by Jan Watson
Copper stood and repositioned the hat, tucking his ears under the fur-lined flaps. “Now you won’t get frostbite.”
“Mistletoe!” Darcy exclaimed. “Mr. John, kiss her under the mistletoe!”
John maneuvered Copper until she was directly under the doorway where Darcy had hung the evergreen ball. Copper ducked and weaved, teasing, so he couldn’t plant his lips until he caught her face in his gloved hands and kissed her lightly on the cheek. Tiptoeing, Copper returned the gesture, liking the feel of his warm cheek against her mouth. Nobody noticed that Dimm was making his way to the door until a blast of cold air sailed into the room.
“Wait,” Copper said. “Where are you going?”
“Work. See to the animals.”
“But you haven’t seen what Santa left you,” Copper said.
He stopped and stood in the doorway. “Me?”
“Yes, you. For pity’s sake, close the door and come here a minute.”
John wrestled the awkwardly wrapped present from behind the cedar tree. “Looks like this is for you, Dimm.”
It was easy to make out what the wrapping hid. Folds of bright paper did nothing to disguise the saddle, but Dimm unwrapped it tenderly. When he finished, he stroked the girthed and padded leather seat and unbuckled the saddlebag, then buckled it back. His face flushed as bright as firelight, and his Adam’s apple bobbed in its familiar way. Sitting back on his haunches, he looked up at John. “I ain’t sure.”
“It can be tricky,” John replied. “But you’ll soon get the hang of it. We’ll have to go slow breaking Star, since he’s never been saddled.”
Copper had to turn her face to hide her tears. Every work-packed minute leading up to Christmas was worth it for this moment alone. To see the young man looking to John for help made her heart sing, and John’s response made her love him all the more. She was sure there wasn’t a happier family anywhere on Troublesome.
Once the fellows lugged the saddle outside, she and Darcy set about putting the house in order. Copper heated the sadiron until it was just barely warm before she pressed the used sheets of wrapping paper and folded them for another time. The ribbon was ironed also and wound on a spool except for the piece Lilly insisted on tying in her dolly’s hair. Copper was pleased to see how tender Lilly was with her baby.
“What’s your baby’s name?” Darcy asked as she wiped the kitchen table, letting the debris fall into a crumb catcher.
“Dolly,” Lilly said. “Dolly Gray Corbett.”
Copper managed to stifle a laugh, for Lilly was all business, rolling the buggy around the room while she hummed a lullaby. “Dolly’s crying. Her wants a ba-ba.”
“Ba-ba?” Copper asked, bending down to Lilly.
“Like baby Jay. Her hungry.”
The last time they had visited with Fairy Mae, Jay was still there. Although Dance and Ace visited frequently, Dance was not up to caring for the baby alone. She was making progress though, Copper could tell, for she held Jay close to her and even smiled once in a while. Lilly had watched Dance feed her baby boy. He had taken to the bottle like a porker and was as fat as one too.
Taking a key from her doctor’s kit, Copper unlocked the top section of the corner cupboard where she kept a limited apothecary. She found a clean brown bottle and fitted it with a medicine dropper. The rubber bulb would make a handy nipple for feeding Lilly’s doll.
Lilly settled like a mother hen on the hearth, her baby in her lap. “Here you go, Dolly. Eat up.”
The day sped by. Just past the winter solstice, it was dark before Copper finished with the milking. She had just pulled the T-shaped wooden stool from underneath her when Dimm approached. “Trouble,” he said and pointed to the open barn door.
Cara Wilson stood there, her face drawn in worry. “Can you come, Miz Copper? It’s Mama’s time.”
“Of course. I’ll be ready in a minute.” Copper turned to Dimm. “You stay here and watch out for the girls. I’ll be fine with Cara.”
Already dressed for the weather, all Copper had to do was grab her obstetric supplies and her medical kit from the house. Her heart beat fast. Next to being a mother, birthing babies was her favorite thing. And she was good at it. Simon had taught her well, and before she left Lexington, she’d delivered more than a dozen babies on her own. All of her babies were healthy, and she’d never lost a mother. Simon said she was a natural.
Climbing up on the horse behind Cara, she held on tight. Cara was a good horseman, and she egged the horse ever faster until it seemed as if they flew through the dark night. The trail was slick with snow and mud. Copper feared the horse would stumble and fling them over the side of the mountain, but Cara’s mount was as sure as Cara herself.
“How is your mother?” Copper asked over the rushing wind.
“I thought I could do it without any help except Daddy’s,” Cara shouted, “but it’s taking too long. Mama dropped the others easy as pie, but this’n seems hooked on something.” She shuddered. “I’m right scared, Miz Copper.”
A trill of fear snaked up Copper’s backbone at Cara’s words. What if this trip turned out as bad as the last time Cara came for her? “Let’s pray. Pray that God will be with your mother and the baby.” And me, Copper petitioned silently. Please, Lord, help me know what to do for Mrs. Wilson.
Where were the children? Copper wondered when she entered the Wilsons’ cabin. Sent to the neighbors perhaps or waiting outdoors in the cold barn. She stood by the bed for a moment, the same one that had once held Kenny.
Cara received her coat and her hat. Mr. Wilson thanked her for coming. Miranda Wilson lay on her back. Although she seemed calm, her face was moist and flushed from exertion. She raised herself a little ways and tried to smile, but her head fell back against the pillow. Not good, Copper thought. She’s exhausted already.
A wash pot full of water boiled over the fire in the fireplace. Clean linen was stacked on a chair. A pair of scissors and two long strings of tying worsted lay on a cloth-lined tray by the bedside. Copper was glad to see Cara knew what she was doing. After rolling up her sleeves, Copper scrubbed past her forearms with lye soap. Mr. Wilson stepped outside, and Cara was busy filling another basin, but Copper felt as if she was being watched. Glancing up, she saw many eyes peering down from the loft.
Cara saw too. “Do you want me to get Daddy?” she said.
A scurry of feet told them the children returned to their beds.
Who can blame them for wanting to see what is going on, Copper thought. They must be scared to death. It made her think of the big homes in Lexington where she’d attended many of her patients—imposing homes where labor and delivery were confined to a separate part of the house, where everything was neat and tidy . . . and secret. She rinsed the lye soap and reached for a towel. At least these children will know where babies come from, unlike myself when I got married, seventeen and still an ignorant girl.
“Help me, Cara,” Copper said. “Let’s see what this baby is up to.”
Her patient was dilated and fully effaced. This baby should have been delivered long ago. Was Miranda just too worn-out to make the effort?
As if in response to an unvoiced question, Miranda groaned and grabbed her knees, red in the face with the exertion of bearing down.
“Push!” Cara coached. “Push! Push! Push!”
“Mercy, that push should have delivered a watermelon.” Then Copper’s fingers found the problem. It was not the baby’s bony skull plate she felt but soft flesh. The presenting part was wrong. Only once before had this happened. It was during her very first delivery, and the infant was a footling breech. She didn’t feel a foot or buttocks, though, but more likely a side or even the back. Copper’s mouth went dry. Lord, she prayed, I don’t know what to do.
Mrs. Wilson struggled to push again as Cara helped her assume the delivery position.
“Don’t push!” Copper exclaimed. “Whatever you do, Miranda, don’t push!”
“Help me,” Miranda gasped between moans
. Reaching out, she clutched Copper’s shoulder with the last of her strength. “Please do whatever you got to. I can’t leave the young’uns God’s already give me.”
The room spun. Copper closed her eyes. Horrible pictures from Simon’s medical texts—of death and destruction, of tiny disjointed limbs and decapitated heads—played like a slide show behind her lids. It was the other side of childbirth, the side gone terribly awry. Could she take a baby’s life to save the mother’s?
Copper stepped back from the bed. She heard every sound with sharp clarity: the children’s soft breathing, the pop of the fire, Cara’s pleading prayer, snowmelt dripping from the eaves outside. She strode purposefully across the room and jerked open the door. Mr. Wilson stood hunched against the cold. “Come in,” Copper said. “We need you.”
Stumbling, he followed her. Copper knew he expected the worst.
“Pray, Mr. Wilson,” Copper said. “Pray out loud. Pray hard.” She called up to the loft, “Children, get on your knees and pray.”
Bending over Miranda’s swollen belly, she traced the mound of the confined infant. Then she traced another. Twins! Forevermore. She showed Cara what she felt and told her what to do. Prayer covered them from above and every side as Mr. Wilson paced a circle around the bed, beseeching God with every step.
Copper worked and prayed over Miranda’s swollen belly. She’d watched Simon successfully turn a breech baby once, and she attempted the same with one of the twins. After minutes that seemed like hours, one infant turned, and baby boy Wilson made his way down the birth canal. With strength only God could give, Miranda labored and pushed again and again until baby girl Wilson followed her brother into the light.
Copper and Cara each took a baby, tied and cut their navel cords, and dried them with warmed flannel receivers. Copper’s baby cried immediately, but Cara’s only gasped, her face a sickly gray. “Rub hard, Cara.”
But Cara handled the puny baby as if she were a china doll and easily broken.
“Here—” Copper held forth the boy—“trade me.” Kneeling at the foot of the bed, she grabbed another receiver and scrubbed the floppy body and wiped gunk from the tiny mouth until the infant took her first life-giving breath and mewled with protest.
“Praise the Lord,” Mr. Wilson said.
“Praise the Lord,” the children echoed from the loft.
Copper wanted to lie right down on the floor and cry too; she was so relieved to see color flooding the baby’s face. Instead, she handed baby number two to Mr. Wilson and set about attending to Miranda.
Later, after the babies were cleaned with warmed olive oil, after the belly binders were applied, after Miranda was bathed and comfortable, after the soiled sheets from the lying-in bed were put to soak in a tub of cold water, Copper took a minute for herself. She stepped out the door, tightening the shawl around her shoulders. The night air was much warmer than it had been over the past weeks. She filled her lungs with the crisp, clean air.
It was very late. She had successfully delivered her first set of twins. More than likely both would have died along with Mrs. Wilson if she had not been here. The weight of her talent settled heavily on her shoulders as tears streamed down her cheeks. Falling to her knees, she held her hands out to God. What a gift You have given me, Father. Help me to be worthy. Thank You for Your intervention tonight. Bless these babies and their mother. Bless this family.
She sat back on her heels. Truthfully, she was too exhausted to rise. Maybe she’d just crawl to the door. Her mind cast a picture of crawling across the porch, and she laughed at herself—at her frailty. “‘The Lord is my strength,’” she quoted and was not surprised when strong arms helped her to her feet.
“Are you all right?” John asked. “How is Mrs. Wilson?”
“Just let me stand here for a second,” she replied, soaking up his warmth. Quietly, while resting in the circle of his arms, she told him what had just transpired and how the Lord had saved Miranda and the babies. She could feel the scrape of his chin against the top of her head.
“It scares me for you, Copper.”
She leaned back so she could see his shadowy face. “What do you mean?”
“You know that Scripture your mam used to say? Went something like when God gives a lot He expects a lot? I was never quite sure what that meant, but I was always afraid He would ask more than I could do. But you? Now that’s a different story.”
“How so?”
“You give your all. You never jump back from a challenge.”
“I almost did tonight. I asked myself a very hard question, and I didn’t rightly know the answer. I wanted to throw up my hands.”
“But, see, that’s how you’re different from most folks. You didn’t throw up your hands.”
“Know what I did instead?” she whispered against his chest.
His arms tightened their hold. “What?”
“I had a prayer service. Praise His name, God heard our petitions.”
“He surely did,” John replied. “Are you ready to go home now?”
“No. Not for a while.” She stepped out of the comfort of his arms, gazing out into the dark yard. “I’ll have to stay until I know the babies will eat and until Miranda is past any danger of hemorrhage.”
“How long might that be?”
“Just a couple of days. Cara is quite capable of tending to her mother and the twins. I’m really impressed by her.”
“I’d say you’re not the only one. Dimmert nearly swallowed his Adam’s apple when he told me Cara came by for you.”
“Oh, John, they hardly know each other,” Copper said.
“Dimm goes out wandering a lot; wouldn’t surprise me if this is where he disappears to.”
“Cara never said a word.” Copper touched John’s arm. “What if he likes her, but she doesn’t have the same feelings for him? I wouldn’t like to see Dimm hurt.”
“Love will find a way,” John said. “All it takes is one little spark to set the whole barn afire.”
With a smile Copper agreed. “I’d better get inside, and you need to go home and get some sleep.”
John scrubbed his face with his palms. “You’ve got that right. I’ll be back later to check on you.”
Hand on the doorknob, Copper looked over her shoulder. “Better yet, send Dimmert with a ham from the smokehouse and some canned goods from the cellar.”
“You aren’t fixing to meddle, are you?”
“Of course not. I just want to see if there’s any danger of the barn burning down.”
John came for Copper bright and early Wednesday morning, and he brought a small surprise. Lilly Gray ran straight into her mother’s arms when Cara answered John’s knock at the door. “Mama!” she exclaimed. “Where you go to?”
“Lilly Gray—” Copper squeezed her tightly—“Mama’s missed you so much.”
Lilly snuggled against Copper’s shoulder. “You been helping babies?”
“Two babies, a boy and a girl.”
Lilly kept her head tucked close to her mother. Copper realized Lilly had met none of the Wilsons, and there were many to meet. The room was full of stair-step children.
“Want to see my twirling top?” one of the boys asked Lilly.
“No, come and draw a picture with me,” one of the girls pleaded as she tugged at Lilly’s shoe. “You can have a piece of paper from my tablet and use my fat pencil.”
Their Santa gifts were greatly prized, and it touched Copper to see how they wanted to share.
When it was time for Copper to leave, John brought the two horses up to the cabin. Copper settled on one with Lilly in her lap. The cold winter air was welcome to her. It was so good to be outside after two days of confinement in the Wilsons’ stuffy cabin. She was so tired that her bones ached and her mind was frazzled. Most of the snow was gone, but skims of ice on puddles shattered under the horses’ hooves. Up and down the mountain, trees glimmered with feathery white spicules of hoarfrost. It was a beautiful picture.
; “I wish I were an artist,” she said. “I’d put this scene on canvas.”
John stopped his mount beside hers. “I hear tell they’ll make a small camera that anybody can carry around to capture pictures with.”
“I wouldn’t get a lick of work done if I had a contraption like that. I’d be outdoors every minute.”
John laughed and guided his horse ahead of hers on the narrow, twisting lane. “Follow me. I’ve got something to show you.”
After a few miles, he crossed Troublesome Creek onto his own property. The creek angled away as they continued up a wooded cliff. Copper recognized bare-limbed pawpaws, tulip poplars, and rhododendron before a valley of several acres spread out before them. A tumble of creek rock was piled near the center of the plot. John stopped there. “Want to stretch your legs a minute?” he asked.
When Copper dismounted, she could see the foundation of a house parceled out in stacking rock on the brown winter grass. “Did someone once live here?”
“Hopefully someone will,” he replied.
“Well,” she said, shifting Lilly on her hip, “it’s sure a pretty place, but they won’t be able to see the creek.”
“I reckon I’ll have to reroute the creek, bring it right on up the cliff, and run it past the kitchen window.”
Copper set Lilly down and turned to John. “You can’t mean . . .”
“Honey girl, it’s yours if you want it.”
Her hands flew to her cheeks. “Show me,” she said, dancing away from him.
Carrying Lilly, he caught up and took Copper’s hand. “I figured we’d have a porch around all sides so you can watch the seasons change from every angle. This here’s the kitchen. I’ll put one of those fancy cookstoves in this corner, and the pantry will be close by.” He dropped her hand, then mimed opening and closing a door. “The parlor sits through here. It will have a wall of windows so you’ll never feel closed in.”
She stood in the spot he showed her and gazed out across the valley, already imagining what it would look like through window glass. “I’m not hanging curtains. They’d only spoil this view.”