Although now dressed in practical denim as opposed to lavish wedding finery, she and husband Vance still looked at one another with the greatest love and tenderest passion.
These intense, all-consuming emotions had parlayed themselves into a beautiful shared life; a blessed existence that had seen the purchase of an expansive plot of land in the heart of Austin, Texas, as well as a pregnancy that promised to spread their love and prosperity to a second generation.
Joining hands now with the tall, slender blond man she called her wedded husband, Amy used her free hand to stroke the belly that seemed to grow larger with every passing day—and, somehow, she didn’t mind one bit.
“Are you ready to cease for just a few moments, love, so we can head back to the ranch house and have our lunch?” she asked, eyebrows arched as her husband leaned forward to grace her fair cheek with an affirming kiss.
Vance nodded.
“We have just a few more rows of corn to harvest,” he reminded her, adding as he cocked his handsome head in a show of keen concern, “Why don’t you let me shuck them while you go back to the house? You look as though you could use some rest.”
Amy snorted.
“I am expectant, my darling, not infirmed,” she reminded him, adding as she ran a confident hand through the windswept ringlets of her luxurious reddish blonde hair, “I am more than capable of completing all of my daily duties on the ranch I helped plant.” She paused here, adding as she raised a slender finger for emphasis, “Remember this, husband!”
Restraining a round of unbidden laughter, a chastened Vance met his wife’s words with a hale and hearty salute.
“Yes, Ma’am!” he affirmed.
Grinning brightly as her husband returned to his work, Amy turned into the field to observe the sheer brilliance of a sun-soaked Texas morning; a day blessed with clear azure skies and meadows and fields that glowed a lovely emerald gold in the light of the beacon that shone resplendent above them.
For just a moment she basked in the beauty of the day; musing with a happy sigh that her dreams of a loving marriage and a thriving family were coming to fruition, nearing their flawless completion with every passing day.
All peaceable feelings fled her psyche moments later, as a loud, distressing thump resounded just behind her; forcing her to turn and bear witness to a nightmarish scene.
Her beloved husband, lively and animated moments earlier, now lay still and unconscious on the ground below him; his hands clutching his heart as his eyelashes fluttered shut—his breath escaping him in a sharp, violent gust as she ran to his side.
“Vance!”
Racing through the field with feverish steps, Amy gaped outright as her troubled mind brimmed with all manner of unspeakable possibilities.
She recalled with horror the fact that Vance’s father and uncle both had died young of heart-related illnesses; also the fact that her husband had seemed weary and lethargic in recent days.
“Please God no,” she muttered, now kneeling full to her husband’s side as she lowered her head to his chest. “It can’t be….”
Yet the silence of his heart and the stillness of his breathing told the truth of the tale; and as she threw her arms around his muscled shoulders, she somehow knew that this would be the last time she ever held him in her arms.
A month passed beneath the Texas sky; its unforgiving sun roasting the woman who toiled beneath its harsh rays.
A telltale line of sweat beaded Amy’s fair skinned forehead as she struggled to pick just one more ear of corn; her feet heavy and her shoulders heaving as she made her way across the field.
It seemed beyond her comprehension that, just one month before, she had regarded this very field as a place of hope and happiness; joyfully toiling at her husband’s side as they harvested a hopeful future.
Now she worked alone through long, hot days; her only assistant a frail older aunt who resided alone on a neighborhood farm.
Herself a widow, Aunt Grace was a short, petite brunette who worked her own land in addition to serving as an able aide to her beleaguered niece.
Able—if weary and more than a bit cranky.
“Enough, Amy!” she declared one day, straightening herself between two rows of corn as she fixed her tired niece with a cold hard stare. “You must be sensible about this matter before you exhaust the both of us!”
Amy sighed.
“My deepest apologies, Auntie,” she murmured, standing ginger above a tassel of corn as she clutched her weary back with a wan, tired hand. “I simply cannot manage this ranch all by my lonesome, and I know not where else to turn.”
Grace thought a moment, then nodded.
“I know, Girl, and I am more than pleased to help you as much as I’m able,” she told her niece, voice softening as she leaned forward to grace her slender shoulder with a reassuring pat. “It’s just that I cannot tend both your ranch and my own for the duration of the growing season. And you yourself should be resting in bed, awaitin’ the birth of your little one.”