Forevermore

by Cathy Marie Hake

  “Go up and nap.” He thought for a moment. “Emmy-Lou is still sleeping. You can lie down on my bed.” He rose and helped her to her feet.

  Then suddenly, he stiffened.

  Hope carried the laundry into the house. Through the window, she could see Jakob streaking off on his horse like the devil was after him. Then she heard crying. Heart thundering and mouth dry, Hope dropped the laundry basket and raced up the stairs.

  Annie lay curled on her side on Jakob’s bed. A whole stack of Jakob’s handkerchiefs lay on the pillow beside her.

  Please, God, don’t let her be having the baby yet. Everything’s not ready. I’m not ready. Hope dampened the towel on Jakob’s washstand and gingerly blotted Annie’s face. “Are you okay?”

  Annie shook her head.

  Desperate to know Annie wasn’t in labor, Hope grasped at the one other possible reason her friend would be crying. “Your brother and me—we ain’t mad at each other. We got everything worked out. You know that?”

  Annie nodded; then a strangled sound vibrated in her chest as she curled up tighter.

  Sweat broke out on Hope’s brow. Wiping Annie’s, she searched for something to say or do. God, please help me here.

  “I want to be alone.”

  “You shore?”

  Annie nodded.

  Uncertain as she felt, Hope reckoned she couldn’t do any good just standing there. “I’ll . . .” She looked around, but nothing triggered any helpful action or suggestion. Trying to instill more confidence than she felt, Hope started again. “I’ll leave the door open.”

  Hope peeped in on Emmy-Lou. Blessedly ignorant of any of the goings-on, the little girl still napped. Assured of that, Hope dashed downstairs.

  Boiling water. Folks always needed boiling water and towels for when a baby came. Everyone knew that. Hope hastily dumped more coal into the oven. Black dust covered the floor by the scuttle, but she didn’t worry over that. Other matters were more pressing. With the reservoir on the stove full, Hope pumped the largest kettles in the house full of water and set them on, too. That done, she set about gathering towels.

  The stack of towels on the dining table looked meager. Hope added all the clean dishcloths. Annie would need fresh sheets on the bed after the birthing, and they were all sitting in the laundry basket—wrinkled as an old woman’s face. Hope weaseled the iron onto the stove, too.

  Whenever she paused for a moment, she could hear Annie’s soft crying.

  Lord, please get Jakob to Forsaken real fast and have Velma ready so she can hurry back. I don’t know what to do. I probably shoulda asked her before now. I’m so stupid. How can I help Annie when I don’t know what to do?

  Every few seconds, Hope glanced out the window. Each time, she told herself it was too soon for Jakob to be back, but she wanted his help. His wife had given him two babies. Surely he had to know something about birth!

  Suddenly so much needed to be done. Annie would need a hearty meal after her ordeal. But a loaf of bread would take longer to bake, and Hope wasn’t sure they’d have time. She whacked the dough into pieces and stuck them in the oven.

  “Now supper!” Focusing on something she could accomplish easily, she pulled out a roasting pan. Quickly dumping in several things, Hope knew it could stew in the oven for hours without burning. Her mind was awhirl with more fears than thoughts.

  She looked down in dismay at the unappetizing mess in the pan. She’d dumped a cup of farmer cheese atop the chunks of canned roasted beef. “No use cryin’ over spilt milk,” she muttered as she reached for some spices. Trying to figure out how to rescue supper, Hope kept adding something more to the roasting pan.

  Hope sniffed. Something was starting to smell. . . . “The buns!”

  She ripped open the oven door and yanked out the cookie sheet. With towels all over the table, she couldn’t cool the buns there. She had no more carried the buns toward the counter than the floorboard above her creaked.

  “Annie?!” Hope dropped the cookie sheet and ran upstairs.

  Bracing one hand on Jakob’s dresser and the other against her belly, Annie looked more miserable than anyone Hope had ever seen. As Hope crossed the bedchamber, Annie turned away, stilled, then let out a wail.

  The hair stood up on the back of Hope’s neck. Lord, she ain’t ready for this. I ain’t ready, neither, God.

  A small hand slid into Hope’s. “Auntie Annie, what’s a-wrong?”

  Stifling a cry, Annie straightened up. “I need to . . . g-go.”

  “Oh!” Relief flooded Hope. Then another thought hit her. The last thing we need is Annie birthin’ her babe in the outhouse. “Emmy-Lou, you be a big helper. Go fetch the chamber pot.”

  “ ’Kay.” Emmy-Lou gave Hope a hug about her thighs and left.

  Look at me, bein’ a coward. My friend needs help. But what in thunderation can I do? “Maybe we ought to tuck you back in bed.”

  Now that was dumb. She’s gotta stay up so’s she can use the— Shaking her head, Annie whispered, “I have my shoes on.”

  “I’ll help you take ’em off.” Hope steered Annie back toward the bed. Suddenly Annie halted and pressed her hand to her belly. She sucked in a loud breath and held it.

  Even the light breeze blowing through the window did nothing to cool the streak of hot terror Hope felt. Unable to see around Annie, Hope strained to hear the sound of an approaching horse. Surely, Jakob had to be back with Velma soon!

  A wobbly smile chased across Annie’s pale features. “The baby—he’s strong.”

  “Good. Good. You want a healthy one.” Hope nudged her onto the edge of the bed and flopped onto the floor. It took half of forever to loosen the laces twining up the black boots to above Annie’s ankles.

  “I got it!” Emmy-Lou carried in the chamber pot as if it she was presenting a magnificent trophy.

  “Thank you.” Annie’s voice sounded strained.

  She ain’t having another pang. She can’t. It’s too soon. It’s just her working to wriggle and yank her foot free from this here boot.

  “Emmy-Lou, go get your spectacles,” Annie said.

  With a laugh, Emmy-Lou set down the chamber pot. “I forgot about my glasses!”

  As she scampered across the hall, Annie suddenly curled forward and let out a garbled cry.

  “Whaddy’all want me to do?” Hope pushed aside the now-empty boots and shot to her feet.

  Teeth gritted and air chuffing between them, Annie said, “Leg. Cramp.”

  After rubbing out the cramp, Hope helped Annie to her feet.

  “I’m gonna turn down this here bed for you.”

  “We haven’t started supper yet.”

  “Don’t you worry none over that. I’ve got something started.”

  Just don’t ask what it is.

  Emmy-Lou tugged on Hope’s apron. “Could we have noodles?”

  “Ohhh. Noodles sound good.” Right after speaking those words, Annie leaned against the dresser again. “You help Hope make supper, Emmy-Lou.”

  “I’m a good helper!”

  Annie nodded and made a shooing gesture. Emmy-Lou left, and Hope wavered in the doorway. “Are you sure—”

  Biting her lower lip, Annie looked her in the eye and nodded.

  “I don’t wanna leave you on your lonesome. It don’t seem right.”

  Annie knew her mind, so Hope lagged back down the stairs. Every other step, she wanted to turn around and run back upstairs to help her friend. On the alternate steps, she fought the urge to pick up her skirts to dash out of the house and get as far away as possible.

  Standing in the kitchen, Emmy-Lou held up a sugar bag. “I got noodles from the pantry.”

  “Aren’t you smart! You ’membered we put the dried noodles in them bags, didn’t you?”

  “Uh-huh. Which pot are we gonna boil the noodles in?”

  Hope glanced at the stove. How much water would Velma need for the birth? Afraid to spare any, Hope looked about. Her gaze fell on the roasting pan. Why not? Eve
rything else is in it. “We’re cookin’ up a special supper tonight, Emmy-Lou. Them there noodles are gonna go in the roastin’ pan with a bunch of other good things.”

  Emmy-Lou did a little jig. “Do I getta put ’em in?”

  “You shore do.”

  After Emmy added them, she scrunched her nose. “Should I stir it?”

  After it was stirred, Hope worried the noodles would absorb the moisture and everything would be too dry. She added a jar of stewed tomatoes. The result made Hope wince. Looks like someone puked in the pan.

  “It smells yummy!”

  “Good thing.” Hope slapped on the lid and shoved it in the oven.

  Ten minutes later, after having ironed two sheets and a pair of pillowcases, Hope glanced at Emmy-Lou. She’d been happy to sit in the doorway and eat a peach for a snack. Secretly, Hope thought maybe the little girl would see her daddy—but that was a futile hope. Jakob hadn’t come, and even if he had, she realized Emmy-Lou’s glasses couldn’t enable her to see that well.

  “Sugar pie, I put a stool by the washstand. Why don’t you rinse off your hands, then you could . . .”

  Annie’s crying made it hard to think.

  “Play with my dolly?”

  “That’s a dandy idea.”

  Emmy-Lou dawdled toward the washstand. “Is Auntie Annie sad again? She used to cry all the time. I don’t like it when she cries.”

  No matter how scairt I am, I oughtta be strong for Annie and Emmy-Lou. Hope wracked her brain for some way of reassuring the little girl. The cradle! Last night, Jakob had brought it down from the attic, and Hope had polished it to a soft sheen. “If ’n you’re real careful, I’ll let you rock your dolly in the cradle, and I’ll go check in on your auntie.”

  The closer Hope drew to the room, the quieter Annie’s weeping grew. Then the floorboards started to creak again. Hope hastened to the door. “Annie, what’re y’all up to?”

  Both hands braced at the small of her back, Annie paced the length of the room and back. “Is my brother back yet?”

  “Not yet.” But I shore wish he was.

  Annie’s face puckered up again. “I didn’t think so.”

  “Now, don’t be gettin’ in a dither. Maybe y’all better lie back down. Rest up.”

  Annie sent her away again. Hope went directly into Jakob’s office. “Lord,” she whispered urgently, “you gotta help me help that gal. Every animal I’ve seen got fussy and paced just afore she got down to havin’ her babe. I reckon it ain’t no different for people. Two legs or four, it probably don’t make any difference. But the other particulars—-those gotta be special-like for people.”

  Hope stared at the spines of the books and ran her finger across them. Red, blue, brown, or green leather covered some. Others were covered in durable, heavyweight cotton, and a few with all the pictures were catalogs. Which one would hold the medical information?

  She went through more than a dozen. The illustrations in some made it clear they weren’t what she needed. The lack of illustrations ruled out others. Finally, she opened a book. Air wooshed out of her lungs. “Okay, God. This here’s a start. Now could you help me read what I gotta know?”

  Something’s wrong. The minute he entered the house, Jakob spied Hope. She sat next to a mountain of towels, poring over a book. So pale her freckles stood out in stark relief, she bit her lip and slowly dragged her forefinger along the page.

  “Daddy!”

  “Praise God!” Hope bolted to her feet. Just as quickly, confusion wrinkled her forehead. “Where’s Velma?”

  “Velma?” The book and towels took on special significance.

  “Is Annie having the baby?”

  “Y’all don’t know? Then where did you go?” Pressing her hand against her chest, Hope whispered, “Merciful heavens, you didn’t go off to fetch Velma? What’re we gonna do?”

  Jakob took the stairs two at a time. Hope chased right after him. Annie lay on the bed in a nest of pillows, her eyes closed.

  He went to his sister’s side and stared down at her.

  Hope gawked and stammered in the barest of whispers, “She’s sleepin’? Sleepin’?”

  Jakob nodded slowly. He ushered Hope back out into the hallway. The door shut, and Hope wilted against the wall. “She was cryin’ and cryin’ and I thought—”

  “Annie was upset about how I treated you.” Admitting it tore at him—not only because of Annie’s fragility, but because of the additional distress it caused Hope.

  “I told her everything’s okay betwixt us, but she kept on.”

  Deep lines furrowed Hope’s brow. “You shore she’s not laborin’?

  Maybe she swooned.”

  “Nein. She cried herself to sleep. Annie’s that way. When something troubles her, she cries.”

  The door downstairs opened.

  “Hi, Phineas! Wanna see my dolly? I wrapped her up in a beautiful, beautiful new blanket, and Miss Hope said I could use the cradle.”

  Hope gawked at him. “You went and brung Phineas home.”

  Jakob smiled slyly and she continued in realization, “To save him from the attentions of Miss Linette.”

  He noted the relief in Hope’s voice. “Ja. He was thankful— very thankful. By the time I got there, Linette was pestering him. She even got the sash of her dress caught in the binder on the reaper.”

  He and Hope descended the stairs. Wearing a quizzical expression, Phineas stood by the table. “Hope, I thought you washed the towels a few days ago.”

  “I did.” Hope scooped up an armload. “Mr. Stauffer, next time we go to town, we’d best better get more. You know—for when your sis has need of them.”

  “More?” Phineas gawked at her. “There are so many, I thought there was a snowdrift on the—” His voice skidded to a halt. “Annie? Is Annie—?”

  “No.”

  Before Jakob could say anything more, Emmy-Lou piped up from the parlor, “Auntie was crying a lot. Like she used to. But she told me to put on my glasses and pretty soon, she stopped.

  Doesn’t my dolly look pretty in her cradle?”

  Twisting so she could see around all the towels, Hope said, “You done a fine job, Emmy-Lou. That baby doll of yours looks—”

  “Happy as a lamb!” Emmy-Lou beamed.

  While Hope put away the towels, Phineas muttered, “Boss, I was afraid of that. Emmy-Lou’s picking up Hope’s crazy sayings.”

  Jakob moved the stack of dish towels from the table. “Don’t you like lambs?”

  “Ja, but—What’s that book doing out?” Phineas turned the medical text around. “I thought Hope couldn’t read.” His brows furrowed at the illustrated anatomy chart. “Is there something wrong with her foot?”

  After a moment’s reflection, Jakob shook his head. “I don’t think so. She’s walking just fine.” Hope reappeared, so he asked, “Hope, do your feet hurt? Do you need new boots or something?”

  “Whatever made you ask that cockeyed question?”

  “The medical book—you had it opened to the picture of a foot.”

  Resolve straightened her weary shoulders. “Nobody was here to read to me, and I worried Annie was ’bout to—well, you know.

  So I got the book and asked God to help me.” She grinned. “He answered my prayers far and above what I asked. He made it so we got more time. I know it ain’t exactly proper, but I’m still gonna ask: Will you read to me what to do if ’n your sister’s time comes and I gotta tend to her?”

  “Ja, Hope. I’ll do that.”

  Tapping his forefinger on the illustration, Phineas asked, “But why were you looking at this page?”

  As she took the roasting pan from the oven, Hope’s cheeks went red. Jakob suspected the oven’s heat wasn’t the cause of her flush. “Far as I could tell, there wasn’t a rhyme or reason to what was where in that book. I know baby starts with a B, but they didn’t have nothin’ there. Then I remembered hearin’ someone usin’ a high-falutin’ handle for a newborn baby: Feet-us. So I looked thata
way.”

  She’d been desperate and done her best. Admiration swept over Jakob. “I’ll read to you, Hope.”

  “You already read to Miss Hope, Daddy. You read the Bible to her every day.” Emmy-Lou wandered over, carrying the fabric he wanted to give to Hope. A tiny cloth hand stuck out of the middle of the bundle.

  Jakob picked up his daughter. “Hope is right. Your dolly looks good in that. Maybe, if you ask real nice, after Miss Hope makes herself a dress from this material, she’ll make one for your dolly, too.”

  Hope set the roasting pan on a trivet in the center of the table. “Annie’d look right fine in that dress length. How’s about I make her and the dolly a dress outta it, and I’ll use feed sacks—”

  “This material is for you.” Jakob watched her eyes widen. “I want you to have it.”

  “Thankee, but bolt goods are silly for the likes of me. It’s like stitchin’ a silk purse for a sow’s rear.”

  Emmy-Lou cuddled the material and looked up at him. “But this is pretty, Daddy. Miss Hope’s brown dress is ugly, and I can’t find her very good until she wears the green one.”

  Clunk. Hope dropped the lid back down on the roasting pan. “I changed my mind, Mr. Stauffer. Thankee for that purdy dress length. I’ll start in making it up straightaway.”

  “Sehr gut. ” He smiled at her. “Speaking of gut—supper smells sehr gut. I’m hungry.”

  Phineas sat down at the table. “What is it?”

  “Uhhh . . . mishmash.” Hope wheeled around and grabbed plates. “I’ve been in such a dither, I didn’t set the table yet.”

  “I helped make the mishmash!”

  Phineas gave Jakob a wary look and silently mouthed, “Mishmash?”

  “Ja, that mishmash smells delicious.” He’d told the truth—the dish carried a rich aroma, but the name sounded unappetizing at best. After setting his daughter into her seat, Jakob turned toward the stove. “I’ll get the c—” For the first time since Hope had arrived, there wasn’t a pot of coffee on the stove. “Cups. I hope we still have some sweet tea around here.”

  “In the springhouse.” Hope set the plates and silverware on the table. “Not many things more refreshing than sweet tea. All y’all can start eatin’, and I’ll run off and fetch a pitcher.”