Katherine

"So..."

Katherine felt heat scorch her cheeks and spread into her ears and down her neck. She kept her eyes on the potatoes she was chopping, refusing to turn and look Melissa in the eye.

"So, what?"

"So... don't act like I didn't just walk in on you trying to climb in that man's body through his mouth."

"Melissa!" she shot a glare over her shoulder and jerked her head pointedly toward the open doorway. Only a few walls away, Gabe was settled in his armchair with Isobel in his lap. She could hear the low rumble of his voice as he read, interspersed by the high-pitched chatter of the little girl's perpetual interrogative. If she could hear them, no doubt they could hear her, and hear Melissa's inappropriate comments.

"Oh, relax. They're distracted." Nonetheless, Melissa lowered her voice and moved a little closer, abandoning her bushel of half-chopped carrots to learn back against the table by Katherine's workspace. "Come on, now. You don't have to share all the little details. Just tell me the basics."

"The basics of what?" Katherine hissed.

"You kissed him, Katie! You're telling me you don't want to talk about it? You kissed him! You kissed Gabriel Townsend."

"I know who I kissed, Mel," she grumbled.

"Well?"

"Well what?"

"Well, how was it?"

Katherine studied her potatoes, thinking. Her reflex response, of course, was to tell her nosey friend that it was none of her darned business. But in truth she did feel a childish urge to talk in hushed tones and express all the nuances of her rapture. All this strange, giddy triumph was filling her chest, the pressure building until she wanted to run outside and scream into the wind, yelling her triumph to the clouds.

"As perfect as it ever was," she said quietly, unable to stop the smile from tugging at her lips.

Melissa gasped. "I knew it," she said, smacking her palm lightly against the edge of the table. "That old liar Josh said you were just friends when we were children, but I always knew better. You were running around with him?"

"Somewhat. Not that it was anything really indecent back then. Just kisses here and there, and silly plans for the future," Katherine agreed, unable to stifle the wistfulness of her tone. Things had seemed so simple, then. Before Jacob. Before Isobel.

As if hearing her thoughts, Melissa sighed. "I know it's none of my business, but... I couldn't help but notice Isobel's got real pretty eyes. They're a really distinct color..." She trailed off suggestively, and Katherine swallowed the lump of fear in her throat. She was sure the Tuckers had all guessed, but none had given voice to their suspicions and she was grateful for it. She felt as if Jacob would somehow hear if she said it out loud. Even when Gabe had asked, she hadn't said the words.

"Don't say it," she pleaded, closing her eyes.

"Okay, I won't," Melissa agreed, gently nudging Katherine's arm. "But Katherine... that kiss." Her voice turned a little wistful. "It kind of made me wish I had some forbidden paramour of my own. Or any pramour," she said dryly.

"You could have a hundred paramours if you'd just lower your impossible standards," Katherine said, grateful for the change of subject. Her friend had always been picky about the men who came calling, and had staunchly refused to set aside her dreams and independence for the sake of marriage and family. As far as Katherine knew, there was only one man she had ever set her hopes on, and he had proven stupid enough to lack interest.

"I will do no such thing. And don't try to change the subject."

"There's just nothing to discuss," Katherine sighed, returning to her task.

"Oh, don't feed me all that. Tell me about when you were younger! I knew you were friends, and I always suspected, but I'm a little hurt you never told me all the saucy details."

"We were just friends." Katherine's knife thunked as it slid through the dense wetness of the potato and hit the wooden cutting board beneath it. "Until we weren't."

"Well, tell me about that, then."

"We kissed."

"Mmhmmmmm?"

"That's it. We kissed."

"And then?"

"Other things. This conversation really is inappropriate Melissa."

"Oh, relax. I told you I'm not asking for gritty details."

"What exactly are you asking for, then?"

"Ach. You're really bad at gossip, do you know that? How about this. Do you love him?"

Pain sliced through her. Glorious, beautiful pain. "Yes," she mumbled, shoving a handful of chopped potatoes off the block into the pile.

A dramatic gasp, and she refused to look at Melissa. Refused to give her any reward for her persistent nosiness.

"For how long?"

"Forever."

"It must have hurt, having to marry Jacob."

She wanted to deny it. Saying things out loud had always felt like casting some sort of spell to give weight to worries and feelings that already sat too heavily upon her mind. Then again, not expressing those worries and feelings made her feel, at times, as if her head would simply explode with the pressure.

"It was the worst day of my life," she admitted, staring at the blade of the knife and shaking her head and amending, "At the time, it was the worst day of my life."

A hum of understanding. "I suppose that changed."

"It did."

"But not your love." The words were a gentle tease.

"I think that changed too," she said thoughtfully. Now that the words were coming, she couldn't quite stop them. There was so much she had been thinking. So much she couldn't say to her daughter, or to the sky when she found quiet moments outside, or to Gabe for fear of hurting him worse than she already had. Now that Melissa had pried open the top of this can, there was no way she could contain the contents. "I was so deathly afraid of him after... well, you know. He's a man, after all. I know that he's a good man, and that he would never hurt me. But after what happened to me with Jacob—and Melissa, it happened over and over again—it was hard to look at Gabe as anything other than what I feared. A man. Someone with the strength to hurt me."

"That must have been hard, knowing that he wouldn't but feeling that he might."

"Yes."

"What changed?"

At that, Katherine glared. "Aside from time to heal, I'd say almost losing him was the thing that pushed me over the edge. And don't you dare pretend you didn't know what happened."

Melissa had the grace to look chagrined. "He made us promise not to tell you until he could see you himself."

"But you knew! You're my friend, not his!"

"I have a responsibility to my patients, Katherine. People depend on my discretion."

"Your patients... wait a moment, you treated him?" she exclaimed in horror. She thought of Sunday, waking up to find her friend gone. It was common enough occurrence, and she hadn't thought twice of it, especially after Melissa came home and fed her some lie about a woman in town who fell down the stairs in the dead of night and broke her arm. "You lied to me!"

"I... I belayed the truth. It wasn't my story to tell."

"Well it's not his either, apparently," Katherine grumbled. "He refuses to give me any details about what happened. Just that Edward Crenshaw-- can you believe that?" Melissa shook her head. "Anyway, he just said that Edward Crenshaw attacked one of the girls at the saloon-- was she alright?" A nod. "And drew a knife on him. He won't tell me how bad it was. Was it bad?"

A careful shrug, and her friend's eyes drifted to the ground for a moment as she pondered her answer. "It was bad enough they called me, but not so bad he couldn't come and visit you today."

"That doesn't mean much of anything."

"No..." Melissa said thoughtfully, a wry grin pulling at her lips. "I suppose if someone gutted him he'd gather up his innards and carry them in his hands if he had an appointment with his beloved." Another tease, but also so serious. So true. "But truly, Katherine. He's alright. It was a clean slice. Bled a lot but no real damage to his insides. He'll be back to his normal self by your next visit."

"You promise?"

"I promise."

"He didn't just tell you to say that?"

Melissa laughed and pushed off the counter, returning to her carrots. "No. He didn't tell me to say that. It's my honest assessment. So what now, Katherine? Where do the star-bound lovers go from here?"

"He says we need to leave."

"Mmhmm. Do you think so too?"

"To be frank, I wish everyone could leave. His mother, the girls. You. Amelia and Josh. No, I wish that Jacob and his followers would leave." She lowered her voice to a whisper, ashamed of the words. The feelings. The desperate need to play God. "I wish Jacob was dead. I wish I could kill him myself."

"Oh, you're not alone there," Melissa said with a wry touch of humor, as if Katherine hadn't just declared such an unthinkable sin. "I reckon this whole family would dance on his grave."

"That's inappropriate."

"Yes, yes." Exasperated. "It's still true, though. Especially my father."

"Your father gives me hope for everyone else in town," Katherine admitted. She remembered the elder Tucker nodding along with the most heinous of Jacob's sermons. She remembered the way he had spoken to Jacob about his 'bastard son' and all the evil Josh's presence had brought into the family. That he, of all people, could be swayed back to righteousness was a testament to Katherine quiet belief that God's will would find a way to prevail. "He was so devoted to Jacob. If he left the church, maybe everyone else can be convinced as well."

"Well, it wasn't easy. Poor Josh really suffered for that turnaround. Pa did, too. Amelia... That kind of change takes soul strength and familial support that not a lot of these people have. Pa showed his ass for all those years, but I'd challenge anyone who said he wasn't strong in admitting he was wrong."

"So you don't think there's hope for the folks in town?"

"I suppose in the long run, but now? No. They're so devoted to him, so wrapped around his finger, his death would only inflame them. Folks need God, you know."

"I know, and they should, but what Jacob preaches isn't God. God is love."

"Mmmhm. You know all about love, don't you?"

"Oh, hush."

"So you're going to leave?"

"I suppose so. I don't even know where."

"Gabe will help you figure it out. Is he coming with you?"

"He says he is, but..."

"But?"

"But... he's so loyal to his mother, and to the girls. He says Isobel and I are more important, but I'm afraid when the moment comes he won't be able to leave them."

"Well, you're no stranger to familial devotion are you? It's why you're married to Jacob, after all."

"But I've changed."

"Who says he can't have changed as well?"

"You think he'll come with me?"

"Yes, Katherine. I think he'll come with you."

"And he'll stay?"

"Yes, I think he'll stay."

She sighed, for just a moment allowing herself to imagine a future with Gabe in it. He could be a fisherman, or a shopkeeper. He could be a lawman, or a craftsman. He had been working with Josh, so he could manage a stables. He could tend a bar. She wouldn't mind that so much, so long as the bar didn't serve women alongside the booze.

They finished preparing supper in relative silence, the air heavy and contemplative. Once everything was set in a pot to simmer, they parted ways. Katherine returned to the living room to sit with her family-- her family-- and Melissa returned to her treatment room.

"Tell your beau to come see me before he leaves," she teased over her shoulder as she left. "Something tells me he hasn't been babying his stitches the way I told him to."

* * *

Three weeks passed. The winter grew more bitter, and the warmth in Katherine's chest glowed stronger. Melissa's prediction had been accurate. After that first visit, Gabe bounced back with alarming, almost agitating grace. By the next week he was back to his normal, sullen, straight-backed self.

It was hard, planning a life in the stolen moments they found. Isobel was center in both of their minds, her relationship with Gabe Katherine's top priority during his visits. Nonetheless, they found moments for just each other—long farewells on the porch before he rode away and drawn out interludes in the kitchen to 'fetch more coffee' while Isobel entertained herself in the sitting room.

During these stolen moments, among other quiet activities, they planned for the spring.

They'd leave under cover of night, they decided, and travel by horseback on uncommon roads to the city. From there, train tickets south. In Austin, a friend of his mother's who would give them documents with new names, new stories. Finally, another train to Galveston.

A new life.

Together.

Katherine sat on the top step of the porch, shivering, with her arm looped through Gabe's and her head on his shoulder. It was already growing dark, the setting sun and rising moon casting overlapping shadows on the hills, and little eddies of powder drifted across the frozen surface of the snow on wispy tendrils of cold wind.

"This is a lonely time of day," she said, tightening her arm around his and trying to stay her trembling. If he thought she was too cold he would get antsy and take his leave so she would go back inside.

"It is," he agreed, his arm tight around her shoulder.

"I hate the thought of you riding on dark roads."

"I hate the thought of you sleeping in a cold bed."

She sucked in a breath, heat suffusing her cheeks as she shifted to look up at him. He grinned down at her. Nobody else would call it a grin, but she knew her Gabe. She saw that wide-open expression in his eyes, even if his mouth was barely tugging up on one side.

After a long moment, his smile faded and he gave her a little shake. "I wasn't inviting myself," he said. "If we get to Galveston and you don't want—"

"I'll want it," she said, cutting him off. "I do want it. I want you."

He sighed, and a curl of drifting snow in the yard appeared and disappeared back into the monotonous white. She imaged his sigh had caused it, although she knew better.

"What do you suppose it'll be like in Galveston?" she asked.

"Hot."

"You unimaginative lout. You know what I mean."

He laughed. Not audibly, but his body shook a little where she was pressed against it. "Well if you're so clever and creative, you tell me. What do you think it'll be like in Galveston?"

"Hot," she said, going on before he could tease her. "And damp. It's by the ocean, right? So the air sometimes will come off the sea and smell of salt and fish, and it'll be so sticky outside our hair will curl."

"Mmhm?" he hummed, encouraging her to continue.

"You go next."

"Well, I reckon there'll be a lot of people. It'll be smellier than any place you've ever been. Livestock and perfume. Laundry and sewage. Rotting fish and cooking fish."

"Sounds... loud. Noisy smells."

"Mmhm. Now you."

"Hmm. I think there will be lots of tall, fancy houses and also lots of small ones. We'll live in a small one at first. We'll have a house with only two rooms and we'll live on top of each other. I'll yell at you for tromping through the house in your work shoes, and you'll nag at me about making the bed."

"I sound like a terrible shrew," he said dryly.

"Oh, you will be. But only Galveston," she added, nudging him. "Here in the mountains you are calm and stoic like the deepest river."

"It's rude to mock, Kat."

"Sure, sure. Tell me about our jobs."

"I'll probably work at the docks," he said thoughtfully, his tone serious. "I've heard it's not too hard to get a job there. You just have to have a strong back."

"You certainly have that," she dared to say, shifting to slip an arm around him. Holding him made her feel as if she was flying even while both of her feet were planted firmly on the earth.

"And you'll be a schoolteacher. Isobel will be in your class, but you won't give her the preferential treatment she expects. She'll come home every day whining about her teacher. I'll have to comfort her and help her with her homework."

Katherine laughed at the thought, not from amusement but from sheer joy. She imagined them seated at a table in their little two room house, twin heads bent over chalkboards, discussing the complexities of arithmetic and grammar. She imagined two sets of fire-touched eyes glaring at her when she made corrections to their work.

"What makes you think you'll have the patience to teach her?" she challenged. "She's got your stubborn streak, you know. She'll be a handful when she gets older."

"She's a handful now," he said, the love suffused into his dry tone like sunshine warmed bare skin. "And what makes you think she got her stubborn streak from me? You're the hard-headed one."

"How dare you!" she exclaimed, but didn't make any move to pull away. She was allowed so few moments to be with him, truly with him, and she was not going to separate her body from his for the sake of a mock argument. "You've always been more stubborn than me."

"Have not."

"Have to!"

"Aw, I suppose you're right."

"You're darn sure I'm... wait..." she tipped her head back to glare at his profile. The corner of his mouth was tipped up again, and she poked him hard in the ribs. "You horse's backside."

"Horse's backside has no ring to it whatsoever, Miss Katherine," he teased. "Just say it. Horse's ass."

"No."

"Horse's ass."

"No!"

"C'mon, now... horse's ass!"

"Absolutely not."

"Stubborn," he said under his breath, as if he were the victor, and she felt the warmth and pressure as he turned his head and pressed a kiss to the crown of her head. "I love you, Katherine."

"I love you too," she said, snuggling closer, squeezing her arms tight around his waist. He was wearing a thick coat, and layers beneath it, but she imagined she could hear his heart beating where her ear was pressed against his chest. Strong and steady, thumping away for her and for her daughter.

"I gotta go now, Katie," he mumbled, quieter than he had been. Like the words were an unpleasant secret.

"I know," she sighed, giving him one last tight squeeze before letting him go. He stood and offered her a hand, pulling her to her feet. He stood two steps below, so when he turned to face her they were at eye level. Lifting her arms, she rested them on his shoulders and leaned in close.

"Ride safe," she said, placing one kiss on his lips and another on each cheek.

"I will," he returned, kissing her once on the lips and once on the forehead. "Sleep well."

"I will. I'll see you on Saturday?"

"Wouldn't miss it, Katie. Do you think..." he trailed off, looking doubtful, and she framed his face in her hands and met his eye.

"What is it?"

"Do you think we could talk to Isobel soon? Tell her about me? About where we're going?"

Old fear bubbled in her stomach, but she swallowed down the nausea and nodded. "I think that would be good."

This time, the smile wasn't in his eyes. It was all over his face. In his eyes and all around them, and in the dimple in his right cheek. His teeth glinted at her in the weary light. It was the boy's smile, not the man's. Unrestrained.

It made her ache.

"Thank you, Katie."

"Don't thank me. Just ride safe."

The grin grew somehow wider, and he drew her forward for one more kiss. This kiss was far from the perfunctory farewells they had just exchanged. It was wet and hot and tasted of coffee and sugar cookies. She could scarcely breathe when he pulled away, and she felt as if a wreath of fire had coiled around her spine, flames of desire licking at her neck and cheeks. Her ears would be glowing if she wasn't wearing her hat.

"I love you, Katie," he said, holding her head in his hands and staring hard into her eyes. "Everything is going to be okay. I'll make that way. I promise you."

"I trust you," she breathed, her own hand wrapped around his neck. She could feel the heat of his skin through her glove.

He kissed her one more time, with less passion but just as much promise, and then stepped back.

"Tomorrow?" he asked, from the base of the stairs.

I'll have to think about it.

"Not tomorrow," she said, breaking the pattern and watching his face twitch with confusion. "Ask me again when it's not so dratted cold."

He huffed out a laugh. "That's my Katherine," he said wryly. "Practicality over sentiment. I'll wait by the bridge, sweetheart."

"I'll be there when the snow melts."

With a wink, he turned and strode away toward the barn to fetch his horse. She stood on the porch and waited as the cool air battered at the heat of passion that warmed her. Waited for him to reappear, leading his horse. Waited for him to mount up and wave. She waved back, and then she watched him disappear over the crest of the hill.

Even after he disappeared, she stood on the porch and watched the hills for a few long, ponderous moments. She thought of Galveston and she thought of Gabe. Of Isobel. She even thought of Jacob, but the image of him in her mind had lost some of its potency.

She was still afraid. So terribly afraid.

She would always be afraid.

But tonight, hope was stronger.

***

Greetings from [UNDISCLOSED LOCATION]!!! 

My internet is super limited, but I managed to grab a couple WiFi molecules to post this. It's a pretty crappy, pointless chapter, but it's what I got right now. 

I hope you all are well! Thank you for reading, even though this story is boring. 

Love!

Liz 

***