girl, pointing to the heavens and gesturing widely. Her tiny form was dwarfed by the endless prairie behind them. The night air carried their voices—Cole’s deep and serious, Natalie’s silvery and full of wonderment—but Daria couldn’t quite make out their words. A white sliver of moon had already appeared above the horizon. She guessed from his gestures that Cole was explaining the mysteries of the galaxy.
The happy scene brought a lump to her throat. She had been so blessed. God had restored all she had lost and had given her a life full of small pleasures and deep joy. And yet sometimes when she gazed into a sky like tonight’s, alight with myriad stars, and sometimes when she looked into the depths of Natalie’s eyes, which were really Nathan Camfield’s eyes, memories of Nate would overwhelm her. There was still a knot of sadness inside her because of Nate.
Though they rarely spoke of it, she knew that Cole also harbored some ghosts from the sadness of his life before he had met her. Daria had never wished to “undo” the life she’d had with Nate, especially the child he had given her. But Cole had told her once that he wished he had met her before he’d met Bridgette. He seldom spoke of his marriage to Bridgette, but she knew that there must have been some deep unhappiness and unresolved issues in his first marriage for Cole to have such thoughts. She suspected that he still carried some misplaced guilt for Bridgette’s death, or at least for her inability to find joy as his wife.
She shook off the melancholy thoughts and put her hand on her stomach. Perhaps the secret she cradled there would be the medicine that would finally heal both of their pasts. They hadn’t planned to have a baby so soon. Dealing with Natalie took every ounce of energy she had, and Cole was still getting on his feet with the clinic financially, but she was happy about the baby. It was a blessing. She wasn’t quite sure why she had waited so long to give Cole the good news, but when she did, she wanted it to be a special celebration.
She raised the window a few inches and shouted for Natalie to come in for her bath, then she started plotting how she would reveal her happy news to Cole.
Twenty–One
Daria dug in the kitchen drawer for some matches, then went into the dining room to light the five slender candles that graced the center of the table. The white linen cloth was set with their good china, and a bouquet of the last zinnias from her garden provided a rainbow of vivid colors. The aroma of roast beef filled the house, and a perfect raspberry cheesecake—one she’d spent half the afternoon baking—sat beside the flowers as part of the centerpiece. Daria was lighting the last taper when she heard Cole’s truck coming down the lane.
She suddenly felt as nervous as she had before their first date. Wiping her sweaty palms on a dishtowel, she ran to the bathroom and checked her hair one last time.
The back door slammed, and she heard the familiar sounds of her husband’s work boots dropping in the mud room, Rufus’s bowl being filled with dog chow, and Cole’s ritual evening announcement, “Hey, babe, I’m home.”
She heard his stocking feet pad across the hardwood floors. “Mmm, something smells good. Daria? Anybody home?”
“I’m in here,” she hollered from the dining room, trying to sound casual.
She waited by the table, hands clasped in front of her, with what she knew must be a silly grin on her face.
He peered into the room and did a double take—first at the elegantly set table, and then at his equally elegant wife. “Whoa! What on earth?”
“Hi!” she said coyly, smoothing the skirt of his favorite dress. She smiled at the befuddled expression he wore.
“What is going on?” Suddenly a look of panic crossed his face. “This isn’t our anniversary, is it?”
She burst out laughing and pulled him toward her by the collar of his flannel shirt, kissing the tip of his nose. “No, you goose. We got married on Valentine’s Day, remember? I did that on purpose so you wouldn’t have so many holidays to remember.”
“Then what’s all this about?”
“You’ll see,” she said mysteriously. “Now why don’t you go jump in the shower and change into something”—she looked his filthy work clothes up and down—“I’ll settle for something clean,” she laughed.
He started down the hallway, shaking his