Page from a Tennessee Journal (AmazonEncore Edition)

knew he’d soon return to the barn and Laura’s arms, but he told himself he would come no more than one or two times a month. Before September ended, he was already riding up the lane three times a week and found the gray wanting to turn onto the path into the mid-forty even more oft en. Now it was a daily battle. He found himself on those acres at least once each day even if it was just to check on Laura to make sure that neither she nor the children wanted for anything.
    When Alex first recognized his dilemma, he tried to solve the problem of his frequent nights away from his house, and Eula, by vowing to leave right after the lovemaking. That had always been difficult. And, though it had been slow in coming, Laura was beginning to respond. Alex could not leave her now.
    This half hour before dawn had become his enemy. Most mornings he tried to wake up even earlier so he could make love to her before leaving for his own home. This morning’s late awakening denied him that pleasure. He pushed both quilts away and sat on the side of the bed, his feet resting on one of the cotton rugs he’d supplied next to each of the sleeping areas. He didn’t really need Laura’s warning. He had spent so many nights in the little cubicle that he had become expert at judging the slope of the roof. He hadn’t bumped his head since before Christmas. If he sat upright on the edge of the mattress he still had almost two inches of clearance. As Alex leaned over in the semi-darkness to retrieve his pants from the floor, the light from the low-burning kerosene lamp flickered a path from the kitchen table where it sat, to the floor and to his trousers. Following the path of light through the opened burlap curtain, he watched Laura busy herself at the little potbellied stove he’d installed. Vented to the outside by a stovepipe, and with a small brick hearth set on the repaired floorboards, the stove gave off just enough heat to warm water and coffee, and take the worst of the chill off Laura and the children. Slipping on his pants, he watched her stretch an arm for the coal shovel to replenish the fire. As she opened the door of the little stove, a welcoming burst of heat drifted into the chilly room.
    Shirtless, Alex walked through the narrow doorway to finish buttoning his pants. As he slipped belt into buckle, he glimpsed Laura pulling her flannel gown tight around her middle to keep it away from the open flame. While his hands mechanically pulled his belt tighter, his eyes trained on Laura. Something was different about her movements this morning. He wasn’t aware of how deep his frown had furrowed as he let his eyes roam over her. Replacing the shovel, she gave him only a quick look as she turned to reach for a rag to lift the hot coffeepot from the embers.
    The slenderness of Laura’s body made those places where it curved and poked up and out all the more appreciated and pronounced. For the past four months Alex had explored every contour of that body and had thrilled at every in and out and every up and down. This morning, for the first time, he saw a new fullness. Even in the gloom, only partially relieved by the kerosene lamp, he noted that her breasts still bounced under the flannel of her gown. That always pleased him. As the dimness in the main room gave way to the breaking dawn, and to the lamp that Laura had deliberately trimmed low, he could see that the roundness of her hips still filled out the lower half of her gown. But looking closely at her now, he wondered how he had missed this new plumpness. As he rummaged his mind over the past few weeks, he was certain he had felt the changes, but until right now he hadn’t really given any thought to the cause of that little protuberance at Laura’s belly. His eyes on her stomach, he walked toward her. Busy pouring coffee into a mug, she gave him another quick glance. He waited while she topped off the mug and handed it to him.
    “Careful. It’s hot.” Laura turned the cup, handle-side, toward him.
    He took it from her as he reached to turn up the kerosene lamp. She started to move away, stopped, and pointed to his mug.
    “I can cool it if you want.” Her voice sounded unsure, questioning.
    Alex set the mug on the table as she reached for it.
    “Leave it.” He couldn’t move his eyes away from her middle.
    “What?” She sounded confused.
    “Come back to bed.” He moved his eyes to her face as the storms of protest began to mount.
    Before she could voice