Lyn Cote - Their Frontier Family

Finally she recalled one of Constance Gabriel’s few words of advice: “Do not let the sun go down upon your wrath.” These words from the Bible must be right. But could she do it? Could she confront this man who’d only been her husband for a period of weeks?

A memory slipped into her thoughts. Constance and Adam Gabriel had been alone in the kitchen, talking in undertones. She’d overheard Constance say, “Adam, this must be decided.”

So wives did confront husbands. Sunny took a deep breath.

“Noah,” she said, “what’s wrong?”

“I don’t want people hanging around,” he muttered darkly.

“Why not?” she insisted, leaning forward to hear him.

He sat silent, his chest heaving and his face a mask of troubled emotions.

“What is wrong, Noah? The men just came to help us.”

“I don’t want their help. I want to be left alone. I don’t want us getting thick with people hereabout. I picked this homesite far from town to steer clear of people. I’ve had enough of people to last me a lifetime. In the future, we will keep to ourselves.”

His words were hammers. “Keep to ourselves?” she gasped. The happy image of Dawn in her white pinafore shifted to a shy, downcast Dawn hanging back from the other children who looked at her, their expressions jeering as tears fell down her cheeks.

“No.” Sunny said, firing up in defense. “No.” She came around to face him. “Why did you marry me if you wanted to be alone?”

Noah rose. They were toe-to-toe. His eyes had opened wide.

“Why don’t you want to be neighborly?” she demanded, shaking.

He took a step backward. “I...I...”

“What if I get sick? Who will you call for help? If I get with child, will you deliver it alone? We have no family here. How can we manage without our neighbors?”

They stared at each other. Sunny shook with outrage at his unreasonable demand.

Noah breathed rapidly, too, as if he’d just finished a race. Finally he shook his head as if coming awake. “I don’t want people here all the time,” he said. “I just want peace and quiet.”

“People have their own work to do.” She clamped her hands together, feeling blood where she’d chafed her thumb. “Once the cabins are built, Charles and Martin will be busy with their own work.”

He let out a rush of air and raked his hands through his hair. “All right. Just remember I don’t want people here all the time.”

She wanted to argue, but sensed much more was going on here than was being said. “I will keep your wish in mind,” she said, scanning his face for clues as to what was happening inside him.

He stood, staring at her for a moment as if seeing her for the first time. “I’m going to clean up at the creek.” He grabbed a towel from the clothesline she’d strung earlier in the day and stomped off.

Sunny slumped against the wagon, calming herself, consciously shedding the fear and anger. He didn’t want people around him. Maybe he didn’t want her around him? Maybe he’d only brought her here to cook and clean. That would explain why he showed no interest in getting closer to her.

The thought made her angry all over again.

Climbing into the wagon, she checked on Dawn who slept peacefully in her little hammock. She’d be safe here. Sunny climbed down, grabbed another towel from the line and headed toward the creek, too. The unusual high temperature and humidity combined with the argument had left her ruffled and heated. Earlier she’d noticed a bend in the creek that was shielded by bushes where she could discreetly cool off.

Noah already splashed in the wide part of the creek, deep with spring runoff. In the long shadows she skirted around, barely glancing toward him. Within the shelter of the bushes, she slipped off her shoes and tiptoed over the pebbles into the cool water. She shivered, but in a good way. Soon ankle-deep, she was bending and splashing water up onto her face and neck, washing away the grime and stickiness.

The cool water soothed her, the sound of its rippling over the rocks calmed her nerves like a balm. She sighed as the last of her indignation drifted away on the current. She waded out onto the mossy bank and dried off.

At the sound of her name she turned and found Noah walking toward her. Night had come; moonlight glimmered around them. She braced herself, waiting for him to reach her. Had he come to start the argument anew?

He paused a foot from her. “I’m sorry, Sunny.” The soft words spoke volumes of anguish.

She gazed at him, uncertain. Their disagreement had been over nothing—or everything—and she sensed that Noah was struggling just like she was. She recalled his words on their wedding night, when he’d asked which was worse, lying with strangers or killing them.

Amid the incessant frogs croaking around them, he whispered, “Sunny, I just need space, peace.”

His voice opened the lock to her heart and freed her. “Noah,” she murmured.

“But I want you to be happy here, too,” he added.

His tenderness touched her, but she didn’t know how to respond. They were still strangers.

In the silent darkness he helped her gather her shawl around her shoulders and then they walked to the wagon. Sunny tried to figure out what had happened this evening, what bedeviled her husband, and how she could bring him peace. She had no answers.

At the wagon she hoped he would follow her inside so she could comfort him. But, as usual, he let her go in and then he wished her good-night from the foot of the cramped wagon bed.

Sunny lay very still, wondering if Noah would have another nightmare tonight, and if he’d ever reveal what the dreams were about. She had a feeling his nightmares and his reluctance to be around people were connected.

And she was determined to find out how. She just needed to be patient. But patience had never been one of her talents. Someday they would have to talk matters out. Maybe when Noah’s nightmares ceased?

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