Mark woke up alongside Delia, as he had now for nearly a year, and glad as he was of it, he kissed her awake. She smiled brightly, his handsome face being the first thing she saw this morning. "Good morning, beautiful," he said, kissing her again. "Good morning, husband." He stood up stretching, and then gave her his hand, helping her to sit up and get off the bed. "How do you feel this morning?" he asked, holding her close and touching her swollen stomach. "I’m barely awake yet, Mark. I don’t yet know who I am," she said, laughing. "Then tell me as soon as you know, sweetness," he said, kissing her one more time after having pulled his stockings up. "Could you help me with my dress?" "Of course," Mark said, taking her dress and pulling it gently over her head. She began to work at the laces across the chest, but he came around and took them from her. "What are you doing?" "Helping you." "You’d do better to make us some breakfast," she said, kissing his forehead. "Well, I’ll do both." "Oh, Mark, you know I was only kidding. Breakfast is just about the only thing I do around here anymore." "No, sit down," he said pulling out a chair for her, "I can make breakfast just as well."
"What’s with all this energy this morning?" "Well, actually, do you know what we’re doing today, thanks very much in part to all your hard work?" "What?" "We’re entirely paying off Godfrey." "Already?" "Well, we should be able to, if we do a good business today." "Oh, how exciting, but Mark, we very well might not do a very good business. We don’t always, you know." "True, but today is market day." "I’d forgotten! It’s too bad I can’t help you then." "No, Delia, you know how I feel about that." "Yes, I know, but dearest, I get lonely up here all day long with nothing to do. I feel very much hidden away." "I’ll come up as much as I can, I promise," he said, kissing her forehead as he handed her the plate of warmed up food. "You’re being too good to me, Mark." He said nothing, knowing that this was impossible, and sat down besides her taking the hand she wasn’t using to eat.
"You’re pale today, Delia, are you sure you’re feeling all right?" "Oh, am I?" Delia said, pinching her cheeks, "I feel fine, really. I’m tired, but that’s just because I don’t sleep well at night." "You’ll call if you need anything, won’t you? I won’t leave the store for even a moment." "Mark don’t be so silly. I’m going to be fine. You’re looking so dire is enough to scare me into my time, honestly," she said, having to smile overly brightly, seeing that her words only made him bite his lip with more nerves.
"I’ll work on those two caps then today, if you’ll fetch them for me." "Oh, the ladies’ hats then?" "Yes, but why won’t you tell me who they are for? I will feel like a royal fool if I’m making them for the store front, which is what I’m beginning to suspect. No one comes by here that should need such finery. I mean, even on the finest occasions, I’ve never seen anything like what you asked me to make." "But it is the latest fashion." "So, you tell me, and I admit it is very pretty, but who has asked for them?" Mark smiled at her mischievously, and holding up his hand to beg her to wait, he ran down the stairs into the store, where he got the materials for the caps, and brought them back up to Delia, who had just finished her meal. He set them on the table in the far corner, where Delia did her work by the open window.
"It is some cooler today. Don’t you think?" Delia asked, leaning out the window and then arranging her seat with the pillow. "I think so, yes, but then I’m not eager for winter yet, so hot it might be for all I care." "You’re right too, but this summer has seemed hotter than usual." "I wonder why," Mark said, bringing her some cider. "You sweet thing, thank you." "Now, I’m going downstairs, but please, Delia, call for anything, anything at all." "Yes, yes, I know. Come here and get your kiss," Delia said smiling, and Mark came over and bent down to receive his kiss.
In the afternoon, the heat grew more oppressive, and Delia was obliged to put down the silk fabric she was attaching painstakingly to the second hat. She stood up and yawned, and began to move forward when she felt the baby move. ‘Oh, I wish Mark were here,’ she thought to herself. She looked down at herself, and thought she still didn’t look as big as the other women had that she had known at nine months. She was feeling rather hot, so she made her way towards the tub of water. She splashed the water on her face, and sat down at the table in one of the wooden chairs Mark had built. She traced the outline of the wood with her fingers, silently thinking.
Mark hurried up the stairs. "Do you need something? Why didn’t you call?" "Are you watching me through the window? How did you know I got up?" "I heard the chair move across the floor." "Oh goodness, I’ve never heard of such a thing. Have you left the store unattended?" "No, Alan came to see how we are, and I just excused myself for a moment." "How rude, go back down there Mark! And send him my love." "Apparently he has enough of his own," Mark said, leaning against the other chair. "What do you mean?" "He is engaged." "Engaged! Really? And so young?" "Not much younger than I was, if you remember!" "Yes, I remember, and older than I was too…yes, I remember, but then I always think of us as a different case." "Don’t we all," Mark said, kissing her quickly on the lips, and then saying, "I must be getting back to him then, if you’re all right." "Yes, I’m fine."
That evening, Mark closed up shop, and returned to Delia, who had begun dinner. "Oh, sweetness, you shouldn’t do that! I said I’d do it." "I’m fine, Mark, really. I was going to lose my mind, if I didn’t do something." "Well, let me help you then at least," he said, putting his arm around her and kissing her ear. "Really, this isn’t much help," she said, flicking flour at him. "You’re a tease, Delia," he said, going to sit down.
"How did the day go?" "Oh, we’ll have made enough I think, but I didn’t do the books. I wanted to come up and be with you. I can do them in the morning." "Well, that sounds like good news though. How should we celebrate?" "I think you’re not much in a way to celebrate." "Well, I can’t dance a jig, if that’s what you mean," Delia said, laughing, "but I have an idea." "What’s that, dearest?" "Well…what if we…Mark…I…" "What?" Mark said, knitting his brow. "I think tonight, I might be…" "Delia! Why didn’t you come and get me? Sit down! My God! Sit, sit!" Mark said, leaping to his feet and pushing his chair towards her. "Or, no, come lie down, please dear, come with me."
"Mark, sweetness! Calm down. I haven’t had much pain, and it will be very slow, being my first time. The pain is very far apart. I’ve seen women give birth…I shan’t have much to do for a few hours yet." "Come lie down anyhow, please. I knew you looked pale, and you’re being too calm." "Now, why don’t we eat this dinner I’ve made? I’m not going to not eat, Mark, because you’re upset." "Fine, we’ll eat," Mark said, watching her out of the corner of his eye with disapproval. "Promise you’ll tell me…" "Yes, I plan on it," Delia said, taking his hand and squeezing it.
Hours passed, but Delia refused to let Mark fetch a midwife. "No, please," she gasped, and seeing how frightened she was, he couldn’t make himself leave. "Mark, I’m afraid," she whispered, and he cradled her head. "You’re going to be fine sweetness. All women have babies, and it’s going to be over soon." "No, no…you don’t understand. I’m not worried about myself. I’m worried about the baby." "Shhh…Delia you’re only making yourself more frightened! Everything will be fine." "No, Mark, I’ve never gotten big enough. Not nearly, and I know that something is wrong…I haven’t gotten big enough, and the baby will be too small." He hugged her to him, breathing harder himself, thinking that he hoped she wasn’t right.
***
"Mark, she’s so small…" Delia said weakly looking up at Mark, who cradled the baby in his arms. "Do you want to hold her?" Mark asked, sitting down next to her on the bed. "Yes, but can you place her in my arms? I don’t think I have the strength…" "Of course," he said carefully arranging the tiny baby in Delia’s arms. "Should I fetch a midwife now, Delia?" "No," Delia whispered, looking up at him with two silent tears running down her face, "she won’t live through the day."
They named the little baby child, Elena, and Mark baptized it, even though he hadn’t the right to do so. He buried it the same day, out beyond the town by the woods, where he had stopped once and seen the city with Delia.
XIII
The weeks withered away, and as Delia slowly grew stronger again, she also gave away everything that reminded her of the baby: the cradle Mark had made, the clothes she had made, and the little wooden cross Alan had made for them to hang about the baby’s cradle. There was no reason she shouldn’t pack these things away, and yet she couldn’t stand the thought of some as of yet unsought for baby possessing them. For, while she ached, she knew there could be other children, if ever she and Mark were man and wife again: it had nearly been a year now, and yet she couldn’t reach out to him, and she knew that he feared reaching out to her. When she asked him to please give the cradle away, he had said, "there could be other children, Delia…if that’s what you want." Delia‘s only response had been tears, and confused by her silence, Mark obeyed her wish by wordlessly removing the cradle.
Although they were not physically intimate, he still made every effort to hold her and caress her softly, all of which helped, but nothing seemed able to heal the wound. She had been preparing herself for the possibility of the baby’s death during her last month, when she realized how small she still was, but it was a bigger misfortune than she had expected it would be.
Perhaps it was the sight of the child itself that awakened the unbearable pain. While Mark once again had become her loving husband after her accident, she had always harbored a fear that the child would bear a resemblance to the lord, and Mark would find it impossible to claim it, no matter how much he swore to the heavens that he was this child’s father. But then, when the tiny girl child was born, she saw even in her tiniest features things that reminded her of Mark: the eyes, the shape of her mouth, and even the baby’s fine hair. There was no uncertainty in Delia’s mind that this was indeed Mark’s child, and now it was gone. She had lost her husband’s child, not the child of her rapist: that had not resulted in a child at all, and at the sight of her child, she had almost sighed with relief, even though she saw that it was too small to live. Delia knew she should tell these things to Mark, so that he would know and be able to support her, as she needed to be supported. He tried to reach out to her, but he was just as confused and saddened as she was.
He held her tightly in bed and kissed her hair, smoothing it with his hands. That morning Juliana had come by to pick up the cross, as Delia thought perhaps Alan and his wife might want it. She hadn’t said anything to Mark about it, but she thought in the way he held her and softly caressed her that he knew something had transpired between Juliana and herself. She had felt the ache once again acutely, as she had handed over the cross, which she had hoped would protect her dear one’s cradle. And now that feeling was still present.
She tried to focus on Mark’s heartbeat and the feel of his touch, but tears began to blind her. Mark tilted her face up, and seeing the look of concern and sadness mingled in his handsome face, she began to spill her long held feelings quickly to him, while he squeezed her tight. "She…she looked so much like you, Mark. I wanted her so badly…and I’m ashamed that I didn’t always want her. I hate myself for it. Why didn’t I know in my heart that she was ours? I never could have blamed you for not accepting her, because I didn’t truly with all my heart until I saw her. Mark, I would have been glad to see her die…if…and it was all do to my selfish love for you and because I want the best for us. But why did she have to be taken away Mark? Why? It can’t be fair after all we’ve gone through! Why? Mark, she looked just like you," she sobbed, and he pressed her against his chest, trying to calm her.
She quieted after a bit, and looked imploringly up into his face, and his own damp face, wet with tears met hers. "Oh, Mark!" she cried, kissing his face and wrapping her arms around him, "I’ve wondered if you at all suffer like I do." Mark’s voice was hoarse and choked with tears, "of course I do, Delia. I have plenty of my own regrets to deal with, much more criminal than yours. But Delia, having you means the world to me, and I admit that no child just newly born, however dear and wished for, could ever take that place in my heart. Do you hate me for it? I was terrified for months at the prospect of having you go through that, and it dragged on for so long, my sweet delicate flower," he said, pressing his lips to her forehead and squeezing her tighter. "I could never hate you Mark. But, I was fine and the baby--she was innocent and little. She hadn’t a chance in the world!" "Shhh…you’ll make yourself ill, my sweet, shhh…" he said, rocking her and kissing her softly. "There are things I would change if I could, but I’m afraid no one can change the past, Delia. I’d be a much better husband, if I could." Delia shook her head still buried in his chest ‘no,’ and planted a kiss on his chest.
Mark would still ball his fists in anger at the very thought of another man having been with his wife, but he had come to realize that Delia’s lack of forceful struggle had not been, what he unfairly construed as a lack of desire to protect herself, but just what she had claimed it to be: a desire to protect him. However hopeless and defenseless this made him feel about the nature of the world, it couldn’t make him repel Delia. No, and he knew that for some reason their child had also been taken, but he refused and hoped very much indeed that Delia would also come to refuse to let it ruin their relationship and what promise it still held.
He felt that if he could truly be her husband again, both of them would then know that nothing that had happened had at all changed his feelings for her, physical or emotional, but he was afraid--even more afraid to make that step than he had been a year ago. He still loved her and thought her the most beautiful thing on God’s earth, yet he worried that his treatment of her had been so unforgiving as to banish all feelings she possessed for him besides that chaste quality that still remained. After they lost their baby, there was the added worry that emotionally Delia might not be ready to have a physical relationship with him or want to risk having another child. If he could only express his worries in words, then it wouldn’t be so bad, but he could not bring himself to possibly hurt her with his questioning.
Something told him that he could only test the waters carefully with her and be the kind of husband she wanted. He had forfeited his right to her with his unfair treatment. Even he couldn’t fully explain his actions toward her, because he had still loved her throughout it all. Somehow he couldn’t get over the fact not that she was raped, but that she hadn’t fought the lord in some impossible attempt to protect him. He reasoned that this man must have determined that Mark was the only thing she held more dear than her virtue, and used this advantage in frightening Delia into succumbing to his will. It had become then, not a physically forced action, but a mentally forced one, which was the distinction that so hurt him. Why in believing herself to be protecting him, had he so been tortured? That is the way things had been for months, and when he was shocked into his right mind by her accident, he had determined to put those thoughts forever behind him. And now that those thoughts were truly behind him, he wanted to be hers and her to be his, but he didn’t know whether he should attempt such a thing.
"Mark," Delia, said lifting her head again, inches away from his lips, feeling his warm breath against her own, "I feel better having spoken with you." "Good, I want it to be always that way with us, Delia. I love you so much. I want us to be able to have a new life together." "I want that too, Mark. I’m trying, honestly I am." "Oh my sweet, I know that," he said gently kissing her, "and I want to help you, as you help me." "I’m no help to you, Mark," Delia protested, resting her head on his shoulder and pulling her body close to his. He could feel the soft outlines of her body against his own, and he tried to control himself, as he felt himself becoming aroused by the soft pressure of her body so willingly applied to his own. "No, Delia, you are a help to me everyday just having you with me." She looked up at him again with her round dewy eyes, "am I Mark? I so want to be, because you are for me. I don’t know what I’d do without your support."
Mark silently cursed himself, knowing full well what she did when he did not give her his support. In answer to her question, he kissed her slowly on the lips before slowly pulling back to gauge her reaction at being kissed for so long, however innocently. Her eyes were still closed, and her mouth was now slightly parted almost in a half smile. Encouraged, he leaned his head back in kissing her again, this time with more pressure. He slowly began to concentrate on her lower lip, pulling at it slightly, teasing her lips apart. God, it was so good to kiss her once again, to kiss her like a man should kiss a woman. He felt her body slowly with his hands and knew she was gradually responding as well. But then abruptly, she pulled her head back and began to push away from him.
Mark immediately let her go, not wanting her to feel pressured or forced, but he felt rejected nevertheless. She began to get out of bed, and he sat up, following her with his eyes. "Mark, I’m a different woman now, you can’t do that." "All right…" Mark said quietly. She stood by the edge of the bed, twisting her gown in her hands. He could only make out her dim outline in the light: her white flimsy gown clung to her form as she twisted it about with her fingers nervously. "I’m sorry, dear, please come back to bed," Mark pleaded, evening out the sheets and searching her glistening eyes. "I won’t…I won’t touch you like that anymore, I promise."
His voice was so soothing, and she pleaded back with him, "no, it isn’t that, Mark…I…I’m a different woman than I was the last time. I wouldn’t…" Mark was worried she would again dissolve into tears, and he held his hands out to her, "come back to bed, Delia." "Mark, I’m different, and we can’t be like that anymore, everything has changed." "No, Delia, nothing has changed between us. I still love you, and I want to be with you, if you’ll have me." "But Mark, things have happened, things…I’m different," she said, trying to make him understand, but lacking the words. "Delia, is this about…your being raped?" "Partly, yes." "And partly what else?" "I’ve…I’ve had a child," she finished, burying her face in her hands. Mark stood up and went behind her wrapping his arms around her delicate frame.
"Delia, please, don’t be so foolish with me. You act as if you have somehow been polluted! Anyone who would think so based on those two incidents would not be the type of man I would want to judge me. I know that much." She turned around, so that he could cover her with his body, and she rested her head against his frame. "Do you want me to tell you how much I desire you? Would that help?" Mark seemed to be almost teasing, but there was an urgency and seriousness to his tone as well. He held her back from himself for a moment. "Look at me Delia. No, I’m serious, Delia. I am perfectly enthralled with you. It has been torture for me, no, torture, and don’t look away. It has been torture for me not to be with you. Ever since that night…God, do you know how I treasure that memory? It was one of the sweetest of my life, surely." "Mark you’re embarrassing me," Delia whispered, still being held in place by Mark. "I’ve been very patient, Delia, because I owe you that much and more, but it has been torture for months…even while I was a total fool…to lie next to you. No, I don’t think you understand. I’ll continue to wait for you, because like I said, I owe you that much, and that moment will be that much sweeter for having you let me, but I won’t have you misunderstand: I’ll wait with anticipation for that day. There certainly won’t be any thoughts of your being polluted or changed for any reason." He seemed deadly serious to Delia; she had no reason after this speech to disbelieve him.
"Will you kiss me again, Mark, like you did a few minutes ago?" He pulled her close, "you would like that then?" "Mmm…" Delia said, stopped by the eager embrace of Mark, who saw his desire reflected in Delia’s eyes, inspired by her new faith and trust in his feelings for her.
