by Lori Lansens
The house was quiet when they were all gone and there was much to do preparing the leftover food for the icebox and pantry. Riley smoked cigarettes and gazed at the ceiling. Addy knew he was deeply grievous and guilty too. She felt the same way and wished they might say it out loud, but they retreated to their separate rooms that night and didn’t speak of Poppa.
Addy did not sleep. The baby was astir all night long and moving in a way she hadn’t felt before. Toward morning, she turned her face into her pillow and cried, for the baby had not let her rest and was reminding her with a mean punch, every quarter-hour or so, that Zach Heron’s blood was in its veins. She felt moments of relief, and whispered, “Go to sleep now, Child. I got enough to do today. Don’t make me cross, now. Shh. Go to sleep.”
Addy glanced at the clock in Verilynn’s room and realized that Riley was late for work. She rose and hurried into his room and was relieved to find him gone, though she hadn’t heard him or smelled the coffee he’d surely made for breakfast. But then she smelled cigarettes and went to the sitting room to find him stretched out on the sofa, gazing at the ceiling. She whispered, “Riley?”
“I just been laying here dreaming up some plans.”
“You’re not going to work?” Addy sat down in the chair across from Riley, watching as he puffed his cigarette and shook his head. “But, don’t you think they gonna miss you?”
“Look,” he said, and held out a fat roll of dollars.
“From Enos?”
“And other people too. Just everyone wanted to give a little something to make things easier. It was like I was the church collection plate.”
“But it won’t last forever.”
“Last a while.”
“But if you don’t go to work, they’ll give your job to someone else, won’t they?”
“Don’t care if they do.” He sat up. “I’m thinking about buying us an automobile, Addy. You were just saying last week how you’d like to learn to drive.”
Addy doubled over, suddenly overcome by the baby pain again. She grasped the arms of the chair.
“What’s wrong?”
She waited until the pain passed. “I’m all right. Just the baby’s moving is all. Doing handstands I think. You want some breakfast?”
Riley nodded absently as Addy rose and started for the kitchen. She stopped when she saw a figure shifting on the front porch. She knew they’d have visitors for weeks to come and was not surprised, only sorry she hadn’t fixed herself up. She opened the door.
Verilynn stood in the shadows, her eyes cast, her lips pale. She didn’t look up at Addy and barely murmured, “I didn’t find out until…”
Verilynn had no suitcase and her clothes looked strangely shabby. She entered the sitting room and sat down in the chair without taking off her coat or boots. She didn’t look at Riley as she passed him her silver cigarette case.
“Sent word to the school, Very.”
Verilynn nodded.
“I telephoned there. Tried to leave a message. Fella on the telephone said he never heard your name before.”
Verilynn looked up but said nothing.
“You never went to Oberlin, did you?”
Addy was shocked by the accusation and more shocked when Verilynn shook her head.
“Have you even been in Cleveland?”
“Yes, Riley. I’ve been in Cleveland.”
“Doing what?”
“I work in a nightclub. I work in a nightclub and I did not want Poppa to know.”
“What about Rich Enos? What about the money he gave you for nurse school?”
Verilynn laughed. “Who do you think got me the nightclub job?”
“Where you been then? Didn’t he tell you about Poppa?”
“Course he did.”
“Then why didn’t you come home?”
“I couldn’t face all those people, Riley. I just couldn’t.”
“Then why you home now?”
Verilynn looked at her brother for a long moment, then rose from her chair. Addy thought she meant to strike him or spit on him or anything but what she did. Verilynn sat down beside Riley. She reached up, hooked her arms around his neck, buried her pretty face in his chest, and sobbed. Riley said, “Shh. I got you, Very. I got you.” He kissed her head and sailed his ink-stained palm over her long smooth back.
Addy moved out of the room and wasn’t sure why she felt disturbed. She told herself not to be jealous, for it was only natural for a brother and sister to grieve together for their father. Then she told her baby to settle down, for the child kicked her so violently she felt ill.
Pies and cakes and every manner of food covered every flat surface in the kitchen. Addy took two pretty china plates from the cupboard, filled them, and brought them out to the sitting room. She stood at the entrance a moment, hesitant and embarrassed, for Very had laid her head in Riley’s lap and was weeping with abandon. Addy cleared her throat and held out the plates. “Would you like—?”
The plates crashed to the floor. Verilynn stopped weeping and Riley looked up. Addy was gripping the wall with one hand and holding her abdomen with the other. She could scarcely catch her breath. “Something’s wrong,” she said.
Verilynn and Riley were too surprised to move. It was Riley who saw the moisture soak through Addy’s skirt. He pointed. “Adelaide. Have you lost your bladder?”
Addy looked down and began to cry. She thought the fluid was pee and was ashamed to have peed on the rug, especially in front of Riley and Verilynn. But more than shame she was in pain and afraid she was going to die from it. She knew little about the events of childbirth and it was weeks too early for anything normal to be happening. She could barely croak out the words, “Get Emeline.”
Riley rose first. “I’ll go.”
“No. NO!” Verilynn shouted. “Don’t leave me here, Riley. Don’t do it!”
Addy could not move to ease herself into a chair so she stood with her hand on the wall, begging, “Please, please one of you go get Emeline.”
Riley narrowed his eyes. “You’re nearly a month away, Addy. You think it might just be all the work of putting Poppa to rest? You sure—?”
“I’m sure, Riley,” Addy said, trying to keep her tone even. “I know enough that a lady gets bad pains, a whole lot of them, and that tells her it’s time. It’s time, Riley. Please, please get Emeline.”
Verilynn stood and because she had not yet removed her coat and boots she raced out the door so fast that, except for her handbag on the floor at Riley’s feet, it was like she’d never been there at all.
Riley was afraid. Addy could see that, and his fear made her own less important. She smiled at him, for her pain had retreated somewhat, and she said, “Might just be nothing, Riley. Best to have Emeline come along though, don’t you think?”
Riley nodded dumbly and still did not move.
Addy said, “How about you help me down the hall and I’ll get off my feet and see doesn’t that make it go away.”
Riley nodded and felt better. He put his hand around her waist and let Addy lean on him. “You do still have a month to go.”
“Yes. Well, few weeks at least. Likely just Leam doing some extra hard kicking and punching today.”
“Maybe he’s gonna be a boxer.” Riley smiled. “Maybe he’s gonna be another Jack Johnson.”
“Or maybe he’s gonna be a Beatrice and she’s just giving her Mama a little taste of what’s to come. Mamas and daughters do have their struggles.”
Riley nodded. “Let’s take you to Poppa’s room, Addy. That’s the biggest bed.”
Addy had washed the walls and the linen and hacked at the ice inside and out to get the window open in the days since Poppa’s passing. She was glad she hadn’t put off the chore even though she’d been tired and hadn’t wanted to spend time in the room. Now the air was fresh and wintry and didn’t smell like death at all. The mattress was caved in the middle and she found it comforting to think of Poppa lying there. She imagined she could still
feel his warmth in the bedding. She was about to tell Riley just that when another stabbing pain made her cry out.
Riley put his palm on her forehead and did not know what to do. When the pain passed, Addy said, “There’s some clean linen in the cupboard. Bring that, Riley. Emeline’s gonna need it. And a piece of yarn from my basket for tying the cord. And a glass of cool water for me.”
“You think the baby’s coming?”
“I think it is.”
“What if she’s not here in time?”
“She will be. Takes a long time to have a baby. Sometimes it takes days.”
She thought of her Rusholme neighbour, Claire Williams, and her two-day labour with her oldest son, Isaac. It was the only birth Addy’d witnessed, and even then she hadn’t seen the whole thing for all the clucking women in the room. Still, she could recall the shouting and the pushing and the blood and the tying off of the cord and finally the cry of the baby and how the whole room was instantly filled with joy.
Addy was about to tell Riley about Isaac Williams’ birth, but the pain came again and then quickly again, and each time it came it grew worse and stayed longer. Addy had the sudden feeling she might be giving birth to Mr. Kenny’s Ford truck and not a child at all.
Riley left the room and did not run back when he heard Addy cry out with another wave of pain. He wanted to cry himself, for he’d never expected to be present at the child’s birth and certainly not the only other person in the house. He ran to the front door and opened it to see if Emeline and Verilynn were near, but there was no sign of them or anyone on the snowy streets. Addy yowled in the back bedroom and Riley was suddenly cross with her and disappointed, for she’d seemed such a brave girl and not one that would cry out like she was doing now. He wished she could be stronger, at least until Emeline and Very got back and he could leave the house.
Addy wanted Riley to return, for she felt panic at being alone in the room. She pulled up her heavy, wet dress, thankful she didn’t have to struggle with bloomers. She hadn’t fit into them in the last few weeks and, though she felt immodest, simply wore nothing at all. Another pain struck her and she felt the baby move within. She felt her own body bear down and push as if only her womb had a will. With some effort, Addy reached down to feel her lady part. She found the hole big as an apple and felt the greasy hair on the head of her baby coming through.
“Riley!” she screamed, and he came running, frightened when he saw there was blood streaming out from the hairy moon between Addy’s legs.
“There’s blood, Addy! There’s blood!” Riley cried.
Addy could not catch her breath to say the baby was coming. Her muscles contracted and her pelvis tilted. She could do nothing but give over to her urge and bear down with all the strength she had. Riley did not catch the baby as it fell onto the bed and only watched as the fluids gushed out after.
Addy didn’t know how much time had passed. She struggled to sit up to see if what she thought happened really had, but she did not have the strength to rise. “Is it out?” she asked. “Is it out, Riley?”
Riley could barely nod as he watched the quiet blue thing and the pulsing purple cord pendent between Addy’s legs.
“Why ain’t it crying? Pick it up, Riley,” she said. “You gotta shake it or slap its bottom and get some air in its lungs.”
The seconds turned to a minute and Addy struggled to stay conscious. “Pick it up, Riley,” she begged, and again, “You got to pick it up, Riley.”
But Riley could not pick up the child and could hardly bear to look at it, for he knew that something was very wrong indeed. Its head was shaped like a butternut squash and not like a head at all. Its ears and nose were flat, its mouth gaping like a fish. There was long dark animal hair matted down on its back and chest and Zach Heron was all Riley could think, recalling what Adelaide told them about the devil and what he’d done to her. And now, lying there on the bed in a pool of filth, a baby version of the same devil, hairy and blue and covered in white clotted cream.
Addy was saying something, but Riley couldn’t hear her. He hardly even noticed that she was reaching over her still-round stomach, searching for the baby. She found the child and dragged it by its slippery leg, over the hill of her belly and onto her breast.
When Addy saw the child, she called, “Tie the cord, Riley. Tie the cord.” But Riley could not find the piece of yarn and left the room to get another.
Addy shook the baby. “Come on. Come on,” she urged in a sweet breathless voice. “Give a little cry now. Give a little cry.” She could see the child was not breathing and growing bluer by the second. “Come on, Baby. Come on, Baby.” She held the baby in one hand and pulled at the cord still attached to herself. She leaned forward as far as she could, bit down on the cord, and severed it. Riley entered the room just as she did this. He saw the blood on her mouth and the slick blue baby in her arms and nearly turned and left again.
“Riley,” Addy whispered. “Help me, Riley.”
The baby was still not breathing. Addy held it in the air and slapped its bottom and shook it. “Come on, Baby,” she cried. She shook it and cried and shook it and cried and shook it and cried. “Riley?”
Neither of them had heard the front door open and were surprised when Emeline Fraser appeared in the room. She’d heard the crying from outside the house and along with Verilynn had sprinted up the walk and down the hall. Emeline knew things had not gone well and told Verilynn to stay out of the room.
When Addy saw her, she looked relieved and held up the baby. “Can you help us?”
Emeline took the blue baby but knew it was already too late. “Oh, Child,” she said. “Oh, Child.”
Addy wiped her blood-smeared mouth. “Can you get him breathing, Emeline? Can you get him breathing?”
Emeline settled the baby into the cradle of her arm and sat down on the bed. She could not speak at first, for the hope on Addy’s face was not to be borne. She looked up at Riley but he was drained and speechless and could not take his eyes from the devil child. She asked quietly, “What happened?”
Riley couldn’t answer. Addy caught her breath between words. “He, wouldn’t, pick, him, up. He, came, out, but, Riley, wouldn’t, pick, him, up.”
Emeline waited but Riley didn’t explain. Babies were born a little blue sometimes. It was necessary to suck the mucus from the nose or jolt the baby to cry and get oxygen into the small lungs. For how long the baby lay there before being picked up, Emeline would not ask.
Emeline had delivered all of her grandchildren. Some went hard and long, some went fast and easy, but she’d been spared the task of telling a mother the baby she’d nourished in her body would not take breath in this world. She gestured for Riley to leave. He did so quickly, closing the door behind him. She set the baby on the clean linen beside Addy Shadd, wanting her to see how beautiful he was.
Addy studied the little being and said, “He don’t look right, Emeline.” She didn’t know her baby was already gone. “Why don’t he look right?”
“This baby boy—” Emeline said, then had to catch her breath, for she was needed to comfort Addy and could not cry herself. “This baby boy is already gone to Heaven.”
Addy could not believe it even though she knew it was true. She reached out and stroked the underside of his tiny curled-up foot, drawing a line from his toe, up his plush leg, over his soft belly to his still, closed eyes. She whispered, as if she was afraid she’d wake him, “Why’s he have hair here and here?” She pointed to his tiny shoulders and sunken chest.
Emeline cleared her throat. “Well, babies got hair like that to keep them warm in the womb. Like a coat. Usually falls out by week or two later.”
“Will this hair fall out?” Addy asked.
Emeline couldn’t imagine why Addy wanted to know. Had she not understood the child was dead? “He’s a beautiful boy, Adelaide. A big boy too, considering you’re early.”
Addy nodded and said, “His Daddy was biggest man in Rusholme.” She he
ld out her arms. “Could I hold him a minute?”
Emeline picked up the infant and carefully passed him to his Mama. “What’s his name, Honey? What you gonna name this baby boy?”
“Do I still get to name him?” Addy asked, confused.
“Course you name him. That’s your boy. And you always remember you gave birth to that boy. And you always love him and think about him.”
Addy nodded. “He never saw me.”
“No. But he knew you. Don’t think he didn’t. Babies know their Mamas from the inside out.” Emeline reached into her pocket and drew out a handkerchief. She blew her nose and dabbed her eyes as she watched the young mother cuddle her newborn son.
“Did he know I loved him?”
“Yes he did, Child.”
Addy looked into the older woman’s eyes. “Looks like he’s just sleeping. You sure he’s gone?”
Emeline nodded.
Addy looked back at the quiet baby in her arms. “Does he have to get buried right away?”
“Child, you hold your boy just as long as you care to. You tell him all the sweet things you been thinking about him and then you say goodbye when you’re ready. All right?”
Addy nodded and kissed the baby’s parted lips. “Leam,” she whispered. “I love you, Leam.”
Emeline left the room, shuting the door behind her. She blew her nose again before she made her way down the hall. In the sitting room she fell into a chair, heaving, wiping her eyes and cheeks. She had not been surprised that Addy was dry-eyed. The child was in shock, likely, and exhausted from the efforts of her labour. But the look on Verilynn’s face surprised her. And the look on Riley’s even more.
Verilynn was herself sobbing and red-eyed. Emeline had never thought her a compassionate young woman and was glad to know she felt Adelaide’s pain. The child was going to need some comfort and the understanding of this, her only family.
It was Riley who worried Emeline, for he was reclining on the sofa smoking a cigarette and did not seem devastated or even very upset. She looked at him squarely and, as always, felt displaced by his look-away eye and the feeling that he was not the man he appeared to be. “Riley. Don’t blame yourself too much. You couldn’t know what to do.”