With her mouth pursed, Orla pulled a tube from her bag. She placed the small metal end in her ear, then slid the broad end over Lonnie’s round stomach. The metal was cool against Lonnie’s skin. Orla sat quiet as she listened. “You still got some time to go. Just hang in there.” She removed a pair of small bottles from her bag before bustling to light another candle.
When Lonnie’s chin trembled, a thin, rough hand squeezed hers. “You’re doin’ a fine job, li’l missy.” Orla reached into her bag. “Don’t worry, dear. There ain’t no city doctor who knows what he’s doing more than I do. I been catchin’ babies for years.”
Forty-One
Leaving the clearing, Gideon held his fingers to his mouth and blew warm air on them. It took him several minutes to trace his snowy trail back the way he had come. He spotted the shanty and strode toward it. He hoped the old man could give him the information he needed. Gideon rounded the tiny house.
Still in the same spot, the man looked up when Gideon approached. “What’s your business, anyway?”
Gideon hitched his pack up higher. “I need to repay a debt.”
The old man ran his knife through a soft piece of wood. “You ain’t the first man to say that ’round here.” A pair of small brown eyes searched Gideon’s.
“I believe it.”
“You gonna stand ’round waitin’ all evenin’?”
“If that’s what it takes.” Gideon crouched against a tree and propped his forearm on his knee. The snow had already soaked through the hem of his pants. He peered up into the old face. “I’m ready to be free of this.”
“So I see.” The man pulled a pipe from his pocket and stuck it in the crook of his mouth, where it dangled, no match in sight.
Silence settled between them. Gideon opened his pack and broke off another piece of bread. His stomach rumbled as he chewed the dry crust. One glance at the changing sky and he frowned. Even if Bert returned by nightfall and he was able to set off for home, he wouldn’t get far in the dark. Gideon hung his head in frustration, but there was no changing it.
He suddenly wished he’d left a better note for Lonnie. Worse, he wished he’d told her where he was going. But it was too late now. Glancing up at the sky, he knew his dry blanket would be no match for the layer of clouds lining the gray sky. He had passed an empty trapper’s cabin on his way down and hoped to get that far before sunset.
“Any idea when they’ll be back?”
The old man shrugged a bony shoulder, the arms beneath his dingy shirt wiry. “They went out lookin’ for some fella. Heard ’em grumblin’ about it as they passed by.”
Gideon blinked up at him. His food turned to ash in his mouth.
“Someone’s always owin’ those boys money.” The man pulled the pipe from his lips. “Ain’t right the way they bully around this mountain.” The breeze stirred the silver hair that grazed his shoulders.
Something inside Gideon turned ice cold. He rose as blood pulsed through his veins. If what this man said was true … if it was him they were looking for …
Gideon snatched up his pack and, without so much as a good-bye, darted from the clearing. A cold breeze crept beneath his thick layers of clothing with a boldness he did not like. The trail rose toward home—toward Lonnie—and his feet quickened as if a fire had been lit under his boots.
Elsie rushed in with an oil lamp just as the first candle flame burned down to a puddle of wax. “How is she?”
“She’s as brave as they come.” Orla smoothed her hand over Lonnie’s stomach.
Lonnie could hardly hear over her own groans. She swiped at a bead of sweat, and Orla stuffed rags beneath her back.
“This is too much blood for my likin’,” Orla murmured. Elsie knelt beside the bed, and the hunched woman shook her head. “I don’t like this. Not one bit.”
Nausea rose in Lonnie’s stomach, and she tried to sit up. She cried out.
“I know it’s hard, but try and stay calm. The baby needs you to relax.”
“What’s happening?” Elsie’s voice was sharp.
Using the back of her hand, Orla pressed her spectacles farther up her nose.
Lonnie’s chin fell to her chest and she grunted. Her jaw shook and her lips turned numb.
“You’re a brave girl.” Orla squeezed her hand. “Just breathe now and try to stay calm.”
Despite Orla’s caution, a squeal slipped from Lonnie’s throat, and she sank into the mattress. Elsie slipped a wet rag inside Lonnie’s sweaty palm, and she barely had time to clutch it before more pain seized her. This time, it struck her body harder than she’d ever felt before. Lonnie screamed. When the throbbing subsided, the crushed fabric fell to the floor.
“It hurts!” Lonnie cried, not caring if she looked like a fool. “It hurts so bad!”
Orla’s voice rose stern. “You’re gonna have to stay calm, Lonnie. This is almost over.” She wiped her wrinkled forehead with the crease of her elbow. “You are so close.”
“How close?” Lonnie grunted.
Wrinkled eyes blinked quickly. “I can see the baby.” Her voice held a surprising tremor.
Orla’s words slapped sense into Lonnie’s heart, and she gritted her teeth.
“That’s it!” The old woman had Elsie slide her arm behind Lonnie and help her sit up.
With her heels braced against the footboard, Lonnie gave her child every piece of strength she had left.
“Good girl!” Orla leaned over the brass bars.
Lonnie rested between surges, and each time the pain came, Orla promised her that the end was in sight. Lonnie groaned, and her fingernails dug into her palm through thin sheets. Then suddenly, she felt a burst of relief. Elsie’s hands flew to her mouth, and Lonnie sank back—head spinning, chest heaving. She tossed her head to the side and gasped for breath, but there was no air to be had in the hot room.
Orla jabbered tensely to Elsie as they rushed about. Lonnie tried to lift her eyes to see her baby, but she was too weak. Moments ticked by like hours, and Lonnie forced her ears to be her eyes.
The room fell silent. Not a whisper. No cry.
Lonnie lifted her head. A hand squeezed her shoulder, and Elsie knelt beside her. “It’s over, sweetheart. It’s all over. You did so good.” She kissed her forehead—her arms empty, her eyes full of tears.
“Where’s the baby?”
“Elsie, I’m gonna need your help,” Orla called.
Lonnie watched in agony as defeat darkened Orla’s face. She wrapped the baby in a blanket, then handed the bundle to Elsie.
No, Lonnie mouthed soundlessly.
Orla pushed her spectacles up and glanced through the wire frames, her mouth taut.
“Can’t you do something?” Lonnie cried as Elsie stepped closer. The bundle scarcely filled the crook of her arm. It was too small.
“I’m so sorry, Lonnie. The baby’s gone.” Orla’s voice thinned. “Been gone for some time.”
Her eyelids slammed closed, and Lonnie gasped for breath. “My baby,” she moaned tearlessly. Her heart rampaged inside her chest as if to crush itself against her bones. She covered her face with her arm, and just as she did, another pain flexed its angry muscles inside her. “What’s happening?” She choked the words out through her tears. Her stomach tightened, then burned.
“Lonnie?”
When she grabbed Elsie’s hand, the older woman helped her sit up. After several seconds, the pain subsided, and Lonnie realized Elsie was handing her the tiniest bundle of a baby.
“No,” Lonnie moaned at the sight of Elsie’s crumpled face.
“A girl.” Elsie tipped the baby, and Lonnie peered into the face of her child.
The lump in her throat choked her. A girl? Her hand shook as she pulled a flap of fabric away from a little nose, two eyes, and the tiniest mouth. Her fingers trembled against her baby’s cool, dusky forehead. Lonnie brushed a tear from her eyes, too overwhelmed to piece together the whole truth, yet too certain of her loss to keep control.
“
I’m so sorry,” Elsie murmured.
Turning her soul and her body over to her grief, Lonnie sank against the mattress and shook with sobs. She lay that way for several minutes. Without warning, pain tightened around her belly. She cried out.
“Is this normal?” she heard Elsie exclaim. “Should she be feeling so much pain after the baby is born?”
Lonnie caught hold of Elsie’s hand and squeezed. Death could take her now. She held her baby in her arms and prayed that heaven would summon her as well.
Orla’s voice drew near. “I thought this might be …” She peered at Lonnie through her spectacles. “I didn’t say anything. I didn’t want to overwhelm you from the start.”
“What do you mean?” Elsie insisted. She shook her head so fiercely, her bun tumbled out of place.
Orla glanced at Elsie and motioned toward the bundle. Elsie stepped forward, her hands grazing the blanket, and instinctively Lonnie tightened her grip. Orla peered down at Lonnie and squeezed her ankle in reassurance. “Give the baby to Elsie now, love.” Orla’s face was grave, but hope glinted in her old eyes. “There’s another one comin’.”
Forty-Two
Panting, Gideon clambered up the steep slope. Snow drenched his pants and slid inside his boots, but he struggled forward and, with a last grunt, scaled the top of the slope. He saw his footprints from that morning and felt a surge of relief that he was on the right path.
He straightened and hurried on as much as the deep snow would allow. The sun had vanished behind the trees. The light was gray. Ducking his head against an icy wind, Gideon strode forward, his heart thundering in his chest. But each footstep seemed harder than the last. Frustrated, a growl rose in his chest. He lost his footing and stumbled. His hands struck the snow, and he caught himself. The sleeves of his coat grew wet as he struggled to stand. Despite the cold, sweat dampened the fabric between his shoulder blades. He needed to get home to Lonnie. He needed to know she was all right. He took a few more steps, and when exhaustion poured through him, he pressed his palms to his knees, panting. The land was darkening. Night would be upon him within minutes.
He spotted a cabin—no more than a shanty—in the distance, amazed that he had traveled so far in an hour. He could rest there. Lie down, even if only for a little while. Head off well before sunrise. Gideon ran his damp temple against his shoulder and trudged toward it even as exhaustion poured through his every limb.
There was no time to grieve. Pain held no fear for her anymore. A spasm came, and even as it tore her in two, Lonnie determined that this child would know its mother.
“This one will be quick.” Aunt Orla’s eyes danced alive, her voice drawing Lonnie’s gaze forward.
Hope. She saw hope in the woman’s face.
Lonnie clung to her words. Elsie lit another lamp and set it on the nightstand, illuminating the room.
Without Orla even speaking, Elsie picked up a blanket and held it ready. Orla’s hip knocked a bottle from the table, and without bothering to pick it up, she shoved a stack of clean rags onto the bed. A curl of silver hair slid from her bun, and Lonnie stared at her, trying to believe that this moment was truly happening.
A rag fumbled from Orla’s hand, and she gripped Lonnie’s knee. “Here it is.”
All pain faded away.
And with her eyes closed, Lonnie saw only one face—the face of her daughter. She fought with everything she had. She bit her cheek to keep from giving a voice to a fresh wave of agony. She heard gasps, and it was over.
Orla flipped the baby over and, using her finger, cleared its mouth. She pulled back and the baby gurgled, then let out a wail. Lonnie lifted her head.
“It’s a boy.” Orla grinned.
Lonnie peered into the tiny face of her child. His crumpled forehead was the most beautiful sight she had ever seen.
Elsie wrapped them in a hug. “He’s beautiful.”
“He’s alive,” Lonnie said breathlessly. Her fingertip grazed a tiny fist. She looked up into Elsie’s face.
Orla grabbed a length of clean fabric and helped Lonnie sit. She fashioned a snug sling around the tiny baby and, after tying it over Lonnie’s shoulder, buttoned the nightgown over them both. The velvet head pressed to her chest made Lonnie gasp in wonder.
“He’s weak.” Orla knotted the fabric. “He needs to stay this way until he gets stronger.”
Lonnie slid her hand beneath the warm bundle. “How weak is he?”
“He’s very small. These next few days will be the most important. You keep that baby pressed up against you like that to keep him warm.” A soft smile lit her face. “He will be able to hear your heartbeat. Babies like that, especially when they’re first born.” She stroked his cheek with the back of her gnarled finger. “He will hardly have to move, even to nurse. The more you keep him still and warm, the better. He’s got a little growing to do. Growing that was meant to be done inside of you.”
Lonnie nodded. “I will.” She glanced down at her son when his cries tapered off. “I think he’s falling asleep.”
“Good. He will be like that for a while.”
“Is he hungry now?”
“Not yet.” Orla pulled her doctor’s bag off the nightstand. “First thing is to get a few herbs into him. Best to brew a tea.” She pulled out a tiny satchel and handed it to Elsie, who hurried out of the room. Orla rooted in her bag and removed a small glass bottle. With steady hands, she put a drop of liquid in each of the baby’s eyes and rubbed gently. “That should do it.”
Elsie returned with a steaming cup. “This might need to steep another minute.”
“Did you put sugar in it?” With her earpiece in place, Orla pressed the other end of the tube to the baby’s chest.
“No. I didn’t think about it. Should I fetch some?” Elsie started toward the door.
“It would be a good idea. Makes it go down easier.” Orla’s eyes seemed to stare at nothing. Finally, she lowered the earpiece, draping the contraption around her neck. “Heart sounds strong and he’s breathing well.” She smiled. “That’s very good.”
After a minute, Elsie returned with a bowl and sprinkled sugar into the tea.
Orla set the steaming cup aside and saw to Lonnie’s needs. She shoved soiled rags to the floor. “So, Lonnie, what are you going to name him?”
Lonnie looked down at the tiny face and saw her husband’s image. “His name’s Jacob.”
“That’s a fine choice.”
Lonnie cleared her throat. “The girl …,” she whispered and sad eyes turned toward her. “I want her name to be Sarah.”
“Every baby needs a name.” Elsie’s words were strained.
When she was finally finished, Orla pulled the sheets up over both Lonnie and the baby. “Even those that don’t make it.” Heartache laced her words. She washed her hands near the window, then picked up the teacup and sat on the edge of the bed. She dipped her finger in the tea and forced Jacob’s tiny lips apart. “He’ll take it. You can keep going.”
She held the cup out for Lonnie. Lonnie dipped her finger in the warm brew, and the baby’s mouth sucked. “He’s drinking it.” Her heart soared at the sight of a perfect, breathing baby—but the tiny bundle nestled in Gideon’s crib wrenched her heart in two.
Orla drew her from her thoughts. “Good. Try and get him to take a little more. Then you can nurse.” She left the bedside and murmured to Elsie, who, after a brief hang of her shoulders, lifted the baby from the cradle.
Lonnie sniffed. “Just once more?”
Elsie ducked her head. “Of course.” She carried the tiny bundle over. It was difficult with Jacob strapped to her body, but Lonnie took her daughter and held them both close. One was warm and full of life. The other wasn’t.
“You two remember each other, don’t you?” Lonnie whispered. Her throat was so tight it was almost impossible to speak. “You knew each other so well. Remember all that time you were together inside of me?” She envied Jacob for having known Sarah. “You are a lucky boy.” She kiss
ed his head, then her daughter’s. Her skin was cold against her lips. “How I love you.” Her chin quavered. How your pa will love you. Oh, Gideon. How she needed him. How they all did.
Elsie reached for the baby, and Lonnie tightened her grip.
Pulling back, Elsie stepped away, her face apologetic.
A cool hand landed on Lonnie’s arm. “We best take care of it directly,” Orla said soberly. “She’s with Jesus.”
Just then Jacob started to fuss and squirm.
“He might be hungry. You could try feeding him now.” Orla’s voice was soft, and her eyes were sad as she unwound a length of thread.
Lonnie tightened her grip, but Jacob’s fussing rose, and tears blurred her vision as Elsie reached for her daughter.
“It’s hard.” Elsie kissed the top of Lonnie’s head. “Believe me, I know.”
Lonnie nodded, unable to speak, and with a tender hand, Elsie reached forward. Gritting her teeth, Lonnie forced herself to loosen her grasp.
Orla opened the door and whispered something to Elsie about a box.
Elsie swept the baby from the room.
Pinching her eyes shut, Lonnie clung to Jacob and wept.
Forty-Three
Lonnie woke to the sound of Elsie tiptoeing into her bedroom, a tray rattling in her hand. “I brought you something to eat,” she said softly, kneeling near the bed. “How is he doing?”
“Still sleeping.”
Elsie kissed the tip of her finger, then touched Jacob’s tiny ear. “He is precious.” Her eyes looked as if she’d been crying. “I have never been so worried. I checked on the two of you all night long.”
“You did?”
“You slept for hours. I kept adjusting your pillows to keep you propped up. I didn’t want you rolling over.” Elsie moved the tray to the bed. There was a plate of hotcakes with a pat of melting butter.
“Do you feel like eating?” Elsie asked.
Lonnie nibbled on a piece of pork sausage. Slowly, she reached for her fork. She found it tricky to get her arms around the sleeping baby without bumping him. “He’s so fragile.”
Be Still My Soul Page 23