two months. I figured you’d at least stay until Sunday.”
“Well, I’m not. There’s things I’ve gotta do in Charleston.”
“On Sunday? You don’t work on Sunday so why—”
“Stop complaining, Eliza. You said to come home because you needed money. I came; isn’t that good enough?”
“Yes, we do need money, but it’s more than that. I wanted you here because you’re the children’s daddy. They need you to spend time with them, teach them things. The boys are getting older, they need—”
His eyes narrowed. “Why is it always about what they need? Do you ever think about what I need? I’ve gotta work; if I don’t, nobody eats.”
Eliza saw the color rising in his face and became worried that this visit would turn out to be like the last one.
Not now; please, God, not now.
“I know how hard you work,” she said, forcing the sound of sweetness into her words. “I may not always say something, but the children and I appreciate it more than you know.”
Pulling her mouth into a smile, she crossed the room and lowered her face to his. She’d intended to kiss him full on the mouth the way he liked, but he jerked his head to one side and she ended up brushing her lips across his cheek. The way it happened struck her as odd, but there was no way of knowing whether or not his move was intentional. For a moment she thought she’d caught the scent of something different on his skin, but she pushed it aside and continued. What she had in mind was far more important; she had to tell him about the baby.
Still keeping her tone pleasant, she said, “Maybe if you could find a way to spend more time with the boys, you could train them to be helpers and take some of the burden—”
“Lord God, Eliza, are you out of your mind? Oliver’s the oldest, and he’s barely turned nine. Coal miners might send their kids to work at such an age, but I’m not a miner, I’m an electrician. My job is important, kids can’t possibly—”
“Right now, they can’t, but in time…”
When a cloud of ugliness settled on Martin’s face, she left the remainder of what she was thinking unsaid. With a weary sigh, she dropped down in the chair on the far side of the table and they sat in silence for several minutes. She knew when he was in such an obstinate mood, the only way to get around him was to agree with whatever he said. Pressured by the need to tell him about the baby, she decided to do just that.
“Perhaps it’s unfair to expect a man as busy as you are to be traveling back and forth on the train all the time. Working as many hours as you do, I can understand why you’d need time to rest up, and with this summer having been so hot…”
As she continued the anger on Martin’s face faded, and a thought she hadn’t considered before came to her.
“It might be easier on everyone if the children and I were living in Charleston. There’s no reason why we couldn’t move so we’d all be together. I’m willing to—”
“No. Absolutely not. I can’t afford a bigger place, and the apartment I’ve got is too small. You said so yourself. We were crowded when the only one we had was Oliver. With six kids it would be—”
“Seven,” Eliza corrected. “In the winter, it will be seven.”
She waited, thinking he’d show some emotion or say something, but he didn’t. He just sat there looking shell-shocked, the color gone from his face and his mouth hanging open. A full minute rolled by.
“Seven? You’re telling me there’s another one on the way?”
She nodded and tried giving him a playful smile. “I suppose with us spending all those evenings together and it being so romantic—”
“Romantic, my ass! What in God’s name were you thinking?”
“I wasn’t thinking anything. It just happened.”
He stood and started pacing the kitchen floor. “Do you know how much pressure this puts on me? I’ve got a full-time job to take care of, and with you asking me to come home every other weekend—”
Her eyes followed him as he walked from one end of the room to the other.
“I’m not asking you to do anything,” she said. “I don’t love Charleston, but I’m willing to take the children and move back there. You’re making more money now, and with what you’d save on train fare we could get a