Noah carefully raised his hands in the air, ready to grasp the squealing pig at his feet. He had spent the majority of the cool spring day slipping around in the pig pen, trying in vain to catch the squirming creatures. Being a carpenter, he had never before had the occasion to capture a pig and he now knew that it was not as easy it looked.

Not to mention that the icy morning sleet had turned the pig pen into a muddy nightmare of scattering pink bodies, and splattered boots. He brought his hands down slowly until they were on either side of the pig’s rotund body and reached out to grasp it with his strong hands.

Suddenly the pig gave a mighty squeal and skittered into the corner of the pen cowering with the other muddy grunting bodies. He swore softly under his breath and then he heard the sound that had startled them and he was over the fence and running before he could even think.

His heart was in his throat as he raced around to the front of the cottage, so he thought he would choke before he ever reached the source of that dreadful sound. His ears were filled with the babies wailing and the sharp desperate barking of Dog.

He opened the door expecting to see the mauled body of his son, Dog standing above him with a bloodied muzzle.

Dog was standing above Derrin but his body was protectively curved over the tiny, weeping baby. He was sniffing carefully at the child, lifting his head occasionally to bark loudly. When he saw Noah standing at the door, his mouth spread into a joyous grin, tongue lolling and he gave the baby one last soft nuzzle and padded over to Noah.

Noah was dizzy with relief as he leant down to scratch the top of Dog’s head. An unpleasant pang of guilt sidled through him reminding him that a moment earlier he had pictured the animal a brute.

“It’s a good boy yer bein’. Now yew best be gettin’ outside. And don’t yew be hasslin’ at them poor old pigs again yer hear me”.

Dog woofed in reply and trotted outside happily, most likely straight towards the pig pen and frightened pigs, thought Noah.

Noah gazed down at his son who was lying on the bare floor boards. He had stopped sobbing for a moment to stare wide-eyed up at his father, his tear-stained face full of confusion at his current situation.

He bent down and picked up Derrin, feeling with horror how cold the baby was. It was a chill afternoon and they had not yet lit a fire in the main room.

As soon as he was safe in Noah’s arms, Derrin began to shriek again, with long hiccuping sobs of indignation at his unfair treatment. Noah tried his best to comfort the little boy, hoisting him onto his shoulder, snuggling him against his neck. He briskly rubbed at the baby’s limbs and back trying to return some warmth to them.

Eventually Derrin stopped crying, resting his tiny face wearily against Noah’s shoulder, his limbs hanging limply.

What on Earth had Gena been thinking leaving him there like that? Then his throat constricted again and a great rush of fear pumped through his veins, his heart fluttering so wildly he thought the baby pressed against it must have been disturbed. He had forgotten all about Gena in his concern for their son.

He crossed the room in an instant, throwing wide the door without preparation for what he might find there.

But all he found was Gena sitting on the edge of the bed, her face turned towards the window as though she could gaze out at the gathering storm clouds, descending on the mountain peaks.

At the sound of his entrance her little hands clenched into fists and he saw that her shoulders had begun to shake like the rustling leaves of a tree as the wind gusts through it the moment before it rains.

“Gena…”, he had only said one word, the warmth of it rising up to meet her chill and the rain came pouring down.

She gave a single sob, her face collapsing into her hands, blades of rain slicing into the leaves and smashing into the ground.

Noah was not an emotional man but at that moment he didn’t know whether to feel brutally angry, compassionate or dreadfully afraid.

He silently went over to the crib with Derrin who was warm now and sleeping soundly in his arms. He carefully lay him down, his hands steady as always, not betraying the disquiet he felt within.

The he turned to his wife who had stopped crying, and now sat, her back to him, her hands clutching at the fabric over her thighs so tightly he could see the whites of her knuckles. Her body was still trembling slightly, the rain subsiding for the moment but the branches still shivering with anticipation for the next downpour.

“Gena…”, he said her name softly, the syllables rolling like thunder from his mouth.

She did not turn so he was obliged to walk around the side of the bed so he could see her face.

She did not speak, her attention fixed on a small thread that had come loose from her dress. She was winding it round her fingers so tightly he could see the deep criss-crossing indentations it made when unravelled, angry red lines marring her delicate pale skin.

“Gena, what were yew thinkin’ leavin’ him out there in the cold like that?”, he asked, his tone more puzzled than accusatory.

She turned her face towards him, and the corners of her mouth drooped downwards, swollen petals sagging under the onslaught of water. She looked exhausted, her head lolling on her shoulders, the stem unable to support the weight any longer.

“He wouldn’ stop cryin’. He was just cryin’ and cryin’ and nothin’ I could do would be makin’ him stop”, she paused for a moment as though a rest was necessary, “I couldn’ bear it anymore so I been puttin’ him in that there other room for a moment so I didn’ have to listen to him”.

Noah was shocked and could not hide it, he knew she had noticed his sharp intake of breath at her explanation.

Suddenly her demanour changed, her shoulders slumping, part of the river bank dislodged spiralling into the rushing water below to be swept away and she began to wring her hands in dismay.

“Oh Noah, what was I thinkin’, leavin’ poor little Derrin out there. I thought it’d just be for a minute then when I was sittin’ here I couldn’ even be bringin’ myself to get up again”.

Noah could have interrupted her, told her what he thought of her behaviour but he thought it best to let her speak. He could tell there was something very wrong. Things had not been right since Derrin had been born, she hadn’t seemed to experience any of the joy that usually overcame new mothers. More and more he had found he weeping beside Derrin’s crib, or sitting dejectedly at the table her head in her hands. He had tried to discuss it with her many times but she had always dismissed the topic with a forced smile. Now that it was flooding out, sloshing at the confining banks he did not think it wise to hault the overflow.

“I… I’m just bein’ so tired Noah, I can’t be doin’ it. I knew I would be bein’ a bad mother and they all knew… and look I been provin’ em right. Can’t take care of me own baby and they goin’ to know… they goin’ to know…”, she broke off into a desperate sob, “and they goin’ to take him away. I’m just knowin’ they are”.

“An he doesn’ love me… little Derrin, he knows I’m not bein’ a good mother and he knows I can’t be seein’ him. He’s knowin’ it! And he don’t love me!”.

It was too much, Noah couldn’t bear it anymore and he swept her up into his arms, the water lapping ineffectively at the barricade of his embrace.

“Now yew be listenin’ here. Yer a wonderful mother, and little Derrin over there in his crib loves yew with all his wee heart. He don’t be mindin’ that yew can’t see him, it’s yer voice and yer touch that’s bein’ important to him”.

He tenderly lifted her hand to his face so she could trace the lines of his expression.

“The amount of love that’s bein’ in that there hand of yer’s, how could he not be feelin’ it?”, he asked, smiling softly so she could feel the upward curve of his lips.

“Now yew know what I be thinkin’”, he murmured, “I think it’s bein’ time his mama be havin’ a rest too. She’s lookin’ real tired and the littl’un over there be sleepin’ soundly so I think it’s bein’ yer turn”.

He began to carefully undress her unresisting body, as soft rain began to patter on the window pane. She leaned on him heavily, her trembling arms around his shoulders, her face buried in his hair.

She lifted her arms weakly for him to slide her nightgown over them, the soft folds of material falling around the battered trunk of her body.

She sat down on the edge of the bed, her knees pulled feebly to her chest, tears trickling softly down her cheeks, tiny spatters or rain making wet spots on the flimsy fabric of her nightgown.

“Yer alright love, yer just bein tired is all, in need of a bit of a rest. Yew’ll feel better when yew be wakin’ up”, Noah had the ability to sound convincing and comforting even when he did not believe in what he was saying. He knew his wife and he knew when something was wrong. And something was very wrong.

He helped her lie down, rubbing her back and kissing her neck, pulling the covers up around her tired body.

He sat with her until she fell asleep, looking at the the swollen moist inside of her lips as she inhaled and exhaled, the flushed rosy pink of her cheeks, her eyes closed tightly like flowers folding shut in the cool, afternoon air.

He would send Arran for Hepsie and see what she could do. He was sure she would understand what was wrong with Gena better than he could. He would send for Hepsie.