“You’re not hungry already, are you, James Colton?” She laughed a tinkling laugh. “You’re just insatiable.” Her eyes rose to meet mine.
I handed him to her and sat back down, picking up my plate to finish my dinner. Instead of taking him into the bedroom, she draped the blanket over her shoulder, and J.C. began to nurse.
Sylvia pulled the blanket back and peeked at him as he nursed. “He looks like Michael. I’m going to call him Little Mike.” She cocked her head in Mr. Aaron’s direction. “Or Little Aaron. You and Michael look so much alike!”
My cheeks grew warm. I dug my nails into the palm of my hand and hoped Mr. Aaron would ignore her words, but he was shooting me a look of sympathy. The food I tried to eat choked me.
Nauseated, I pushed my plate away and took a long swig of tea before I spoke. “His name is James Colton.”
“You’re using the full name?” she asked.
I nodded my head. “His full name or else his initials, J.C.”
She shrugged, and the blanket slipped from her shoulder. “Oops.” She pulled it back in place. “J.C. it will be.” And she flashed a smile.
I couldn’t stomach any more. I gathered the plates and took them to the kitchen.
It was the worst Thanksgiving I’d ever spent. And, yet, didn’t I have much to be thankful for? My baby was putting on weight. Somehow, I had to learn to ignore Sylvia.
So far, I had been woefully inadequate for the task.
Chapter 38—Christmas
Over the weekend, I pondered the idea of going back to work. Really, what use was I, here at home? I decided to go to the vet’s office, to see Dr. Driscoll, on Monday.
Monday morning, I arrived at the office, bright and early. To my surprise, Dr. Driscoll got up from his desk and shook my hand, beaming at me. “Hey, little miss. How are you?”
“I’m fine...” I glanced down at his desk, once again two inches deep in papers. How could he have accumulated so much in a couple of weeks?
He seemed embarrassed, shuffling his feet. “Sure do miss you around here.”
“How’s Belle?”
“Sound as a bell.” He laughed, and I laughed with him.
We walked out back so he could show off the health of the horse. Belle was in the fenced-in area and broke into a trot when she saw me.
He was right. The horse showed no sign of lameness.
“She remembers you,” Dr. Driscoll said.
I turned to face him. “If you need me, I would like to come back, as soon as I can... it will be a few more weeks.”
His relief was evident on his face. “Well, I don’t like for mommas to leave their little ones...”
“He’s in good hands,” I said, not expecting the sting of tears. I turned my head away before he could see them. I didn’t fully trust Sylvia, but Laurie and Aunt Jenny were there to keep an eye on him. I blinked the tears away.
“In that case, I’d be glad for you to come back to work. Light duty, of course. Work in the office with the small animals.”
I nodded my head. “Thanks, Dr. Driscoll. I can start right after Christmas.”
“That’ll suit me just fine.”
I nodded, hoping it would be true for me, too.
And Christmas drew near. On my first anniversary, I was at the kitchen table, writing Michael a letter, trying to write as cheerfully as possible, but feeling glum.
Zeke came in, looking as sad as I was feeling. “We can’t have a tree this year?”
I glanced up, but Zeke wasn’t looking at me. He stared down at the floor, his hands stuck in his pockets.
“Sure we can. Why can’t we?”
He raised his eyes to mine. “I wasn’t sure if you’d want to with Michael being gone.”
“Life goes on.” Even we didn’t always want it to.
“Can we go find a tree now?”
“Sure. Let’s go before it gets any chillier.” I scribbled the rest of my letter and stuffed it in an envelope.
Zeke grabbed his coat and went to get the axe while I told Momma where we would be. J.C. was at Aunt Jenny’s, and I planned to go over to check on him after we got the tree.
I met Zeke outside and pulled up the flaps of my coat against the chill. “Where do you want to look?” I asked.
“There’s a pretty cedar in the woods, near the edge of the field.”
We walked there, where we had once picked cotton, and followed a path into the woods. The trees were thick around the clearing. Zeke pointed out the tree he had his eye on. It was beautifully formed, full on each side and about four feet tall. It would fit easily into our house.
Zeke chopped at the base of the tree. Each chop released tendrils of cedar that wafted up to us. It didn’t take long for Zeke to cut it down. Before heading home, I asked my brother if we could sit for a moment. I hadn’t been out much since J.C. was born.
Zeke didn’t mind, and we sat down on an uprooted oak tree and watched the evening rays of the sun. We didn’t stay long. I needed to get over to Uncle Colt’s to see J.C. before nightfall.
Zeke dragged our prize home, not needing my help. He was getting so tall and strong. Time was passing by, flowing as quickly as Cedar Spring. And moments crystallized, and we had to grasp them before they melted away. Our job was to live in the moment, to capture the happiness while we could. I had to keep reminding myself of that.
I helped Zeke maneuver the tree into the house, and he dragged it into the sitting room.
“Look, Momma, at the tree we found.” His cheeks were red from the cold.
“Don’t be making a mess in here,” Momma said.
Zeke shot me a look.
I frowned at Momma. “If we make a mess, we’ll clean it up. Zeke, do you think you can set it up in the corner while I go over to Uncle Colt’s to check on J.C.?”
“All right. I’ll go get an old bucket.”
“Better not be a milk bucket,” Momma yelled after him.
I sighed and left. When I got to Uncle Colt’s, I visited for a few minutes and then asked Laurie to come back with me, to bring J.C., and she agreed.
When we entered the sitting room, Momma held out her hands, wanting to hold the baby. I hesitated before I set him down in her lap.
Zeke had gotten the tree standing in the corner.
“Momma, do we have any old ornaments to decorate the tree with?”
“Nothing I know of,” she said flatly.
“We’ll just have to make our own ornaments then. We can pop popcorn and make popcorn chains.” I was determined to make the most of Christmas, even though the memory of my wedding day and Michael’s departure last Christmas Eve kept invading my thoughts. I fingered the locket he had given me, the day he had caught the train, drawing strength from the touch.
“Can we eat some of the popcorn?” Zeke asked.
I laughed. “Of course we can. Who can resist the smell of popcorn? We’ll just have to save enough to make the chains.”
“I know where there’s some red berries — a hawthorn bush,” Laurie said.
Momma’s head snapped up. “No, ma’am. Don’t you be bringing those berries into this house. They’re bad luck.”
“Oh, Momma, that’s silly,” I said.
She simply glared at me.
I turned away from her stare. “I tell you what. We’ll get some holly branches and use them. We have to be careful with them around Coby — holly berries are poisonous.”
Laurie kept her lips tightly pressed together. From her look, she wasn’t planning to say another word with Momma around.
Zeke looked crestfallen at having the idea of the hawthorn bush squashed by Momma.
“I can buy a few decorations at the dime store tomorrow. We can go ahead and make the popcorn now and string it.”
“Make popcorn?” Momma looked at me as if I was crazy.
“Yes. Why not?” I asked.
“It’s past time to cook supper.”
“Popcorn for supper sounds good to me,” I said. “Beside
s, there’s plenty of leftovers.”
Momma shrugged. Zeke and Laurie followed me into the kitchen. “Let me fix Momma a plate and then we’ll get started on the popcorn.”
Laurie was already getting out the iron pot. “Go ahead, and I’ll get the popcorn going.”
Even with Momma’s contrariness, even with the ache of longing for Michael, even with all I had gone through, I was going to make this a happy holiday for Zeke’s sake and to make a happy memory for my son’s first Christmas.
I took Momma her plate, got my son from her, and brought him back to the kitchen with me. As we worked stringing the popcorn, we sang the old hymns Poppa used to sing so long ago. The smell of popcorn filled the small kitchen, bringing with it the memory of the thundersnow, and I smiled through my tears.
Chapter 39—Cedar Spring
And after Christmas, I went back to work. The first morning, I stopped by to check on J.C. After I held him for a moment, I kissed him goodbye and handed him to Sylvia. She smoothed down his thick head of hair, so much like Michael’s, before settling down with him in the sitting room.
I didn’t linger to see her interact with my child; it was much too painful. I went into the kitchen and snuck a piece of bacon off the plate next to the iron skillet.
Aunt Jenny laughed and slapped at my hand. “You have a good day and don’t get overly tired. You know it hasn’t been that long since you had a baby.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I said as I chewed the bacon.
I left for work, steeling myself, and thinking of other things, anything besides James Colton.
And each day it got a little easier. I wondered if it was like the cogs wearing down on the conscience gear. Perhaps soon I would feel nothing when I walked out the door, leaving my child with Sylvia. But I knew that day would never come.
James Colton grew like a weed, and at three months began sleeping through the night. It was with relief that I brought him home with me in the evenings.
One warm February evening, when I got home from work, I stopped to pick up J.C., but Sylvia was still nursing him. When Aunt Jenny urged me to come in I shook my head. Instead, I wandered down to Cedar Springs.
I had avoided coming here, where memories echoed from the rocks.
And as soon as I settled at the place where I had sat next to Michael, the memories squeezed the tears from my eyes. I didn’t try to stem the flow.
I was so wrapped in my own misery that I did not hear anyone approach until Laurie sat down beside me. She didn’t speak, didn’t touch me, but her presence offered comfort. I brushed the tears away with the back of my hand.
“Sorry,” I said.
“Ain’t no need to apologize. All you’ve been through, all everyone has been through — it’s a wonder we’re not all blubbering messes.”
“True, I reckon.” We sat in quiet for a while and watched the sun set behind the trees. The sky was draped in dark purples and oranges.
Laurie stirred restlessly. “I miss William so much. And putting up with that wife of his has given me a little taste of what you’ve gone through with your momma.”
“Yes, Sylvia is something else.” My finger traced over a rough area of the rock. “My arms have felt empty ever since she took J. C. to nurse.” Tears again pricked my eyes. “And I miss Michael so much. And all the news we hear keep my nerves on edge.” I was so fearful — fearful no matter what the old woman had told me.
I still had my overalls on from work — regardless of Dr. Driscoll’s words, I still helped with cows and horses. I stretched my legs out, and the caked mud on my boots flaked off. Sylvia probably had on a new dress and flawless makeup.
I sighed. “I guess Sylvia is through nursing J.C. by now. I’d better go get him. Sorry I’m so down in the dumps.”
Laurie stood up with me. “Reckon ’cause it’s Valentine’s Day.”
“Oh... ” The memory of that day, the day after J.C.’s conception, constricted my heart until I had trouble breathing.
I ignored the pain, and we made our way down the trail, toward the road. A few stars were twinkling by the time we made it to Laurie’s house. I didn’t go in — I didn’t want to take off my boots just to put them back on in a few minutes. I waited on the front porch for Laurie to return with J.C. Gloom draped over me like a thick fog.
I had to get out of the doldrums, somehow. I had no choice but to let Sylvia nurse my son. He was happy and thriving and that alone should bring me into the light.
When Laurie handed him to me, J.C. smiled a toothless grin. I held him close for a moment before bidding Laurie goodnight.
As we walked home, I pointed to the stars and moon, speaking to him as if he understood. J.C. cooed happily in my arms.
His happiness filled me with happiness. Life was good, here at this moment, and I would cherish that, for as long as I could.
Friday, February eighteenth, we finished up before four at the office, and I arrived to pick up J.C. early. After knocking, I went on into the house. Aunt Jenny was in the kitchen, cleaning turnips. Sylvia and the babies were nowhere to be seen.
“Jay!” Aunt Jenny dropped her knife on the table and hurried to where I stood in the doorway. “I’m so happy to see you.” Tears swam in her eyes.
“Why? Is anything wrong?”
She swiped at her tears with the back of her hand. “Of course not...”
She ushered me to the table and brought me a cup of coffee. “I hope you’re being careful and not getting overly tired.” She hovered next to me, like a mother hen.
“No, I feel fine.” I wrapped my hands around the coffee cup. “Where’s Sylvia?”
“Oh, she ran to town. She keeps the roads hot.” Aunt Jenny continued standing by me and placed one hand on my shoulder.
“Where’s J.C. and Joe Joe?”
“They’re asleep in their crib.”
I blew across the coffee, making ripples, and took a tentative sip. “What’s Sylvia doing in town?”
“I don’t know, but she stays gone half the time.”
I moved in my seat uneasily. “But she does come back? She’s always back to nurse the babies?”
“Yes, she always makes it back.”
“So... does she ask you to babysit her son?”
“She did to begin with. Now, she just leaves and expects me to watch him.” Aunt Jenny moved away, sat back down, and resumed the cleaning of the turnips. “Which I don’t mind. He’s a beautiful, sweet child.”
“He is.” I downed the rest of the coffee. “I’ll be back later then to get J.C.”
“Give my love to Zeke.”
I walked out to the truck, the one I had finally made time to buy. It wasn’t Michael’s but I tried to find one as similar to his as possible.
I was curious about Sylvia. Where could she be going so often? And why had Aunt Jenny been crying? I shrugged and headed home to prepare supper.
Chapter 40—Gone
The months passed, and both babies grew and thrived. Joe Joe was almost ten months and J.C. seven months. On a June morning, a morning that made you glad to be alive, with dew sparkling in the sun’s rays, I spread my arms above my head, stretching in the warmth of the spring day, and headed to the old truck.
The door wanted to stick, but I got it open and climbed in, settling carefully on the old seat. Good thing I wore overalls. It kept the cracked edges from tearing my clothes. I cranked up and drove out onto the red-dirt road and headed to work.
I didn’t have James Colton today. Zeke had left early, taking the baby to Aunt Jenny’s for me and planning to spend the day. I’m sure he had an ulterior motive, hoping Marla and Grace might visit.
I arrived at work and entered the office. Velma approached me, a look of concern on her face.
“I just had a phone call. Your aunt wants you to come home.” Today, her hair was pulled back from her face, with barrettes, but a few strawberry wisps had worked loose, and for a moment, those few wisps were all encompassing as I endeavored to make sense of her wo
rds.
She cleared her throat. “Jay? Are you okay?”
I forced my way into reality, my heart thumping wildly. “Is something wrong with the baby?”
“No... no. I’m sorry I scared you. She said you were needed but to tell you James Colton is fine.”
Dr. Driscoll stood in his doorway, and he shooed me away with a flip of his wrist. “Go, go. I can handle today.”
“Thanks.” I sprinted out the door and to the truck, pressing the accelerator pedal to the floor as soon as I shifted into high gear.
A jumbled web of thoughts entangled in my mind, leaving a single coherent thought unavailable. As soon as I drove into the yard, I yanked on the emergency brake, threw open the door, and jumped out. I ran across the yard.
Aunt Jenny met me at the door, looking composed, but her hands trembled when she smoothed her hair back.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
She answered cryptically. “Maybe nothing.”
I raised an eyebrow, my heartbeat gradually slowing to normal.
She returned my look steadily. “Come on in, and we’ll talk.”
I followed her into the kitchen. Laurie and Uncle Colt were there, Laurie holding James Colton and Uncle Colt with little Joe Joe. Sylvia was not to be seen.
With weak knees, I took James Colton from Laurie and sat down at the table. His chubby cheeks, his dimpled knees, his sweet smile left me dizzy with relief. I looked around the table. “What’s going on?”
“Sylvia left,” Laurie blurted out. I could tell she was trying to look appropriately concerned, but her shining eyes revealed her true feelings.
“Left? Without Joe Joe?”
Uncle Colt ran his fingers through his hair. “As far as we can tell, she’s gone for good. All her clothes, all she brought with her are missing.”
Aunt Jenny made a sound, a choking sound that spoke of disgust.
“But why would she leave Joe Joe?” I asked.
“Your guess is as good as ours.” Uncle Colt said.
“She didn’t bother to take any of the baby clothes or anything, nothing of Joe Joe’s,” Laurie said.
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