In Ziriri, the days flutter by startlingly swiftly, much like the flower seeds sprouting despite being planted only a couple of weeks before.
"Angel?" Rhett's voice drifts from inside their cottage before he steps out onto the porch.
"I'm here." Neva waves to him from where she stands in front of their fresh little garden.
"There you are," he says, descending the steps with effortless grace.
A grin tugs at his lips as he makes his way toward her.
A smile curls across her lips as he reaches her, his hands settling on her waist before he leans in and kisses her.
"I don't like you out of my sight," he murmurs, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
"Relax," she whispers, straightening the collar of his shirt. "I'm not going anywhere.
I was just admiring our garden."
He smiles. "So, how are the flowers doing?"
"Great," she says, glancing toward the freshly tilled soil,
where tiny green shoots have already pushed through, growing earnestly.
"It's a good thing we had rain at dawn," he says, drawing her gently against him by the waist.
She rests her head against his chest,
a sigh slipping from her lips as his arms tighten around her ever so slightly.
A breeze stirs around them, and her heart fills with contentment, wrapped safely in her husband's embrace.
She listens to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat mingling with the distant birdsong, breathing in the rich,
earthy scent of their garden in the cool morning as the sun begins to peek through, bathing everything in her Father's warmth.
Yet... a nagging thorn lingers within her heart, making it difficult to truly let herself be enfolded by this blessing.
"Is something wrong, Angel?" he asks softly.
She wonders how easily her feelings seep through to him.
Perhaps it is because of love...
because of how close they have become... and because of the beautiful oneness only married lovers are blessed to share.
Her fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt, her chest tightening with the worry tangled within her mind, thoughts she cannot seem to unravel... or perhaps is not yet willing to.
"I'm late, Rhett," she whispers against him.
"What do you mean?" he murmurs, a note of confusion threading through his voice.
"My period's late," she repeats quietly.
He remains silent for a long moment, until she lifts her gaze to meet his softened eyes.
"I didn't think much of it when I missed it last month," she says. "But now it's the end of February again."
Her monthly cycles had always been regular. She could have paid more attention,
but during the first weeks of their marriage, dates had scarcely mattered.
She had been cocooned in the ecstasy of being his wife, slowly burying the searing nightmares of New Year's night and growing instead in faith rather than fear of whatever still lingered behind the shadows.
He cups her cheek, his thumb gently stroking her cheekbone. "Are you sure?"
"No," she admits. "Can you get me a test kit?"
"Of course," he says.
"Do you still want children?" she asks softly.
"Of course I do," he replies, a small frown tugging at his brow.
A faint smile touches her lips before he gently kisses her forehead.
He had always made it clear that he wanted children.
She wanted them too, even if she had never truly thought about it before she met him.
Yet the idea of children is far more lenient than the reality of them. She had never even held a baby before,
and they had barely begun their life together as husband and wife.
No. She is thinking too far ahead. She may not even be expecting. The thought makes her heart tighten all the same.
A wavering sigh escapes her, and he gently takes her chin between his fingers, searching her face with worried eyes.
"What are you thinking about?" he asks.
She shakes her head. "It's nothing."
"Do you want to come with me?" he asks. "It's the farmer's market today, after all."
"Is it?" she murmurs. "Can we get some rose bushes to plant?"
"Whatever you want."
"I'd like some strawberry shortcakes too."
A quiet chuckle escapes him. "As you wish, wifey."
A smile blooms across her lips as she slips her arms around his neck,
admiring her handsome husband when a sudden thought steals into her mind.
How wonderful would it be to have a tiny little version of him?
He playfully taps the tip of her nose. "Don't look at me like that."
"Like what?" she teases.
He leans in until his breath feathers across her lips. "Today," he whispers. "The grass is still wet out here."
Warmth creeps into her cheeks.
His lips graze hers, but before he
can claim her in a kiss, the sound of quiet footsteps draws them from their haze.
"Is anybody home?" a familiar voice calls before Anna steps through the front gate and into the yard, framed by flower bushes that gird their home like a fence.
He lets out a weary sigh. "Looks like your friends have come to steal you away from me again."
A smile tugs at her lips as she slips from his embrace.
"Anna," Neva calls. "We're here."
Anna turns toward them, a smile lighting up her lovely face as she approaches, a chubby orange cat nestled in her arms.
"Since you have guests to attend to," he says, "I just remembered I need to make a quick trip into town anyway."
"Come back before lunch," she replies.
An outing to the farmer's market could wait until the afternoon, then.
"Ella!" Anna exclaims as the cat leaps from her arms, letting out an eager meow as she darts toward Neva.
Neva scoops the cat into her arms, a grin tugging at her lips.
"Ella really, really missed you, Sister Neva,"
Anna says, falling into step before her.
"Did she?" Neva's heart swells with glee as Ella purrs contentedly in her arms.
"She did." Anna presses a kiss to Ella's furry little head. "But she ought to be more careful," she adds, scratching the cat's chubby chin. "You naughty, naughty cat."
Neva smiles and lifts her gaze just in time to see her husband heading back inside the cottage.
"Didn't you have school today?" Neva asks.
Anna shakes her head. "It's Saturday today, remember?"
"Oh, right," Neva trails off.
"Can I go to church with you tomorrow?" Anna asks, her light brown eyes glimmering with hope.
"Sure," Neva says.
Anna's smile widens.
The girl had truly taken a liking to her.
Anna had first arrived at their home with a tin of cookies as a gift about five weeks earlier, not long after recovering from the flu she caught when she fell through the frozen pond. Neva and her little friend had clicked almost instantly, and ever since,
Anna had been stopping by every now and then with her adorable little orange kitty.
"Come inside, Anna." Neva steps forward.
"I have some cookies left from yesterday."
"Alright!" Anna exclaims delightedly.