Orchard of Hope

by Ann H. Gabhart

  42

  Tabitha lay in the hospital bed and stared at the tiny holes in the ceiling tiles over her head. She squinted her eyes and started counting them row by row to distract herself from the pain. She was on the third row when a new contraction grabbed her. The holes in the tiles blurred and ran together as she grabbed the sides of the bed and braced herself. She was breathing the way Aunt Love had said she should, but it still hurt. Way worse than anything she had expected.

  She needed Aunt Love in the room with her to tell her it was okay. That she was going to make it. That thousands of women had babies every day and it hurt, but they lived through it. Even Aunt Love had lived through it. And she hadn’t even been in a hospital with doctors and nurses the way Tabitha was.

  Tabitha needed somebody beside her. She needed to be able to reach out and touch a real person instead of the cold metal rails on the bed. The nurses had swarmed in on her at first, getting her in a hospital gown, checking her blood pressure and the baby’s heartbeat, shaving her down there. Tabitha hadn’t been expecting them to do that, but the nurse said it had to be done to keep down the chance of infections or something like that. Faces came and went—looming over her, telling her this or that—but she could hardly remember anything they had said.

  She did remember what the doctor had said after he examined her. She was doing fine. Just fine. If she was doing fine, she was glad she wasn’t doing bad. She’d never be able to stand “bad” if this was “fine.” Then he said it would be awhile. That she might not deliver till morning. He acted as if he might go on home and go back to bed.

  How was she going to stand this pain until morning? And all by herself. As the pain began to ease back, a couple of tears slid out of the corners of her eyes and down her cheeks. She hadn’t expected to be all alone.

  No nurse had even been in to see about her since one of them had put up the side rails on the bed, as if she was some little kid who might fall out. If they were going to lock her in the bed, the least they could have done was let somebody, Aunt Love or her father or anybody, stay with her. Maybe they made her be alone because she didn’t have a husband. Maybe this was part of her punishment.

  She tried to say a prayer, but she wasn’t very good at praying. Her father said she didn’t have to be good at praying. That the Lord didn’t care if her prayers were fancy or not, as long as they came from the heart. But Tabitha felt funny praying. She’d gotten too out of the habit all those years she’d been gone from Hollyhill with her mother, who thought praying was nothing but a big waste of time. Better to be out doing, DeeDee had always said, instead of hiding somewhere in a corner, praying to a God that never listened anyway.

  Tabitha hadn’t believed that. She knew God listened, at least to some people. She’d just never been sure he would listen to her. At least not then, while she was with her mother. Why would he? They never went to church, and the truth was, she hardly ever even thought about praying except when she was thinking about her father. And then it wasn’t her praying, but him praying.

  Of course, she was going to church now. Had gone most every Sunday since July except when she stayed home with Wes. And Aunt Love was always talking church stuff to her at home too. Tabitha didn’t mind. She liked it when Aunt Love assured her that the Lord loved her and her unborn baby and would take care of them no matter what.

  But now Aunt Love was out there somewhere in the hospital where they wouldn’t let her come and talk to Tabitha. And the pain was rolling back toward her. She could feel it coming. Then it didn’t seem to hardly pause until it was rolling back at her again. This couldn’t be the way it was supposed to be. Not with her in here all by herself. Maybe if she screamed as loud as she could, her father would hear her and come help her.

  The door to her room opened, and one of the nurses came in. She didn’t come to the bed to look at Tabitha’s belly or anything, but just walked over and looked out the window as if checking the weather or to see if her ride was in the parking lot down below. She didn’t even look around at Tabitha as she said, “How are you doing?”

  “The pains aren’t stopping. Please, I need my father or my aunt to help me. The pain isn’t stopping.” Tabitha hated the way her voice sounded. Weak and teary, but it hurt. She wanted to be strong for Stephanie Grace, but nobody had told her it was going to hurt so bad. Or maybe they had, and she just hadn’t understood until she was feeling it herself.

  The nurse left. Didn’t even pat her arm or check her pulse. Just left. Tabitha had to scream. She wanted to be a good girl and do what they told her, but for Stephanie Grace, she had to scream. There wasn’t anything left to do. But the sound was swallowed up by all the holes in the ceiling tiles. And the pain rolled on, crushing her.

  Then the door was pushing open and nurses were swarming all around her. One shoved a gas mask over her nose while another one put her hands on Tabitha’s stomach. Suddenly Tabitha had to push. Stephanie Grace wanted out and Tabitha’s whole body was pushing.

  The nurse with the gas mask held it tighter over Tabitha’s nose and mouth and said, “Breathe in. Don’t push. Breathe. Don’t push.”

  But she couldn’t keep from pushing. She had to push. And breathe. And then she began sinking away from the noise and the pain.

  David heard Tabitha scream all the way out in the waiting room on the other side of the double doors. The sound pierced his heart. He shouldn’t have let them push him away from her side. He’d known she needed him, needed someone to cling to, but they said he and Aunt Love would have to wait out where the fathers had to wait. They said they’d take care of Tabitha. They told him not to worry. As if that was even possible. His daughter was having a baby. A woman could die having a baby.

  “That was Tabitha,” Aunt Love said. “They should’ve let one of us stay with her.”

  David was out of his seat and across the room. He went right through the doors to the nurses’ station. He wouldn’t have stopped there if he’d known which room held Tabitha.

  The nurse at the desk looked up at him and said, “You’re not supposed to be back here.”

  “I want to see my daughter.”

  “I’m sure you’ve already been told, sir. No one is allowed in the labor rooms with the patients. Not even the fathers-to-be.” She stood up and came around the desk to usher David back through the doors to the waiting area. She didn’t appear to be much older than Tabitha, but she looked very determined to make sure he obeyed the rules.

  “Well, that needs to change. Right now. I heard my daughter scream, and I intend to see with my own eyes that she’s all right.”

  The nurse changed tack and brought out a sympathetic tone. “I know it must be difficult for you to wait, but I assure you your daughter is being cared for by our very best nurses. She’ll be fine.” The nurse put her hand under David’s elbow and tried to steer him back toward the waiting room.

  David didn’t budge. “I want to see my daughter. Now.”

  The nurse looked at him, and David stared back. He was expecting her to call in reinforcements to manually move him back where it had been decreed that he must stay, but then she was saying, “All right, sir, I can certainly understand your concern. You wait there a minute, and I’ll call back and check on her for you.” The nurse went back around the desk and picked up a phone.

  David stood still and listened. Not to the nurse talking softly into her phone but for Tabitha. One more sound from her and he’d be able to pick out the door she was behind. He couldn’t very well just go barging through the doors willy-nilly, invading the privacy of the other mothers-to-be. Of course, there weren’t but two other families out in the waiting room. He’d already prayed with both of the fathers. They’d been sharing nervous conversation, but that was before Tabitha screamed.

  So even if he guessed wrong the first few times, the rooms would either be empty or have one of the women he’d already prayed for in them. The nurse was still on the phone behind the desk when he started down the hall. She called after hi
m, but he didn’t stop.

  Then another nurse came out of one of the rooms. David recognized her from other visits he’d made to the hospital as a pastor. She was older, surer of herself than the nurse at the nurses’ station, as she came over to block his path. She was smiling. “Now, Brother Brooke, what do you think you’re doing? You know you can’t be back here with the mommies.”

  “Linda,” David said. “When did you get moved to the maternity floor?”

  “A couple of months ago. The job came open, so I thought I’d try babies awhile.” Linda gave him a stern look. “But I didn’t think I’d have to be reminding you of hospital rules.”

  “Tabitha—that’s my daughter—she screamed.”

  “I know,” Linda said and put her arm around his waist to turn him back toward the waiting area. “But she’s okay. Really. Things are just going a little faster for her than we were expecting. In fact, they’re getting ready to wheel her into the delivery room, darling. So you can’t see her now. Not till after the baby comes.” She walked with him to the double doors. “I can’t believe you’re old enough to be a granddaddy.”

  “Me either,” David said. He felt ready to jump out of his skin. “This is harder than my own kids. Of course, I was half a world away when Tabitha was born. Didn’t even know she had arrived until she was almost a month old. I was in a submarine, and it took that long to get the news.”

  “During the war, right?”

  “Right.”

  And then there was Jocie. He’d been right there on the other side of the bedroom door at their house when Jocie was born. Adrienne had refused to go to the hospital, as if even up to the end she could deny the fact that she was pregnant. Then all David had wanted was for the baby to come, in hopes that afterward he and Adrienne could start over and perhaps find a way to make their marriage work. That had been a vain hope, but the baby, Jocie, had been healthy. And a blessing. The Lord often did that. Sent a special blessing even in the worst of times. Tabitha’s baby would be a blessing too.

  Linda was patting his arm as she said, “Don’t you worry one bit. Your baby’s going to be just fine, honey. Both of your babies. Tabitha let out a little yelp, but that’s not uncommon with the mommies. It’s not easy work getting a baby here.” Linda looked over her shoulder back down the hallway. “Poor little thing. She doesn’t have a hubby waiting out there with you, does she?”

  “No.”

  “Well, she’s lucky to have a daddy like you to take care of her. Just as soon as that baby’s here, I’ll come tell you, Brother Brooke. You can depend on it. I enjoy carrying out good news.”

  Tabitha heard the baby crying even before she was able to push her eyelids open. She was in a different place on a hard table with bright lights beaming down on her. Her feet were up in stirrups and her legs were wrapped in sheets. Everything was stainless steel or white. No color.

  One of the nurses standing by her head said something, and Dr. Roland stood up at the end of the table and smiled at Tabitha. “All over. You did great. I’m just finishing up a few stitches down here.”

  “Stitches?” Tabitha’s mouth was so dry her lips were sticking together.

  “Yes, you remember. I told you about the little cut we’d make so you’d have an easier time delivering. You did fine.”

  “My baby? Is Stephanie Grace all right?” Tabitha turned her head toward the sound of crying. She could see a nurse doing something to a baby on a table over at the wall. Her baby. Tabitha felt all soft inside.

  The doctor laughed and the nurses joined in. “Your baby’s fine. Healthy and strong. Curly black hair. Nurse Haskins is just checking everything out, but I think you’ll have to come up with a new name. You’ve got a fine baby boy. Six pounds seven ounces.”

  At first Tabitha wasn’t sure she was hearing them right. She thought she might still be under the effects of whatever they had made her breathe. Drifting off to some strange place where doctors laughed and told jokes.

  “No,” she said. “I had a girl. Stephanie Grace. Where is she?”

  Again they laughed. The nurse over by the wall picked up the baby and wrapped him in a blanket and brought him over to Tabitha. She laid the baby in Tabitha’s arms and opened up the blanket so she could see his fingers and toes and that he was very definitely a boy. The nurse said, “He’s a beautiful boy.”

  Tabitha looked at the baby and said, “But I was supposed to have a girl. Not a boy.” What would she do with a boy? She didn’t know anything about boys.

  The nurse smiled. “The Lord blesses us with whatever he chooses. A boy this time. A girl the next. Put your hand up here and touch his cheek.”

  Tabitha touched the baby’s soft cheek. He stopped crying and turned his head toward her.

  “See, he knows his mama’s touch already,” the nurse said.

  David thought his heart would explode when he looked at the baby boy lying in Tabitha’s arms. True to her promise, the nurse, Linda, had come and gotten him and Aunt Love and led them back to see Tabitha and the baby for a few minutes before they whisked the baby back behind the glass in the nursery.

  He was crying, his mouth a wide circle of protest at being thrust out of his safe haven into the world. But even so, he was beautiful. He had an abundance of black hair, and his skin was tan as if the hours Tabitha had spent in the sun while she was carrying him had burned straight through to her womb. David stroked the baby’s tiny hand and remembered how Tabitha had never wanted to talk about the baby’s father, but that didn’t matter now. As soon as his eyes touched on the baby, David’s heart enveloped him. Secure and loved. This baby, this child, his grandchild, was beautiful. The wonder of it brought tears to his eyes.

  David looked from the baby to Tabitha. Her eyes held tears as well, but not of joy. She looked confused, almost sad.

  “Sweetheart, are you okay?” David asked.

  “He’s a boy,” Tabitha said.

  “And a beautiful one,” David said, with Aunt Love agreeing as she stood beside him.

  “But where’s Stephanie Grace?” Tabitha said. “I was supposed to have Stephanie Grace.”

  “It’s all right, sweetheart. Stephanie Grace is still right here in your head waiting for another time to be born.” He leaned over and kissed her forehead. “But now the Lord has blessed you, blessed us, with this beautiful baby boy. And he will be a joy to you and to me.”

  “And me,” Aunt Love echoed. “‘Joy cometh in the morning.’”

  Tabitha smiled through her tears and looked down at the baby. She ran her fingers across the baby’s cheek, and he stopped crying. “I don’t have a name for him.”

  “You will,” David said. “Just give yourself some time. And rest. Right now you need to rest.”

  “He is pretty, isn’t he?” Tabitha said.

  “The most beautiful baby boy I’ve ever seen,” David said.

  A nurse carried the baby away, and David and Aunt Love kissed Tabitha and left with promises to bring Jocie back that afternoon to see the baby. David waited by the elevators while Aunt Love made a visit to the ladies room before they headed down to the car.

  It was a few minutes past four o’clock in the morning. No time for sleeping, but plenty of time for him to get home and make a few sermon notes before time for Sunday school. David smiled. Instead of his congregation dozing off on his sermon this morning, he might be the one dozing off himself. But the Lord was good. He’d lift David up and carry him through it. And the people at Mt. Pleasant would be so excited to hear about the baby that they wouldn’t be too critical about whatever he managed to preach. This baby would be a bridge for them all to step closer and see what was important about life.

  As he leaned against the wall and waited for Aunt Love, he idly watched the elevator lights climbing to the floor he was on. Perhaps it was bringing another doctor ready to deliver another baby into the world or maybe one of the waiting fathers with a cup of coffee.

  The doors slid open and there was Jocie. For a second, Davi
d couldn’t believe his eyes. But no, she was standing there in the middle of the elevator in front of him, barefoot with a blanket draped around her shoulders over her nightgown. She reeked of smoke as she stared at him out of black-rimmed eyes. Tears had made streaks down through the gray smudges on her cheeks, but she wasn’t crying now. The despair etched on her face went past tears.

  “Jocie,” David said, reaching for the open-door button before the elevator doors could slide together and take her away from him. “What on earth has happened?”

  “It’s Mr. Harvey. I think he’s dead. They haven’t told me that, but I think he is.”

  43

  David reached out and pulled Jocie to him. The smoke smell in her hair was so strong it burned his nose. What was it about this summer that made Jocie keep landing in the middle of disasters? “Are you okay, baby?” he asked.

  “I think so. They say they need to check my lungs, but they were trying to get hold of you first.” Her voice was raspy sounding, and she had to push back from him so she could cough before she could go on. “I told them you were here at the hospital, but they didn’t pay any attention to me. So I just got on the elevator when nobody was looking and came on up here. Miss Sally told me which floor, and I was praying you’d be somewhere I could see you right off. I’m glad the Lord answered that prayer, Daddy.” She looked up at him.

  “He put me out here right by the elevators,” David said as he gently touched her cheek. She looked so bruised and fragile that it made his heart hurt. “Can you tell me what happened?”

  “There was a fire. We barely got out of the house, but we did get out. Then Mr. Harvey—he just . . . fell down.” Her bottom lip started trembling, but then she mashed her mouth together and looked around. “Where’s Aunt Love?”