“Certainly, Royce,” answered Pa, then added with a smile, “just don’t wait too long. The people are all anxious to know what you’re going to do.”
“I’ll move along as quickly as I can, believe me. Just tell the people they can count on me.”
“Done!” said Pa. “They will appreciate it, Franklin.”
The picnic that day gave us our first sight of someone who would be part of the Hollister future, though we had no idea of it at the time. There were quite a few people at the picnic that I didn’t know. New families were coming to Miracle Springs regularly.
After we were through eating, I saw Zack over on the other side of the field throwing a ball back and forth with someone I didn’t know, a boy who looked about Zack’s own age. Then a while later, when I looked at them again, there were four or five others who had joined them scattered about. The stranger was hitting the little ball with a stick and the others were chasing after it. A few minutes later Zack brought the new boy over to where Pa and Almeda and Emily and I were seated on the grass. He was every bit as tall as Zack, and wearing a straw hat with a white shirt and blue knickers (which I found out later to be of some significance). He had light brown eyes and curly red hair with lots of freckles on his face.
“This here’s Mike, Pa,” said Zack. “His family just got here from the east.”
Pa stood up and shook his hand. “Mike what?” he said in a friendly voice.
“McGee’s the name, and baseball’s the game,” the boy replied. The instant he let go of Pa’s hand, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a little white ball, the same one they had been playing with earlier.
“Baseball . . . what’s that?” asked Emily.
“What’s baseball!” exclaimed Mike McGee. “Why it’s just the newest, most exciting game there is. They call me ‘Lefty.’”
“Well none of us have ever heard of it,” said Pa. “Why don’t you tell us about it? Is that stick you got there something to do with it?”
“This stick,” said McGee, holding up the rounded piece of wood, “has everything to do with it! This is called a bat, and you’ve gotta hit the ball with the bat.”
He took a few steps away from us, then tossed the ball up into the air, slung the bat up over his shoulder as he grabbed it with both hands down near one end. As the ball came back down, he swung the wood around fast. It hit the ball with a loud cracking sound, and the ball went sailing out across the meadow in a big arch, landing over next to the woods.
“Just like that!” he said. Tad, who had just walked up to join us, was off like a flash to retrieve the ball and bring it back to Mike. By now a few more people were gathering around, but something told me young McGee was paying more attention to my sister Emily than all the other people put together.
“You hit it a long ways!” exclaimed Tad, running up puffing with the ball.
“That’s nothing. You should see how far they hit it in a real game. My older brother Doug took me to see the first baseball game played between two regular teams. He played for the New Jersey Knickerbockers himself. That was back in ’46. I was just eight then. They played against a team from New York.”
“How’d it turn out?” asked Zack.
“I was nine before the game ended,” replied Mike. “That first game took almost a year because they’d stop and then start again later. Nobody really knew how to play, so there were arguments and disputes through the whole game. My brother was so sick of the arguing, on top of losing the game 23 to 1—”
“Tarnation, boy!” exclaimed Uncle Nick, “that ain’t no game, however you play it. That’s more like a slaughter!”
“That was the score, all right. And my brother said he’d never play baseball again. So he gave me this here bat and ball and uniform. Now, do any of you want to get up a game?”
“But how do you play?” asked Zack.
“I plumb forgot—none of you know how to play!” he said. “Well, one team hits the ball and tries to run around the diamond and score an ace.”
“What’s an ace?” asked Emily, looking up into Mike’s face.
“That’s what it’s called when you score a point by running in from third and touching home plate.”
“Home plate . . . diamond . . . third? You’re not makin’ sense!” said Zack.
“And in the meantime,” Mike went on without paying any attention to Zack, “the other team tries to catch the ball and throw it ahead of the runner so one of his teammates can tag him out before he gets to the base.”
“It sounds mighty confusing,” said Pa laughing. “I doubt if you’re gonna get many around here to play. We can’t understand a word you’re saying! How many does it take to play?”
“Eighteen—nine on each team.”
“Eighteen! You’ll never get eighteen people in all of California to make heads or tails of what you’re talking about!”
“If nobody knew how to play for that first game, how did anybody know what to do?” asked Emily.
“It sure sounds like one side knew how to play, judging from the score,” Uncle Nick said.
“To answer your question, Miss,” said McGee, “all the fellers who were there knew how to play, but everybody had their own brand of the game, coming from different places. You see, it was already played a bit before that, but not in an organized way or anything. That’s why the game took so long. The arguments got so fierce they had to keep stopping it and figure out a way to agree on the rules before continuing on. The one game had three different sessions to it, like I said, stretching for almost a year.”
“Well that’s about the dad-blamedest kind o’ game I ever heard of!” piped up Alkali Jones. “Weren’t no game at all, from the sound of it, but more like a war. Hee, hee, hee!”
Everybody had a good laugh, and after a little more talk, Mike managed to get half a dozen or so of the boys to join him. They walked over to the far end of the field where he began explaining the game to them. Emily followed to watch.
I got up and walked toward the hillside overlooking the meadow, where over three years ago I had looked down on the gathering we’d had to celebrate the completion of the building of the church. That other day seemed so long ago and much had happened since. Yet up there on the sloping hillside, everything still looked the same. It reminded me of how God had watched over us during the years since then.
Wild lilies were in bloom, and the birch trees were just beginning to get their fresh growths of new bark and tiny green leaves. The wildflowers brought back to my mind Rev. Rutledge’s words, “We can let ourselves be reminded of the life that Jesus gave us when we see the new life that nature gives . . .”
I walked up the hill, turned around, and looked down on the meadow just at the same spot I had that day three years before. When I was alone, questions about my future always seemed to nag at me. I wanted God to have complete control over my life in whatever I did, but I couldn’t keep the fears and anxieties from bothering me from time to time.
Down on the field I watched the group of boys playing with “Lefty” Mike McGee. Every once in a while I heard his voice yelling out some kind of instruction to them, or pointing to get them to go stand someplace else. He didn’t seem to be having much success explaining the game of baseball to them. I couldn’t help laughing a time or two as I watched.
Zack and Tad were in the middle of it. My eyes followed Zack around. I knew that occasionally he struggled with the same kinds of questions that I did, although being a boy I don’t suppose his anxieties went as deep. Boys have a way of being able to take things more as they come, while girls have to think everything out on a dozen levels.
“What are you going to do, Zack?” I asked him once.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, we can’t just stay at home and live with Pa and Almeda forever, you know.”
“There’s the mine,” he said. “I figured I’d work the mine with Pa and Uncle Nick.”
“No mine lasts forever. Then what?”
“Don’t you find yourself wondering about things, about other places you might go, things to see, people to meet?”
“Not much. I like it here in Miracle. But I reckon you’re right, we can’t just live with Pa when we get to be adults.”
“Hey, I’ve got an idea, Zack!” I said. “We could go live in Almeda’s house in town. It’s been empty all this time. Then we could stay in Miracle and do whatever we’d be doing, but it’d sorta be like being on our own.”
“You think she’d let us?”
“Sure. She’s said once or twice what a shame it is for the house not to be used.”
“But what if one of us gets married?” suggested Zack.
“Well I’m not worried,” I answered. “There’s no fear of that about me! You’re the one some girl will come along and want to grab.”
“Nah, not me! I ain’t gonna get married.”
“Then what are you gonna do if the mine plays out?”
“I don’t know. Maybe Little Wolf and I will raise horses like his Pa. And we’ve talked about going riding together, but I don’t know where. I reckon you’re right—there is a heap of world to see.
“What about you, Corrie?” Zack asked. “You got plans? What’re you gonna do?”
“I don’t know. I want to keep writing. But it’s hard to say if something is always going to be what God wants for you. I’d like to travel.”
This conversation was the most I’d ever gotten Zack to talk personally about himself, and I hoped we’d have the chance to talk like that again.
I didn’t stay up on the hillside for too long, just long enough to quiet myself down. I got up from the base of my favorite old oak tree, gave its gnarled trunk an affectionate pat with my hand, and then started back down the slope to rejoin the picnic.
In fact, I thought to myself, maybe I’d go join in whatever Lefty McGee was trying to teach the others about his new game. I’d like to see if I could hit that little ball with that stick!
Chapter 43
Unexpected Labor
Doc Shoemaker figured Katie would be due to give birth around the last of April or first of May. He said Almeda would probably follow about two weeks later. So both of them were mighty big around the middle by now and were moving slow, with Pa and Uncle Nick worrying and fussing over them every minute. At the picnic it seemed the women talked about nothing else to Almeda. Katie stayed home. Almeda was still spry enough and went into town every other day or so, but she also stayed in bed longer and took lots of rests. Pa saw to that.
Tuesday night in the second week of April, the doctor had been out that afternoon, had seen both Almeda and Katie, and had left with a smile on his face. “Won’t be long now, Drummond,” he’d said from his buggy. “Everything looks good. Both your wife and sister-in-law are healthy and coming along just fine.”
In the middle of the night I was awakened by a loud banging on the door and shouts outside. I bolted awake and knew in an instant it was Uncle Nick. And from the sound of his voice I knew something was wrong.
I jumped out of bed and put on my robe, but by the time I got out of my bedroom Pa and Almeda were already at the door and talking to Uncle Nick.
“It’s Katie!” he said frantically. “Something’s wrong, Drum—she’s yelling and carrying on—”
“I’ll go right up there,” Almeda said as she started to throw a coat around her robe, then sat down to put on her boots.
“You ain’t in no condition to—” Pa began.
“Don’t even say it, Drummond,” she interrupted. “This is a woman’s finest hour, and the hour of greatest need.”
“But you gotta take care of—”
“I will take complete care of myself,” she said. “Katie needs me now, and I am not going to sit here and do nothing. Are you ready, Nick?” she added, standing up and pulling her coat tightly around her. The door was still open and a cold wind was blowing right into the cabin.
Uncle Nick just turned around and hurried back outside into the night. “She’s in terrible pain, Almeda!” he said.
“Then you go on ahead, Nick! Tell her I’m coming. And put water on the stove!” Uncle Nick had already disappeared toward the bridge across the creek.
“I’ll need the good lantern, Drummond,” Almeda said, “so the wind won’t blow it out.”
“I’ll get it lit,” replied Pa as he went toward the fireplace. “Then I’ll take you up there.”
“You must go for Doctor Shoemaker,” objected Almeda.
“I ain’t gonna let you walk up there at night alone. You fall, and we’d have two women in trouble in their beds! Corrie,” Pa said turning to me. “Go see if Zack’s awake, and get him in here pronto.”
By the time I got back into the room with Zack, who was still half asleep, Pa had the lantern burning bright.
“Zack, you gotta ride over and get the Doc, you hear me, boy!”
“Yes, Pa.”
“We need him fast!”
“I’ll bring him, Pa.”
“Corrie, you get out there and saddle up—let’s see, who’s fastest in the dark, Raspberry or Dandy?”
“At night, probably Dandy, Pa,” said Zack.
“Then Corrie, you get to saddling Dandy. Zack, you get dressed and get going!”
Then he turned to the open door, holding the lantern in his left hand while Almeda took hold of his right, and the two of them walked out as quickly as they could to follow Uncle Nick.
In another five minutes, Zack was off, and the sound of Dandy’s hoofbeats died in a moment. Suddenly I was left alone. I stoked up the fire with a couple of fresh logs, and lit another lantern. Then I went into the girls’ room and woke up Emily, who was already stirring from the noise.
“Emily,” I said, “Katie’s in trouble. Pa and Almeda are up there already, and Zack’s gone for the doctor. I’m going too.”
“Should I come, Corrie?” she asked.
“I don’t know, Emily,” I said. “There probably isn’t anything we can do to help, but I’ve gotta know if Katie’s all right. You stay here with the others, and if they need us, I’ll come and get you.”
I was glad Pa had gone with Almeda! A storm had blown in while we’d been sleeping, and the wind was howling fiercely. I had trouble keeping my lantern from blowing out.
By the time I arrived at Uncle Nick’s cabin, it seemed like an hour had already passed! Things were happening fast and I could feel the tension the minute I walked in. Pa stood at the pot-bellied stove watching a kettle of water that was nearly boiling. Alongside, a pot of coffee was brewing. Uncle Nick paced around with a horrified look on his face. I’d never seen him like that before—so helpless, so concerned, wanting to help yet looking like a lost little boy who didn’t know what to do. Even though it was his house and his baby being born, it looked like he felt out of place.
Both of them glanced at me as I came in but hardly took any other notice. Just as I closed the door I heard a scream from the other room. Uncle Nick spun around. “Oh God!” he cried. He took a couple of quick steps toward the bedroom, then stopped. Pa went over and put an arm around Uncle Nick’s shoulder, and from the slight movement of his lips, I knew he was praying hard.
Oh God, I breathed silently, whatever’s going on, I ask you to be close to Katie and take care of her. And Uncle Nick too.
“Anything I can do, Pa?” I said.
He gave me a wan smile that showed he appreciated my being there. “Could you check on Erich? He’s sleeping in the other room,” he answered. “And pray that the Doc’ll get here in a hurry.”
Almeda came in from the bedroom. She was so obviously pregnant, walking with a bit of a waddle, and her face was a little pale. But otherwise you’d have thought she was the doctor! Still wearing her robe, she had her sleeves rolled up. Her hair was loose and hanging all out of place. And you could see the perspiration on her forehead. She looked like she’d been on the job working with Katie for an hour already.
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She came up to Uncle Nick and attempted a smile. “You have nothing to worry about, Nick,” she said. “The baby’s just a few weeks early, that’s all.”
“Why’s she crying out and screaming then?” said Uncle Nick, still looking frantic.
“That’s what labor is like, Nick,” she answered. “You weren’t here when Erich was born, were you?”
“No, you and the Doc made me and Drum get outta here.”
“And this is exactly why,” said Almeda, smiling again. “It can be harder on the husband, who’s fretting and stewing in the other room, than for the woman herself.”
“But is Katie . . . is she all right?”
“Of course. She is fine. Labor is a long and painful process, Nick. It hurts, and sometimes we can’t help crying out. It might not be a bad idea again for you and Drum to go down—”
Before she could finish another shriek came from the other room. A horrified look filled Uncle Nick’s eyes. You could tell the sound pierced right through to his heart.
“It’s another contraction!” said Almeda, turning to return to Katie. “Drummond, why don’t you take Nick down to our place. And take little Erich with you.”
“We oughta at least wait till the Doc’s here.”
“We’ll be fine. Corrie, come with me.”
Nick bundled up little Erich, still half-asleep despite all the commotion, and he and Pa took the lantern and started down the hill to our house.
I followed Almeda into the bedroom. Katie lay there with only a sheet over her. She yelled out again just as we came in. I was frightened, but Almeda walked straight over to the bed and took Katie’s hand.
“Go around the bed, Corrie,” she said to me. “Take her other hand so she has something to squeeze. It helps with the pain.”
I did as she said.
Katie was breathing hard, her face wet and white. Her eyes were closed and a look of excruciating agony filled her face. Just as I took hold of her, she cried out again and lurched up in the bed. She grabbed on to my hand like a vise and held it hard as she pulled herself forward. The pain lasted ten or fifteen seconds, then she began to relax and lay back down, her face calming, her lungs breathing deeply. Still she held my hand, but not as hard. Slowly she opened her eyes a crack, glanced feebly at the two of us, managed a thin smile, then closed her eyes again. It was the first smile either of us had had from her in a long time.
A Place in the Sun Page 24