Emmett
Tell me, how do I feel?
Luckily for Emmett, Phoebe was understanding, even joking with him about the ravishing, which made him laugh all over again.
He was tired (often was these days) and fell asleep quickly after he'd said goodnight, but was awake just enough when she responded to smile and hug her closer, not realising in the depths of drowsiness the importance of the exchange they'd just had. In the morning he'd hardly remember it, but would feel a soft warmth around his heart, a reassurance that was always there.
Emmett got up early, as you had to when you worked on a farm and looked after two young children, but left Phoebe to sleep, thinking she probably needed it. Before the sun had fully appeared over the horizon he had fed the animals and gotten the children up and dressed, taken his daily stop by the house to be quiet for a moment and think.
By the time she woke up he was downstairs, cooking breakfast for everyone. There had been a good batch of big eggs from the hens lately, so a lot of meals had been egg-based. This morning they were scrambled, Emmett whistling as he stirred them around a saucepan and nudged toast over on it's rack on the fire. Chris and Milly both chatted and ran about, waiting for food to be served. He was planning to go and give Phoebe breakfast in bed, like his pa used to sometimes for his ma. She'd always liked it.
