........
"Jared?" comes a weak voice from behind you. You turn around
to see a pale face looking at you with curious eyes.
"Lucy? Oh, I'm sorry, did we wake you?" he answers worredly.
The woman smiles.
"No, I was awake already," she answers assuringly.
"Would you, ah, introduce me to our guest?" she inquires
politely.
"Oh! Oh, of course," he says, remembering you. "This is
Mary Elizabeth Elliot."
"Please, call me Liz. Or Lizzie," you say warmly, trying to
show your gratitude for these nice people. Lucy smiles again.
"All right, Liz," she says, trying out the new name. You
clear your throat politely.
"Um, your husband says you, er, have an ailment?" you say
awkwardly. You brace yourself for an angry response, but the woman is
still nice.
"Yes, I have a griping in my belly, and I always crave pickled
beets. And sometimes, in the morning, I get sick and we can't go
anywhere for a few hours. Sometimes, my back aches somethin' fierce.
Oh, and I get tired so easily. I sleep the day away, and my husband
has no help with anything. Though I want to help," she says
sorrowfully. Yes, it is almost positively what you thought. Lucy
Thomas is pregnant. You frown, still unsure of how to say it.
"Um," you say uncomfortably. Jared Thomas raises his
eyebrows at you and turns to his wife. He starts to say something, but
stops, then smiles.
You glance at where Lucy's head was poking out of the white covering,
but it is no longer there. You look into the wagon and see her fst
asleep. You turn back to Jared, who is still smiling.
"See what I mean?" he says to you. "She can't even stay
awake to have a conversation."
"Yes, er, I think I may know what's wrong with her," you
say, unsure of yourself. Jared looks at you eagerly.
"What? What is it?" he asks, a worried look coming over his
features.
"Well, I think your wife is, um, with child," you say, the
words rushing out of your mouth. Jared looks taken aback. He stops the
wagon and leans on his elbow. He looks at you, face blank as a sheet
of paper, and...
A solution immediately comes to you mind. You start to tell the man,
but quickly stop yourself. I can't just go up to this nice man, who
took me in and say, "Oh, well, maybe your wife is pregnant,"
you think, frowning. It's the only thing you can think of, but it
would be too rude to even suggest it. You frown again, trying to think
of how to tell him.
