got for the office?”
I laugh. “Ah ha! That’s why you want to go to work with me.”
“Yeah, but I wanna help you take care of the animals too.”
I tie off the second braid and kiss the back of her head. She gets up from the couch and turns to face me.
“Thank you, Momma,” she says before throwing her tiny arms around my neck. I hug her extra tight and bury my face in her neck, inhaling her fresh innocent scent.
“There you are, my little beauty,” Lincoln says as he strolls into the room. He bends and grabs Gemma by her legs, hoisting her up so she’s dangling upside down. Of course, this makes her laugh hysterically. “Give your mom a kiss goodnight,” he adds, holding her up to my face.
“Goodnight, Momma.” She grabs both of my cheeks and pulls my face toward hers. “Love you.”
“Love you too, Gems. Sweet dreams.”
Her grin is big, and she waves dramatically as Lincoln carries her from the room. Before walking out the door, he maneuvers her so she’s lying in his arms bridal style and blows a raspberry on her stomach. Her loud giggles can be heard all the way down the hall.
I’m still laughing at their playfulness when I sit down and lean back against the arm of the couch. My eyes land on one of the journals I found in the attic. I’ve managed to read a few of them that belong to Betsy Miller. Well, it’s actually Betsy Young, since she married. Apparently, like me, she started writing in a journal at a young age. Her first entry was in 1856. I finished her earlier journals a couple of days ago, in which I learned she’s a farmer’s daughter, has a younger sister and an older brother, and loves to help her father tend to the farm animals, but also enjoys her time in the kitchen with her mother. She was ten when she first met William. He and his father came to the farm to talk about forming a trade between the two. I could practically see the stars in her eyes just from her words. After that, most of the pages were filled with him.
Yesterday I read about them getting married, her move to the farm, and the adjustment of going from being a farmer’s daughter to a farmer’s wife. She went into detail the first time they made love, which had red tinting my cheeks. It kinda made me feel like a voyeur, but I couldn’t stop reading. She also wrote about how much she enjoyed being his wife and how much he dotes on her. There’s one thing that’s very clear; she absolutely adores her husband, and from her words, he loves her equally. It’s quite beautiful to read about.
The more I read about her and William’s life, the more I want to know. It’s strange, but I feel a connection with Betsy. Her and William’s love reminds me of mine and Lincoln’s. It’s pure, unconditional, and irrevocable.
I grab the journal and prop it on my bent knees, anxious to continue from where I left off. The date on this entry is on June 26, 1861.
I discovered something new about William yesterday. We’ve always made love in the dark because I’ve never had the courage to do it when he could see my body. I always worry he won’t like what he sees. I know he’s wanted to, but he’s never asked. Yesterday, after he came in from the fields, I surprised him with a special birthday gift. I was nervous the entire time, but I actually took off my clothes in front of him where he could plainly see my body. The expression on his face helped my nerves a lot. At first, it was shock, which didn’t help at all, but the look soon became something else. Something that had me forgetting my nakedness and had my body warming and quivering in anticipation. Our lovemaking was—not what it normally was. It was rougher. William acted like he couldn’t get enough of me. And I must admit, I loved it. A lot. But that’s not what I discovered about him. It was after we were done and lying in bed with my head on his chest. He has this adorable little birthmark in the shape of a flower on his ribs. We’ve been married for six months, and it’s taken me this long to notice it. Of course, it’s my fault because I was always too