Chapter Thirteen

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Early Spring, 1679

Spring came slowly to the village of Dillard. A thaw in the endless gray days of frozen ice and rain came and went within a single day. Even the early peas were confused by the weather and the small garden nestled between the cottage and shed remained clear of new growth. Rebekah foraged in the woods nearby for the last of the winter berries, but there was little to find. The cupboard was near to empty when John discovered a small spring hole in the backcountry that was full of trout. He shared this secret with his friend Jasper Atkins. Each morning, before dawn, they met near the village crossroads and walked the two miles into the woods to fish. The two friends kept the location of the spring hole secret for as long as they could, but it did not take long for others to mark their daily trek and follow them. Thankfully, the supply of trout did not weaken. What they could not eat, they salted and stored or sold in the village market. Between the money John pocketed and the shillings Rebekah collected for her work as a midwife, the couple managed to keep themselves warm and nourished but hardly satisfied. By mid-March, it was Rebekah who could not contain her growing frustration.
After the evening meal was done and the trenchers scraped clean, she finally spoke what had been on her mind. “You know I love you, John. But if you bring back one more trout from that pond of yours, I shall be done in totally. I so long for a sausage, or bit of stew beef. Anything but fish.”
“You married the wrong sort of man, Bekah. I am, after all, a fisherman, pond or sea, I fish.” He gave his wife a nod and grin.
“Do you never tire of fish? Or long for a bit of mutton?”
John shrugged. “I am a man of simple tastes, Bekah. A bit of fish every day is enough for me.” He studied his wife carefully, deciding on a different tack. “I hear Farmer Steward is raising pigs this year and has a litter of ten piglets. I could get one for us, fatten it up all summer long and we would be sure of a feast come fall.” She did not respond, but instead, focused all her attention on mending a small tear she had discovered in one of John’s shirts.
“Did you hear what I said, Bekah? A piglet this spring means a feast in the fall. I can trade with Steward if you think it a good idea.”
“And who will take care of the pig?” she asked. “You will be in your dory, fishing every day, and I will be off visiting my patients.”
“Pigs take care of themselves, do they not?” he asked. “Between the two of us, we could manage. It is not as if the pig were a child that you had to care for every minute.”
She looked up quickly. “And if it was a child? Do you think we two could manage the care required?”
John studied his wife. “Is there something you are wanting to tell me?”
Rebekah looked down and carefully studied the mending in her lap. When she spoke again, her voice was barely above a whisper. “I believe I may be with child, John.”
He was not certain he had heard her correctly. “A baby, Bekah? When? How do you know?”
She looked at him and shook her head in wonder at his ignorance. “It is my business to know, John. There are signals that let a woman know a child may be on the way.”
“You sound unsure.”
“I believe it to be so, but will know for certain in a bit more time.”
The news was beginning to sink in.
“Is there anything I need to do? Anything you need from me?”
She smiled. “I think anything you could give me, has already been given.”
John blushed. “I suppose that is so.” He paused, considering what next to say. “I suppose buying a pig now is not our main concern.”
“But it is not out of the question. Perhaps you could agree to purchase the pig now but leave the animal with Farmer Steward to raise. We could pay for it in the fall when he butchers it. After all, he already has the pig shed, and everything needed to raise pigs. We, for our part, need to start planning on things we will need to raise a child.”
He grinned and began to laugh.
“Just imagine Bekah. Another fisherman in the family.”
“Or another midwife,” she teased.
As the weather slowly warmed and small buds appeared on the willow branches that lined the creek along the bottom edge of the property, the suggestion of a child on the way became a certainty in Rebekah’s mind. Waves of morning nausea greeted each day and her breasts were so tender she could not abide the smallest of John’s attentions.
“How long will this go on like this, Bekah? Am I forbidden your bed until the babe is born?”
She tried to reassure her husband. “These things will pass soon enough.”
“Is that a promise?” he asked, anxiously.
She laughed and nodded. “It is a promise.” She leaned over and kissed him soundly on his lips.