and she bent over a bit with her hands on her knees to catch her breath before she chastised him. The child knelt down before her and peered up into her eyes. Rebecca came running to help him.
“Tentay teh? Is it your time?” he asked. His large brown eyes were round with excitement.
She could not recover her breath, and then a wave of pressure surged through her back down to her pelvis. She placed her hand on his shoulder, but he was not strong enough to hold her upright when her knees buckled, so he helped lower her to the ground.
“I need Winn,” she managed to groan as another contraction coursed through her. The pains were nearly on top of each other, with no relief in between. Was it normal for labor to start in such a way? In the movies they did things like count minutes between contractions, she thought with a grimace as another wave took her breath away.
“The warriors are hunting – I will get Teyas!” the boy shouted, taking off in a bare footed run up to the cave. She tried to get up, but the next contraction was too strong, and she uttered a scream as she sank down to her knees.
“Oh, Maggie!” Rebecca groaned, patting her back. Maggie glanced sideways at her. The girl looked terrified, and she could hardly blame her. She was close to panicked herself.
She gritted her teeth against the pressure and let out a long groan. She would get her ass up, her child would not be born in the dirt outside the cave! Thrusting both hands against her knees, she pushed up again to stand and felt a warm gush of fluid leave her body.
Relief washed over her when she felt two pairs of hands take her under each arm and assist her to stand. Teyas grinned, and Chulensak Asuwak shook her head.
They led her into the cave, Ahi Kekeleksu and Rebecca trailing behind them.
CHAPTER 40
Winn noticed the yard was empty when he approached their camp, which he thought was strange since Ahi Kekeleksu despised being cooped up inside on such a warm day. Winn usually left one of his brothers with the women while he hunted, but with the birth approaching he felt more need to hunt quickly and return so he had taken both brothers with him. They returned with two fair sized deer and a half dozen rabbits, a good amount of game for one day. Hunting was more plentiful near the camp, as the English had not invaded the sanctuary yet.
The boy streaked out of the cave as they approached, his eyes wild and his face flushed with excitement. Winn knew something had happened, and he felt his stomach curl down deep into a knot. He jumped off his horse and ran for the cave.
“The baby, the baby is here!?
?? the boy shouted.
“Maggie? Is she well?” he asked as he passed the boy. The boy grinned.
“Oh yes! She sleeps now!”
Winn let out the air from his lungs and relaxed his tight gripped fists. Ahi Kekeleksu spoke true. He sank down beside his sleeping wife as she lay on the pallet, the relief running through him as he looked at her. She was propped up with several pillows, the odd fluffy things she insisted on making before the birth, and he could see why she had wanted the things now. Her crown was streaked with damp sweat that moistened her auburn hair into tiny curls around her face, and he could taste the salt of her work as he kissed her forehead.
The child lay snug in her arms. Eyes closed in sleep amongst a round chubby face with a swatch of dark hair, he marveled at the lightly bronzed skin and tiny rounded nose. When Maggie gently touched his face, he clasped her hand and pressed it hard to his lips, so that he could have another moment to look at the child and find the right words to show his wife his joy.
“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” Maggie whispered. His eyes shifted to hers.
“She?”
“Yes…your daughter,” she smiled.
“Oh,” he breathed. “Kwetii.” The baby opened her eyes, blinking deep blue orbs several times until finally she stared up at him. Her bow-shaped mouth parted as he gazed at her, and then her face puckered into a hearty cry. His daughter. She was beautiful.
Maggie raised her eyebrows and he whispered, “It means Little One. I call her Little One,” he explained.
“Shh, shhh, here,” Maggie cooed, placing the infant to her breast. Winn slid beside her on the furs and wrapped his arms around them both as the baby fed.
“I am sorry I was not here,” he said softly. She turned and kissed him as the baby continued to peacefully nurse.
“You’re here now. Thanks for bringing more food, I think I’m hungry now,” she smiled. He groaned and clutched her against his chest.