T. Novan - Words Heard In Silence / Xena Uber

Of course Rebecca knew Charlie was getting spoiled rotten and she would still be applying lotion long after there was no further need, but she really did not mind. All that mattered to her was that Charlie was there with her.

--*--

Charlie smiled. It was good to be getting back into a routine, good to be able to walk upstairs under his own power. With daily exercise, he was beginning to regain use of his right arm, and to regain some strength in his right leg. The extensive loss of muscle tissue meant he would never be totally normal; but he kept working and exercising, trying to build up some flexibility and strength in the ravaged tissue. His right hand still ached, and Elizabeth warned him that he would probably feel the ghosts of those missing fingers for the rest of his life, but he could hold a pen, a knife, and a fork now, so he was spared the indignity of having to have his food cut up for him like a child.

The back door to his office banged open. Em had learned several new things, one of which was that Charlie’s office was always available to her when her father was in it.

"Papa, look. Fishy in rock. Why, Papa?" Tess trailed behind her impetuous charge.

Charlie looked at the rock clutched in Em’s rather grubby hand. "It is called a fossil, Em. When this fishy died a long, long time ago, the body lay on the sand at the bottom of the pond. More sand covered it up and over time, the sand turned into rock." Charlie and Tess exchanged sympathetic looks and then Charlie motioned for Tess to leave; he would look after his daughter for a while.

Em looked at the piece of sandstone and thought for a minute. "Why, Papa?"

Charlie rolled his eyes. ‘‘Why’ had remained Em’s favorite word and at times, he was hard pressed to come up with an answer he thought she might be able to understand. Finally, he had an idea. "Come with me, little one."

They walked down to the pond, where Charlie picked up a handful of wet, clay-ridden sand. "See, Em. It is loose sand, right?" She nodded as he pressed it into a compact ball. "Now, when I press on it, it gets harder." She nodded again. "When things press on it for a long time –– a very long time –– it will get even harder." He took the wet clay ball and walked with the child to the stone barn. "So, we will find a big rock and press it even more, then let it dry out. Then you can see it get even harder." Em watched, fascinated, as Charlie found a couple of stones and made a makeshift brick mold. "Now, we will come back in a couple of days and see what happens."

Charlie felt very proud of himself. He had started his daughter on the path of experimentation. Then it started again.

"Papa? Why are rocks hard?"

Charlie’s shoulders slumped. Then he had an inspiration. It was almost lunchtime. "Let us go ask your Mama."

Rebecca stood at the window of the back parlor and watched her oldest child and husband make their way up the lawn. Em was grubby, as she often was lately. That child could and would get into anything and everything. Keeping her grubby fingers out of her mouth was a major challenge. Charlie walked along steadily, leaning on one crutch to support his weight. Soon, she thought, he would graduate to a cane for good.

The child was cautious not to knock her father’s crutch away –– that had happened once and the results had been very messy all around. Charlie had been in agony, Em had been frightened that she had hurt her Papa, and Puppy Papa, who followed Em everywhere, had cowered under the davenport for most of the day.

Rebecca went downstairs to meet them by the winter kitchen. While most of the food was now being prepared in the summer kitchen to minimize the heat in the main house, a small fire was kept going there to keep the water tank warm. "My stars, you two are both a mess. Come in here and get cleaned up." She led them into the mudroom off to the side of the kitchen and worked away at the more muddy sections of Em’s robust little body –– hands, arms, face, and feet. "Keeping you in shoes is impossible, little one. What did you do with them this time?"

"Papa’s office," the child mumbled as her face was briskly wiped down with a warm washcloth.

"Charlie Redmond. I swear, you encourage her to go barefoot."

Charlie looked not at all abashed. "Well, dear, I would have liked to when I was her age, so what is the harm?"

"Charlie, no proper lady goes barefoot, even if she is just two."

"Two and fouw mons, Mama." Em had continued her efforts in learning to count. She counted everything she could, including her own age. Every morning, she asked Tess to tell her how old she was –– in months. If she could have gotten away with it, she would have asked how old she was in days. She understood days. Months were just lots of days to her.

"Then at nearly three, you should most definitely be wearing shoes."

Em looked to Charlie and then to Rebecca. "Yes, Mama."

Rebecca took Em’s rock and placed it off to the side while she washed her hands.

"Mama, that Em rock!" The child protested, reaching for it.

"Yes, and you can have it back after lunch, but for now you are clean and I would like you to stay that way while we eat."

"Yes, Mama."

Rebecca lifted the child from the sink and turned to Charlie, whose hands were also filthy. "You too, General Redmond. Time to clean up for lunch."

"Yes, Mama." He grinned, moving to the sink, where he got snapped on the good side of his bottom with a towel.

--*--

Em had been taken away for her nap right after lunch. Charlie and Rebecca were enjoying coffee in the dining room when Reg showed Richard and Elizabeth in. Richard looked exhausted and Elizabeth had an arm full of cloth swatches. Charlie rolled his eyes and wondered how quickly he could find an excuse for the men to vacate the room.

They joined Charlie and Rebecca at the table, and immediately the ladies began talking fabric choices for Elizabeth’s wedding dress. Richard poured a cup of coffee and then pulled something from his pocket and laid it on the table near Charlie. "Young Jeremiah asked me to give this to you. Seems the boy has found a natural talent for working with leather and he said he heard you and Duncan talking about your desire to have one."

Charlie picked up what turned out to be a glove crafted from soft black leather. It was made for his right hand, to help cover the scars. He looked at it and smiled before slipping it on. "It is a perfect fit. How did he do it?"

"He used a pair of your cavalry gloves as a pattern and with a little guidance from Elizabeth about your injury, he fashioned it."

"That was very nice of him. I will have to thank him for that and offer him the position of chief glove maker."

Richard looked over to Elizabeth and Rebecca who were in serious wedding mode. "I just keep telling myself it will be over in two weeks."

"It is the best thing you will ever do." Charlie smiled. "Next to becoming a father."

Richard smiled. "You know, I never thought about me being a father, but watching you with little Em and now with the two babies, I think I just might enjoy it. I even enjoyed taking care of her while you and Rebecca were in Washington."

"So, have you two decided if we are to do the military routine for the wedding?"

"Yes, particularly since she has some retired General coming down to give her away. It is a shame her parents moved back to England. I think they would love to see their daughter wed."

"The would. However, I believe an old friend of her father’s has consent to give her away." Charlie sighed. "I will have to figure out how to make my dress uniform look at least presentable on this new body of mine." He sipped his coffee and then said slyly, "You know, Elizabeth told me her family never expected her to marry when she went to Medical School. They told her that no man in his right mind would want to marry a woman with a career."