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has talked her husband into moving up this way. Mim is grand company. She is cheery & not one bit overdone about it. She vows we shall sit our husbands down & teach them to play euchre. Now if only I might magic you dears over for a hand or two. I miss you both so. As of today, ten months and three weeks remain. Pray the time flies.
    Your always loving & devoted daughter,
Margaret

    O N W EDNESDAY Henry returned home with a bottle of wine and a sack of hard candies for the children. Margaret followed him into their bedroom, where he hung his hat and coat, and followed him out again. “What’s the occasion?”
    He laughed a nervous laugh and ran a hand through his hair. “You’ll never guess.”
    In the front room he bent over the babies in their cradles and made foolish noises. John came in, bombarding Henry. “Dad! I’ve taught the dogs seven new tricks. Come round back and see.” Josephine continued laying out the soup plates. She called to her father, competing for attention.
    “Give your father a moment’s peace,” said Margaret. She met his eyes. “What is it, Henry?”
    His gaze shifted to the ceiling. “I’ve been promoted.”
    “Oh, Henry. What does that mean precisely?”
    “It means I’ve a dozen men below me now. It means another ten quid per week.”
    “In terms of time,” she said. “Tell me we’re not staying on indefinitely.”
    John and Josephine stood silently watching. Henry took his place at the table and motioned the children to take theirs. “It’s an honor, Meg.”
    “I’ve no doubt,” said Margaret, striving for calm. She brought out pea soup and a platter of ham and sat. “Let us be family now.” It was what she said every evening. Henry and the children bowed their heads for grace. “Are we staying on, Henry? Just tell us that much.”
    “Not indefinitely,” he said, looking up briefly.
    “Oh, Henry.” Margaret bowed her head and pressed her fingers to her burning eyes.
    The twins were three months old now, a demanding set at times. The move from the flat to the cottage had been fraught with frustrations great and small. Granted, she was tired, overly prone to dark moods these days. Still. They’d been less than a year shy of their return. How could he?

    “A M AORI LAD was publicly flogged today,” Henry said after grace.
    “That’s hardly a subject for the table,” said Margaret. It was like him to negate one problem with another more dramatic.
    John’s face was vivid with interest. “What was his crime?”
    “Please,” said Margaret. Mary started up, the fussier of the two. Margaret went to her and rocked the cradle with her foot.
    “He pinched a keg of rum,” said Henry. “Or so it was charged. He didn’t look the sort. A grand display was made of it. Several dozen Maori were lined up, forced to witness the lashing. As a lesson, I presume. A tribesman from the church was there. The lovely tenor? What’s his name, Meg?”
    Mary squawked, waking Martha. “Bring a cross lass to me,” Henry said. Margaret brought Mary, intentionally handing over the more sour-smelling and cranky. He held her in the crook of one arm, smiling down, transformed as always. “Turns out the lad was a royal. The governor says there’s bound to be trouble.”
    “That’s enough now,” said Margaret.

    “F ORGIVE ME , H ENRY ,” she said next morning. He was dressing in the far corner by wavering lamplight. Her voice gave him a start. “I was purely selfish.”
    He came to her just as she sat up, cracking his forehead against hers, swearing. “Christ! Hardheaded woman.”
    “Irreverent man! You shall be struck down by lightning.”
    Both laughed softly. She stroked his beard, the back of his bristly neck. “I’m quite proud of you.”
    He took her face between his hands and kissed her lips. “And I of you, my girl.”
    “I’ll post your letter this morning,” he said, standing, pulling his coat from the peg.
    “I need to add a few lines,” she said.
    He nodded.