The ride back to the mountain was nearly silent.
Eli knew something had happened.
Naturally, this meant he asked questions every three minutes.
“Is Cora dying?”
“No,” Gideon answered.
“Is she sick?”
“No.”
“Did the doctor find something?”
“Yes.”
“What?”
Gideon looked at Cora.
She had planned to wait.
Instead she turned toward the children.
“I’m going to have a baby.”
The wagon stopped feeling silent.
Ruth gasped.
Samuel shouted, “Where?”
Caleb turned bright red.
Eli stared at Cora’s stomach.
“There’s a baby in there?”
“Very small.”
“How small?”
“Smaller than your fist.”
Eli leaned closer.
“Can it hear me?”
“Probably not yet.”
He lowered his face toward Cora’s belly anyway.
“HELLO.”
Caleb covered his eyes.
“Please stop.”
Ruth was crying.
Happy tears, Cora thought.
Then she noticed Caleb.
He was not smiling.
Neither was Gideon.
That night Cora found Caleb sitting behind the barn.
“You’re worried.”
“No.”
“You’re a terrible liar.”
He looked away.
Cora sat beside him.
For several minutes they watched the moon rise.
Then he whispered, “Mama died.”
Cora understood.
“You think I will too.”
“I know you could.”
“Yes.”
His eyes filled.
“I don’t want another baby.”
The words came hard.
“I want you.”
Cora’s heart broke.
She took his hand.
“I want to stay too.”
“You can’t promise.”
“No.”
He swallowed.
“What if something happens?”
“We prepare.”
“That didn’t save her.”
“No.”
He looked at her.
Cora refused to lie.
“Your mother died because there was no medical help close enough, Caleb. We can’t change what happened. But we can learn from it.”
“How?”
“We don’t wait on this mountain when my time gets close.”
That became the plan.
Gideon took more convincing.
For weeks he treated Cora as though pregnancy had turned her into glass.
She reached for a water bucket.
“No.”
She climbed onto a chair.
“Absolutely not.”
She attempted to carry wood.
“Cora.”
Finally she threw a dish towel at him.
“I am pregnant, Gideon. I have not become incompetent.”
“You fainted.”
“Once.”
“You were carrying laundry.”
“Do you expect me to spend seven months sitting in that chair?”
“If necessary.”
“It will become necessary for you to sleep in the barn.”
That ended the argument.
Temporarily.
But Cora understood what drove him.
Sometimes she woke and found Gideon staring at her.
Not romantically.
Checking whether she was breathing.
Once she pretended to remain asleep.
He placed his hand over her stomach.
Then whispered so quietly she almost missed it.
“Don’t take her from me.”
Cora opened her eyes.
“Gideon.”
He pulled his hand away.
She caught it.
“Look at me.”
He did.
“I’m scared too.”
That surprised him.
“You?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
“Because everyone expects me to call this a miracle.”
“Isn’t it?”
Cora thought.
“Yes.”
She touched her stomach.
“But miracles can be frightening.”
Gideon lay beside her.
“I loved Anna.”
“I know.”
“When she was carrying Grace, everything seemed normal.”
Cora listened.
“Then the bleeding started.”
His voice changed.
“I still hear Ruth screaming sometimes.”
Cora reached for him.
“You’re not there anymore.”
“I know.”
“I’m not Anna.”
“I know.”
“And this baby isn’t Grace.”
“I know.”
“You’re allowed to love us without expecting punishment.”
That broke something in him.
He buried his face against her neck.
Cora held the mountain man everyone feared until his breathing settled.
Autumn returned.
Her belly grew.
So did the children’s excitement.
Ruth sewed tiny shirts.
Samuel asked every morning whether the baby would arrive that day.
Eli suggested names including Bear, Thunder, Jeremiah, Buffalo, and President Washington Cole.
Caleb remained watchful but gradually let himself hope.
Grace, now almost three, had no understanding of the situation except that Cora’s lap was becoming inconvenient.
The entire family traveled into Oak Haven every month for medical examinations.
Cora insisted on it.
She also insisted they would move into town several weeks before the expected birth.
Gideon agreed immediately.
By January, snow lay deep across the valley.
Cora was seven months pregnant.
That was when Gideon received a letter.
He read it twice.
Then folded it.
“What?” Cora asked.
“Nothing.”
“Gideon.”
He sighed.
“Bank in Oak Haven.”
The previous summer had been dry.
Their hay yield had been poor.
They owed money on equipment Gideon purchased after Anna died.
The note was due before spring.
“How much?”
He told her.
Cora sat down.
It was more than they could easily produce.
“We can sell cattle.”
“Not enough without cutting breeding stock.”
“What about timber?”
“Snow makes hauling difficult.”
Caleb had heard.
“I can help.”
“No,” Gideon and Cora said together.
Caleb scowled.
“I’m fourteen.”
“Exactly,” Cora said.
“You need help.”
“We need you alive and in school.”
“I don’t go to school.”
“You do now.”
He stared.
“What?”
Cora had been planning it.
All five children needed more education than she could provide alone.
They could attend the small school in Oak Haven during months when the family lived closer to town.
Caleb hated the idea.
Until Ruth supported Cora.
Then Eli.
Samuel had no idea what school was but voted yes because Eli did.
The financial problem remained.
Cora thought about it for days.
Then she remembered something.
The previous spring, she had experimented with preserving berries from the mountain slopes.
Mrs. Mercer had loved the jam.
So had three neighbors.
Cora had also become skilled at making soap using rendered fat, pine oil, and mountain herbs.
“What if I sell them?”
Gideon frowned.
“You’re seven months pregnant.”
“I can stir a pot.”
“You’re supposed to rest.”
“I can rest while being profitable.”
Within two weeks, Cora had organized the children.
Ruth labeled jars.
Caleb built wooden crates.
Eli collected pine needles under supervision.
Samuel tied string badly.
Gideon watched his household become a business without entirely understanding how.
Their first shipment went to Oak Haven.
It sold out in three days.
Then Mr. Mercer requested more.
Travelers began buying “Cole Mountain Soap” because, according to Eli, “It smells like trees but doesn’t have bugs.”
By February, they had paid nearly half the bank note.
Gideon stared at the account ledger.
“You did this.”
“We did.”
He looked around the table.
The children grinned.
Caleb said, “Can we put that on the labels?”
“What?”
“Made by all of us.”
Cora smiled.
“Yes.”
Spring approached.
So did the baby.
At eight months, Cora and Gideon moved the family temporarily into a rented house on the edge of Oak Haven.
Mrs. Barlow visited the first afternoon.
Cora nearly closed the door.
Then the woman held out a knitted baby blanket.
“I thought you could use this.”
Cora stared.
Mrs. Barlow looked uncomfortable.
“I know I’ve said things.”
“That is a heroic understatement.”
“I suppose I deserved that.”
Cora accepted the blanket.
“Thank you.”
Mrs. Barlow looked toward the children.
Ruth was reading to Samuel.
Grace slept.
Caleb repaired a harness.
Eli was somehow muddy in the middle of winter.
“You made quite a family,” Mrs. Barlow said.
Cora shook her head.
“We made each other.”
Mrs. Barlow nodded.
Then left.
Three weeks later, labor began.
At midnight.
Cora woke with pain wrapping around her lower back.
She sat up.
Gideon immediately woke.
“What?”
“I think it’s time.”
He went white.
“Gideon.”
He was already pulling on boots.
“Doctor.”
“He lives six houses away.”
“I’ll get him.”
“Gideon.”
He stopped.
“Breathe.”
“I am breathing.”
“No, you’re preparing for battle.”
“Feels similar.”
Another contraction hit.
Cora grabbed the bedpost.
Gideon’s fear disappeared beneath action.
He called Ruth.
Sent Caleb for the doctor.
Boiled water.
Prepared towels.
The children woke.
By dawn, labor had intensified.
Dr. Lowell arrived.
A midwife came soon after.
Gideon remained beside Cora.
Hours passed.
Cora screamed.
Gideon held her hand.
At one point the doctor told him to wait outside.
“No.”
“Mr. Cole—”
“My wife decides.”
Everyone looked at Cora.
“Stay.”
He stayed.
Near afternoon, something changed.
The midwife’s expression tightened.
Blood.
Not much.
Then more.
Gideon saw it.
His face became gray.
“No.”
The doctor ordered more towels.
Cora heard Gideon whisper Anna’s name.
She grabbed his shirt.
“Look at me.”
He could not.
“Gideon!”
His eyes snapped to hers.
“I am Cora.”
“Yes.”
“Stay here.”
He nodded.
The doctor worked.
The bleeding slowed.
Then another contraction tore through her.
Cora pushed.
Once.
Twice.
Again.
And suddenly a cry filled the room.
A baby’s cry.
Loud.
Angry.
Alive.
Cora collapsed against the pillows.
Gideon stared.
The midwife laughed.
“A girl.”
She placed the baby against Cora.
Tiny.
Red.
Perfect.
Gideon covered his mouth.
Cora looked at him.
“Come meet your daughter.”
He approached slowly.
The baby opened dark eyes.
Gideon touched one tiny hand.
His knees gave way.
The enormous mountain widower knelt beside the bed and cried.
Not quietly.
Not carefully.
Cora stroked his hair.
Outside the door, five children waited.
Five children who had once believed love ended when their mother died.
Now they heard a newborn crying.
And their father laughing through tears.
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