Elias William Hatfield was born on November 8th, 1888. It was an easy birth, one of the easiest that Hannah said she had ever seen. Quietly, her son came into the world as the first snow of the season fell outside in the early afternoon. Winter light, pale as milk, crept across the floorboards as she held him in her arms and spoke to him softly of his namesakes. 

Cordelia told her newborn about his grandfather and his bravery on the battlefield. How he never carried a weapon, but a doctor's bag, the same one propped in the corner of her bedroom. He had kept many men from dying by getting to them before they bled out. He'd even been grievously wounded, yet he continued to work in the field hospitals while hobbling on a cane. She told him how there was no one who could dispel an awkward social situation like Doctor Elias Robertson. He was a wizard with subtle humor and smooth subject changes.

Then she told him of his father. 

Cap Hatfield was a hazier figure in her mind, even though it hadn't been so long since they were together. He was sharp eyed and driven, honest to a fault. And he was brutally loyal to his family and those he loved, even if he meant sending them away as he had done to her. 

Months later, she was still insisting to herself that their separation had been for the best.

Elias Hatfield was a dream baby. He started sleeping through the night very soon as nursing came easily to them both. He rarely fussed except when things were too noisy or chaotic, he enjoyed the peace of their home. Cordelia strapped him to her body while she cleared out the gardens for winter and he slept all afternoon against her breast. 

Bald with grey green eyes, lacking the full cheeks seen on most babies but still handsome, he seemed almost as though he wasn't unfamiliar with the world. His soul was ancient, deep, and sweet. Cordelia was still trying to figure out how two such deeply flawed people as Cap and herself had brought about such a miracle.

Weeks went by and a single piece of stationary remained tucked away at her desk. It was blank except for a single line. 

Dearest husband,

That was what she still called him in her heart. Cap Hatfield would be her husband till she died. There was no possibility that she could ever marry again. He had been her soul's match. Nothing could compare to the intimacy that they had shared over that short period in the mountains.

That was why she had listed him as the father on the birth certificate and why she had named herself Cordelia Robertson Hatfield on it. Certainly those among her former circle of friends would hear of her shame as a single mother, but it didn't matter anymore. Only Elias mattered.

But she never sent him the letter. There was still no knowing what filled his heart. If Cap was still hellbent on the utter destruction of the McCoy family for the sake of his own family's honor, than he deserved no part in his child's life. Elias deserved more, much more than such an inheritance and Cordelia planned to see it through.

But there was no denying the ache in her chest. Her longing deepened as she watched her son grow by the weeks. Jim McCoy's words haunted her. A son needed his father.

Was she doing the right thing by not telling Cap about their boy?

"City livin' is wearing me down. We gathered plenty from our gardens to last us the winter, but to go to the market for eggs and milk? It's unheard of," Hannah ranted as she wrapped Elias warm into the wicker perambulator. "I'll only be gone an hour or so."

Cordelia hummed absently in her throat. Still in her nightgown, she'd wrapped a baby blue dressing gown over herself and spent the morning planning her next lesson for Monday. Hannah watched Elias for a few hours during the day while Cordelia went to teach at the rundown school house built in the slums of Springfield.

Her students were the children of new Irish or Italian immigrants, barely speaking English. Or they were the first generation of black children to be born completely free of slavery, their parents having forsaken the south for New England. They were all eager to learn. 

When she'd applied for the position, the matter of her being a mother had come up. The school directors had looked at her suspiciously when she didn't mention a husband then decided she was too much of a liability to put in the more affluent areas. However, her credentials won her the position that she was now in. And she was convinced that she was better for it.

Though she had a little money in the bank, she was far from the rich socialite that she had been. Teaching on the wrong side of the tracks suited her better after living in Tug Fork. She felt comfortable there. And she could support their small family while doing some good. She didn't have to depend on anyone anymore, a far cry from the girl who once thought a rich marriage was her only option in life.

Elias cooed among his blankets. Cordelia leaned over him and kissed his forehead. His eyes were getting heavy.

"He'll be sleeping before I make it past our avenue," Hannah predicted with a chuckle, the spark finally returning to her dark eyes after so much grief. Elias had brought her back to life. "I won't be long."

It was a warm Sunday in December. The ground had been gilt with frost at first light, the soil already hard frozen, but by noon the sun had burned away the ice. Cordelia set a kettle to boil and paced the kitchen, reading aloud the history lesson she was working on. She didn't even hear the door knob to the front door turn.

She paused in her musing after pouring the boiling water into the teapot. She sensed someone watching her from the doorway. Cordelia's heart sped as she set down her paper and curved to look over her shoulder, her hand still clutching the pot of boiling water. She could throw it at them if the situation called for it.

"Hello Cordelia."

She backed up against the counter as she stared across the room at her husband. 

"Cap."

He was dressed well. He wore a blue dress shirt that brought out the color in his single, sighted eye. His black overcoat had been washed. Hat in hand, his hair was combed back. He almost made her embarrassed by her own disheveled state.

Cordelia drew a shaky breath. "Jim told you about me then."

"Yes, he did."

"Who drew first blood afterwards, you or him?" She snapped, trying to remind herself why she had moved so far away in the first place. Striding over to the table, she busied herself with her papers though her hands were shaking. "I won't apologize if that's what you expect of me."

Drawing up from behind, his cool hands curved around her hips, still rounded from the weight she'd gained during pregnancy. Brushing aside her loose curls, he rested his chin against the crook of her neck as he had done a hundred times before. With his arms around her, it felt like they had never been apart.

"I never expected you to apologize, Cordelia Hatfield. What do you think I am? Stupid?"

Cordelia moved away, unwilling to cave. "You didn't answer my question."

"We shook hands."

She halted and turned towards him. Certainly peace would not be that easy. "That was it?"

Cap perched on the edge of the table, the teasing half grin still on his mouth as he studied her. "We ain't two kings. We don't need a peace treaty. Sometimes, all it takes is two men shaking hands."

"But after everything-"

"It's a step, Cordelia. A small one, but a step. One that we are both willing to build on." He inclined his head towards her, arching his eyebrows. "Will that be enough for you?"

"For me?"

"Yes. I want you to come on home with me, I want to raise our son together. That's a part of building too."

Cordelia set down the papers. It was taking all her will power not to cross the room and kiss him soundly. In the end, he did that for her. He strode towards her in three long steps.

"Hell, I can't stand this no more," he growled, burying his hands in her hair and pulling her face towards his. He kissed her hard, pushing her up against the table. "Say you'll come home. I need you to come home."

"Yes. Yes, Cap," she murmured into his mouth. She'd barely said the words before he scooped her up and carried her to the nearby bedroom.

They were remarried that afternoon at the Springfield courthouse. Hannah stood in as witness. Despite her initial hesitation, when she heard of his discourse with Jim, she had conceded to be present. She said if they were going to grow from this, she needed to do her part.

Elias slept in his crib by their bed that night. Cap lay on his side, curled against his wife with his head perched on the heel of his hand. His other arm was tucked protectively around her breast as they watched their son sleep soundly.

"He's really somethin', ain't he?" Cap whispered, the faint lantern light glowing against the pristine sheets.

"Hmm. I think he's meant for great things."

Cap brushed his lips across her bare shoulder. "I don't doubt it."