Amelia

"You look fine," Melissa said for the hundredth time, setting a comforting hand on Amelia's arm. Amelia grimaced in answer, smoothing a hand over her belly. It was noticeably round, in spite of the high-waisted, navy blue dress she'd picked in the hopes of minimizing the growth. Her friend had tried to remind her that was the point-- she wanted folks from town to know she was pregnant so that she could reinforce the false truth that it was Josh's child.

What a mess.

It was a surprisingly, joyfully mild day-- mild being a word Amelia never thought she'd use to describe this still, sunny brand of frigid cold. The sun pounded down onto the thick blanket of snow, blinding her. Josh sat up at the front of the sleigh, and she wondered how he could see well enough to guide the horses. She hunched in the back, eyes squinted to avoid the glare. The social was scheduled to start just after six, and they'd left early in order to make the trip during daylight hours. Josh insisted it wasn't safe after dark. Never mind that nine days out of ten he trudged in hours and hours after sunset.

The rules for men and women were as different in the unsettled west as they had been in the city. Maybe even more.

It was odd, but Amelia had entertained a delusional fantasy that she would find freedom out west. She'd read so many dime novels filled with cowboys and outlaws, and she'd always inadvertently placed herself in the role of the men-- wild and untamed and tough, scratching together a living through sheer force of will and bravery and witticism.

She'd also entertained a delusional fantasy that she'd settle out west with a cheerful, adventurous Brent. Now here she was, married to the man's staid, responsible brother and locked into a future as a wealthy rancher's housewife-- destined to live her life between the kitchen and the mantlepiece. A semi-functional display piece.

"Are you ladies warm enough?" Josh said over her shoulder, and Amelia immediately felt awful for the ungrateful, disloyal course of her daydreaming. She liked Josh. He was so unrelentingly good. It was impossible not to like him, and she wanted very badly to be a good wife for him. The problem was she wanted that for his sake, not for hers. In those selfish moments of fantasy she was dreaming of a future she actually wanted, and it was a great and heavy weight on her shoulders that the future she actually wanted still didn't involve him. She wanted to want him. He deserved for her to want him.

Maybe that was the problem. Maybe she was just cursed to yearn after men not worthy of her love.

"We're fine," Melissa answered for both of them, nudging Amelia in the side. "Wake up," she said beneath her breath, linking their arms beneath the blanket they shared around their shoulders. There was another covering their legs and a deerskin over their feet. They wore thick socks and heavy coats and scarves and hats and mittens. How could they possibly not be warm enough? Amelia felt like a swaddled infant. Warm, yes, but also...

"Josh?" she said, leaning forward to tap her husband on the shoulder. The family's two-horse sleigh had two rows of seats, and he sat in the front, one hand loosely gripping the reigns, the other draped over the back of the seat. He turned to glance at her over his shoulder.

"Are you alright?"

She nodded, smiling as she folded her arms on the back of the seat beside his shoulder and resting her chin on them. "I was wondering if you'd teach me to drive the sleigh on the ride back."

He frowned at her before turning back to the front. "It's warmer in the back," he said. "Less wind."

"I'm plenty warm."

"Because you're in the back," he said wryly. "Where there's less wind."

She sighed, slumping back into her seat next to Melissa.

"You're being an ass, Joshie," her friend piped up, leaning forward to poke Josh between the shoulder blades. This earned her a glare. Amelia sometimes wished he'd look at her like that-- with something other than gentle fondness. He and Melissa were always bickering and it made Amelia's heart hurt. She wanted that. That... edge. That life. That anything-other-than-vanilla-friendship. Maybe the problem wasn't that she didn't want Josh. It was that she didn't want the way he spoke to her. If he gave her the loving annoyance he gave Melissa, or the casual swagger he gave his men...

"I'll teach you to drive," he told Amelia, ignoring his sister. Amelia thanked him, trying to hide her sadness. She no longer wanted to learn. She never really had wanted to learn. She just wanted to do something. To have some kind of faculty in her own life. Learning to drive with Josh, she thought, would probably be a lot like learning to shoot a gun with Josh. Lots of rules and caveats and apologies and constant worrying over her safety. Having her competence questioned so often and so gently that she'd come out of it half-believing what he seemed so sure was true-- that her desire to learn these things really was foolish and misguided and unnecessarily dangerous.

They passed the rest of the drive in silence, and Amelia wondered what her companions were thinking. Melissa, she thought, was probably wishing she was going somewhere other than a small-town dance. Her friend had grand aspirations and felt as trapped in the wide-open wilderness as Amelia did. Maybe someday they would take a trip together-- to somewhere on the east coast. Perhaps Boston or New York. Perhaps even to Europe! They could visit London and Paris. Melissa would probably want to visit all the big schools and harass the faculty. Amelia just wanted to see new cities for the sake of the adventure. She wondered if the streets of New York would smell different than the streets of St. Louis. If the bricks and stones that built the churches of London were a different shade than the ones she knew. She knew what busy chatter sounded like in English. What would it sound like in French?

She'd never find out. Brett probably would. He'd mentioned Europe. It was a place he wanted to go-- it was a place he would go once he had enough money. For him, it was a matter of time and luck. He wouldn't need the permission of a husband or an escort for the sake of his safety.

And what was Josh thinking about? She stared at the back of his head. There were two possibilities-- he was either thinking about her safety or he was thinking about the ranch. Horses, cattle, and his pregnant wife. Livestock. Goods to be safeguarded and nurtured.

She ought not to resent him for looking after her, but it was becoming unbearable. Stifling. Every day she woke and shuffled through a listless routine of mundane house chores that, in honesty, one of the family's servants could probably perform. She just did them to keep busy. There was no real struggle to life, and no challenge. No sigh of relief as she snuggled into her bed at the end of a long day. Her life was undeniably easier than it had been in the city. She had better clothes and more expensive soaps. Softer sheets and more plentiful food. She had a sweet and handsome and fiercely protective husband instead of a crowd of men pawing at her while she tried to serve them drinks.

Why, why, why did she so wish she was back in her tiny room at the boarding house? Why did she long for the days of struggle and fear?

"Are you nervous?" Melissa asked quietly, and Amelia saw Josh's shoulders tense. He'd be listening to her answer, even if he wouldn't involve himself in the conversation.

"No," she lied. "I'm excited." They'd crested the final hill and were descending into town. She could see the cluster of buildings, smoke unfurling from the chimneys and dusting the clean, fresh air with the sharp scent of warmth. For some reason, the smell made her hungry.

"We're early," Josh announced. "We'll visit the hotel, first."

"Are we staying at Vivian's?" she asked, remembering the first time she and Josh had come to town together, and how he'd booked her a room at the whorehouse.

Melissa choked out a laugh and Josh cringed, his shoulders rolling forward beneath the thick coat. He glanced guiltily over his shoulder before shaking his head.

"Hotel," he said gruffly, and Amelia wondered if that pink in his cheeks was from the cold or from embarrassment.

"I thought you said the hotel wasn't safe," she goaded, smiling in spite of herself. She liked when he responded to things emotionally. It gave her some hope. Melissa shook beside her with silent laughter and they both watched his back straighten as he shook his head slowly.

"That was when I thought you were alone," he said without looking back at them. "I'll be with you for this trip."

"Are you sure you wouldn't rather stay at Vivian's?" Melissa prodded, leaning forward as Amelia had and resting her chin on her arms, folded across the back of the seat. Her grin was wide and mischievous.

"I can turn the horses around if you'd rather," Josh ground out.

"Oh, don't be a bore," Melissa said, rolling her eyes as she sat back, refolding the blanket around herself. "We can go to Vivan's after the dance."

Josh barked out a laugh, and Amelia giggled. Truth be told, she kind of wanted to go back. She hadn't spent much time there, but the fact Josh had tried to leave her there made her curious. It was a brothel, but she knew her husband at least well enough to know that he wouldn't have taken a lone, pregnant woman at the height of vulnerability and left her somewhere unsafe.

What made Vivian's Saloon different from all the foul, noisy, lecherous places she'd known men to frequent? What made it safe? She was determined to find out.

Nonetheless, it was the hotel where Josh brought them. Grand Central Hotel was a bit of a misnomer. Although the three-story brick building was the largest in town, it was hardly grand and it sat in the north side of the town, not the center. The lobby and restaurant area were dimly lit and the air was thick with smoke and noise. She and Melissa followed behind Josh as he led the way to the counter, procured their keys, and carried their bags upstairs. She and Melissa were to share a room, while Josh was staying in the one next door. He was probably looking forward to sleeping in a bed for once, she thought guiltily.

She'd been thinking for a long time that she ought to invite him beneath the blankets, but fear restrained her. Not fear of him, anymore, so much as fear of the conversation they would likely have to have and the guilt it would make her feel. If she welcomed him into the bed, perhaps he would try to touch her. He would ask if she wanted it, and she would have to say no. It would hurt him. She knew he wanted her, and she wanted to please him. She just didn't want to please him quite so much as she wanted to avoid the pain of having a man she didn't love driving into her. God, it had hurt with Brent. It only made sense that it would hurt so much worse with a man for whom her belly didn't tingle and her heart didn't stutter.

"We'll head to the hall in an hour," Josh said as he left them. Amelia hadn't bothered to ask where the dance would held. She had assumed that it would be in someone's barn, like the gathering after her wedding. When she expressed this confusion to Melissa, after Josh had left, her friend laughed outright.

"Oh, the little ones, sure," she said, flapping her hand as she plopped her bag on the foot of the double bed and began digging through it. "But the town does two big dances-- winter and summer-- that are held at the town hall. There's a committee of women who organize the whole affair. Decorations and refreshments and music... it's quite a chaos of personalities. I was on the committee once, the year I turned seventeen." She shuddered, and Amelia laughed.

"It wasn't a good experience?"

"Lord, no," Melissa said, shaking her head vehemently. Light strands of hair swayed beside the delicate angles of her face. She was perfectly coiffed, in spite of the long ride. Amelia's hair, on the other hand, was a halo of frizz.

"Will you help me with my hair?" she sighed, sinking onto the worn chambray bench before the battered vanity. None of the furniture in the hotel room matched, and it reminded her of the rooms she'd stayed in, back in St. Louis. A pang of homesickness turned her stomach.

She sat in silence, watching in the mirror as Melissa tugged her hair from its rumpled braid and began stroking a brush through it. Deep within her, a delicate autumn leaf fluttered, tickling, and she rubbed her belly, smiling.

"She's moving, again?" Melissa asked, catching the look.

"He is moving," she corrected, fighting the urge to cross herself to ward off the curse Melissa insisted on placing. She would love a baby girl with all her heart, but it couldn't be a girl. It couldn't. She wanted her baby to be happy and free and safe.

"This again?" Melissa said with a dramatized groan. "You should be praying for a girl, Amelia. We can raise her up to be a fierce little warrior and then send her off to school to knock all those boys off their pedestals."

Amelia snorted. "With Josh as a father, I don't think that would be her future," she joked.

Melissa's hands stilled in her hair and her gaze shot up, meeting Amelia's in the spotted, warped glass of the mirror. "What do you mean by that?" she asked, the casual calm of her voice belied by the sudden jerkiness of her hands as she resumed her work.

Amelia dropped her gaze to the surface of the vanity. There was a water stain on the right side, as if someone had set down a glass and moisture had pooled around the bottom, leaving behind a dark ring. "I just mean he's a bit overprotective," she said carefully. She knew how loyal Melissa was to her brother, and her unhappiness with the marriage was the one secret she hadn't shared. "I know he'll love the baby. He's... you know that I know he's a good man, and I appreciate everything he's done. So much, I do. He'll be a good father. I just don't know if he'll be the type of father who will let his little girl wander off into the world with big, dangerous dreams."

Melissa was silent, and Amelia raised her eyes to find her friend concentrating a little too intensely as she stuck pins into her hair to hold the braid in place. Her brow was furrowed as if in concentration, but the hair-do wasn't all too complicated.

"Do you really feel that way?" she asked finally, using the tips of her fingers to tug tendrils of hair loose from the braid so they framed Amelia's face. Their eyes met in the mirror once more, and Melissa'a hands came to rest on her shoulders. "Do you think he wouldn't be a good father to a girl?"

Amelia shrugged, unsure how to answer. "I think he'd love her," she said, picking at her nails. "I'm not implying that he wouldn't be a good father. He's just so overprotective, that's all. I can't imagine him supporting her if she wanted to go off and be some kind of... suffragette or something."

Melissa chuckled, and Amelia's spine sagged with relief. The hands clapped her shoulders and she looked up to see her friend moving away, turning her back to dig through her bag.

"You ought to talk to him," was all she offered. "He's driving you crazy, I can tell. You should just tell him."

She was right, but Amelia knew she could never follow that advice. What was she supposed to say? Hey, dear husband. I know you've provided me shelter and security and affection and asked for nothing in return, and have slept on the floor and never once tried to touch me... but I have just one more favor to ask in return for all the nothing I'm giving you. Can you please subvert your very nature and be just a touch less protective so that I can breathe around the constriction of this marriage?

Melissa sighed into the silence, interpreting Amelia's thought patterns with disturbing accuracy. "Talk to him," she said again. "I know you feel like you owe him or something, so you're letting him run roughshod over your life and your independence. But you really ought to talk to him. Yes, he's a little overprotective, but he's also got me for a sister and had our mother for a mother. Strong women aren't mythical creatures he's never encountered before. If you just tell him how you feel he'll ease up and let you live."

Amelia just shrugged. It was good advice. Probably accurate advice. She had a feeling if she asked Josh Tucker to please drive a hot poker through his eyeball for the sake of her peace of mind, he'd do it. She just didn't have that heart to insult him-- to tell him that something so fundamental to his personality drove her mad. Especially considering how little she'd done to make this marriage worth his while. No, she thought, she wouldn't say anything. Not until she found the courage to grit her teeth and offer him something in return for all he'd done.