Be Still My Soul

by Joanne Bischof

  Was that Elsie calling her?

  Lonnie sat up, and her feet fell to the floor like lead weights. She grunted to a standing position and shuffled to the door. Every step was an effort as she descended the stairs. Halfway down, Lonnie paused, placed her palm to the wall, and, fearing she would faint, sank onto the step behind her. Even as she dropped her head into her hands, she fought to keep her eyes open. Come on, Lonnie. With a groan, she forced herself to stand and took one weary step after another.

  As she crossed the parlor, a faint pain struck low in her back. It started slow at first, then pulsed deeper. She sucked in a shaky breath and let it out slowly as the pain released its grip. She stood motionless for several minutes, and her breathing steadied. She straightened, surprised at how quickly the pain had come and gone.

  “That you, Lonnie?”

  She turned to see Elsie with her head in the cabinet under the stairs. The older woman sat back and frowned even as she pulled a cobweb from her tidy bun. “What have I gotten myself into?” She brushed the dust off her apron and struggled to her feet.

  “What are you doing down there?”

  Elsie closed the cabinet door. “Oh, I had some baby things from long ago. I know I saved them …” Her voice trailed off as she glanced around the parlor. “I just can’t remember where.” She smoothed a hand over her hair and seemed lost in thought. “It will come to me. I’ve gotten forgetful over the years. Sometimes it just takes a moment or two for my mind to find itself again.”

  “Can I help? I’m good at findin’ things.” Lonnie straightened a stack of books on the end table and, using the edge of her apron, wiped a volume of poetry clean of dust. “I had four brothers and sisters. Someone was always losin’ something if they weren’t losin’ each other.” A bead of sweat trickled down her temple. She brushed it away but caught wise eyes following the motion. Lonnie picked up the broom and started sweeping.

  “You feelin’ all right?”

  Lonnie fanned herself with her hand. “I’m just a little warm. It feels hot in here for some reason.” The sun sank lower in the window. She wished Gideon would come home.

  “I’ve got a good fire going.” Elsie hurried to open a window. “Figured the men will need it when they come in.” A gust of cool air filled the parlor, and Lonnie closed her eyes, finding comfort in Elsie’s confidence. Gideon would be home soon. If only she knew why he’d left in the first place.

  “It’s a cold one out there today,” Elsie murmured against the glass. She turned and studied Lonnie. “Have you had any pains?”

  “Some. But not much.”

  Elsie pursed her lips together. “Well, no sense in overdoing it, then. Why don’t you go have a lie down?”

  “I’m fine, really. I don’t want to be a burden.” Lonnie felt Elsie’s eyes on her as she worked her way to the back porch. “Besides, I’ve been resting all morning.”

  Elsie seemed hesitant to let her go. “Promise me you’ll take it easy now.”

  Lonnie smiled over her shoulder, thankful for Elsie’s help. “I will.” She stepped out and breathed in the cool air. She kept one hand on the broom and placed the other on the side of her stomach. Her child moved beneath her fingers. Lonnie circled her belly, trying to feel it all at once. “Hello there, little one. Are ya getting antsy?” She waddled to the edge of the porch. “You’re just like your pa. Be patient now. You’ve got a while yet.”

  Her words were light, but closing her eyes, she sent a desperate plea heavenward, praying that her child was in no hurry to meet the world. Willow scraped across weatherworn pine as she started on the top step.

  She did not come out here often. Most everybody used the back door; it was the fastest way into the kitchen and the most likely place to find Elsie. As she took the beauty in, Lonnie allowed her thoughts to drift. One thing circled in her mind these days—what she would name the baby. Picking a name for a girl had proved to be easier than choosing one for a boy. Maddy and Sarah were her favorites, and while she tossed around a few names for a son, she could only narrow it down to two. She favored the name Adam, but when Gideon suggested Jacob, it stuck with her.

  Through the window, she spotted Elsie scrubbing at the glass until it shone. Lonnie moved the broom over the boards.

  Her body warmed, and Lonnie caught hold of her stomach just as it tightened. An unwelcome sensation shifted through her, and her eyes widened. She dropped the broom against the house and did her best to hurry through the parlor and up the stairs. Even as the bedroom door slammed behind her, she yanked at the folds of her apron and skirts.

  Elsie’s footsteps pounded behind her, but Lonnie screamed her name regardless.

  The bedroom door burst open. “Heavens, child! You scared me half to death.”

  “It’s serious.” Lonnie stumbled sideways and caught herself on the brass headboard.

  Elsie’s face paled. “What do you mean?”

  Lonnie closed her eyes. “There’s blood.”

  “How much?” Elsie stepped closer.

  “Not much.” How much was enough? Lonnie’s hands trembled as she clutched them to her chest. “My baby,” she mouthed.

  “Has this happened before?”

  “No.” She hadn’t felt pain like that ever. Was it enough to draw the baby out of her? take away the life she had been growing? Her and Gideon’s child. Her voice trembled when she spoke. “Elsie, what does this mean?” The longer it took Elsie to reply, the smaller the hope in Lonnie’s heart became.

  “I’m not too sure. I’ve been to plenty of births, but I ain’t too keen on the beforehand stuff.”

  A tear slipped down Lonnie’s cheek, and she smeared it away. “How will I know what to do?”

  Elsie shook her head. “Time. That’s my guess. The more time, the better.”

  “My time’s comin’, isn’t it, Elsie?” Lonnie turned away, not wanting a response. The clock on the wall ticked away the seconds. Seconds that her baby was still alive and safe. God, Lonnie cried in her heart. Keep this child safe. Just a little longer. Please, God. Don’t take my baby away from me now.

  She watched Elsie’s face change from concern to sorrow. “We should fetch the midwife.”

  “Gideon.” The word slipped out in a whimper.

  “I know.” Elsie moved to her side and slid an arm around her shoulders. “That baby’s not comin’ just yet, and Gideon’ll be home before you know it.” Elsie squeezed her hand, her face urgent. “I’ll go tell Jebediah right now. It shouldn’t take long to fetch her. In the meantime, I want you in that bed. I’ll be back in just a minute.” She released Lonnie and hurried from the room. Lonnie stood motionless in the center. She could do nothing but listen to the pendulum on the grandfather clock below tick slowly from side to side.

  Thirty-Nine

  Elsie had hardly been gone two minutes when Lonnie peered out the bedroom window and saw Jebediah stride across the yard, his pace quick. Within a few hours, his shadow would fall on the midwife’s door, and they would be back as soon as they could. The thought of summoning the woman sent a shudder of fear through Lonnie. Her fingertips grazed the glass. Where are you, Gideon? Come home.

  She bent over and struggled out of her wool stockings. With a gasp, her body arched up. A dull cramp seized the muscles low in her stomach, nearly taking her breath away. She massaged the tender spot, and although the pain eased, it did not fade completely. Her cheeks tingled as she struggled to stand upright. She held her belly in one hand and pushed against the bed with the other. With a groan, she reached for her shoes. “Uh!” The spasm pierced her again. Lonnie bit back a yelp and lay against the pillows. With her feet still on the floor, she stared at the ceiling.

  Delay this, God.

  Though she tried to keep herself calm, a squeal escaped her lips. The ceiling faded to a blur, and she rested the back of her hand over her eyes. It took the last of her strength, but Lonnie slipped her feet under the cool sheets and sighed into the feather pillow. Perhaps if I just rest. If she could
sleep, the baby would not be able to go anywhere. Lonnie pulled the quilts over her body and closed her eyes. She steadied her breathing and forced herself to relax. Just hold on, little one.

  She lay that way for several minutes and then shifted. Was there no way to get comfortable? Lonnie rolled onto her side and clutched Gideon’s pillow to her chest. She blinked up at the window. Where are you, Gideon? She pressed her nose to his pillow. Squeezing her eyes tight, she sent up a quick prayer for him.

  Elsie tapped on the door and bustled back in. “How are you faring?”

  “Fine,” Lonnie said softly.

  Elsie smoothed her hair away from her face. “Jeb should be back before nightfall.” She lifted her face to the window. “And hopefully Gideon will be home before then.” Her hand stilled. “His note didn’t say anything about—”

  “No. Just that he would be home soon.” Lonnie squeezed his pillow tighter.

  The quilt was cool when Elsie tucked it beneath Lonnie’s chin. “You just rest now. I’ll keep an eye out for both our husbands.”

  Lonnie closed her eyes and tried to read what her body was telling her. The ache had faded, but sometimes it rose again. A tightening that she couldn’t describe. She forced her breathing steady and tried to count the weeks she’d been carrying the baby. A pain began, and she opened her eyes. The pain intensified. She gasped. “Elsie,” she said weakly. The dull ache rose into a burning, and Lonnie’s breath cut off short. When it passed, she struggled to sit up. “Elsie!” she called as loudly as she could, but her throat was tight.

  Footsteps sounded on the stairs. “Are you all right?”

  Lonnie flung back the sheets to see that her nightgown was wet.

  “Mercy. Have you had more pains?”

  Lonnie’s hair tumbled from her unraveling braid when she shook her head. “It’s been hurting and I don’t know what to do!” She tried to stand, but Elsie stopped her.

  “How close together?”

  “I don’t know,” she cried.

  “I need you to keep still. No walkin’ around.” Elsie tightened her grip on Lonnie’s elbow. “This baby might be comin’ whether we want it to or not.”

  “Is the baby going to die?”

  Lonnie’s words hung in the air, unanswered. She whimpered.

  Elsie tightened her grip on her arm. “We will do everything we can. And the midwife will be here soon.”

  Lonnie struggled to stand. Another pain came. It grew and grew. Just when she thought it was going to stretch her body to the limits, it faded away. Overwhelmed, Lonnie leaned her cheek against Elsie’s shoulder. She needed Gideon.

  “Was that another one?”

  Lonnie nodded, fearing the worst when Elsie’s face darkened.

  The older woman touched trembling fingers to her lips, then lowered her hand, shoulders square. “I’m here. I’m not going to leave you, and Orla will be her soon.”

  “Will she know what to do?”

  Elsie pursed her lips and sank onto the bed. Her hand was cool when she took hold of Lonnie’s, and her eyes slid closed. Lonnie tried not to cry, but she could not help it. Elsie’s fingers trembled as she prayed, and Lonnie felt air leave her chest as if she’d been struck with a blow.

  They both knew the truth. It was too soon.

  Forty

  Gideon thrust his hand into his pocket yet again and grinned. He had spent less than two hours in town, and even in his rush, he had delivered Lonnie’s letters and sold his entire bundle of furs. Cold coins jingled against his fingers. He now had two and a half dollars to his name. Not much, but it was a start all the same. Soon his debt would be paid.

  He drew in a chestful of chilly mountain air as he neared the spot where he’d seen Bert’s still. Slowing, Gideon dusted the remains of his dinner off his coat and swiped a hand across his mouth.

  A tune he recognized floated on the breeze, and as Gideon came around the bend, he saw a small shanty, the same one he’d spotted the day he’d been to Bert’s still. Gideon glanced around, realizing it wasn’t far off. An old man sat on a rickety porch, carving knife in hand. The gray-haired man sat hunched over, clearly engrossed in his work. His hat tipped forward, blocking out the late afternoon sun. Not wanting to startle him, Gideon took a cautious step closer.

  He looked up when Gideon approached. “Don’t even think about robbin’ me. I ain’t got a dime.” The old man snatched up a cane and poked at the ground near Gideon’s feet.

  Gideon’s hands flew up. “I wasn’t going to rob you, sir. I’m just passin’ through.”

  The man grumbled something about young uns and tipped his hat back. “Few folks come up this way.” He glared at Gideon, his stick held in front of him. “Unless they’re lookin’ for somethin’.”

  And he was.

  “See that trail?” the old man mumbled without looking up.

  Gideon nodded.

  “It ends here. Anyone who passes on is askin’ for nothin’ but trouble.”

  Gideon studied the trail of footprints in the snow that disappeared into thick brush. He took a step forward and tipped his hat.

  The man eyed Gideon. “Don’t say I didn’t warn ya.”

  Gideon stepped into the trees. He climbed for several minutes. A branch snagged on his coat, and he pushed it away. Ducking beneath the branches of a laurel bush, he stepped into a small clearing. A firepit held nothing but gray ashes, smoke trailing skyward in a flag of surrender. Men didn’t often leave their stills unattended. It struck him as odd. Gideon glanced around at the empty place when the silence gave him an eerie feel. Where had they gone?

  “Drink this now. It will ease the pain a bit.” Elsie tipped the steaming cup to Lonnie’s lips. “Just tiny sips now.”

  Lonnie swallowed and panted for breath before sinking into the pillow. The clock in the parlor chimed twice.

  Elsie said nothing of Jebediah, and Lonnie feared that the midwife might have already been called away.

  Through a veil of tears, Lonnie looked up. “Gideon?”

  “I know, honey. I know.” A cool cloth touched her cheek. “He will be here as soon as he can.”

  Frustration burned the back of her throat. Lonnie stared at the window. Another spasm found her, and she curled onto her side, gripping the brass headboard with white knuckles. “Elsie,” she groaned and felt hair being pressed away from her face. The cool cloth smoothed down her cheek, and when the pain subsided, the room brightened as Elsie flung back the curtains.

  With her face near the window, the woman stared into the yard and sighed. She turned back and took Lonnie’s hand. “You are doing so well. It will be over soon.”

  Lonnie’s chin trembled as fear wrapped its hands around her. Her carrying time was over too soon. Would the baby be strong enough? She stared up at the ceiling as if to find the answer written there.

  “It will be over before you know it,” Elsie whispered again. Words meant to soothe fell like daggers to Lonnie’s heart.

  A door slammed below. Elsie rushed out of the room, then returned just as quick. “They’re here,” she breathed.

  “This little thing?” a cool voice drawled.

  Lonnie’s eyelids fluttered open.

  A wrinkled face hovered above her, and a pair of sunken eyes peered through wire-rimmed spectacles. The old woman frowned. “She don’t look a day past thirteen.”

  “This is Aunt Orla.” Elsie patted Lonnie’s arm.

  Lonnie moaned.

  Orla placed a hand low on Lonnie’s stomach. “Hmm,” she mumbled and raised silver eyebrows. “Baby’s comin’, that’s for sure.”

  Reluctantly, Lonnie bobbed her head.

  “How old are you?” Orla pulled off her spectacles.

  “Eighteen.”

  “Well, that ain’t too young at all.” She picked up her doctor’s bag and dropped it on the bed. “I’ve seen ’em younger.”

  “How will the baby be?” Elsie’s voice trembled. “Is it too soon?”

  Orla bumped Lonnie’s leg as
she sat. “How long you been carryin’?”

  Lonnie glanced from one face to the other. “Over seven months.”

  Orla inched her bag onto the nightstand. “Don’t you trouble yourself about it. I’ve seen them come out as soon and be fine. You’re doin’ all right now, you just sit tight.”

  Lonnie sank into the pillows and watched Orla take out a bottle of auburn liquid and set it on the nightstand. “Apple brandy,” she said to Elsie, before pulling out a pair of scissors and a ball of heavy string. “See that these get boiled.” She held the offerings out to Elsie, who hurried away.

  Lonnie rolled onto her side and cried out, and Orla held her hand and spoke in hushed tones. When it ended, the hunched woman straightened the blanket and looked up as Elsie strode in. “How often is the pain comin’ on?”

  “It was every few minutes.” Elsie set a handful of candlesticks on the dresser. “But now it seems to come quicker.”

  The wrinkles around Orla’s mouth puckered.

  Lonnie studied her face, hoping to get the answers she needed. The flesh beneath Orla’s high cheekbones was sunken, and the clear wisdom shining through her eyes comforted Lonnie.

  As if reading her thoughts, Orla adjusted her spectacles. “I’ve delivered more babies than I can count. I’m gonna take real good care of you.” She rolled up the sleeves of her black dress and came around to the end of the bed. “You started those things boiling?”

  Elsie bobbed her gray bun.

  “Where’s your husband?”

  Lonnie felt Orla studying her. “Gid’s gone today … should be back tonight or—” She squealed and gripped the sheets. Her heart thudded away the seconds, and when the pain finally passed, she peered up. “Is the baby coming now?” she panted.

  “Well, let’s see. Try and sit tight a bit, Lonnie. I’m going to check you over.”