Naked in the Winter Wind

by Dani Haviland

  I looked over and saw Jody and Sarah rolling their eyes. Both had their hands to their mouths, stifling grins or chuckles, or maybe even belly laughs.

  “Julian,” I said as I walked over to his side, the coughing fit over, “I love you; I’ve told you that, but,” I leaned in and gave him a kiss on the cheek, “you’re not my type.” I walked over to Wallace’s side and snuggled next to him, still too apprehensive because of the topic of discussion to give him a kiss or a hug. “You’re just a little too straight-laced for me,” I said as I looked back at him.

  I turned to look up at Wallace. “I like a man who doesn’t have to button up all his buttons.” I put my finger under Wallace’s chin. His top button was undone. He looked down to see what I was doing. I flipped my finger up, popping him on the nose as I did so. “Gotcha,” I said.

  “You sure do.” He gathered me up in his arms, lifted me by the waist, and gave me a very long welcome home kiss. When we finally broke apart, he set me back on the chaise. “Now tell me about my other daughter,” he said, beaming with joy.

  His smile was genuine. It was as if I had just announced that he had won a new critter, and he wanted to know all the details. He pulled over the four-legged stool from in front of the hearth, eager to hear stories of his newly discovered daughter.

  But I wasn’t ready. I still had to find out what had happened at the battle at the mill. I couldn’t have been the only one who was injured. There had been muskets, guns, and all sorts of commotions, and I couldn’t remember much of anything. “First, tell me who else got hurt.”

  Wallace rose up from the stool, sat next to me on the chaise, and took my right hand. “I’m afraid that both Clayton and Clyde didn’t make it. You were right that there had to be a reason why both of them lived after the…the attack.”

  Wallace’s lips were tight, and it looked as if he were choking. “God, I hated them so much, and I felt like…like Ian had the right idea with vengeance, but I listened to you. Clyde was already dead, but Clayton apologized to me for both of them. I didn’t want to accept the apology, but I remembered that part in the Bible that said if I didn’t forgive, then how could I ever expect to be forgiven. I don’t think I will ever, could ever, do anything that horrid, but, well, they needed to be forgiven, and so I gave it to them—forgiveness.”

  Wallace looked at me to see how I was reacting to his story. He rubbed my hand, “It actually felt good to forgive them. It wasn’t just for them, though. After I forgave them, I found out that it helped me, too.”

  I gave a weak smile and scooted closer to him, not wanting to stop his recollection of the previous day’s events. “Just before the fighting was over, Clayton stepped in front of a bayonet that was meant for me. And earlier, Clyde had jumped in front of an officer who was aiming his pistol at Jody. That bullet hit Clyde in the throat. He died immediately. Clayton didn’t fare so well. He had been stabbed in the stomach, and held on for nearly an hour. I was by his side at the end. He just kept saying how sorry he was…” Wallace was choked up, the tears slipping down the sides of his red cheeks. “If I had gone out and killed them after they…they…did what they did to me, then they wouldn’t have been there to save Father and me. And then where would you and Sarah be?”

  A big frown covered me all the way to the ground. I looked over at Sarah and saw she had a similar reaction. I’m sure she was thinking the same thing I was: if our men were gone, would we go back to our former times?

  “But that’s not what happened, is it?” I asked, not really expecting an answer. “We’re all doing fine here in 1781 and ready to take care of the families we have here and now, right?”

  “Right!” came the resounding replies, the mood of everyone in the room immediately lifted.

  Well, almost everyone.

  I looked over and saw Jenny in the corner. I hadn’t even noticed that she had come into the house. She had picked up, and was now holding and cuddling, my baby girl. I was going to have to remember to ask everyone to call her by her middle name, Wren. I didn’t know if I was ready to let it be known that I had found out that in my ‘other time’ I was a Danielle. I had actually grown fond of her new name, and Wren seemed to fit her better anyway.

  Neither Wallace nor I realized that Jenny had been in the room when we had spoken of her brothers. I still had a hard time believing that those two degenerates, Clyde and Clayton, were related to her. And now those two were dead. Since she was still here, I had to assume she didn’t have any other family.

  “Wallace,” I called softly. “Do you think we could handle one more?” and nodded to Jenny.

  “Absolutely!” he whispered with delight. I tilted my head in her direction again, squinted my eyes, and frowned, giving him the look that said, ‘Well, ask her!’

  Wallace gently moved away from me and walked over to the girls. “Jenny, would you like Wren to be your little sister?” he asked.

  She looked up at him, surprised at his size as much as by the question, I think. I don’t know if she had ever been physically that close to him while he was standing. She looked back down at the little red-headed girl in her arms, and then back up to face him. “Could the other two be my brothers then?”

  “I wouldn’t have it any other way. They’re a matched set, you know. They all have the same birthday, parents, and everything.”

  Jenny’s face worked a few emotional twists: a frown, a deep thought, a grin, and then a huge smile. “Does that mean you’d be my father and Evie’d be my mother?”

  Wallace nodded, “Yes, that’s what that means. Would that be okay with you?”

  “A mother, a real mother! And a father, too!” Jenny was beside herself with joy, squealing with excitement. She was still holding onto her new baby sister, and the yelling was upsetting the little one; she started bellowing, too. “You’re my new sister, you’re my new sister,” she sing-songed. “And I’m the big sister to all three of you. Hah!” she said with pride.

  “Well grandpas and grandma, it looks like there’s another one in the family. Can’t say that she was any less pain to get,” I said and rubbed my left shoulder, “but the pregnancy was sure a lot shorter.”

  Ӂ Ӂ Ӂ

  It was evening. The adults were gathered around the kitchen table, sharing stories. Life was starting to settle back into our old routine—with a welcomed modification. Earlier, Sarah had set up a sleeping pallet for Jenny on the floor next to the playpen. The new big sister didn’t want to be far away from her new siblings. One of the babies started to fuss. I looked to see who it was, but Jenny lifted her head, saw where the movement was, and placed her hand through the rails and onto Judah’s back, rubbing it softly until he went back to sleep.

  Jenny had the most contented look on her face. I didn’t know if there was a word for it, but what I saw was peaceful satisfaction. Just wait until they’re in their terrible twos, I thought. Yes, and now there would be one more person to help me keep them out of trouble. Then I felt that ‘peaceful satisfaction’ smile come onto my face, and welcomed its presence.

  Ӂ Ӂ Ӂ

  The next morning started before the sun came up. It was the beginning of my first full day back home. First Wren started squawking. She didn’t know how to crow, but was still able to wake me with her none-too-subtle wail. There was no hesitation on my part to rise to the call of duty as chuck wagon. I had learned early on to get the first baby ‘busted in the mouth’ right away, so the other two didn’t waken.

  But it was the second loud noise that woke everyone else in the household: my screaming. I hadn’t planned on yelling. Then again, pain doesn’t always give you that option. When I heard Wren, I immediately sat straight up. I was aware after the fact that I was stiff, but still hadn’t had any trouble sitting up. But when I reached for Wren with my left arm, all traces of civilized behavior disappeared, and I was a screaming, shoulder-shot banshee.

  I had been asleep—totally pain-free—and then risen, half asleep, to a ten plus on the pain scale. It was no wo
nder that I found it impossible to contain the hysterics. Of course, all of the babies were panicked by mama’s screeching, and before I could even think to shut up, three men and two women, one very small, were at my side trying to find out the cause of the uproar. Each one of the men grabbed his godchild, and Jenny grabbed Wallace’s leg, trying to make sure her baby sister was okay. Sarah was tending to my shoulder—or trying to. I was thrashing my head back and forth, trying to shake the pain away.

  “Whisky,” Jody called. “Get whisky down her throat.”

  “Coming right up; and I’ll brew some willow bark tea,” said Sarah. “She can use that as a chaser for the whisky.”

  “Aarrgh! This is worse than labor!” I screamed. I was losing it, and I didn’t care.

  At least I didn’t care for about two whole seconds. One look at the fear on Jenny’s face and the concern on Wallace’s was enough to shock me back from hysteria to just plain pain and frustration.

  I stumbled over to the chaise, panting, clutching my arm. I hadn’t screamed with labor pains because I used the Lamaze breathing method. Who was to say that it wouldn’t work in this situation? I sat back, and huffed and puffed, eyes focused on the pink bundle on the cold hearth. Slow deep breathing in to the count of five, blow it out to five, and start again.

  After a minute or two, I regained my composure. “Sorry ‘bout that. It was the pain, you know. God, I wish I had something for it. Here, would you help me with Wren?” I asked Wallace.

  He didn’t say anything, but brought her to me, her tiny fists clenched as tight as her eyes, little tears making their way down her cheeks. I wiped away her tears and felt them reappear on my cheeks, my feelings of inadequacy manifesting themselves in saline drops. Wallace untied the 21st century hospital gown I had arrived in so I could bare my breast. “You’ll be fine; you just have to give it some time. I’m here to help you now.” He placed a delicate kiss on top of my head, then walked outside to check on our other children.

  Jody and Julian had taken the boys outside and were employing the walk-and-talk infant sedation technique. It must have worked; I didn’t hear anything but footsteps and grandpa whispers, the soft sounds of adult men talking to their progeny. I felt Jenny’s hand move the hair out of my face. I looked up and saw the fear in her eyes hadn’t disappeared.

  “I am so sorry. I can’t believe I did that. I’m sure I’ll be better soon,” I apologized.

  She leaned forward and her lips brushed my cheek. “Mama. I can call you that, can’t I?”

  I nodded and smiled. Hearing her say that felt like a warm, moist kiss that covered my whole body all at once. I didn’t have to wait a year to hear it from one of the babies; this one could—and did—want to call me by that wonderful name. I felt goose bumps all over and welcomed them.

  “When you get better, can you fix my hair? I never had a hairbrush. I have to use my fingers to comb my hair. She,” Jenny nodded to Sarah who was pouring a cup of whisky for me, “said that you had a comb and some sweet smelling soap that you would, uh, probably, maybe, could share with me? I tried to keep clean, all over clean, but we didn’t have no soap. You see, I saw that people treated you nicer if you were clean. I tried to tell that to my brothers, but they wouldn’t listen. Do you think maybe you could put braids in my hair when…when your arms work better?”

  “I would love to do that. But we don’t have to wait. You can ask your Grannie. Maybe she can do it today. That is if she has the time,” I said and looked at Sarah. She was standing by, waiting for me to finish my little talk with Jenny before handing me the drink. I saw that she had made me a crème liqueur.

  “Ah, just what the doctor ordered,” I said as I pushed my nose into the cup and inhaled deeply. I took a cautious sip, and then another. The warmth worked its way down my throat, then radiated equilaterally down my shoulders to the inside of my elbows. I set the cup down and let Jenny take Wren. She got a big, very unladylike burp out of her, and then set her back into the playpen.

  “Grannie, Grannie, Grrrannie,” Jenny was trying out the name of her new grandmother, letting the sounds play on her lips and tongue. I looked at her and couldn’t help but think, ‘Well, this one will be easy to entertain.’ Then I noticed it again, the object of my earlier meditation.

  “What’s that pink package over there?” It didn’t look like it was 18th century vintage, and I couldn’t place where I had seen it before.

  “That’s the robe you had on when you, shall we say, walked back home?” answered Sarah, nodding to Jenny. She picked it up and handed it to Wallace, who had just given me Leo to feed. I settled back on the chaise, happy to be able to cuddle my little rascal again.

  “Wallace, do you want to help her with this?” Sarah asked. “It’s the only thing she has to wear other than those dreadful hospital gowns. Which, by the way,” she said, turning to me, “are going to be reconstructed into useful garments for the babies. There isn’t enough fabric in them to make anything decent for you. I think there might still be enough on that bolt of green calico for another dress. We, rather I, can get started on it today unless,” she grinned, “someone else shows up with a musket ball in her shoulder.”

  Even though the fabric was relatively heavy, it would have to suffice for a day of so, even in this August heat. Wallace opened out the robe for me. It was soft and I recognized it as terrycloth cotton. “Look, there’s something in the pocket, or rather pockets.”

  Wallace set the robe down on the table and started pulling items out of the pockets. “What are these?” he asked as he held up little white plastic bottles with color printed labels on them.

  “Oh, my Lord!” I exclaimed. “I don’t believe it. Are they all the same, or do they have different names on them?”

  “Let’s see—here, I’ll set them out on the table. Amoxicillin? That sounds Greek. Percocet, Oxycodone, here’s a couple of tubes of something: triple antibiotic and Bacatracin?”

  Wallace was doing a pretty decent job of pronouncing the names of the medications, but I couldn’t help giggle. I worked my way up into joyous laughter and exclaimed, “Sarah, wake up woman! Give me a glass of water and one of those Oxycodones. And we might want to get me started on the antibiotic, just in case. Sarah, Sarah?”

  Sarah was in a state of shock, wide-eyed, pawing at the bottles as if they were the priceless commodities that they really were. She looked up at me with the question in her eyes, ‘How?’

  “I think Master Simon wanted to make sure I recovered completely. But I think there’s more than enough here to treat me. Congratulations, Sarah, it’s twins: antibiotics and pain killers.”

  “No,” corrected Sarah, “it’s triplets: antibiotics, pain killers, and a mystery bottle.” She held up a little blue bottle, obviously not 21st century vintage. “Do you know what this is?”

  “Uh, oh; my bad,” I confessed. “I took it out of Master Simon’s pocket, just in case. Well, I was kind of out of my mind and… Oh, shit. He’s going to be pissed!”

  “Who’s gonna be pissed?” asked Jody as he walked in the door. I looked up and saw the full complement of the extended Pomeroy family.

  “Oh, just the wagon driver, but don’t worry about it. I doubt Master Simon will be coming back, at least anytime soon.” I wasn’t ready to explain Fountain of Youth water to anyone, except maybe my healer, and that would be done on a one-on-one basis. “Sarah, let’s find a safe place for that bottle. It’s more precious than gold or diamonds. And even I have a hard time believing what it is, so let’s leave this one as a mystery, shall we?”

  Everyone in the room looked at each other. Nods and shrugs of agreement bounced back and forth until everyone was satisfied. Everyone, that is, but Jenny. “Are these a mystery, too?” she asked as she held up the bunch of bananas.

  “Nope. These are part of a balanced breakfast. Is anyone else hungry?” I asked, and shoved the bunch under my free arm, using the hand cradling Leo to pull free one of the yellow fruits, waving it in the air, showing it off li
ke it was a juicy drumstick. “Let’s have a taste of South America, shall we?”

  Ӂ Ӂ Ӂ

  August 3, 2013

  Moses H. Cone Hospital

  Greensboro, North Carolina

  The chaos settled down at the hospital after a couple of hours. No one knew of—or could find any history of—a Dr. Em. Leah did find that Dr. Swenson had performed the emergency surgery to remove the musket ball lodged near Jane Doe’s heart, but didn’t know anything about the mysterious young woman other than, yes, she was lactating. Dr. Johnson, the anesthesiologist, confirmed that. He said she kept mumbling, “My babies, I have to get back to my babies,” until he had her fully sedated.

  “Wow, twins. At least,” Leah mumbled as she walked back to the room where her much younger mother had been just hours before. Nurse Gata was there with an orderly who was changing the linens and preparing the room for the next patient.

  “Nurse Madigan,” the supervisor said formerly. “I need to speak with you in my office, please.”

  “Oh, crap,” mumbled Leah. She’d probably lose her job, or at least get written up, for this debacle. “Yes, ma’am, I’ll be right there,” she said. She looked around the room one more time and shook her head. ‘If I didn’t have witnesses, I wouldn’t believe it myself,’ she thought.

  Nurse Gata was waiting for her in her office. “I want to thank you for your help this morning. Your observations about the man were correct. I was told that the police found the stolen car, but the kidnapper and the patient have not yet been found. Now, that being said, didn’t you say that the Jane Doe was a relative of yours?”

  “I did, ma’am,” Leah replied without emotion. She wasn’t going to explain how she was related to the missing patient—to her supervisor or anyone else. No one would believe her anyhow. Nurse Gata had said something else. “Excuse me?”

  “Here are the belongings that came in with the patient. Since we don’t have anyone else to claim these, would you like to take care of them? There’s not much for clothing—just her old colonial costume—but she did have a smartphone in her pocket. It’s a rather nice one, and since she was family, maybe you can get it back to whoever should have it.”