“Different doesn't mean missing.”
Daniel kissed her temple.
Years later, Emily would remember that sentence more clearly than almost anything.
Different doesn't mean missing.
Ruth became the serious one.
Loved numbers.
Hated sewing.
Clara talked enough for three households and developed an alarming talent for climbing trees.
Daniel became exactly the father Emily always suspected he could be.
Firm.
Patient until he wasn't.
Terrible at braiding hair.
He tried.
Clara wore crooked braids for nearly a year.
Emily refused to fix them because Daniel needed practice.
The girls called them Daniel and Emily at first.
Then Mr. Mercer and Mrs. Mercer.
Then one winter evening Clara shouted “Papa!” from the barn without thinking.
Daniel froze.
Emily watched from the porch.
Clara did not notice.
Daniel turned away quickly.
Emily pretended she did not see him wipe his eyes.
Ruth called Emily “Mama” six months later.
Quietly.
She was sick with fever.
Half asleep.
Emily sat beside her bed cooling her forehead.
Ruth whispered:
“Mama.”
Emily stopped breathing.
Ruth slept.
Emily left the room and found Daniel.
He took one look at her face.
“What happened?”
Emily could barely speak.
Daniel hugged her.
No grand announcement.
The next morning Ruth called her Emily again.
Emily said nothing.
Two weeks later she said Mama deliberately.
That time both cried.
Ruth rolled her eyes.
“Adults are strange.”
They were.
The girls grew.
The ranch grew.
Daniel added acreage.
Emily started a small school group during winter because several neighboring children could not travel safely into town.
Their home became noisy.
Messy.
Exactly what Daniel had once wanted.
Then, when Emily was thirty-six, eight years after their wedding, she became ill.
At least she thought she was ill.
Nausea.
Exhaustion.
Food tasted strange.
She hid it for four days.
Daniel noticed immediately.
“You're sick.”
“No.”
“You're green.”
“I am not green.”
“You almost threw up when I fried bacon.”
“You burned it.”
“I cooked bacon the same way for twenty years.”
“Then you've been wrong for twenty years.”
Daniel stared.
Emily walked away.
He followed.
“Doctor.”
“No.”
“Emily.”
“I am not riding two hours because you offended breakfast.”
A week later, she fainted while feeding chickens.
Daniel carried her into the house despite her furious protests.
Ruth, now seventeen, rode for the doctor.
Dr. Harmon arrived by evening.
He examined Emily privately.
Then asked Daniel into the room.
Emily sat on the bed.
Her face had gone completely blank.
Daniel panicked.
“What?”
Nobody answered.
His heart stopped.
“Emily?”
She looked at him.
Then laughed.
Then cried.
Daniel stared at the doctor.
“What is happening?”
Dr. Harmon smiled.
“Mrs. Mercer is pregnant.”