“Now!” The midwife gently worked the little arm back inside as Aryl and Claire applied pressure, and then to Aryl’s shock, her own hand disappeared to the wrist. He looked a little green and felt slightly queasy as he helped push the unyielding mass from above.
“Stop!” she called just as another contraction racked Arianna. She passed out immediately after it, and they set to work again. There was a sudden shifting under their hands with the third try, and they gawked with wide eyes.
“Did that work?” Aryl breathed. Before the midwife could answer, there was a rush of liquid, splashing the bed and up onto the midwife’s birthing gown.
“I thought her water broke this morning?” Claire asked.
“It did. This must have been behind the baby. When we moved him, it was free to flow. By the size of her, she’s made too much fluid. I’ve never seen so much . . . .”
Aryl took a step back. “Do you need me anymore?” He wiped his forehead and looked at Arianna's unconscious face pitifully.
“No, thank you, Aryl, very much. Why don’t you go down and make sure Caleb’s doing all right?” He opened the door to see Margaret, Kathleen and Ava rushing up the stairs with Ethel leading the group. Aryl stepped aside as they streamed in.
“You missed all the fun,” he said shakily.
Ethel ran straight to the midwife. “The doctor is on an emergency. He can’t come.” She glanced at her unconscious daughter-in-law and back to the midwife.
“We’ve handled it,” she said proudly. “Shouldn’t be long now.”
Soon, Ava came downstairs smiling. “It’s showing. Should only be a few more minutes.” She took a pot of boiling water back up with her, so Caleb wouldn’t think that his water-boiling efforts were in vain.
“What’s showing?” Caleb asked.
Jon laughed and put a hand on his shoulder. “C'mon, Caleb. You know how this works.”
Caleb paced the kitchen, now mumbling to himself.
“It’s been too quiet,” he muttered anxiously. “What if something went wrong?”
“I’m sure it’s fine, Caleb,” Aryl reassured. “They’ll call you as soon as it’s born.” Everyone looked at the ceiling as there was a loud commotion and a blood curdling scream from Arianna.
“I need to be in there.” Caleb made for the stairs.
“Now, son, I think it best if you just let the women do what they know how to do. You’ll just be in the way. They’ll call you when he’s here.”
It was the first full sentence Hubert had spoken to Caleb since their arrival. Caleb turned and asked sarcastically, “Oh, are you speaking to me?”
“Yes. And I’m telling you to let the women be. They know how to handle this.”
“That’s my wife and child up there.”
Arianna let out another guttural scream. Caleb looked up at the ceiling. “How many damn times growing up did you wake me up in the middle of the night to help with a calving? If it was important for me to be there for the birth of a cow or a horse, don’t you think maybe it’s important for me to be there for the birth of my own son?” He didn’t wait for a reply, but ran up the stairs.
“Darn kids and their newfangled ideas, being in the room during a woman’s labor. Humph.” Hubert crossed his arms indignantly.
Caleb let himself in the room and ignored the midwife’s minor protests. He stood beside the bed. Arianna looked too weak to continue.
“Caleb, with the next pain, sit her up as high as you can.” A second later, he lifted her and they all yelled for Arianna to push as hard as she could while the midwife counted. The midwife blew some hair out of her own face and wiped her forehead with a bloody sleeve.
“This should be it,” she panted.
And it was.
With one more gut wrenching push, Samuel Robert slipped out of his mother and onto the bed. Arianna lay back gasping, and Caleb stared at the little blue and white baby as the midwife cleared his mouth and smacked his bottom, causing him to let out a piercing cry. Caleb laughed with relief, and the midwife held him up for Arianna to see.
“He’s perfect,” Caleb said, smiled wide and kissed Arianna on the forehead. “Just perfect.”
“His arm is a bit bruised,” the midwife pointed out. “But not broken. It will heal.” She handed him to Caleb, who knelt by the side of the bed and laid the baby between himself and Arianna.
“You should try to get him to nurse. He’s probably hungry.” The midwife smiled down on the three, pleased with her efforts that most likely saved both mother and child. Caleb helped Arianna reposition herself, and she cuddled Samuel close. He latched on without any help or prodding and began to nurse ferociously.
“Goodness. That was easy,” Arianna said, her voice weak but happy. Caleb helped pull her bedraggled hair back and washed her face and neck with a cool cloth. She leaned her head back to enjoy the relaxing moment. The room was quiet except for the small grunts and slurps of the newborn nursing.
Suddenly Arianna’s head pulled forward and she grunted.
“That’s the afterbirth. It’s not near as bad as labor pains,” the midwife reassured a newly frightened Caleb as Arianna eased down off the contraction. Without warning, another pain overtook her causing her arms to go limp. Caleb scooped Samuel up. The midwife lifted the sheet, and her eyes bulged. “Oh my God,” she whispered.
“What! What’s wrong?” Caleb yelled out in confusion as Arianna yelled out in pain and Samuel yelled out in hunger.
“There’s another baby!”
“What?!” the room cried out in unison.
“I don’t know why I didn’t see. Claire, hurry, get me more towels!” The whole room burst into a flurry of activity, as one contraction surged into another, hardly allowing Arianna time to catch her breath. Aryl and Jonathan stood in the hallway, listening, hands in pockets and heads lowered in concern.
“How can there be another baby!” Caleb cried over Samuel’s intense, choppy wails.
“She’s having twins!” the midwife snapped impatiently, motioning Kathleen and Margaret on each side to hold Arianna’s legs. Caleb looked helplessly between the howling baby in his arms and Arianna.
Ava took the baby. “Help Arianna,” she said, worried he was so frightened he very well might drop Samuel.
“Is there anything we can do?” Aryl asked into the small opening of the door. Ava walked into the hall and handed Aryl the baby.
“Hold him,” she ordered and hurried back into the room. Arianna’s grunts and cries were near constant, but she couldn’t rise with each contraction any longer. The midwife yelled for towels and twine. Caleb dropped to his knees, kissed Arianna’s hand, and felt completely useless.
“Caleb! Get up! You have to help push the baby out,” the midwife shouted.
“What!” he cried with owlish eyes.
“She doesn’t have the strength to do this.” He slipped an arm behind her to push her upright, but the midwife stopped him. “It doesn’t matter if she sits up if she has no more strength to push!” she yelled. “Here, when I say push, push here.” She positioned his hands at the top of her stomach, and Caleb braced himself, waited for the cue. Arianna lay with her head rolled to the side, only the peak of the pains stirring her to light consciousness now.
“Push!” Caleb gave a little downward pressure and the midwife yelled for more. “A little more, Caleb, you’re doing fine, keep it up.” Sweat rolled down his temples, and although he was hyperventilating, he felt like he was suffocating.
“Here it is!” the midwife yelled with relief. Caleb saw a tiny scalp covered in white balm tinged with blood begin to crown before receding again. A moment later, almost effortlessly this time, the babe glided into the waiting and warm hands of the midwife.
“It’s a girl,” Caleb whispered. “Ahna, it’s a girl.”
Arianna was unconscious and breathing long and deep. The midwife worked quickly, clearing the airway, rubbing the little body to aide circulation, and tying the cord. The room fell silent as ev
eryone waited for the cry. The babe was lifeless and silent; blue, flaccid limbs splayed open. The midwife’s face was set in stone, determined not to lose this child. She rubbed the baby furiously, cleared the little airway twice, but the little girl still appeared lifeless. Grasping the infant by the ankles, she held it high in front of her.
The second smack on its bottom was much harder than the first, and the baby sucked in a ragged breath and let out a piercing scream. The whole room exhaled in relief, and Caleb sunk to his knees by the bed with his head in his hands. The midwife swaddled the baby, who was smaller than her twin, and handed her with shaking hands to Caleb. She had a tuft of raven, black hair and her mother’s pointy nose. He smiled with incredulous wonder at the little surprise and then panicked.
“Wait!” he called out, frightened, his eyes searching the room. “Where’s the other one?”
Ava laughed and said, “Aryl has him. I’ll go get him.” She poked her head out to see Aryl in the hall with Samuel sleeping on his shoulder as he patted his little back and paced with a light bounce.
“Aryl, you can bring him in now,” she said softly. He made his way to the door with the slow bounce-walk. Jonathan pushed off the wall opposite the door and hugged Ava.
“That was intense,” he whispered.
“Yeah. And it was worse in there,” she teased. “But they’re both here and healthy. It’s a good day,” she said and smiled, glancing back at the door.
“Are you scared?” he asked, with a nod to her stomach.
“Terrified,” she spoke wide-eyed with a smile.
“Will you let me be with you? When it’s time?” he asked timidly.
“I expect you to be with me,” she said quietly and seriously, meeting his eyes.
∞∞∞
Arianna had stirred into awareness and looked on wearily as Aryl laid Samuel next to his sister on the bed between Arianna and Caleb. “I thought it was a dream,” she said with a hoarse whisper. “Are there two of them?”
“There really are,” Caleb said, running a finger lightly over each of the tiny foreheads. “We didn’t think of a girl’s name. I guess we better get on that,” he said with a smile. They stared in awe at the two small bundles snuggled in next to each other and perfectly content; tiny, pink, rosebud mouths appeared totally relaxed, but their little transparent eyebrows still held a lingering grimace from their arduous journey into the world. Friends and family gathered quietly at the foot of the bed enchanted by the peaceful new family.
Little Girl began squirming, her arms escaping the swaddling and let out a sudden wail of discontent. Samuel frowned and pouted in annoyance and then joined her in howling as her little fist flew over and popped him in the mouth.
“Hey, now, it’s a little early to start fighting,” Caleb said with a laugh. He tucked her arms back in the swaddling and placed his hand over the bundle, slowly rocking her back and forth until she settled before he leaned over his babies and kissed Arianna. “You did good,” he said, touching his forehead to hers. “You were amazing. I had no idea you were that strong.”
“Neither did I. But I couldn’t have done it without you,” she whispered.
Several hours later, when all of the friends and family had left, Caleb went downstairs, holding Samuel tight against his chest. His father sat at the kitchen table. An oil lamp burning in the center gave an amber glow of comfort to the kitchen. Caleb stopped at the bottom of the stairs for a moment and stared at his father’s back. He sat hunched over his coffee with his head bowed. Every third breath ended with a deep exhale and he sounded very tired.
“Mom go to bed?” Caleb rounded the table, facing him from the side.
“Mmm.” Hubert kept staring inside his mug.
“Does ‘Mmm’ mean yes or no?” he demanded.
“Yes.”
“This is really getting monotonous, Dad.”
“Mmm.”
Caleb’s eyes flared as he blew out his breath in frustration. Hubert rose to leave the room without meeting Caleb’s glare. Caleb stepped in front of him while moving Samuel to cradle his small head in the crook of his arm.
“If that’s the way you want it, fine, Dad,” he said, taking a step closer to him, his voice low but imperative. “You can hate me until the day you die. But you’re not going to hate him.” He pushed the baby into Hubert’s arms and Hubert sat down again. He held him awkwardly for a moment, looking back at Caleb with an astonished expression. Caleb took a step away, keeping his eyes on Samuel. Hubert slowly looked down as Samuel pursed his lips and scrunched his face, threatening to cry but quickly changed his mind and drifted off again.
“No, hold him like this.” Caleb stepped forward to rearrange the baby in his arms. As he stepped away again, he grumbled, “I know you remember how.” He collapsed into a chair from exhaustion.
“What did you name him?” his father asked quietly, worming a finger into the baby’s fist.
“Samuel Robert. After both of our grandfathers.”
Hubert nodded tightly and cleared his throat, unexpectedly moved with emotion. “He looks like you,” he said a moment later, his voice cracking. “Darker hair, though.” He touched the wisps of dark brown hair that lightened to a deep auburn color at the temples.
“I’ll be right back.” Caleb left abruptly, returning a few moments later with another small bundle. “Got two for the price of one,” he joked and held the other baby out. Hubert looked lost for a moment and then shifted Samuel further into the crook of his arm, allowing Caleb to rest the second baby in the crook of the other.
“Oh, now, she’s her mother to her toes,” he said and grinned. “What did you name her?” Caleb laughed a short laugh.
“Well, we never talked about girls' names. For now, we’re calling her Little Girl. We’ll come up with something. We’re accepting ideas if you’ve got any.”
“I’ll think on it,” he said softly. They sat in silence for a long time, listening to the even breathing, soft grunts and squeaks from the babies. “I don’t hate you, Caleb,” he said suddenly, with his eyes on Samuel. “I’ve been mad as hell for a long time . . . but I don’t hate you.”
Caleb nodded and took his words head on. “What can I do?”
His father shook his head slowly. “Nothing. I’ll just have to get past it.”
“How?”
Hubert took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. “I suppose, if you hadn’t sold Dad’s farm and run off, you wouldn’t have met the wild one.” He paused to glance up at the ceiling with a smirk. “Somehow managed to tame her and then go on to have these two precious little things.” He gently bounced his elbows to keep both babies pacified.
“I guess that’s one way to look at it,” Caleb said, though fatigue marking his words, he was grateful for the breakthrough with his father.
“I guess I’m a grandpa,” he whispered, looking back and forth to each baby.
“I guess you are.”
He looked up from the babies with peaceful eyes. “You did good.”
May 13th 1930
“How’s that easel working out?”
“Wonderfully. Thank you so much for making it, Aryl,” Claire said, smiling as she painted. He walked up behind her and put his hands on her shoulders.
“Another lighthouse. This one seems happier.”
“It is.”
“But not perfectly happy.” He pointed to a dark spot far off over the ocean. “Is that a storm lurking?”
“There’s always a storm lurking,” she said quietly. He watched her work for a moment, as she tipped the rolling waves with white paint.
“Let’s go for a walk.” He hadn’t presented it in the form of a question and walked to the closet for her sweater before she could answer.
“But we’re due at Arianna’s in an hour.” She hadn’t taken her eyes off the painting. “I want to see those babies again.”
“We’ll be back in plenty of time,” he assured. Outside, she shivered and was glad he had brought her sweate
r. “Cold snap. Hope it breaks before Monday,” he said, glancing up and around as if the sky would tell him whether Monday would hold favorable working conditions.
“Where are we going?”
“Not too far,” he said and smiled. “There’s something I want to show you. I’ve been waiting to see if it was going to work out. And it did. I think you’ll like it.” She gave him a confused look, and he put an arm around her shoulder. “You’ll see.” They had walked a short way to the west then a short way to the north when Aryl stopped and faced her. “We’re moving out of my parents’ house,” he announced.
She looked at him curiously, as if he were fibbing.
“Soon as we can get packed, actually,” he continued with an excited smile.
“Aryl, how? Where? Wh–”
He turned her by the shoulders, and she faced a small, white house with black shutters. The yard was neglected and the short, wooden fence needed repair.
“Aryl . . . how?” She stared at the little house and thought surely it was too good to be true that they could have a home of their own again so soon.
“The owner of a small shop in town, well, he went out of business. He’s moving his family in with his parents and wants to avoid losing this house. When times are better, he’s hoping to move back in. But that’s down the road. There's plenty of time for us to save and plan. So, what do you think?” he asked and grinned at her speechless expression. She threw her arms around him, laughing.
“I think I’m going to love not sleeping on a feather tick in the middle of your parents’ living room!”
“That’s the best part,” he said, hugging her back. “The owner is leaving all the furniture. He can’t store it at his parents’ house, so we get to use it all.” She pulled back, resting her hands on his shoulders and looked at him, stunned and pleased.
“I would have been happy to drag that old feather tick over here and sleep in our own living room in front of our own fireplace,” she said with a sincere smile.
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