by S A Ison
Liza ordered Mary to the bed and they pulled off her shift. Mary had been walking around the small cabin. The pains and contractions were increasing. An old quilt was placed over Mary and clean rags beneath her bottom, to catch any fluids that might drain out. Patina held a wooden candelabra behind Liza and the older woman examined Mary. A large caldron of water was set to steep and most of the women left to tend to their own families. It was going to be a long night.
“Everything is a lookin’ good Mary.” Liza announced, pulling the quilt over Mary’s legs.
“How long?” Mary grunted during a hard contraction.
“Hard ta say gal, every baby comes when it’s ready.” Liza got up and lit several cups of greasy candles. The candles sputtered and sparked but gave off efficient light. Patina settled herself at the foot of the bed to rub Mary’s feet. Liza sat at the table sipping tea. As the hours passed, Henry stuck his head inside the cabin door from time to time, only to be shooed away by one of the women. They laughed when they saw him hovering near the window, his form filling the view.
“Get you someplace else boy!” Liza shouted him away from the window and when Henry hurried away, another wave of laughter ensued. Bethy came back into the cabin, shaking her head holding a pot of tea. She set it on the table and she poured Liza and herself a cup.
Mary was torn between excitement, fear and boredom. The pain was slowly increasing and with each passing hour, she wondered how much worse it would get. She had heard Nan screaming when Nan had been in labor with her boys. Nan had cursed Gabe, crying and moaning. It had frightened Mary, but Ida told her that for each woman it was different. Mary had heard other women, but it sure didn’t sound different.
Sweat began to trickle down her face as the pain began to take over her being. She was breathing hard now and felt as though her stomach would burst. The pain in her back had started up once more and Liza had given her some tea to help ease the pain. Mary felt that it did nothing, but didn’t want to hurt Liza’s feelings. She didn’t want to alienate her mother’s friend.
A long low cry came from Mary and it built with the pain. The women heard a thump outside the cabin. Mary panted heavily, tears rolling down her face. She laid back and wiped at her face. Within minutes the pain rolled over her again and she screamed long and hard, grabbing her knees, her eyes clinched shut.
Liza sat before Mary’s open legs once more, to check the baby’s progress. Bittersweet memories came back to Liza, she had sat in this very same cabin, all those years ago. She had delivered this very child from her friend and she was now delivering her friend’s grandchild. It almost broke Liza’s old heart, knowing that Ida wouldn’t be here to see the baby. She hoped that Ida was smiling down from heaven with Sweet Jesus beside her.
A rough cry brought Liza back to her task; she slipped her hand between Mary’s legs. She could feel the baby’s head and knew that it was time for Mary to push hard.
“Honey, it be time now for you ta push that child out. You gotta bare down right hard.” Liza said.
Bethy got behind Mary, with Patina on the other side. Both women held Mary as she began to push with all her might. Each woman held their breath, in empathy with Mary. Mary pushed as hard as she could, the pain unbearable. The pain caused her to shriek out once more and everyone heard another thump on the cabin wall, Liza thought perhaps Henry had fainted. Liza rolled her eyes to heaven; the good Lord spare her from interfering males.
She instructed Mary to push once more. “This baby is just about here, honey. Push! Push… push… push.”
Liza chanted the words and Mary pushed again. She could feel Liza’s hands below, easing the baby’s head out. Mary wanted to scream again in pain, but she had no air left inside her.
“Hold it. Stop!” Liza shouted.
Mary watched as Liza worked quickly to unwrap the umbilical cord from around the baby’s neck. Mary had been told about the possibility and stopped. She knew that it could strangle the baby if she kept pushing. But now, the urge to push was out of her hands and her body struggle to push. Mary bit down hard on her lip to stop pushing. Mary lay helpless and panting, sweat stinging her eyes, her bottom burning, as though on fire. Liza nodded once more and told Mary to give one last push.
Without warning, the baby shot out into Liza waiting hands and for Mary, the pain was immediately gone. She sat up quickly, looking anxiously at Liza. Liza smiled at Mary, lifting the wet baby up for inspection.
“It’s a gal, a pretty lil girl.” Liza crowed, she brought the baby back down and tied off the umbilical cord with thin string and cut the cord with her handy knife. Turning the baby over, Liza smacked the newborn smartly on the bottom, eliciting a sharp cry from the indignant baby. They heard another thump on the cabin wall, and this time all the women laughed, it would seem that Henry had fainted once again. Liza cleaned the newborn up, taking a warm cloth and wiping blood and vernix away. Then she swaddled the baby and handed her over to her mother, who promptly inspected the child.
Mary could feel Liza cleaning her up and took note of Bethy leaving with a bloodied towel. She heard Dark Henry’s voice raise in alarm and heard Bethy’s bark of laughter. Mary called out to her husband, afraid he would try to take the afterbirth away from Bethy, thinking it was his child.
Henry hesitantly poked his head in the door, his eyes searching out his Mary. Seeing her, his smile trembled on his face as he walked to her. As though the air had been let out of him, Henry fell to the floor, beside the bed. He put a trembling hand to the bundle Mary held in her arms. Mary looked at her husband with love shining in her honey brown eyes, she smiled and told him that he had a new daughter.
“We’ve a daughter, husband.” She smiled gently, seeing the tears shimmering in Henry’s eyes. Henry laid his head on the bed beside his wife and began to weep, his large hand cradling the infant. Liza and Patina stood to leave, tears shimmering in their eyes. Such a big man, making a fuss over a tiny baby girl, who would have thought? The women gathered up the soiled rags and left the family to their privacy.
Liza shut the door quietly behind her. She sent one of the older boys up to the house, to let the mistress and master know they had a new baby, a baby girl. It was quiet, most folks had gone to find their beds. Liza rolled her head and felt the stiffness in her shoulders ease. As births went, this had been an easy birth. She smiled and thought once more of Ida.
It was some time before Henry could pull himself together. Mary held the baby in one arm and petted Henry’s hand with her free hand. He wiped his face on his sleeve and grinned sheepishly at her.
“I sure was powerful scared Mary. I thought you was dyin’.” Henry said softly, fear still tingeing his deep voice. “It sho sounded like you was hurtin’ bad, are you alright?” he asked, looking her up and down.
“I’m just fine, you alright? Sounded like you swooned and hit the ground.” Mary said, a teasing light in her eyes. “Naw, I didn’t swoon, but your hollerin’ sho brought me to my knees. You scared the livin’ hell from me. I’m sorry it hurt you so bad.” He said, shaking his head. His large hand cupped the roundness of her cheek. Mary smiled gently at her tender-hearted husband, her hand covering his.
“You want to hold your daughter?”
“It’s all right, it won’t hurt her?” He asked nervously.
“No, she’s fine, Henry. Just go slow and support her head.”
Gingerly, Henry took the swaddled form, afraid his great hands might crush it. He pulled the blanket away from the baby’s face, looking down for the first time at his new daughter. He looked up at Mary with wonder in his eyes. She looked like a miniature him. She was dark, but not quite as dark as Henry. He smiled and his chest puffed out as he brought the tiny girl to him. He kissed her fragile head and inhaled the sweet baby scent.
“She sho is pretty, just like her mamma. What you gonna name her?” Henry asked, his eyes caressing his daughter’s tiny face.
“I was thinkin’ about naming her after my mamma, Ida.” Mary said sh
yly. Dark Henry smiled down at his daughter, “That’s a fine name, Mary. A mighty fine name. Ida was unimpressed and merely yawned at her father and began sucking her tight little fist. Mary took her daughter and put the newborn to her breast, while Henry sat in total captivation, as he watched his wife feed their daughter. He had seen other mothers, but it touched him to his heart to watch his beautiful wife. He smiled broadly at the baby when a loud burp erupted, “She takes after me.” He laughed. Mary laughed and yawned. Henry crawled into bed with his wife and daughter and they settled in a warm pocket to sleep.
SEVEN
Henry had fashioned a cradle for the baby, but for now, he wanted to hold his daughter and look at her. He marveled at her tiny fingers and toes. Ida almost fit into the palm of his large hand. Mary had fed the child earlier and had put a new swaddling on. Henry had burped his daughter and had held and rocked her. Mary had fallen back to sleep. He shook his head at the wonder of his daughter. So tiny and so perfect. He thought his heart would burst with pride and joy. Wrapping Ida back up so she wouldn’t get cold, Henry gently placed the slumbering child in the cradle. He settled down once again and pulled his wife to him. She was sound asleep and he could feel her soft breath on his shoulder.
Henry’s eyes filled with tears; he was grateful that he would never have to see his children sold. It hit him once again, the generosity of Anderson’s wedding gift. Wiping the tears away, he sent up a prayer to his mother-in-law, vowing he would take extra good care of his wife and daughter. Don’t you worry none, I’ll keep them safe, he thought. His body eased and soon the small cabin was filled with their soft snores.
Liza lay with two of her grandsons, Nan had the other three. She thought about her friend Ida and missed her something fierce. She was sure Ida could see her new granddaughter from heaven, but wistfully wished that she were here. It had only been a few months, but it all seemed so long ago. Liza was starting to feel her age, she would be fifty-seven soon. Lawd, where did the time go? She thought, nudging one of the boys who was wiggling in his sleep. He soon stilled and Liza went back to her pondering. There had been more and more rumors about an impending war. Would she see her grandsons free? Would this terrible yoke be lifted from all their shoulders? And if it were, would their lives be any better? Would they even know how to act? What would become of them?
It was something she wanted to know and felt that it could happen none too soon. It was only a matter of time before Master Anderson or Theo got it into their heads again, to sell more children. Mary’s children would be safe, but Liza knew her grandsons would not and the thought of those sweet boys being sold was more than Liza could abide. She prayed long and hard throughout the night, asking the good Lord to spare her grandchildren and any more children of that horrendous act. Would God listen?
Mary was sitting on the veranda with Victoria, who was holding Ida. Victoria was cooing over the baby when they heard hoof beats coming down the road. Both women looked up as they saw a man in a patrol uniform come to a halt in front of the porch. Tipping his had to Victoria and ignoring Mary completely, he asked if the master of the house was home. Alarm shot through Mary; she could sense something was terribly wrong.
Victoria handed Ida over to her mother and followed the man into the house. Mary was afraid to follow, so she remained out on the porch. Ida was only a month old, yet she was as active and curious as any baby. Mary held Ida to her, she listened to the raised voices from within.
“Mr. Anderson, I was sent to tell you that the war has started! Fort Sumter was attached on the twelfth of April, and now Jefferson Davis is talking about taking office, up in Richmond. The South has seceded from the Union North.” The rider expostulated, his face ruddy with excitement.
“Oh, sweet Jesus.” Victoria said and sat down hard on the brocade divan, a trembling hand going to her heart. Her face paled alarmingly and John took her hand, asking the patrolman, “What does this mean? What will happen here?”
“Hell, beg pardon, mam. Mr. Anderson, keep doing what you want, them niggers is stayin’ slaves. Ain’t no farmer gonna give them up. We’ll wup them Yanks and show’em they shouldn’t have mess with things that ain’t none of their business.” The rider crowed.
John walked the man to the door, wanting him out of his home, he knew this war business was upsetting his wife.
“Mary, go see to your mistress, she’s upset.” He called as he walked the rider down to his horse. His mind was racing. What did this mean for him and his family? He would need to speak to his sons. He’d have to send word.
Mary hurried into the house, stunned at the incredible news. What was all this going to mean to them? Would there be fighting here on the farm? A thrill of fear shot through Mary, and she clutched Ida closer to her breast. She found the mistress staring into space on the settee. Placing a hand under Victoria’s arm, she helped the older woman to her feet. The went up the stairs and Mary helped Victoria to her bedchamber, turning down the counterpane. She set Ida in a small cradle in the corner of the room. The old cradle had been Megan’s so many years before. Because they spent so much time in the room, Victoria had insisted they use the cradle.
Mary poured cool water from the pitcher into the floral basin. Wringing the cloth out, she placed it on Victoria’s eyes and forehead. Mary murmured quietly to Victoria, holding Victoria’s frail withered hand. For the first time, Mary noticed the light brown spots on the older woman’s hands. Her heart twisted, it hit her, she realized her mistress was getting old, not getting old, but was old. She looked at the weathered face, pale with fine spidery wrinkles. Her neck sagging with thick blue veins sloping down beneath the thin skin to her collarbones. For the first time, Mary saw her mistress as elderly.
The faded blonde hair had turned to silver and gray. She didn’t know how old her mistress was. Mary tried to remember her mistress an hour ago, had she been this old? She couldn’t remember, now looking at the old woman, she seemed to have always been that way. Mary shook her head; it had been the same with her own mother. One moment she was her mother, the next moment, she was just old, in the blink of an eye.
Ida started fussing and Mary quickly gathered her daughter up. Unlacing her bodice, she put Ida to her breast. A gentle loving smile crossed Mary’s face as she looked down at her daughter’s tiny expression. Ida had taken after Henry, her dark skin contrasted greatly with her mother’s own light skin. She was long and Mary knew that Ida would be a tall woman one day, perhaps taller than herself. She leaned down to kiss the small dark crown, and inhaled her sweet baby scent. Her fingertip traced the soft curve of the baby’s cheek.
Mary hummed softly to her baby, a lullaby her mother had hummed to her. She rocked back and forth, patting the baby’s bottom as she did. Switching breasts, Ida latched on with a vengeance, pulling on the nipple. Mary winced at her daughter’s appetite, just like her father. She grinned down, wishing her mother were here to see the baby. One long leg shot out of the wrapping and Ida’s toes spread, reminding Mary of a frog’s foot. She grinned and tickled the foot, then tucked it back in the swaddling.
Mary heard Theo coming into the house, apparently, he had heard the news of war. She looked over at her mistress, the woman was asleep, her mouth hanging slack. After the final burp, Mary laid Ida in the cradle. Mary slipped from the room and closed the door so Victoria wouldn’t be disturbed. She made her way downstairs, hearing her master’s voice, it sounded as if he were arguing with Theo. She stood by the study door, listening to the two men, looking through the crack. She saw her friend, Patina, listening as well. Both women stood frozen.
“By God you will not leave, I need you here on the farm. Just because there’s a war, does not mean you have to up and leave. You are to be married soon and I want you here with your bride. You have responsibilities to your family and to this farm.” John told his son, his face turning red.
“I’m not a child father, I am a man, full grown. This is my decision. Todd is going, I know he will, and I know Samuel will as wel
l. I can’t stand by, while others go off to fight. I am not a coward, father.” Theo argued, his face also turning crimson.
“Son, please think of what you are doing? How will I run this place, you have taken over and you’re doing a splendid job son, I can’t manage without you.” John coxed.
“Tall Tom can run this farm without me, he knows what to do and doesn’t need either one of us. I’m sorry father, I must go. I’m going to see Sarah; I have to tell her to postpone our wedding until I come home. I can’t leave her married, alone, I don’t think that would be fair.” It sounded as though Theo had already made up his mind and wasn’t going to listen to reason, Mary thought.
Patina was nearly white; the color having left her face. She had a stunned look and her lips trembled. Mary hurried back upstairs; she didn’t want to be caught eavesdropping. Her mind was all a swirl, Theo was leaving and she knew Todd and Samuel would follow. Who would be here if war came rolling through? Who would protect them from the Yanks? She didn’t know who the Yanks were, but they sounded frightening. A shiver of fear vibrated through her body. What would become of them?
In the days, weeks and months that followed, many young men left their wives and sweethearts. Many young men left home and many never returned. Mr. Anderson had gathered his slaves together; it was late winter. His strong voice rang over the crowd, the wind whipping wildly, blowing the leaves into small tornadoes about the yard.
“I know all of you have been hearing rumors and such about the war. Some terrible fights are being fought as we speak. Mr. Lincoln, that is our president, has said he wants to set the slaves free. I don’t know what will happen at the end of this war, I don’t know who will win. I do know that it is hard out there, I have been getting letters from my boys, who are out there fighting.” He said, his voice catching in his throat at the mention of his sons. John Anderson looked old and frail, as though he had aged twenty years.