"I know it's hard to believe right now, but someday soon it won't hurt quite as much," Blanche said.

Felicity stared at her.

"Oh, it never goes away completely. You'll always miss him, always wonder what kind of a man he might have become if he'd only had a chance, but the pain gets so you can live with it, after a while." Seeing Felicity's skepticism, she added, "I know. I've buried two myself."

"Blanche!" Felicity cried out in instant sympathy. How could anyone survive this twice? "Why didn't you ever tell me?"

Blanche smiled sadly. "I didn't want to scare you. And I didn't want you to feel sorry for me, either. It's not much comfort, I know, but you're young and healthy. You'll have another chance, and maybe next time you'll be lucky. It won't make you forget the one you lost, but it will give you something to hope for."

As usual, Blanche's forthrightness had helped Felicity over a difficult situation. For the first time since she had awakened to discover her loss, she thought she might survive it.


Felicity gazed out the ranch house window at the endless stretch of prairie. Winter had turned the emerald grass a golden brown, curing the nourishing feed into hay right on the stem so the cattle could graze all year round. A very efficient process, she reflected absently, making it possible for a rancher to run thousands of head of cattle. If they had had to worry about penning and feeding so many cows, even during the relatively short Texas winter, then ranching would have been impossible.

But Felicity was not inclined to count such blessings today. A blue norther had blown in during the night, dropping the temperature below freezing and whipping stinging snow flurries across the prairie. Outside the wind howled, sending blue-black cloud scudding across the broad sky. Felicity pulled her new Paisley shawl more closely around her as the wind found a tiny crack beside the window and stole inside.

The shawl had been a Christmas gift from Joshua. She had never dreamed of actually owning such a fine garment. It must have cost at least twenty-five dollars. Even Blanche had said she'd never seen one so beautiful. A gift like that should have made Felicity extremely happy. Wasn't it proof that Joshua still cared for her even though she'd lost his child?

But he'd bought the shawl before the baby died, the voice of reason reminded her, back when he thought he would be honoring the mother of his son. And now, more than two months later, he still would not sleep with her. He had moved all his things back into his old bedroom, claiming that he did not want to disturb her rest while she recovered.

But she was recovered, completely, and she was tired of sleeping alone in their bed. She wanted her husband back. She wanted things to be the way they had been before. But how could she explain that to Joshua? And would it make any difference? What if he did not want things to be the way they were before?

Weary from her thoughts, she turned away from the window and returned to her seat by the hearth in hopes of chasing away the chill that seemed permanently settled in her soul. Picking up the Bible that lay on the table beside her chair, she flipped it open, turning automatically to the book of II Samuel and the story of David and Bathsheba. Not the part about their adultery, but the part where God punished them by killing their child. At first, right after her baby's death, Felicity had tortured herself, wondering what evil she might have done to have caused her baby's death. That phase was over now. Now she simply accepted the fact, as Blanche had assured her she would one day.

Still the story drew her, and she read it once again, up to the verse where David learns of the baby's death and says, "Can I bring him back again? I shall go to him, but he shall not return to me." For the first time, she continued to read, her eyes drawn by something she had never noticed before in the next verse.

"And David comforted Bathsheba his wife, and went in unto her, and lay with her; and she bare a son, and he called his name Solomon."

David comforted his wife and she bare him a son! Of course! That was what Felicity needed. She needed Joshua's comfort. And she needed another son. That was the hope Blanche had told her about.

Felicity's lips twitched into a smile, her first real smile in a long time. It was all so simple, she didn't know why she had not realized it before. All she had to do was tell Joshua… That thought stopped her. How could she explain to him that she wanted him to move back into their room so he would make love to her and give her another baby? Joshua seemed perfectly at ease discussing such personal things, but Felicity knew she never would be. Maybe if she hinted…

But no, Felicity had hinted on more than one occasion that he need not sleep in the other room. He had ignored her. She would have to do more than hint if she wanted him back. Her smile puckered into a worried frown as she considered various possibilities.

After supper Josh sat down beside the fire, sincerely wondering if he would ever get warm again. All day long he had been riding against the icy wind looking for cows that had drifted too far afield trying to outrun the storm. Even his heavy sheepskin jacket had not adequately protected him from the cold. Now he turned his chair toward the hearth and stretched out his long legs in an attempt to absorb as much heat as possible into his frozen bones.

"Are you still cold?" Felicity asked. She, too, had pulled her chair closer to the fire.

"I'm starting to thaw," he allowed warily, glancing toward her and then quickly returning his gaze to the flickering flames. She had been acting strangely all evening. Well, not strange exactly, but different. He should have been glad to see the pall of sadness finally lift from her eyes, but those eyes were making him very uncomfortable.

She'd been watching him ever since the moment he'd come through the front door. Her smile of greeting had cheered him instantly until he noticed the overbright glitter of her eyes. She was just a little too happy to see him and more than a little too eager to please. Several times during the evening she had touched him, fleeting little brushes of her hands that lingered just a second too long to be accidental.

With heart-wrenching certainty, he knew what she wanted, and it was the same thing he wanted, too. She wanted to make love. Long ago, before tragedy had entered their lives, he had seen her like this often. He had lived to see her eyes kindle with desire, and in the past few months the sight of her face alight with wanting him had haunted his dreams.

Now she was almost giddy with that desire, although he supposed she would have died of embarrassment if she had realized how obvious her feelings were. In the past she had always waited for him to make the first move, only letting herself respond when she was sure of his intentions. But would she wait tonight? And what would she do when she discovered he had no intention of making love with her?

Felicity waited in vain for the invitation she wanted him to make, the invitation that would have followed naturally during the early days of their marriage. He would have said that he was freezing, and would she come over and warm him up? Then he would have pulled her down into his lap and kissed her in prelude to carrying her off to their bedroom.

Self-consciously, she touched the sleek line of her hair. Did he no longer find her attractive? Uncertain hands smoothed her dress. She had her figure back now. Surely he had noticed. But what if he had noticed and still did not want her?

No, she insisted silently, he did still want her. It was just that he thought she was still sick. No one had told him otherwise, but she would remedy that. "Spring will be here soon," she said conversationally. "I certainly would like to get some winter photographs before the trees leaf out. Especially that tree where we had the picnic, remember?"

Josh nodded, not daring to look at her as memories of that happy day flooded back to torment him.

"Now that I'm completely recovered, maybe you'd take me out on the first nice day after this storm breaks," she suggested.

"Cody would be more help," Josh said, knowing he could not trust himself alone with her under that tree.

"But you'd be more fun," she said, forcing herself to smile in what she hoped was an attractive manner and placing her hand on his arm.

Josh almost winced when he felt her touch and saw the fragile hope shimmering in her eyes. How could he smash that hope? But he would have to, and soon. "Lissy," he began, uncertain of what to say next.

Her name was enough. He had not called her "Lissy" since the day of the funeral, and at the sound of the word, her heart melted. No longer proud or even embarrassed, she flung herself out of her chair and into his arms.

"Oh, Joshua," she breathed against the warm curve of his neck before lifting her mouth for his kiss.

Desire scorched through him like wildfire, igniting every particle of his body. The smell, the taste, the feel of her were unspeakably wonderful, and like a man long starved, he wanted nothing more than to devour her. For one blissful second he held her fast, feasting on the lips she gave so willingly. Only at the last moment did sanity prevail.

Using his last ounce of strength, he pushed her away and held her there. "We can't do this," he said hoarsely, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

"Yes, we can," she assured him with a tremulous smile. "I'm fine now! Candace said-"

"I know you're fine, but we still can't do this. I can't make love to you, Felicity. Can't and won't," he added grimly.

Felicity stared at him in horror. The "can't" made no sense to her, but she understood the "won't" only too well. Humiliation welled up in her until she felt her very breath strangle in her throat. With a cry of anguish she broke free of him and scrambled to her feet. Away, she had to get away. She had made a fool of herself, throwing herself at a man who didn't want her. How could she ever face him again?

Catching up her skirts, she ran toward the sanctuary of her bedroom, but he was right behind her. When she would have slammed the door, he caught it and pushed it open again, sending her flying across the room.

"Get out of here!" she cried, frantically dashing away the tears that had already begun to streak down her face. What more could he want now that he had stripped her of the last vestiges of her pride?

"I have to explain," Josh said, cursing himself for a bumbling fool. How could he have handled this so badly? How could he have made her cry again when he had sworn he would protect her for the rest of her life? "There's a good reason why we can't make love ever again."

"I don't want to hear it!" she shouted. Did he expect her to stand here and listen to him say he did not want her anymore? Her old suspicions about him and Blanche rushed up again.

"Yes, you do," he shouted back, grabbing her by the arms and shaking her slightly. "Listen to me!" he commanded.

Unable to resist, she obeyed, but she refused to look at his face, focusing instead on one of his shirt buttons. How could she bear this?

"Felicity," he began, tempering his voice to gentleness, "if I… if we make love, sooner or later you'll get pregnant again."

Her eyes flew to his face, her mouth open in wonder. He had guessed her purpose, but why should he resist? He wanted a child as much as she did. Hadn't he prophesied that a hundred years from now Logans would still be living here?

Josh took a deep breath to steady himself against the onslaught of emotions her nearness and the vulnerability in her eyes produced. "If you have another baby, I'm afraid… I'm afraid you'll die."

She quailed under the impact of his words. Die? No! Such a thing was unthinkable. "I won't die," she insisted. "I didn't die this time and-"

"You almost did," he said grimly. "If I hadn't… done what I did, you would have."

Felicity shook her head in silent denial, but she knew he was right. They had never spoken of what had happened during the final stages of the delivery. Felicity had been afraid to find out his real reasons, afraid to learn that he had only been trying to save the baby. Now it seemed the truth was even more awful.

"Blanche and Candace came to me afterward. They told me that more than likely, any child I give you will be too big for you to deliver. Some women just aren't built for childbirth, and you're one of them. I won't put you through that again, Lissy. I can't."

"But the first time is always hard," she argued, unwilling to even acknowledge what his words would mean to their marriage. "Next time it will be easier! I promise!"