“Oh, Sadie," Gloria said.
“Mine were beautiful, too. Just so still, so quiet.”
“I'm so sorry Sadie. I wish I could—”
“Well, you can't.” Sadie squared her broad shoulders. “What you need to do now is get yourself cleaned up. The girls will want to come over here and meet the young prince. Let's see if 1 can get a comb through that hair of yours.”
The baby once again nestled in her arms, Gloria allowed Sadie to gather and brush and braid her hair.
“He is blond, like you.”
“Yes,” said Gloria, losing herself in his face.
“So what are you going to call him?”
There was a brief pause in the brush's task, and Gloria turned and looked into the eyes of her friend.
“Did you name your son?'
Sadie's eyes clouded for just a second. “We named him Daniel.”
“That's a beautiful name,” Gloria said. “May I take part of it?”
Sadie said nothing, only nodded her head as her eyes brimmed with tears.
“Danny I'll call him Danny.”
Just then there was a brief knock at the door, and before either woman could utter a “come in!” the door swung open and Jewell, Mae, and Biddy bustled into the room.
“Well, it ain't exactly Madonna and Child,” Jewell said, “but it ain't such a bad-lookin’ picture.”
“Oh, oh, oh!” Mae said over and over, her hands made little fleshy claps.
Biddy stood shyly in the background. “May I see the baby?” she asked in her tiny voice.
“Of course,” Gloria said, reaching her free arm out to the girl. “You can even hold him if you'd like.”
“Him?"Jewell said. “Well, that's a good thing at least. This ain't no life for a girl.”
He is able, He is able,
He is willing, doubt no more;
He is able, He is able,
He is willing, doubt no more.
miserable freezing sleet hammered John William and Sadie as they made their way to the MacGregan's cabin. Her long legs matched his stride all the way from Jewell's house, but as they approached his home, he pulled ahead to reach out and open the door as he would for any other woman. She brushed past him and entered the room.
“Well, this is a cozy little nest,” Sadie said, shrugging her shawl off her shoulders and dropping her bag to the floor. Her presence filled the cabin. “Where do you plan to put the baby? On the roof?”
“I've made…” he lost the word, “somethin'.” John William made an apologetic gesture toward a small box lined with soft woolen blankets. It sat on the floor close to the fire.
“Are you expecting a baby or a litter of puppies?” Sadie asked, laughing.
John William turned from her to look at the little box. It was all he knew to do. He was about to offer an apology for it when he felt Sadie's strong hand grip his shoulder.
“Listen, I'm sorry I was just—”
But she was cut off by a muffled cry coming from the bundle on the bed.
Katherine was where he'd left her, curled up on the mattress in the corner of their home. She was whimpering now, a welcome sound to John William's ears. He crossed the room and knelt beside the bed.
“1 think she's doin’ better,” he said.
“Oh, you think so, do you?” Sadie knelt down to rummage through her bag, taking out an assortment of linens and strips of cloth. These she deposited at Katherine's feet. She saw the wash-stand in the corner and made her way toward it, rolling her sleeves to the elbow. “And what makes you say that?”
“You should have heard her before I came to get you. She was screamin', howlin’ even.” He took Katherine's hand, brought it to his lips, and spoke into her palm. “I really think the worst is over.”
Sadie made her way back across the cabin, her newly washed hands dripping with water.
“Until that baby is born,” Sadie said, “the worst can't be over. Now I'm going to try to get this gown off her. You get every lamp and candle you own. It is getting dark.”
Sadie whisked the quilt off Katherine's body and into a heap on the floor. “Fold that and set it near the fire to warm. You might want to build it up. The storm is bringing quite a chill.”
John William's head reeled with instructions. Candles, light, fire. Through the fog generated by his fear and confusion, he barely heard the conversation between the two women as he bustled about in obedience.
“All right, Mrs. MacGregan,” Sadie was saying, “let's get that gown off.”
“Something's wrong…something's.
“It is never easy the first time. Now just help me here. Are there buttons?”
“The baby…” Katherine's voice was thick and weak. “The baby's not moving…something's wrong…”
“I am sure the baby's fine. Now, if you can't lift yourself up, I will just have to tear this off of you.”
John William was returning the glass bowl to their only lamp when he heard the tearing of the fabric and the sharp gasp that followed.
“Man Gott” This in a whisper, sharply contrasted the confident stream of commands from the same voice.
He stopped in his busy task and turned toward the bed.
His wife lay there, repositioned from the curled comfort he'd left her in. Now she was flat on her back, her swollen body centered on the white muslin gown she'd worn to bed on their wedding night. It was torn, straight up the middle. Her arms, still in the sleeves, were flailed out on either side of her, and the fabric draped beside her like angel's wings.
Bloody angel's wings.
“Get over here,” Sadie commanded. “Hold her up against you. It's going to be too hard for her to push the baby out if she's lying straight down.”
John William lifted Katherine's body with all the gentleness he could muster and slid behind her. Her head lolled against his shoulder. Her breathing was ragged. Her mouth slack.
Sadie had one hand on the rounded mound of Katherine's stomach; the other reached inside Katherine's body.
“Is she going to be—”
“Hush.”
John William couldn't bear to look. He buried his face in his wife's damp hair and prayed. Heal my wife. Carry my child. Guide her hands. Keep me strong. He listened for God's voice to come through with words of comfort and assurance, but all he heard was Sadie.
“The baby is alive. I feel it. But we have to get it out. Soon.”
When he opened his eyes he saw Sadie standing at the plank balanced across two whiskey barrels that served as their table. She had a knife in her hand and was pouring water from the steaming teakettle over its blade.
“You must have put the water on before you came to get me.”
“She told me to.” Strands of Katherine's hair clung to his lip, but he was powerless to brush it away, even if he wanted to.
“Smart woman.” Sadie held the blade against her thumb as if to test it and, satisfied, crossed back over to sit on the bed at Katherine's feet. The sight of her, brandishing the knife in one hand while the other rested on the heap of child within his wife was too much for John William to bear. He once again closed his eyes and prayed. This time out loud.
“Heal my wife. Carry my child. Guide her—”
“Listen. She has bled a lot. Too much, really Losing all that blood will leave her weak. Make it hard to push out the baby So we must help her. Understand?”
“How?” He directed his question to the blade in Sadie's hand.
“First, try to rouse her. Talk to her. Right there in her ear tell her to wake up. To push.”
John William brought his hands up around Katherine's shoulders and shook her gently.
“Wake up, Katherine. Wake up. We need you….”
“Now," Sadie spoke almost in harmony to John William's urgent cooing. “We'll need to help her. I'm going to make a tiny, tiny cut here, to give the baby a little more room.”
“Will it hurt her?”
“At this point,” Sadie said, refusing to cont
inue until he met her gaze, “that can't be our first concern.” Then, softer, “I don't think she's feeling much of anything right now. But she has to be alert. She has to push.”
Katherine rolled her head back and forth against John William's chest.
“No…no…no…” she moaned. “Get her out…get that woman—”
“Good," Sadie said. “That's good. She is awake. Now talk to her. Tell her to push down. Push that baby.”
“Katherine, darling, you need to—”
“Get her out! Get that whore out of my house!”
“I'm not a whore right now, darling.” Sadie's attempt at a soothing touch along Katherine's leg was rebuffed by an amazing display of strength and anger as Katherine kicked it away while attempting to lunge from her husband's embrace.
John William pinned her to him, his arms crossed over her clammy bare skin. He burrowed his face into her neck and whispered streams of hushes and platitudes until, limp with exhaustion, Katherine lay still.
Sadie hadn't moved an inch. Perched on the side of the bed, she captured Katherine's flailing foot with one hand and forced it back to the mattress. The other leg was pinned to the wall by Sadie's body.
“Let me go…let me go…” Katherine's voice trailed of in a haze of delirium.
“She feels trapped is all,” John William said with a hint of apology.
He remembered how much she hated that feeling. All winter, trapped in the tiny cabin by the winter's snow, she'd paced the perimeter of the room. Ten paces. Eight paces. Ten paces. Eight paces. She swore each week of pregnancy that the place got smaller. She could barely turn from one task to the next without brushing against a wall or piece of furniture. John William had slept on the cabin floor for the past month; she couldn't stand his proximity in their bed. And now, here she was, pinned like some wild beast, tended by a stranger and enemy, all in the name of the life they'd created together.
“She'll be fine,” he said.
The look in Sadie's eyes gave no indication that she agreed. She squared her shoulders, sighed, and resumed her instructions as if the past few seconds never happened.
“When 1 say so, Katherine, 1 need you to push as hard as you can.”
“…can't…”
“I know you're tired, Mrs. MacGregan. I know it's been hard. But just a little more, ya? We will help you all we can, but you need to push. Ready?”
John William watched the knife disappear behind the mound of Katherine's stomach. Sadie's face took on a look of furrowed concentration. Then Katherine's body seized again, not in anger but in pain. She let forth a cry that pierced his very heart. Her hips bucked up off the mattress, her back arched in defiance.
“Push!"'
Sadie placed the hand that had been restraining Katherine's foot on top of her distended stomach and worked in a way that made John William picture his wife kneading bread.
“What can I do?” he asked.
“Put your hands on her stomach. Yes, right there.” Sadie's hands, nearly as large as John William's and stained with Katherine's blood, guided his to rest on the mound he'd monitored over the past few months. Katherine had never been comfortable with her changing body, but John William was constantly curious and amused. Many nights, after Katherine collapsed into exhausted sleep, he laid his head against his child, reveling in the bumps and patterns of its hidden play. Now it was alien. Frightening. A threat to the life of its mother.
Heal my wife. Carry my child. Guide her hands. Keep me strong.
“And just a little pressure right where she's pushing…” Sadie's voice hung on the edge of his prayer.
“I can't…1 can't…” Katherine's anguished cry punctuated the earnest cries of his soul.
“I've got its head, Katherine! Push again!”
Heal my wife.
“…no…”
“You can. You're strong. Again, push.”
Carry my child.
“I've got the shoulders. Almost out. One more time, Katherine.”
Guide her hands.
“…no more…”
Keep me strong.
Katherine's final piercing scream was deafening, and it didn't stop. Not even when she fell back against him in exhaustion. Then John William realized the wailing he heard wasn't coming from his wife, but. from the thing that squirmed in Sadie's bloody hands.
“It's a little girl,” Sadie said. “Let her go and come help me with the baby”
John William eased himself from behind his wife's limp body
His legs cramped momentarily beneath him, and he wondered just how long he'd been sitting there.
Sadie's voice resumed the tone of a patient instructor. “Take some of that hot water from the kettle and put it in a bowl. Add some cool until you barely feel it being warm. We need to wash her.”
Her voice prattled on about blankets and towels while his head reeled with questions he dared not ask. Once again he busied himself with compliance, until he found himself facing this tiny creature on the table, no bigger than the loaf of bread next to her. When Sadie put a warm wet washcloth into his hand, he turned to her and said, “1 can't do this.”
“Of course you can. Just take the cloth and wipe—”
“I'm afraid I'll hurt her.”
Sadie put her own hand on his, her palm barely grazing the back of his hand and guided the pressure of his touch.
“You know, MacGregan,” Sadie said softly, withdrawing her hand, “it is a good thing for a little girl to have such a strong papa.”
John William worked the cloth between the tiny fingers, maneuvering around the hand that barely spanned his thumb. He pinched the tiny ankle between his fingers and gently wiped the thrashing foot.
“Be careful of her head most of all,” Sadie said. “Hold it gently and just squeeze the water over it.”
The tiny head was covered with soft brown hair that fell to curling as it dried. The face, however, continued to scrunch itself in protest of every ministration.
Proud of his final product, this beautiful shining little girl, he looked over his shoulder at the women on the bed. One lay motionless; the other was caught up in the business of cutting, kneading, cleansing.
“What do I do now?” he asked, beaming.
“Get something clean to wrap her up in.”
He scooped the little girl up, her body nestled perfectly in the crook of his arm, and held her as he rummaged to find his best Sunday shirt.
“Will this do?” he asked, uncomfortable with his uncertainty.
Sadie smiled. “It's perfect. Just the thing. Now lay it out on the table and wrap her up.”
He did so, putting the little head where his own thick neck would be and brought the wide shoulders to wrap around her delicate ones. He then folded the shirt up to the tiny one's chin and lifted her up, wrapping the excess fabric around her back. The baby's cries diminished with each fold and tuck.
“How's that for swaddlin?”
“Gut” Sadie's voice was distracted. “Fine.”
“What now?”
“Sit down with her.” Sadie's head motioned to one of the two chairs in the room.
John William backed against it and sat down, then studied the face of his baby girl. Minus his scars, the badly healed nose, and the lank hair, she looked just like him. But when the infant opened her eyes, he saw the clear blue soul of his wife.
Thank you, God, for carrying my child to me. Now, please, heal my wife.
The baby let out an enormous yawn, stretched against the confines of her swaddling, and settled herself to staring into her father's eyes. Much as he longed to lose himself in his daughter's gaze, John William could not ignore the sounds behind him. The rustle and rip of fabric. The occasional whimper followed by soothing, unintelligible words. The occasional question.
“Do you have another…? In this trunk?”
Guide her hands.
Once out of the corner of his eye he saw Sadie cross the room for a cup of water. Then he heard the familiar s
ound of Katherine's silver-handled brush making its way through long black hair.
“Better?”
No answer.
Then the baby started to squirm. To cry
Keep me strong.
“Urn,” John William's voice seemed loud and unwelcome in the newly peaceful atmosphere. “1 think she's…”
“Bring her to her mother,” Sadie said.
John William was afraid to turn around, not sure of what sight would greet him. But when he did, he saw his wife—pretty, though pale—propped up against the wall, cushioned by their pillows. She wore the sleeveless gown reserved for hot summer nights; the row of buttons undone. Her hair lay in a thick braid over one shoulder, fastened with one of the blue scraps of cloth she usually used to make her curls for fancy dress. Under the pattern of their worn blanket, taken from its storage in the trunk in the corner of the room, he could see the shapes of her splayed, bent legs. He remembered the hushed conversation about packing the wound and changing the dressing. He forced it from his mind and stood to bring his wife and daughter together. Katherine had never been one to break into an easy smile, and he nearly lost his heart as he saw the effort it took.
“We need to see if she will suckle,” Sadie said. “Katherine's too weak to hold her, so you will need to.”
John William held his newborn daughter to her mother's breast, and the tiny girl latched on immediately, her instinct for survival manifested in the first hint of appetite. Her clear blue eyes searched her mother's face. Katherine returned the gaze, * and then both mother and daughter closed their eyes in contentment.
“When she's finished,” Sadie said, shrugging into her shawl, “wrap her in that quilt you set over by the fire. Keep her warm.”
She walked around the room, pinching out the candles and lowering the lamplight until the cabin was encased in comfortable shadows. All was silent except for Katherine's shallow breaths and the baby's hungry smacking.
Just before walking out the door, Sadie scooped up a bloody bundle and stuffed it in her bag.
Ten Thousand Charms Page 5