Chapter Text
She isn’t nervous. No. Just a little, well, overwhelmed .
Dinner with the Hopes tonight can’t come soon enough–as much as she dreads it.
For now, they’re waiting the hours away at church, half-listening to the priest. Anthony isn’t exactly subtle in his approach in asking if the baby’s moved. His eyes glance at her stomach every few minutes and the corner of his lips move, desperately wishing he could ask. If everyone already knew, she would let him rest his hand there, just in case he can feel it himself yet.
But they haven’t told the Hopes yet.
“It’s good to see you here again, Mrs. Hope,” Mrs. Robshaw says at the end of the meeting. She leans over the pew slightly. “Are you feeling better?”
Last Sunday had been brutal. Anthony had to half-lie to everyone about his wife’s whereabouts.
Johanna offers a somewhat tight smile. “Yes, ma’am.”
Ever since the last of Mrs. Robshaw’s children left to find his place in the world, she’s become, well, a bit of a prier . Always asking about where Johanna came from, who her parents are, why she married Anthony… Over the course of four years, it’s become utterly exhausting.
“Good, good.” Mrs. Robshaw glances over her. “You need to keep your strength up, dear, for your children.”
Of course . Johanna suppresses the urge to roll her eyes.
“We don’t have any children, Mrs. Robshaw. I don’t think we need to worry about that.”
“ Yet .”
She sighs. “Yes, I suppose ‘yet.’ Technically.”
“Speaking of–” Mrs. Robshaw continues to lean her torso over the pew. It hardly looks comfortable. “This is the prime of your life, Mrs. Hope. This is the time to be having children. This–”
“Thank you, Mrs. Robshaw.”
As she stands, she makes eye-contact with Mrs. Crowle. The midwife gestures her head towards where the other Mrs. Hopes are gathered. She doesn’t need to speak for Johanna to grasp her meaning. Have you told them yet?
It feels silly to have a secret between herself, her husband and the town’s midwife. Not a usual combination.
Not yet, Mrs. Crowle. Once the Hopes know, the rest of Plymouth surely will, too .
That’s part of the reason she was hesitant to tell anyone.
Things don’t stay secrets for long.
She looks for her husband in the crowd. When she first came to Plymouth, she wanted to leave church as soon as possible. No room for additional chat in her book. However, it’s difficult to leave when one’s husband is incredibly popular in town. How can she blame anyone for their adoration of him? Everyone knows Anthony Hope is the kindest man alive. As much as she dislikes hearing about it, she’s heard several stories about parents pressuring their daughters to go after him. (A petty jealousy, perhaps, but it doesn’t feel very good to hear about Anthony’s other potential prospects.) All the men have befriended him–young and old.
In fact, when she makes eye-contact with him, he’s holding a young boy at his hip. The boy tugs on his ear. Ah , the coin trick.
Johanna makes her way over to them, silently taking her place at her husband’s side.
“When are you gonna have kids, Tony?” the boy asks.
Anthony laughs. “Don’t you already have a lot of friends in town, Ben?”
“I do … but I want more. You told me that it’s better to have lots of friends.”
“Good point.” Anthony glances at the group of grown men around him, dropping a little comment about their conversation before turning his attention back to Ben. “What if Johanna and I have a girl? Will you still want to be her friend?”
Ben makes a face. Anthony throws his head back in his pit of laughter.
“Should I take that as a ‘no’, then?”
Ben doesn’t change his expression.
With a gentle smile, Johanna perches her hands against her husband’s shoulder. Anthony looks at her. Ben glances between the two of them.
“ Don’t have a girl,” the boy warns her.
Hopefully they won’t .
“Alright, Ben,” Anthony says, “Do you see your da?”
The boy points and Anthony follows in the direction. Johanna tags along from behind. There'll be some conversation, some tease and a goodbye before they’ll be able to get home.
Once they’re hand-in-hand, they make their escape outside. Despite the snow that’s stayed, the sun beaming between the clouds warms the air. If anyone else was watching, would they notice the extra tenderness he takes with her? The way his hand falls to the small of her back with the sort of protectiveness that a bird reserves for its young?
It will only get more extreme, she’s sure, as the months go on. She’s already starting growing. When she’s sporting an extra-round belly, his protective instincts will only sharpen.
She bites back a smile.
“You’re still ready to tell them tonight?” he asks upon opening the door for her.
When he steps inside, Johanna begins pulling away at his buttons. The sun prevented them from needing many more layers than that. She’s only sporting two shawls today. There’s a coat for her… somewhere in the house. The first and only time she’s ever worn it, she told Anthony it felt like a straitjacket and packed it away.
“I’m ready.” She grins. “You’re still excited?”
“Greatly.” And he leans down to kiss her.
They spend the rest of the afternoon of her body leaning atop of his, reading aloud pages from her book. They won’t be able to do this forever. Soon, she’ll be too heavy for him. Anthony disagreed, but he’ll soon see. His hand gently rubbed at her belly, still wanting to feel the baby that’s too small for anyone else to feel.
He doesn’t by the time they need to leave for supper.
“When are you going to tell them?” she asks on the walk down.
“I’m not sure yet.” He squeezes her hand. “When the moment presents itself, I suppose.”
“What if it doesn’t present itself?”
Cheeky smile as he faces her. “It will. I’ll make sure of it.”
As she takes her place at the table, she looks around.
In a few months , Johanna thinks, I will be the same as everyone .
“Everyone” being his siblings who help their children into a seat or bid them to sit still during supper. It’s something else that felt foreign to her when she first came. Children at the table with the adults. Not shut away in bedrooms or nurseries (not that most of them can afford a nursery).
Will their baby be well-mannered like Tellie’s firstborn? Or wild and mischievous like her second-born? Like neither?
She glances at her husband.
She hopes they’ll be just like him.
When Anthony meets her eye, she mouths to him, “Now?” To which, he shakes his head. She nods in return. He’s wanted this so badly, she can’t blame him for wanting to make the moment of telling those he loves most to be one of the best of his life. It takes nearly ten minutes and the slightest lull in conversation for him to open his mouth.
“I have an announcement to make.” Anthony squeezes her hand before standing. Johanna’s brows spring up. No one has ever stood to make such an announcement in this family before. Is he starting something new? Is he just nervous? “Well, Jo and I have something to announce, actually.” He takes in a long breath that melts into a wide smile. “We’re expecting our first child.”
And everyone pauses.
“I’m sorry…” Lewis begins. “You hadn’t told us yet?”
Anthony’s chin dips. “No? We’re, uh, just now telling you.”
“Oh.”
Oh, dear . Were they that obvious?
“Well, everyone congratulate your brother and Johanna,” Mrs. Hope says. “We’ve been anxiously waiting for this sort of news for only five years now.”
Four , but Johanna doesn’t say that out loud.
A chorus of congratulations and “that’s great, mate” ring out. Anthony sits down, facing her. She squeezes both of his hands from beneath the table. She had been so sure they weren’t obvious about it. They can both be good liars when they set out to be. Why hadn’t it worked this time?
“Are you alright?” she asks.
“I’m glad everyone knows.” But there is disappointment written in the crease of his brow.
Like Mrs. Hope said, this news has been long awaited. She thought everyone would be more excited for them. They’ve only received nearly a thousand questions on when they were starting their family, after all.
Mrs. Hope disappeared into the kitchen for a moment. When she came back, she tapped the back of Anthony’s chair.
“Tony, dear, fetch the cake for us. It’s a bit too heavy for my old hands now.”
Anthony did has he was told without a mumble about it. Mrs. Hope took her seat with a suspiciously large grin. When Johanna glances around the rest of the table, many of them share the same Hope expression.
“What?” she asks. “What is it?”
There’s a shriek from the kitchen. Did they really? Her napkin flew off her lap and onto the table as she runs into the kitchen. They hadn’t decided to pull a nasty little prank on Anthony right after telling him such good news? Why aren’t they following her? They might as well see the aftermath of what they–
It’s a cake. A normal cake.
But as she gets closer, she can see the berries decorating the top of it.
All spelling out: Congratulations!
Anthony wraps an arm around her shoulder. She leans against his shoulder. He whispers into her hair,
“They actually do care.”
“It’s your family, Anthony,” Johanna whispers. “They were the ones seeing you grow up wanting this.”
“Well, where’s that cake, boy!”
Anthony pokes his head out the doorway. Smiling, he shakes his head. “I was beginning to think you didn’t care.” He doesn’t wait for their responses before dating back to the kitchen to slice the pudding.
The children squeeze between them, collecting the goods and passing them around. Johanna spots little Hirem stuffing a handful of berries down the front of his shirt. Anthony helps her into her seat as she notices him tuck himself into the corner to eat it. She can’t blame him. He won’t get caught either with this many people packed into one house.
“Funny story, actually,” Mrs. Hope starts, passing out the treats, “we panicked when we realized we never did anything to celebrate.”
“None of us could even remember congratulating you!” Tellie chimes in.
Andrew squeezes her shoulder. “Mother knew we had to make up for it somehow. But now we expect this sort of behavior whenever we have something to announce. Eh, Mother?”
That’s why they were so quiet about it! Johanna bites the inside of her cheek. They were just as shocked .
She traces a hand over her stomach. Their baby makes the slightest movement beneath her fingertips.
“Now, now. Tony wanted this more than any of you.” Mrs. Hope leans back in her chair. “I remember him coming to me when he was no more than two and telling me that when he grew up he wanted to be a father.”
“And you told me my job was to support my family.”
Mrs. Hope nods. “And you said you would become rich, then, so you could have lots of children.”
Johanna laughs at the story, but whispers to her husband that she’s glad he isn’t rich . As he holds her closer, she has to hope this isn’t the beginning of lots . Just a… good amount for them. Whether that be just this one or perhaps another. She can’t imagine herself doing more than that. One already feels quite enough as it is.
“Soon as he started rambling about if Johanna was expecting and if he was becoming a father…” Andrew chuckles. “I was excited for you.” He glances at Johanna. “Both of you.”
Tellie leans over to squeeze her wrist. “We’re all here for you, Miss Jo.”
“You’re too kind for me, Tellie,” she whispers back.
“Never.” Tellie winks. “I’ll be your friend, too.”
There’s a little chuckle between the two of them. Though, Johanna knows she’ll never be able to forget that moment. The first birth she’d ever been present at… and what she expected to be the only time. But when Tellie’s next two boys came along, she requested Johanna be there. What could she say? Reject a laboring woman’s plea to have her back rubbed and hand squeezed?
She shouldn’t think of that now. Not when they’re celebrating the fact that in a few months, Johanna will be in the same precarious situation.
Will she also be begging Tellie for the same thing? Will the midwife be–
No . No. Best not to think of it now.
She smiles back at the compliments and tolerates a bite from a pastry. She isn’t nauseous anymore, but is in dangerous territory of becoming back in that situation if she eats much more. Mrs. Hope is known for her extra sprinkle of sugar in her treats. A good thing for those with a sweet tooth. For a girl who starved herself for most of her life… it is an adjustment her body is unsure what to do with.
Johanna finds herself caught up in stories featuring Anthony’s nurturing nature, when she feels a little hand against her stomach. Instinctively, she bounces herself away from it. When she looks down, however, it’s Tellie’s son.
“Hiram!”
The boy gives a sheepish smile. “‘Thought you could feel the baby now.”
A smile of her own slowly overtakes her. “I can. A little.” She bends down so she’s somewhat beneath the table with him. “But Anthony can’t feel them quite yet. I don’t think anyone else can.”
“When will it kick you?”
Soft chuckle. Johanna pushes curls from her face. “I don’t know.” She doesn’t know much about any of this.
“You don’t look fat yet.”
At this point, Anthony’s youngest brother had stuck his head under the table as well. Excited to see what the commotion was about, Matthew bursts into giggles at the comment.
“Well, that was blunt,” he says once he’s calmed himself.
Hiram is distracted by his young uncle and scoots his way over to him. Content with leaving them under the table like that, Johanna reemerges to the adults, reminding her of the images she’s seen of mermaids coming up from the water. Anthony is in the middle of a laugh which she grins along to without knowing the context of it. Children under the table is hardly foreign in this household.
It was unheard of where she grew up.
Will it be in theirs?
At least she knows that according to a six-year-old, she still has her figure intact.
“Alright, love?” Anthony whispers.
“Your brother is entertaining Hiram.”
“Matt?”
She nods.
Crumbles fall from the table to the floors. Children lick the sides of their mouths. Conversation slowly winds to a close. Couples with younger ones gather their family together to begin home.
Anthony rises and at the same time, so does she. He takes her hand to escort her back home. If they’re lucky, he’ll say goodbye for them and they’ll be able to get out the door and be home within minutes–
“Oh! And dear–”
Mrs. Hope rushes over to them.
They’re not getting home anytime soon.
But she surprises her. She embraces them both and whispers something in Anthony’s ear which he nods to. With a final squeeze, she lets both of them go.
“Did that go the way you thought it would?” Johanna asks as they begin up the hill.
Anthony chuckles. “Not at all.”
“Oh? So you weren’t planning on no reaction and about a million berries on a cake?”
“Next time, I’ll be sure to count on that.”
Johanna hums, deciding not to remark on his next time . She doesn’t even know if she’ll survive the this time . Or if it’ll be brutal enough to completely convince her to make sure there isn’t a next time.
“Hiram wanted to feel them,” she says instead.
“Really?”
“He went under the table and surprised me.”
“Ah. I was confused when I found my wife under the table.”
“Really?” Her eyes glitter. “Have you forgotten about all the other times I’ve stuck my head under the table with the children? And besides–I wasn’t completely underneath!”
He squeezes her hand before tucking it in the bend of his below and wrapping his other arm around her waist. “If you say so, love,” he teases.
She’s tempted to mock-swat at him, but that would mean moving her hand. She’d forgotten her gloves tonight. Wrapping her fingers in her shawl is her only way of keeping them warm. Anthony intertwining himself with her is a much better solution in her opinion.
“I was thinking some more about names.” Anthony helps her over a particularly icy point. “For a boy–”
“Oh, goodness, we’d better be having a boy!”
It’s out before she can stop it.
He glances over at her. “You want a boy?”
“Anthony… I can’t have a girl. Girls in this world only get hurt.”
“Jo, she won’t get hurt here. Not while we’re around.”
“But what if…” She bites her lower lip. “We can guarantee anything.”
“She’ll be alright. She won’t get hurt like you were. Never.”
Unconvinced, she nods. “ If they are a girl.”
“If they are a girl.” Anthony tucks his free hand into his coat’s pocket. “If they’re a boy… perhaps we call him Rutherford?”
“Rutherford?”
She couldn’t stop herself–nor the way her nose scrunched at the suggestion. But really? Rutherford ? How did her beloved husband even manage to come up with something like that?
“Yes…” He moves that hand from his pocket to the back of his neck. (Oh, dear, she didn’t mean to embarrass him!) “It was the surname of the first captain I had on The Bountiful … He showed me a lot. Taught me a lot. I always imagined naming my son after him… If it’s a son.”
Well, it is more understandable now. Her heart sinks into the story. Captain Rutherford was likely a father to Anthony when he was young. She can just imagine the starry-eyed boy looking to the older man for guidance. Of course, her husband would want to show his respect in such a way.
However… It's still the name Rutherford.
“Would it…” She feels terrible for pausing, though what else is she supposed to do? How does she figure this situation out? “Would it work potentially as a middle? If-if we think of another name, perhaps.”
Anthony opens the door for her, letting her inside first before following. He tugs at the door twice to be sure. “I’ll still get to write to him and tell him we named our son after him. That’s perfect.” A pause. “ Do you have any ideas for a boy?”
Think of something! Quickly, Johanna!
“Hen…ry. Henry.”
Anthony looks at her. “Henry?”
She nods. “If I ever had a male bird, that’s what I would have called him. I think.”
“Henry is a good name.”
It’s better than Rutherford , she thinks and immediately feels guilty for. Henry Rutherford Hope… Well… It could be worse. It could be Rutherford Hope.
Those little feels of some sort of movement come more frequently now. Is it a hand? A foot? Leg? It’s silly to imagine, yet every time there is a flutter, Johanna’s mind can’t help but wander.
Other mothers likely don’t bother with this sort of thing. The way she has known mothers is stern and having to move children out of their ways in order to get any sort of housework done. They complain about sickness in the evenings and they wish they weren’t in this sort of stagnant state that they are in.
And then there is love. The ways some mothers look at their little ones. Their gentle hands as they stroke their chubby cheeks. They look happy.
Was that what her mother was like? Did she sing lullabies and stroll her proudly around the park?
Johanna wants to be that type of mother.
Imagine, a house full of children who tug at apron strings and who pick out rocks for her.
But imagine . Oh goodness, this hasn’t been the easiest, she doesn’t know if she could have a household full of children! That’s Anthony’s dream. She wishes it could be hers. In Johanna’s mind, it’s a miracle, she’s here at all. Who would have ever guessed she would be by the sea, tapping an ever-swollen belly?
She’s grown more. Ever-slightly but Johanna can see it. Quite obviously. Anthony’s tried telling her that no one else can tell. She can’t fully believe him.
One day, she wouldn’t even be able to get up from a chair without help. Johanna has seen enough of the women here through this to know vaguely of what’s going to happen. Before she had come here, she hadn’t even thought of that. Her closest encounters with expecting women was a single maid who was dismissed before she was too obviously with child. One day, she was tying Johanna’s hair into ribbons. The next, she was never seen again. The only reason Johanna even knew she was having a baby was overhearing her speaking to another maid outside of her door about it.
Now, families are the main population of this town. No one is particularly ashamed of it.
She'll be bringing her child to play on this beach.
Toes dig into the sand as she walks along. Wind brushes through her hair sharper than her nanny used to as she cried and begged her to stop. As the breeze turns against her, she can see the outline of her belly even clearer now.
How strange how fast life can change. How strange how normal it is, yet entirely unique.
Well… That little sensation felt particularly strange.
Johanna stops.
Not like the little flutters she’s been experiencing lately at all. This felt like… Well, it felt like a…
A kick.
With held breath, she waits on the beach. The waves crash, yet she hardly hears them as they do.
Another.
The beach seems terribly long now. The ocean so spread out, she understands how it touches so many continents. The sun is so far away, it doesn’t seem real.
The sand feels even less sturdy as she runs across it. Heels sink as if it’s the sea and she can’t swim.
She can’t experience this alone. Anthony’s waiting just over there.
There’s half a bun in his hand and his lips are moving a mile a minute. He’s sitting on the dock, legs swaying over the edge. Johanna hadn’t realized this was their dinner break. Good thing. She doesn’t know what she would have done if Anthony was working . Waiting an extra few hours would be the upmost torture.
“Boy or girl–it doesn’t matter to me,” Anthony is saying to his fellow dockworker. “I love having brothers and I love having sisters. I’m sure it’s the same way with children. I’m just happy . To be having one, to be able to–”
The conversation causes Johanna’s lip to curve. Heart swells at knowing her husband discusses their future child with anyone and everyone. He’s proud .
“Jo?” he says, the moment he notices he. In an instant, he’s thrown the bun into his pail and he’s on his feet. He grabs her hands. “Is something wrong? Are you–?”
But she just takes one of those hands and steers it over her belly.
And waits.
“What are you…?”
“They kicked.”
Anthony’s brow relaxes. “They did?”
His voice is soother than the waves outside their home.
Johanna looks up at him. “Yes.”
She looks back down at their hands, as if that could prompt their child to kick again. For their father .
Breath held, she presses Anthony’s fingers more intently on her.
Then finally.
Anthony’s eyes widen, a “ whoa” on his lips. He glances back at her with the softest expression worn on any man’s face. This is the fact he wore at their wedding. The face he had when she gave him the news.
She’ll be seeing this expression even more often now.
Johanna nods.
“That’s them,” Anthony whispers.
“That’s them.”
“‘Ey not all of us have wives.” Another dockworker seems to come from nowhere, throwing an arm around Anthony’s shoulders. “Come on down. Back to work, boy.” He notices Johanna and a twinkle ignites in his eye. “Ah so you’re the girl he talks everything about.”
Johanna doesn’t answer, perhaps, too stunned by his random appearance to speak.
“You and, um, the babe,” the man continues. He points to her stomach with his free hand. “That’s all he is nowadays.”
Anthony squeezes his wife’s hands. “How could I not be? When she is my wife and she’s giving me the best thing a man could dream of?”
The dockworker moves his lips as if to make some sort of inappropriate remark but the raise of Anthony’s brows stops him. Who knew anyone could be afraid of him like that! It swells her with pride.
“Nevermind. Tony, your lunch’s over. Time to get back.”
Anthony wraps Johanna in an embrace. His fingers linger at her stomach, hoping to feel their baby once again before he has to turn back. Though he didn’t get it as he wanted, he still smiles and kisses her hands.
“Oh love, oh love,” he whispers as he pulls away.
“We’ll wait for you to get home.”
And when he gets home, they sit together. Anthony’s head rests on her lap, hands wrapped around her belly. Everytime they feel a kick, they look at each other. He beams. She imagines she has more of a look of shock. It’s happened a fair amount of times, yet she can’t seem to grasp the reality of it.
Another thing to solidify the fact that they’re having a baby.
While Anthony rests there, muscles aching from work and too excited to do much else, Johanna takes out her book. When she was younger, she tried to convince herself that romances were nothing but silly fluff. Not something she needed to bother herself with. Then she got older and with that freedom, she shyly started to read the love stories published in the paper. Anthony led her to the library in town. He picked out a book for her without telling her what it was. Her first romantic novel.
Jane Austen was discovered shortly after. Now, she’s on the fourth one of hers, Persuasion . It’s been a few weeks since she read from it. A pity. She missed it.
As she flips through the pages, she imagines that Bath is like Plymouth. Just… with more baths. Are there sailors there, too? A dock for retired captains to work on? Are there little children running outside of the church?
Johanna still has seen so little of the world. They won’t be able to travel like they used to with a baby, will they?
She sets the book aside. Fingers run through Anthony’s hair and he grins up at her. They will be happy like this in Plymouth. They will be happy with their baby and staying… here.
Could one more trip do them any harm?
“Anthony?” Johanna whispers.
“Mmm?”
“What if we traveled again?”
His head tilts to the side. “What do you mean?”
Johanna doesn’t want this to be difficult to explain, nor does she want him to disapprove. It feels silly to ask. (There is still a shy, anxious child stuck within her.)
“What if we went on one last trip before the baby comes?” she continues. “One more trip with just you and I.”
Anthony slowly sits up, taking her hands as he does. “Johanna, won’t that…? What if something happens? Shouldn’t we just stay here? Just in case?”
“We don’t have to go far,” Johanna says. “Or for very long. I’m feeling better and you know that I am.” (She doesn’t lie about that anymore. Not to Anthony.) “We can just go for the weekend.”
Silence stretches on but it isn’t horrible. The look in her husband’s eyes tells her that he’s considering every aspect of what they’re doing. Plotting out details and imagining a weekend with just the two of them.
She likes the idea of that weekend.
“A little trip,” Anthony eventually says. “Just the two of us.” He smiles. “That would be very nice.”
“Wouldn’t it?”
He kisses her forehead. “Time to show you more of the world.”
“Just as you promised.”
“I promise.”