“Aunt Martha!” she shrieked, afraid to move. “Come quick! It’s the baby!”
Moving faster than she ever thought possible, Martha ran down the hallway. “Oh, Jessie, no! It can’t be the baby! The telephone is dead!”
“I’m sorry, Aunt Martha, but it is. My water just broke. I think we should try gettin’ me upstairs.” Jessie tried to scoot her swollen body forward. “I don’t want to ruin your furniture.”
“The furniture be damned!” Martha squealed, unmindful of her language. “You can’t climb those stairs in your condition, and I surely can’t carry you. Just stay where you are.”
“Alright.” Jessie tried to stop shaking. “But, could you get somethin’ dry to put under me? The chair is soaked.”
“Yes, I’ll get some towels. Just, whatever you do, don’t move!”
Martha felt out of breath by the time she had climbed her way up the winding staircase to the heavy oak linen-closet in the hallway. Throwing the doors of the closet wide, she pulled a stack of towels off the shelf, not caring when the stack beside them toppled to the floor. Kicking the towels out of her way, she turned to go back downstairs.
Jessie could hear the wind shrieking its way around the mansion. Like a giant angry fist, it shook the branches of the large old maple, snatching the gnarled limbs in its grasp to pound them against the window. The words to call out had already formed in her throat, when the lights flickered once more then dissolved into total darkness.
At the sound of shattering glass, Jessie spun around, trying to see in the dim light of the fireplace. Her nerves raging, she screamed, “Aunt Martha! What happened?”
“It’s nothing to worry about, dear,” came Martha’s distant answer from where she righted herself at the top of the stairs. “I knocked a lamp off the shelf when the lights went out.”
Hearing the clicking of Martha’s heels as she came down the stairs, Jessie breathed a sigh of relief.
“Now then,” Martha placed a stack of linen on a table beside Jessie’s chair, “let me get this oil-lamp lit, and then we can see to getting you taken care of.”
A loud crashing sound brought both women up short as they stared in the direction of the floor-to-ceiling window. In the dim glow they could see the branch from the large oak sticking through the broken glass. Within moments the cold north wind blew in, leaving them both shivering and shaking.
“Oh no, now what are we gonna do?” Jessie cried, as she watched snow swirl through the broken window.
“I’ll tell you what we’re going to do.” Martha replaced the glass top onto the now flickering oil-lamp. “We’re going to get you settled into the other room away from this wind.”
As the Arctic air touched her sodden body, Jessie felt her teeth begin to chatter.
“Come on, Jessie, lean on me.” Martha raised the oil-lamp high in one hand, placing her other arm around Jessie’s waist to support her, as the girl stood before the chair, her legs spread wide, while she held her wet dress away from her body. “Before you know it, I’ll have you dry and warm in front of the fireplace in John’s den. Just don’t stop walking.”
“What else can go wrong tonight?” Jessie moaned, as she allowed Martha to lead her from the freezing room.
The pains came faster now, holding Jessie in their torturous grip until she thought her poor tormented body would be ripped in two.
“If only Mama and Daddy could see me now!” she murmured to herself, trying to stay calm in face of the unrelenting pain. “If only they could witness my suffering! Where is the woman who told me over and over how much she loves me? Where is her gentle touch and soft voice now, now when I need them so much?” She wanted to scream out her agony and bring the ones she believed could stop such pain here, so they could witness her suffering.
But she didn’t scream, and no one came to her rescue. Except for Martha, whose cold efficiency and no-nonsense attitude left little room for weakness.
The fumes from the oil-lamps suddenly triggered a fond childhood memory. In her mind’s eye, Jessie could see Hattie, the woman who had taken care of her all of her life, telling her about the “Bugaboos.” How they would come out on storm-filled nights to carry off bad little girls. Her large black face would dissolve into laughter as Jessie, refusing to leave her side, held onto her long skirts while she walked through the shadowed rooms, lighting the large hurricane lamps. Later, curled up on her father’s lap with her mother nearby, they all sat before the massive fireplace and listened, wide eyed, as Hattie told about the “Hants” far into the night, while the northern winds shrieked like banshees through the trees. But then just as abruptly, the memory was gone, and the familiar smell of the lamps made her retch and brought a terrible sense of loss.
“Is the discomfort getting worse, dear?” Martha gazed at the young girl curled up on the blanketed floor.
Unable to answer right at that moment, Jessie nodded, breathing in deep breaths against the waves of pain threatening to swallow her up.
“Jessie, I don’t want you to worry about anything.” Martha forced calmness into her voice. “Doctor Hinley briefed me on what to do in case something like this should happen. I’ll do my best to help you all I can.”
“I know you will, Aunt Martha. I trust you. It’s just that…I wish Mama could be here.” Jessie could feel her tenuous hold on her emotions slipping away.
“Of course you do, dear. Of course you do. If she knew how much you needed her right now,” Martha bit her lip, trying to stay ahead of her emotions, “I know she would want to be with you.”
“Then, why did she let Daddy send me away? I should be home, with Mama and Hattie takin’ care of me.” Her body tensed, making the words she wanted to say come out in breathless pants. “Hattie’s…always…been…there…for me, and I treated her just awful. I’m sorry.”
“Jessie. Jessie, listen to me.” Martha dropped to her knees beside her. “You have to breathe with the pains. If you fight against them, you will make it harder on yourself.”
“I don’t care!” Jessie screamed, yanking away.
While she pinned both arms of the thrashing girl to the floor, Martha’s soft voice fought against the now out of control wailing. Knowing her strength was not great enough to allow her to continue holding Jessie, Martha let go to deliver a stinging slap across her hysterical niece’s face.
It was the shock more than the pain which brought Jessie back to her senses. With a low moan, she turned onto her side.
“I’m sorry I had to do that, Jessie,” Martha blew a strand of damp hair away from her face, “but you left me no choice. I can’t sit by and allow you to harm yourself or the baby. Now, be a good girl and turn onto your back. Doctor Hinley said the contractions will stay steadier if you lie on your back.”
As hot tears fell down her face, Jessie stretched her aching body out straight.
In the ensuing quiet, Martha tried to stay calm, while flashes of her own torturous hours of suffering slipped into her mind. She could almost feel the rolling waves of pain as she labored to bring her son into the world, only to learn it had all been for nothing. The son she and John had wanted so much had been stillborn. The heartbreak of their loss had never gone away. Through the years she had tried to conceive another child, but each time her efforts had been met with disappointment. Yet she had never given up trying. Finally, time had called a halt to her fruitless attempts to have the child she so wanted.
“What is it, Aunt Martha?” Jessie asked, peering up at her. “What’s wrong?”
“There isn’t anything wrong, Jessie.” She pasted a smile on her face. “I just wish for some way we can hurry this along. I hate seeing you like this.”
“I’m all right, Aunt Martha.” Jessie rubbed a hand up and down her tight belly. “Just feelin’ sorry for myself is all.”
“I think you’ve gained the right to a little self-indulgence.”
“Maybe, but I think if I want to get this over with, I need to stop whinin’ and start concentratin’ o
n the task at hand. It stands to reason; if I’m this uncomfortable, think what my poor little baby is goin’ through.”
Hours dragged by. They could hear the awful wind continuing its monotonous howling outside the sturdy walls. Its mournful cry seeming to merge with the painful wails inside the room.
When she saw Jessie lull off between contractions, Martha rose to her feet. Putting both hands, palm down, on each side of her back she stretched her spine until she felt some of the tautness subside.
She stared into the storm-filled night, amazed to see how much snow had accumulated in the hours she and Jessie had found themselves alone on the isolated estate.
“My God,” she murmured, leaning her head against the icy window. “We could be stranded for days before anyone can get through to us.”
“Aunt Martha, where are you?” Jessie called to her.
“I’m over here by the window, dear. I’ll be there in a moment,” she replied, willing the terror she felt at their desperate situation out of her voice.
“Has the snow stopped yet?”
“Almost,” she lied.
“Thank God. Have you checked to see if the telephone lines are workin’ again?”
“No. No I haven’t. I’ll go do that right now.” Although she knew it would be a waste of time, she was grateful for any excuse to be out of the room and away from Jessie’s suffering, if only for a moment.
As she passed the parlor, she could hear the wind moaning behind the heavy door. Turning the knob, she peered in and almost fell to her knees at the sight meeting her eyes. Snow covered the entire room, making even the Queen Annes indiscernible. A chilling wind, blowing through the broken window, swirled the white powder into her face, forcing her to throw her hands up in protection.
She backed out of the doorway. “John, you unfeeling son-of-a-bitch! Why aren’t you here?!” Martha cursed her errant husband. Then, knowing she had no choice, she walked back to where Jessie lay, waiting for her.
“Is everything all right, Aunt Martha?”
“Yes, Jessie, everything is fine. The telephone lines still aren’t working, but I’m sure they will be soon. We’re used to this in Boston. It happens every year.” She couldn’t seem to stop her rambling.
“I think I’m ready for some more dry towels. The ones under me now are so wet I’m startin’ to get a chill.”
“Well, we can’t have that now, can we?” Martha took up one of the clean towels she had waiting nearby.
“Thank you for helpin’ me through this, Aunt Martha. You may not be Mama, but I don’t know what I’d do right now without you.”
“I’m sorry I’m not Doctor Hinley. It’s a good thing he versed me so well in what to do, or we would really be in trouble.” She kept her shaking hands busy with folding the large towels.
“I trust you. I know you’ll make sure everything goes all right.”
Wish I could be as sure, Martha thought.
“Hattie always said, ‘If a woman dies in childbirth, she goes straight to heaven.’ Do you believe that, Aunt Martha?”
“Don’t talk like that, Jessie.” Her heart jumped at Jessie’s words. “You’re not going to die. This is your first baby. First babies are always the hardest to have. Remember? I told you that.”
“Yes, I remember. But just in case something did happen to me, you and Uncle John would see to it my baby has a good and lovin’ home, wouldn’t you?”
“Well…of…course…we would, Jessie. We already talked about you and the baby living with us.” Martha turned Jessie onto her side, rolled the soaked towel as close to her bared bottom as she could, then rolled her back, to lift the soiled linen away. “We know you won’t want to stay here forever.” She dropped the towel into a nearby pail. “Someday, when you meet the right man for you and the right father for your baby, you’ll leave us.” She wouldn’t let herself think of that day, not right now. With a slight toss of her head, she smiled, meeting Jessie’s steady gaze. “Until that day comes, you’ll both live here with us.”
“And,” Jessie persisted, “you’ll make sure Mama comes to see the baby as often as possible?”
“I’d be hard put to try and keep her away.” Martha lathered her hands with a bar of soap then rinsed them in the wash pan sitting on the raised hearth. “This baby is going to be her first grandchild.”
“Thank you, Aunt Martha,” Jessie whispered, seeming to relax. “I can rest a lot easier knowin’ everything’ll be all right.”
“Now,” Martha said, kneeling down, “lift up your hips and I’ll place these towels beneath you.”
As Jessie planted her heels to lift herself up, a wave of pain stronger than any before rolled over her.
“I feel like I have to push,” she panted.
“Try to control that urge until I see what’s happening!”
Martha needed only a glance to know the baby was at last ready to make its long-awaited entrance into the world. She slipped a dry towel beneath Jessie’s hips then sat back on her heels. “The head is crowning, Jessie. Go ahead and push.”
With all her might, Jessie bore down until she felt the slippery baby slide the rest of the way from her body.
“You have a beautiful little daughter, Jessie!” Martha squealed, as proud as if she herself had given birth to the child.
“Is she all right?” Jessie breathed, trying to sit up.
“She’s just fine, dear. Now lay back until I cut the cord, then I’ll hand her to you.”
Voicing a small prayer to steady her shaking hand, Martha tied off the cord, then cut the life-sustaining link between mother and child. When she finished doing everything Doctor Hinley had told her needed to be done, she propped Jessie upright against the front of a nearby chair, then handed the mewling baby into her waiting arms.
Cradling the baby in the crook of her arm, Jessie smiled down into the black, almond-shaped eyes of her daughter.
“You look just like your daddy, my darlin’,” she laughed, hugging the baby close.
“Oh dear,” Martha said without thinking.
“Just look at her, Aunt Martha.” Jessie glanced up. “She has the same dark hair and coloring as Two Spirits. Even her eyes are like his.”
“She is a beautiful child,” Martha agreed, pulling the blanket to one side. “Have you decided yet what you are going to name her?”
“Oh yes! Two Spirits chose her name as soon as he knew I carried his child.”
“What name did he choose?” Martha braced herself.
“He said to name her Tia.”
“Why, that’s a beautiful name, Jessie,” she declared, relieved. “Does her name have a meaning?”
“Two Spirits never told me the meaning.” Jessie recalled the way his face looked that long-ago day. “He said that Pahta, a man we both know, prophesied Two Spirits would father a girl-child, and her name would be Tia.”
Chapter Two
Morning light drifted into the room as Jessie woke to the hungry cries of her infant daughter. Lifting the child from a small wicker bassinet, she cradled her close with one hand while she undid the buttons of her velvet nightdress. As the hungry mouth butted the milk-filled breast, Jessie smiled. A feeling of contentment filled her as the child nursed, drawing the warm milk into her tiny body. For the first time in a long while, she felt needed. But as she lay there with the child pressed against her, the feelings of sadness and utter despair crept once more into her heart, calling to mind the hopelessness of her situation.
She heard again the ugly words her father hurled at her echoing in her mind over and over until she wanted to scream. This self-same man who had never raised his voice to her before then, yelled like someone possessed for her to get out of his life and never return.
“Although I love you more than life itself, Tia,” Jessie whispered, placing a light kiss on the downy head, “I can’t keep you.”
As the baby suckled, her large dark eyes stared into Jessie’s. The subtle slant in the black eyes reminded Jessie so much of
Two Spirits, she felt her heart break.
“Don’t you see, Tia?” she cried. “They’ve taken everything. Your daddy…my home…it’s all gone. I can’t let them destroy you too. I don’t want to leave you, but I…” her breath caught, making the words she wanted to say stick in her throat.
Clutching the small child tight against her chest, she allowed the sobs to flow out into the silence. The frightened baby wiggled, then began to voice her anger in high pitched squeals, bringing Jessie back to reality.
“I’m sorry, my precious Tia,” she soothed her, placing the baby against her shoulder and patting her.
When at last the even breathing of the child told her she was asleep, Jessie laid her down in the wicker basket, a gift from Martha. The older woman had spent every spare moment she could find, working on the satin cover and hand knitted blankets, right up until a few days before the baby’s birth. The heavy oak dresser John had handcrafted held every item of clothing the new baby could ever need.
At first, when Jessie saw all the packages being delivered, she started to protest. But when she saw how much the childless couple enjoyed shopping for a child they themselves could never have, she changed her mind.
“I know Aunt Martha and Uncle John’ll be good parents for you,” she told the sleeping infant. “They’ll see to it you’ll never want for anything. Why, you’ll go to the finest schools, wear the best clothes money can buy, and I know you’ll have lots of friends. You’ll be much better off with Aunt Martha and Uncle John than you would be livin’ on a dirty reservation or out in the wild in a tent made of animal skins.”
Two Spirits came into her thoughts. She closed her eyes, bringing his image closer. “It’s sad to know our daughter will be better off without us, my darling. But she will.” She wiped a hand across her tired eyes. “Do you know what I regret most in giving her up? The fact that she’ll never know about us. The two people who loved her more than life itself. The two people who are responsible for her being here and she’ll never know we even existed.” She opened her eyes, letting his image fade.
Fated Memories Page 2