“It’s not the end of the world,” she whispered. “That’s what Maura says.”
“It’s not.” A cold shiver went through Jonathan as he remembered the night Maura said those words to him and he realized Maura, too, was worried about the extent of Ava’s depression. “Is this what it was like?” he asked, trying to smooth down her rumpled hair. “When you watched me sink into oblivion?”
She thought she was incapable of producing more tears but more escaped.
“Well, I’m sorry for that, too,” he said softly. “I don’t expect anything, Ava. All I ask you to do is leave yourself open to the possibility of being happy again. Us being happy again. Don’t close yourself off. I really think it’s possible.” He lifted her chin. “I will die trying to make it happen. I won’t give up, I promise you.”
“I just don’t know that it's possible . . . for things to ever be like they were,” she said bleakly.
“They won’t be the same, Ava. So much has changed since October. It makes my head spin to think of how many times we were blindsided and forced to adapt. No, things won’t ever be the same. But,” he took her face in his hands, “that doesn’t mean that they can’t be good.”
April 26th 1930
“Oh, it’s adorable!” Arianna cried as she pulled the red, silk sleeping gown out of the box.
Ava smiled and said, “I thought you’d like it.”
She held it up to herself. “I just wonder if I’ll ever be able to fit into it!” she laughed as her large stomach distorted the sleek gown.
“You’re still thin as a rail, Arianna. It’ll fit wonderfully after the baby is born.” She handed her another box. “We got this for the baby.” Arianna drew from the box a sleeping gown for the baby; white cotton with embroidered yellow bunnies and teal-colored teddy bears sewn along the hem with thin yellow ribbon ties at the neck.
“Thank you. It's beautiful.” She reached up to hug Ava as Ethel walked in with a tray of small cakes and slices of pie.
The parlor was modestly decorated; a table held a small pile of presents and cards from a few friends abroad. Ethel set the tray down on the coffee table and handed Arianna a large box that was impossible to balance on what little lap she had left. Claire helped her to set it on the floor and then opened it for her, handing her the contents.
“This is from me. Hubert has something of his own he’d like to give you,” her mother-in-law said and lit up with a wide smile.
“Oh! Thank you so much!” she cried as Claire handed her pile after pile of cloth diapers Ethel had made, knowing from experience that Arianna hadn’t made nearly enough. Beneath those were a dozen infant gowns, a few knitted sweaters, and a crocheted yellow and white blanket made by Ethel as well.
“There’s more?” Arianna exclaimed as Claire handed her yet another pile.
Ethel told her, “These pieces aren’t new, but I thought I’d throw them in, just in case.”
“Just in case?” Arianna questioned and then understood. There were several folded pieces of Caleb’s baby clothes: tiny overalls, blue sleepers, miniature flannel farmer plaids, and one very well loved baby blanket. Ethel had preserved these pieces beautifully, and Arianna giggled as she tried to picture Caleb as a tiny seven-pound squirming mass of chub and spittle.
Just then, Hubert struggled through the door, awkwardly carrying a rocking horse. “This was Caleb’s as well. I cleaned it up a bit,” he said modestly. “I hope you like it.” Arianna looked up at Hubert, touched.
“It’s beautiful,” she whispered, admiring the dark mahogany of the horse’s head and curved rails, the carefully retouched colorful saddle and newly set mane made of black yarn. She struggled to her feet despite his protests and hugged him tightly. Her stomach pressed against his, and the new one kicked hard against him. Hubert pulled back, laughing. “Now don’t you start!” he scolded her stomach with a smile.
Claire led Arianna out to the porch to show her their gifts.
“Aryl made it,” she said proudly. Arianna smiled at the miniature version of his parents’ backyard swing, sanded soft and painted white. A small cradle hung from the hooks and beside it was a seat leaning back at a sharp angle that would replace the cradle once the baby was old enough to sit up.
“Oh, Claire, it’s wonderful! It’s so . . . wonderful!” She touched the swing, amazed at the craftsmanship.
“Those are from me,” she said, pointing to a small stack of paintings. She bent to pick them up and show them to Arianna; stunning, colorful animations of animals. There were four seasonals; winter snow bunnies, springtime blue robins, chubby pink pigs, a gelding standing under a tree vivid with foliage. Arianna was speechless and emotional. She hugged her friend tightly and retreated inside to the rocking chair, spasms in her back growing stronger.
Ava pulled out a pencil drawing from her bag, unframed and slightly creased. “He . . . Jean asked me to give this to you. He said he would give a gift to the baby after it is born. He wants to know what it is first.”
Arianna beheld the picture so amazing in detail of herself standing at the base of the Eiffel tower, the cityscape sketched to perfection in the background.
“I’ll thank him the next time I see him. And I’ll find a frame for this,” she said softly. “He is so sweet.”
Several of Ethel’s friends had stopped by, each delivering a handmade gift, and having a piece of cake, spilling advice to Arianna to the point of making her head spin. She felt thoroughly panicked by the time everyone left. She wondered how in the world she would remember everything and feared for her child’s life due to her own ignorance.
∞∞∞
“Congratulations, Caleb, here’s a little something for you,” Michael said and handed him a bottle of brandy wine with a big smile.
“Where did you get this?” he asked.
“I know a guy. Sit, have a drink and let us enlighten you of the horrors–I mean, ah, joys of fatherhood.” He chuckled and called for Aryl and Jonathan, who stood outside enjoying one of Jonathan’s preciously rationed cigars.
“So, how are things with Ava?” Aryl asked.
“A little better,” Jonathan said. “A far cry from where we need to be, but I can see she’s trying.”
“Trying not to hate you or trying to make it better?” Aryl asked with a laugh. “There is a difference.”
“I know. She’s trying to be open, trying not to shut me out, trying not to see Elyse every time she looks at Jean. And I guess, to a certain extent, trying not to hate me,” he said. “We’re just going to take it very slow.”
“That’s all you can do.”
“What about you?” he asked in return. “I never hear about you and Claire. What are you? The perfect couple or something?” he scoffed jokingly.
“Far from it,” Aryl said, smiling. “It’s hard, she really . . . .” He tried to find the right words. “She depends on me to keep her spirits up. It was worse in the tenement, of course, which is what fueled me to find something, anything to give everyone some hope, especially her. Even now, she still has a hard time. I get tired trying to keep her up, but I’d never tell her that.” He cast his eyes downward.
“We all depended on you, Aryl. I wouldn’t be here, in more ways than one, if it weren’t for you. We all wouldn’t be here in Rockport with at least a fighting chance at a new life. Hell, I sent for you first thing when Elyse showed up. I talked your ear off every day with all my problems, and Caleb, too. That had to be tiring.” He felt a small sting of guilt for his consummation with his own trials. “So, how are you then? You and Claire. What’s going on with you guys?” he asked.
Aryl shrugged. “Well, we decided to try for a baby. She swings back and forth, worries that it’s not the right time, like something is going to fly out of nowhere and make us regret it.”
Jonathan thought for a moment and said, “I think once you’ve lived through what we have, you don’t ever stop looking over your shoulder. You always feel like something is about to swoop in and destr
oy you.”
“Very true.” He nodded slowly. “I still feel like that a lot of the time. I know she does, too.” Aryl smiled. “I’m taking her to our lighthouse next month for our anniversary. It’s a surprise. My dad is helping me set everything up.” As if on cue, Aryl’s father’s laughter boomed from the house, something at Caleb’s expense, to be sure.
Aryl grinned toward the house. “I tried to think of what I could do to top last year’s anniversary, but, under the circumstances, of course, I can’t.” He shrugged helplessly as he looked far off, past the yard.
“Paris, wasn’t it?” Jonathan tried to remember where they disappeared to for two weeks last year.
“No, London.”
“Ah. That’s right. I’ve got until August to figure out something. Hopefully things will be better by then. I just keep trying to remember what you told me that first night when Jean arrived.”
“I’m surprised you remember anything I told you,” Aryl teased.
“No,” Jonathan said seriously. “I remember. Miracles happen . . . that’s what you said.”
Aryl smiled, brown eyes crinkling at the edges, and said, “They do. I really believe they do.”
May 7th 1930
Ava stood at the edge of the pier, waving frantically as the boats came into view. Jonathan squinted, watched her for a moment, and realized something wasn't right. He waved to the others to hurry along. Edging up to the pier, he threw the rope over.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, dropping off the side of the boat to the pier and tying down the boat.
“It’s Arianna,” she said breathlessly. “She’s in labor.” Jonathan stared at her stupidly for a moment, and then turned to yell for Caleb as he edged up to the pier. He ran to his boat, jumping the three feet over open water to the deck.
“Go. Arianna’s in labor.”
Caleb stood frozen. Jonathan gave him a shove, and he jumped to the pier, lost his balance, and nearly rolled off the other side into the water. Ava ran up to him and grabbed his sleeve, pulling him up.
“It started this morning, right after you left.” She guided him toward the car where Aryl’s mother waited in the driver’s seat.
“Your mom tried to stop it, had her go back to bed, but–”
“It’s too early,” he realized suddenly, turning to her with wild eyes. “Ava, it’s too early!”
“I know. Your mother has sent for the doctor. For now, she and a midwife are taking care of her. But she wants you.” She shoved him in the car, slammed the door and jumped into the front seat as Aryl’s mother sped off, leaving a plume of dust and sand in their wake. Aryl and Jonathan locked serious and fearful eyes and hurried to wrap up the boats’ work, so they could try to be of some help.
∞∞∞
“Arianna!” Caleb took the stairs two at a time and nearly knocked the midwife over, who was heading downstairs for more towels.
“Easy there!”
“How is she?” he asked, a lost, frightened look as sweat beaded up on his forehead.
“She’s all right. She’ll be glad you’re here. Why don’t you go in, see her for a moment, then settle yourself downstairs with the other men. It won’t be much longer now.”
“It won’t?” he asked in shock.
“No, her water broke just after dawn. The pains are only a few minutes apart now,” she said, patting him on the arm. “Now everything is going to be fine, don’t you worry.” He ran his hands through his hair and shifted his weight nervously.
“It’s too soon,” he whispered. His eyes darted around nervously.
“It’s early, true. But I’ve delivered earlier that’s survived. It’ll need a bit of extra care and nourishment, but we need to hope for the best. Now go see your wife. She's very tired. It’s been a long day for her. And no talk of the baby coming too soon. She’s scared enough as it is about that. No need to upset her more.” After giving the firm orders, she turned away, leaving Caleb to stare at the closed door.
He knocked softly and heard Kathleen’s voice call to come in. He entered hesitantly and took in the whole room. From afar, Arianna looked no different than when he left in the early morning.
“Caleb,” she whispered as he walked quickly over and sat on the edge of the bed. Closer now, he saw her ghostly pale face with cheeks red from exertion, dark and sunken eyes, and hair matted to her head with sweat.
“Ahna, honey, how are you?” He ruled his voice steady despite his panic, held her hand, and wiped the wet strands of hair out of her eyes.
“It hurts . . . .” she cried. Her eyes lost focus and her face grimaced, involuntarily drawn up to a half-sitting position from the pain and growled through her teeth. Caleb went white.
“What do I do?! What do I do?!”
“Just help hold her up,” Claire said. She handed him a wet cloth with a shaking hand. “Wipe her face and arms with this when it’s over.”
It ended suddenly, and she fell back on the bed, gasping. The midwife returned with an armload of supplies and began laying everything out where it needed to be for the doctor when he arrived. Caleb sat with her through five more pains. The last one in particular was violent and seemed to be a signal to the midwife.
“I think it’s time you head downstairs,” she said, gently laying a hand on his shoulder.
“No.” He kept his eyes on Arianna, who lay spent, eyes closed, relishing the brief moments between pains. “I’m not leaving.”
“Caleb,” she said his name as if she knew him personally. “I need to check your wife’s . . . progress. That’s a rather intimate procedure, and I think it best if–”
Irritated, he turned to her. “I’ve seen it before,” he said sharply. “Do what you need to do. I’m not leaving.” He turned back just as Arianna’s shoulders came off the bed, no longer growling, but screaming through to the end of the contraction.
The midwife moved to the bottom of the bed as Claire and Kathleen held the sheet up for privacy.
“Kathleen.”
The midwife’s voice was too calm. Kathleen focused on the midwife’s horror-struck face and then followed her gaze. It landed between Arianna’s legs; more specifically, to the tiny arm that protruded out.
“Go get that doctor. Now!” she whispered with urgency. Kathleen rushed out of the room. The midwife did what she could to get the little arm back inside, so she could turn the baby, but every attempt resulted in Arianna screaming bloody murder, gasping and wrenching out long streams of profanity.
“Caleb.” She moved beside him, pulled him up by the arm, and looked at him squarely. “I need you to go downstairs and–”
“I told you I’m not leaving!” he yelled at her. She grabbed his shirtsleeve and pulled him to the door, whispering through gritted teeth.
“Caleb. The baby is turned the wrong way. I need to move it, and I need you not to be here when I do it. It will be difficult. I need you to boil as much water as you can. If you want a healthy baby, then for the love of God, go boil some water!”
The midwife held her hand gently after Caleb left. “Arianna. The baby is turned the wrong way, dear. I’m going to need to move him. It’s going to hurt,” she said. Arianna met her eyes and nodded weakly. The midwife knew from experience that this process would be so arduous that Arianna may not have the energy to push when the time came. She called Claire over, who was now pale and shaking with fear.
“Go downstairs and get another woman. We’re going to need help.” Claire nodded, ran down the stairs, and bounded into the kitchen, looking for Ethel.
Aryl spotted her and quickly made his way across the room. “Claire. What’s wrong?”
“We need help . . . It’s, uh . . . .” She looked at Caleb across the room, who was yelling at a pot of water to boil faster. Jonathan was by his side, trying to calm him. She looked back at Aryl as a drop of sweat rolled down her temple. The panic in her eyes told him something was very wrong.
“Tell me,” he whispered and pulled her into a tight hug. She spo
ke quietly in his ear. “The baby is turned around. One arm is . . . sticking out. Arianna is exhausted and we need someone to help us turn it.” She pulled away to peer for Ethel or Kathleen.
“Is she going to be all right?” he asked in a hushed voice.
Uncertain eyes met his. “I don’t know.”
“I’ll help.”
“Aryl, no, it needs to be–”
“A woman? Well, there’s no other woman here. Ethel and Kathleen went to find the doctor, and Margaret and Ava went with Jean to get food from her house.”
He put an arm around her, turning her toward the stairs. “I’m not going to let Arianna or her baby die for the sake of modesty. Let’s go.” He took her shaking hand and pulled her up the stairs.
The midwife positioned Aryl and Claire on each side of Arianna. She felt for the baby then laid their hands where she wanted them and instructed them what direction to apply pressure when she gave the word. They stood waiting, hands at odd angles on Arianna’s massive stomach, locked eyes briefly, more frightened than they had ever been in their lives. Arianna lifted a limp hand and laid it on Aryl’s. “Thank you,” she whispered. She looked as if life was draining from her by the second, and the horror of it must have shown on his face.
“She’s very tired, but she’s a fighter,” Claire reassured and smiled down at Arianna, who attempted to return the smile as another pain consumed her suddenly.
“Keep the position of your hands. We’ll turn after this pain,” the midwife ordered and they stood stock-still and helpless as Arianna screamed through another twisting pain. Aryl instantly regretted taking his eyes off Claire as he caught sight of the tiny protruding arm, now turning blue from the constriction of the contraction. His face went white and his stomach did a little flip.
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