Red Bird

by Stephanie Grace Whitson

  “Oh, my dear.” Augusta said softly. “My dear, dear, Sarah.” Augusta sat down next to Sarah and laid her dimpled hand over Sarah’s clasped hands. Putting one arm around Sarah’s shoulders, Augusta drew her into an embrace that broke through the walls that Sarah Biddle had built around her secret.

  “Why?” Augusta asked gently. “Why didn’t you tell anyone?”

  “There was no need.”

  “But you were entitled.”

  “To nothing.” Sarah pulled away from Augusta and stood up, the wedding gown over her arm. Pulling off one glove, Sarah said wistfully, “Who would have believed it? Mr. David Braddock of Philadelphia marrying an orphaned housekeeper.” Sarah looked gravely at Augusta. “I told him that people would disapprove. Somehow I knew it wasn’t meant to be. Tom and Dr. Gilbert promised never to tell.” Laying the wedding gown on the couch beside Augusta, Sarah knelt by the trunk and began to refold her trousseau. “No one must ever know.”

  Augusta frowned. “Sarah. You mustn’t keep this inside. You’ve had a terrible loss. You must face it, and grieve it, and then get on with life. Don’t try to say it doesn’t hurt, Sarah.”

  When Sarah looked up from her place by the trunk, her eyes were brimming with unspilled tears. Tenderly she pulled the wedding gown towards her, clasping it to herself. Smoothing its wrinkles she folded it gently back into the trunk.

  “I’m not saying it doesn’t hurt, Aunt Augusta. I’m saying I won’t have anyone know, because it was good and true and beautiful, and I won’t have it brought out where strangers can discuss it and doubt it and laugh at it.” Closing the lid to the trunk Sarah said softly, “I’d appreciate it if Asa could take this up to my room, Aunt Augusta.” She smiled sadly as tears began to fall. Heading for the door, Sarah turned back to Augusta.

  “I’m not denying the hurt. I just can’t—” she took a deep breath and stopped. She stood with her hand on the doorknob for a long moment before choking out, “I just can’t find the right words. There aren’t any words.”

  Sarah Biddle went up to her room. When Asa Green knocked, she had him put the trunk in the middle of the room. When Tom Biddle arrived home from school that day, he was met by Augusta and a list of chores that kept him hard at work all evening. “Just leave Sarah be, Tom. She wasn’t feeling well this afternoon and I sent her to bed. It’s nothing serious, but I don’t think she should be disturbed.” When it grew late and Augusta finally let him go upstairs, she did so with a reminder not to bother Sarah.

  Tom crept down the hall towards his own room, but couldn’t resist checking in on his sister. He opened the door to her room without making a sound. Augusta had said she was in bed, but Sarah wasn’t in bed. She was obviously deep in thought, unaware that Tom had opened the door. The deep sadness on her face made Tom frown with concern. I don’t think she should be disturbed. Augusta’s warning took on new authority, and something convinced Tom to obey her and leave his sister alone. Pulling the door closed, he left Sarah undisturbed, sitting by the window, staring at the contents of an open trunk.

  Chapter 18

  By love serve one another.

  Galatians 5:13

  Augusta Hathaway peered over her newspaper at Sarah Biddle. The two women had retired to Augusta’s apartment, Augusta to read her newspaper, and Sarah to add to the ever-increasing pile of quilt blocks in her sewing basket. Sarah worked slowly, pausing often to lean back in her chair. She seemed half asleep, but Augusta knew that Sarah’s weariness was the kind that more often prevented sleep.

  “You haven’t been sleeping well, Sarah,” Augusta said quietly.

  Sarah started at the sound of Augusta’s voice. Looking up she replied guiltily, “I’m sorry, Aunt Augusta. Has my midnight descent to the kitchen been waking you?”

  “Nonsense, Dear.” Augusta folded her newspaper. “Not at all. I just know you haven’t been sleeping. Cora says you’re in the kitchen most every morning when she comes in. Says your sewing is usually always laid out, but you’re not sewing when she comes in.” Augusta paused and added gently, “I’m worried about you, Dear. Can’t I do something to help?”

  Sarah looked down at the sewing in her lap and smiled halfheartedly, shaking her head.

  “That trunk in your room, Sarah, we should store it somewhere, somewhere out of sight. It’s not good for you see it day after day.”

  Sarah looked piercingly at Augusta. “I don’t want that trunk moved.”

  Augusta unfolded her newspaper and Sarah picked up her sewing. After a few moments Augusta asked, “Would you ride out tomorrow and check on LisBeth for me? I’ve been out there three times since Jim left. LisBeth could do with some younger company.”

  “Oh, Aunt Augusta,” Sarah protested, “I’m not fit company for LisBeth. Not now.”

  Augusta looked over the newspaper at Sarah. “Maybe not, but she’ll certainly be good company for you. Remember, it wasn’t that long ago that LisBeth was struggling with the same feelings. You must know that she will understand.”

  “I don’t need understanding, Aunt Augusta,” Sarah said softly. “I just need to forget.”

  “No,” Augusta said firmly. “You do not need to forget. You need to remember every fine thing about David Braddock and Abigail. And, my dear,” Augusta added, “you need to remember that while it may not feel like it at the moment, you are very much loved by the Lord.”

  Sarah was quiet, concentrating on stitching.

  Augusta argued mildly, “You can talk to LisBeth. It will just be the two of you. No one else ever needs to know. LisBeth will be uniquely able to understand your heartache.”

  When Sarah remained unconvinced, Augusta changed her approach. “Sarah, I really do need to stay in town tomorrow. There’s a board meeting for the Home for the Friendless after the Red Ribbon Club. Dr. Huff, the staff physician at the Home, is speaking at the club. She’s asked me to lead the discussion of how we are going to make up the shortfall between the city and state support and what we need to actually run the home. We’ve nearly a hundred children living there now, and, as you know, private contributions just aren’t keeping up with the expenses.”

  Sarah looked up from her sewing. “That not fair. You know I can’t refuse when you mention the Home for the Friendless.” She sighed. “All right, I’ll go out to LisBeth’s so you can stay here for the meeting. But don’t expect me to bare my soul to LisBeth. I really meant it when I said that I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “You do what you think best, Sarah,” Augusta said. “I can’t force you.” As Sarah wearily mounted the steps to her room, Augusta called out, “If LisBeth wants you to stay, don’t feel you need to rush back. We’ll manage just fine, and LisBeth has been lonely. These last few weeks of her confinement haven’t been easy, especially with Jim gone to Santee.”

  Sarah forfeited attending church the next morning in favor of an early morning drive to the Callaway farm. The old horse Asa had hitched up for her plodded patiently along, and Sarah did nothing to hurry her. In spite of herself, she began to enjoy the view of the greening countryside, the smell of the warm earth, the songs of the birds that were just returning from the south to nest in the shrubs along the dirt road.

  At some point along the road Sarah began talking to God. You know, God, what hurts the most is that You let me have those expectations, and then took them away. When I was a homeless orphan I never expected to be loved or cared about. When Aunt Jesse and Aunt Augusta took me in, I never expected to be anything at all. But then I went to work for Mrs. Braddock, and a whole new world opened. I thought maybe I could do something worthwhile. Maybe I could even provide an education for Tom. Then David. Well, Lord, that was an expectation I never had. But he made me almost believe I could actually be a good wife to him, even if he was a leading citizen and I was only a housekeeper. I was almost getting used to the idea that maybe I really could be a lady. I liked it. If You weren’t going to let that happen, why’d You let me build that dream and then tear it down? I don’t under
stand it, God. Why couldn’t You just let Tom and me be the Braddock’s maid and houseboy? It was enough, God. It would have been enough.

  Sarah drove into the farmyard no less depressed than she had been when she left Lincoln. LisBeth waved to her from behind the picket fence that Jim had erected around the tiny burial plot just across the road from the house. “Sarah! It’s wonderful to see you.” LisBeth pressed a hand against the small of her back. “Think you could help a very indisposed friend finish weeding over here?”

  Sarah climbed down from the carriage and joined LisBeth inside the picket fence where three rocks had been crudely engraved Ma, Pa, and Mac. “Augusta told me about this little plot, LisBeth, but I didn’t realize Jim had put so much work into making it so nice.”

  LisBeth leaned against the fence. “The first thing he did when he came on this place was clean up Ma and Pa Baird’s graves. MacKenzie would have appreciated knowing someone was taking care.”

  Sarah leaned down by the stone engraved Mac. “I remember Augusta telling me about that day you drove out with Mother Braddock and David. They drove in here and Jim had made that stone for MacKenzie even though his true resting place is out at the Little Big Horn.”

  LisBeth nodded and said softly, “Jim wanted to give me a place to visit Mac.” LisBeth looked up. “Of course neither of us knew then I’d marry again, let alone marry Jim. But the day I saw that stone, I knew Jim Callaway was one special man.”

  LisBeth sighed, rousing herself from her own memories. “I’m so sorry about Mrs. Braddock and David. I wish I could have at least come to the service.”

  From where she knelt by the fence pulling weeds, Sarah managed a faint “thank you.” Abruptly changing the subject she suggested, “Let me finish, LisBeth. You look worn out.”

  LisBeth answered honestly. “I am worn out, Sarah. Worn out with waiting. I guess it’ll be worth the waiting, though, when the baby comes.”

  “You just settle there in the shade. There’s not much left to do. I’ll take care of it.” Sarah bent to pull away the tall grasses that had grown around the three headstones.

  “I hope you can stay,” LisBeth said hopefully.

  “All day. Aunt Augusta said she wouldn’t need me at all today. In fact,” Sarah said, pulling out the last of the weeds and straightening up, “she even encouraged me to stay over—if you want the company.”

  LisBeth was adamant. “I’d love the company, Sarah. We’ve had so little chance to talk what with my, well—” she could not bring herself to say the word. “And then when Mrs. Braddock was so ill, then closing up the house and David’s death.” LisBeth didn’t notice that Sarah turned abruptly toward the house. “It seems impossible that he’s gone. That they’re both gone.” LisBeth followed Sarah out of the burial plot and towards the house. “I wonder who’ll buy the house,” she mused.

  Sarah didn’t answer, but turned instead towards the carriage. “I’ll be in in just a moment, LisBeth. I need to unhitch Sadie, here, if I’m to stay the night.”

  Sarah unhitched Sadie and led her into the barn. Moments later she joined LisBeth, who was still rubbing her back while she heated water for coffee.

  “It won’t be long now,” Sarah reassured her. “I’ve almost got your baby quilt finished. I brought it along.” She grinned. “Maybe I can even finish it while I’m here, if we talk half the night like we used to. Want to see it?”

  LisBeth sat down at the kitchen table with a groan. “I’d love to see it. But can we talk in my room? I’ve just got to lie down for a few minutes. My back is killing me.” Without waiting for Sarah to answer, LisBeth made her way through the parlor and into her own room.

  Sarah went to retrieve her satchel from the carriage. She had just started for the house when she heard a wagon coming up the road. Peering down the road, Sarah saw a rangy team of bays and a redheaded driver. She ran into the house calling out, “LisBeth, Jim’s back!”

  No answer came from the bedroom. Sarah smiled to herself. She’s fallen asleep. But LisBeth was not asleep. She was curled up in bed, holding her back with both hands. She looked up at Sarah, fear shining in her eyes. “It’s too soon, Sarah. But I think—” LisBeth squeezed her eyes shut and grunted. When the contraction had passed, she panted. “I think the baby’s coming. Tell Jim—”

  Sarah didn’t wait for LisBeth to finish. Instead, she ran out to meet Jim, who was just getting down from the wagon, smiling a greeting. One look at Sarah’s face, and Jim bounded into the house. He planted a kiss on LisBeth’s cheek. “I’m on my way to get Dr. Gilbert, LisBeth. The team’s worn out. I’ll ride Buck. It’ll be faster, anyway.”

  LisBeth grabbed her back and groaned again. “Hurry, Jim. Please hurry.”

  Sarah followed Jim to the back door. “Jim, it’s the first baby. It will take a while. Always does. At least that’s what Dr. Gilbert said. He often came by to check on Mrs. Braddock when he had another woman in confinement. Just stay calm and don’t break your neck between here and Lincoln. We’ll be fine.”

  Sarah spoke with far more confidence than she felt. Still, her tone of voice had the desired effect on Jim Callaway. Some of the worry went out of his lined face. He managed a smile. “I’m glad you’re here for LisBeth, Sarah. Tell her I’ll be back with Dr. Gilbert soon. Tell her—” Jim hesitated.

  “Tell her you love her?” Sarah smiled.

  Jim nodded, embarrassed. Sarah headed for the house. The moment the two separated, the calming effect they had had on one another was gone. Jim tore out of the farmyard on Buck, and Sarah rushed into the kitchen to heat water and ready clean linen.

  Before the water was even lukewarm, LisBeth staggered into the kitchen. Her dark eyes were wide with terror. She blurted out, “No time, Sarah. There’s no time for the doc—” She managed the last word and then was overcome by a contraction that left her pale and breathless, her knuckles whitening as she grasped the back of a chair.

  As soon as LisBeth’s grip on the chair relaxed Sarah helped her back to her bed. She barely had the quilts pulled back before LisBeth was struggling against another contraction. LisBeth fought against the labor. Sarah ran back to the kitchen for a knife and the kettle of warm water. She noted with dismay that she sloshed some of the water on LisBeth’s new wool rug as she hurried through the parlor.

  LisBeth was calling for her, and Sarah hurried back to her side. “LisBeth,” she called out. Setting the kettle on the floor she dampened a cloth. “LisBeth!” Sarah called, turning LisBeth’s face towards her and looking into her terrified eyes. “LisBeth, listen to me. There’s nothing to be afraid of. I know what to do. I helped my mother birth my baby sister Emma. There’s nothing to be afraid of. Do you hear me?”

  LisBeth stopped moaning and a glimmer of hope came into her eyes.

  “Listen to me, LisBeth. We can do this.” Sarah paused and consciously forced confidence into her voice. “With God’s help, we can do it. You’re young and healthy and there’s nothing to birthing a baby. Just stay calm and hold my hand. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere—” Even as she spoke Sarah prayed, Dear God—let it be true. Let the baby come easy. Please God, help me know what to do. Help me remember what Mama had me do.

  There was no more time to pray, for even as trust shone in LisBeth’s eyes and a faint smile played about her lips, another contraction came, and she and Sarah were carried into the world where birth and the valley of the shadow of death were often the same thing.

  LisBeth Callaway was often to tease Sarah Biddle for saying “there’s nothing to birthing a baby.” Both women discovered in the next two hours that there was, indeed, a great deal to the process. LisBeth strained against it, clasping Sarah’s thin hands until Sarah thought they would break. Between contractions, LisBeth grunted and moaned against her terrible backache, which Sarah tried in vain to relieve.

  When the moment came to actually birth the baby, instinct did, indeed, take over, and LisBeth needed no instruction from Sarah on what to do. She strained and pushed and yell
ed with every ounce of strength while Sarah waited with outstretched hands to receive a miracle. The miracle arrived screaming lustily at his new surroundings. Sarah cut the umbilical cord with clumsy hands, tying it off with string and wrapping the baby quickly in a yard of hastily procured red flannel.

  LisBeth’s eyes shone with tears as she took her miracle from Sarah. She stared down into his face, fingering the cleft in his chin and murmuring, “You look just like your uncle, little boy—” At the sound of a familiar voice, the baby stopped screaming and looked up at his mother. LisBeth exclaimed, “Except for those beautiful gray-green eyes. Now those are from your daddy.”

  The baby flailed his tiny arms in the air, puckered up, and gave another yell. LisBeth didn’t hesitate. Mimicking Sarah’s gentle voice she said softly, “There’s nothing to it, James Windrider Callaway.” She put the baby to her breast.

  When Jim Callaway and Dr. Gilbert rode into the farmyard some time later, Dr. Gilbert was just explaining, “I know you’re anxious, Mr. Callaway, but, really, Sarah Biddle is a capable nurse, and, as I said, this is your wife’s first child, and it will no doubt be some time this evening before—”

  Dr. Gilbert’s discourse was interrupted by a lusty yell that sounded suspiciously like the cry of a newborn. Jim jumped down from the still-moving carriage and ran into the house. Dr. Gilbert took time to pull his horse up. Leaving his black bag in the carriage, he followed Jim inside where he was met by Sarah Biddle.

  “I’m so glad you’ve finally come. I think she’s all right, Dr. Gilbert.” Forgetting propriety, Sarah gave the doctor a thorough description of LisBeth’s labor, the delivery, and what she had done in the absence of a doctor.