UNBROKEN PROMISE

~ Baby ~ 96

It had been six months since the night when Oma had been wrapped up in Logan’s arms, and now her belly curved softly beneath her dress, round and firm but not too big.

She’d come to the main house that afternoon for some of Mama Becca’s pie, and by the time she finished the last of it, Mama Becca shook her head and laughed.

“Child, you just finished a whole pie by yourself,” she scolded, wiping her hands on her apron.

Oma bit her lip, guilty but smiling. “I know. I’m sorry. It’s the baby, Mama Becca, he won’t let me rest till he gets what he wants.”

Her hand went to her stomach unconsciously, rubbing the curve. Mama Becca’s eyes  bubbly laughter came from the parlour, followed by the uneven patter of her tiny feet as she tottered after Caleb and Cookie. The dog barked once, protective as ever, circling her.

“Miriam, stop chasing your brother!” Megan called, half-laughing, half-exasperated. “You’ll fall and bump that pretty head.”

The little girl froze mid-step, wobbled, then plopped right down on the floor. For a second, she looked startled—then her lip quivered, and a small wail filled the house.

Caleb turned at once, a protective scowl on his little face. Cookie barked sharply at Megan, a little defensive display.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Megan muttered, rolling her eyes.

Caleb went over, knelt, and pulled Miriam close. She buried her face in his chest, Cookie pressing his nose gently to her side. When Miriam peeked up again, her lashes were still wet, her lower lip trembling as she reached out a small hand to tap Cookie’s nose. The boy and the dog stayed right by her until Megan sighed and stood.

“Come on, you three,” she said, scooping Miriam up into her arms. “Time for a nap before you tear my sanity to shreds.”

Caleb followed obediently, Cookie trotting at his side, tail wagging.

The house grew quiet again. The smell of baked apples lingered. Oma leaned back against her chair, absently rubbing the side of her belly when she heard the familiar sound of boots at the door.

Logan stepped in, his hat pushed back, smelling faintly of hay and sunshine. He smiled when he saw her, crossed the room in two strides, and pressed a kiss to her cheek before stealing a piece of pie off the counter.

“Don’t you dare,” Mama Becca warned.

He grinned, mouth full. “Too late, ma'am”

Then he turned to Oma, wiping his hands. “How you feelin’, sweetheart?”

“Good,” she said softly, just before a hiss escaped her lips.

He was beside her in an instant, all joking gone. “What is it?”

“The baby kicked,” she murmured.

He exhaled in relief, the smile returning. He bent and pressed a kiss to her nose, then another to the swell of her stomach. “That’s my baby,” he said quietly. “Already makin’ himself known.”

He looked up at Mama Becca. “Everything still all right? When’s she due?”

Mama Becca folded her arms, pretending to be stern. “Healthy as a can be, and due any time now. So you best keep that wagon close and your nerves steady.”

Logan nodded, beaming. “Soon, then,” he whispered against Oma’s hair. “Soon we’ll be Mama and Papa.”

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After dinner, they walked home together under the moonlight, her hand resting on his arm. Her steps were slow, careful, one hand pressed to her lower back. Logan watched her for a while before scooping her up into his arms, carrying her bridal style.