Lesia's Dream

by Laura Langston

  Lesia looked at him. Andrew was staring at the paper. His lips quivered as he fought back a grin.

  … the old man sometimes has hemp for brains and I do not know if he will remember.

  Lesia giggled softly through her tears. Trust Baba!

  I have asked Mary to lay me out. My body will rest with Geedo and Slavko. Already I have seen the white cross. It is very beautiful. Remember me at provody. My love will remain with you always. Baba.

  “That’s all?”

  Andrew folded the letter. “Did you expect more?”

  Lesia shrugged. Sunlight splashed through the trees and caressed her arms. The birds warbled sweetly. Life did indeed go on. Her life anyway.

  “I don’t know. It’s just … there must be more to say when a life ends.”

  “No,” Andrew replied softly. “Surprisingly little.”

  They exchanged glances. Lesia knew Andrew was thinking of his young wife. She knew he would understand when she said, “I loved her desperately”

  His eyes were sad. “I know.” He reached for her hand, and this time Lesia allowed him to take it.

  “With her I could be myself,” Lesia murmured. “I could be silly or sad or afraid. It didn’t matter. She believed in me like no one else.” Who would take Baba’s place? Who could? No one.

  Grief, thick and heavy, settled on Lesia’s heart. “I”ll never forget her,” she told Andrew softly. “Never!” He squeezed her hand. “I’m sure you won’t.” “Will you help me tell Mama and Sonia?” “Of course.” He pulled her to her feet and together they walked slowly back to the burdei.

  Chapter Ten

  “I remember when we were young she would bring it out on special occasions and tell us about her Geedo, who had spent years working on it.” It was evening now, and Mama spoke softly, in order not to wake Sonia. Her fingers caressed the delicately carved box before she handed it to Lesia.

  The detail was exquisite. Even in the pale glow from the candlewick burning in oil, the gleaming wood was a rich nut brown. Lesia’s fingers traced flowers and bees, which represented the sweetness of life, and a perfectly round sun, which represented Lada, the Ukrainian goddess of love and life. It was the most beautiful thing she had ever owned. But it would never take the place of Baba.

  “Ooh!” Mama rubbed her stomach.

  “Are you all right?” Lesia asked nervously.

  “Just a twitch,” she said.

  Mama had taken the news of Baba’s death calmly, but her face had drained of colour instantly and she had remained pale all day. Now, with Sonia in bed for the night, she seemed more grief-stricken than ever.

  “It’s hard seeing this.” Hands trembling, Mama held up Baba’s hairbrush. “And this.” She reached for Baba’s treasured scissors. They’d been a gift after Baba had attended the difficult birth of a baby born to a rich woman who lived several villages away.

  They were going through the larger wooden crate Andrew had pulled from his wagon before he’d left. Lesia, like Mama, was overcome with memories. There were a few cooking utensils and the heavy can Baba had used to carry water from the well. Lesia’s eyes filled with tears. She could almost see Baba coming through the door complaining that it grew heavier every day. There were colourful skeins of wool and a half-finished woven belt. Baba’s last project. She would finish it in her memory, Lesia vowed. And maybe make another one. There were more blankets. Another shawl. Baba’s thick black skirt and the fancy sorochka she wore to church.

  “They must have buried her in her summer clothes,” Lesia murmured absently. Her hands fastened around a large jar of honey. She smiled. That wasn’t Baba’s. Someone in the village had included it as a gesture of hope and kindness.

  “Oooooooh.” Mama clutched her stomach and bent forward.

  “What is it, Mama?” Lesia demanded sharply.

  “The baby.” Mama’s voice was thick with pain. “I think it’s time.”

  “Now, Mama?” Fear swept down Lesia’s back. The shock of Baba’s death was bringing on the baby. It was only August 10; the baby wasn’t due until sometime in September. “It’s too early!”

  Mama was overcome with another spasm. “Babies come when they want to, not when we think they should,” she finally gasped. “Besides, it’s not that early. Three weeks. Maybe a month.”

  “But… but… I…” Lesia trembled. She’d never delivered a baby before. Baba had always been the one. Oh, Baba! Lesia fought back tears and stared wildly around the tiny burdei. Where could she put Mama? How could she keep Sonia from waking? What if…what if it didn’t go well? What if the baby wasn’t healthy?

  So many questions. And no answers.

  “Mama, Andrew will be back tomorrow. Remember? After he takes the eggs to town, he’ll be back with milk. Hold on till then!” She didn’t know what Andrew could do, but his presence would be a comfort.

  Mama’s laugh turned into a garbled moan. “Lesia, it does me no good to hold on. This baby is coming.”

  “I’ll run and tie a white cloth to the fence. Someone is bound to stop.” No one on the prairie would ignore the universal cry for help.

  “There’s no time. We need to prepare.” Mama straightened, moved slowly to the corner, lowered herself to a blanket and started giving her instructions.

  Lesia followed them quickly and carefully. She built up the outside fire, filled Baba’s can with water and put it on to boil. She lined their clean wooden box with hay and a clean blanket. Mama asked for string but they had only thread. Near the thread went oil and flour and another blanket. She tucked Baba’s scissors in her apron pocket. On impulse, Lesia added Baba’s shawl to the pile.

  “What are these things for, Mama?” Lesia asked.

  But Mama couldn’t answer. “OOOoooooooh,” she groaned.

  “Mama?” Sonia sat up and groggily rubbed at her eyes. “Mama?”

  “It’s all right, litde one. Mama’s baby will be coming soon. Sleep now,” Lesia urged reassuringly. “Sleep.”

  “Outside,” Mama whispered. “I need to be outside so Sonia can sleep.”

  “No, Mama!”Lesia was horrified at the suggestion. “We don’t know what’s out there. Coyotes, skunks. Besides, the ground is dirty. You can’t have the baby outside.”

  “I have to!”

  Sonia sat up and began to cry. “Maaama!”

  “Help me up, Lesia.” Mama’s eyes were sharp with pain. “Now!”

  Lesia did it. Mama tottered on her feet and clutched at Lesia’s arm before moving to the door. “Don’t worry … about … noise,” she whispered. “Always … noise.” She drew a ragged breath. “Ohhhh.” Mama doubled over and stuffed her fist into her mouth to smother another cry. She squeezed Lesia’s arm so hard it made her wince.

  “Mama!” Sonia jumped up. “Mama sick?” she asked uncertainly, coming to stand behind them.

  “Hush, little one.” Lesia attempted a reassuring smile. “Mama will be fine. Go back to bed now.”

  Lesia knew the pain had lessened when Mama eased her grip on her arm. She straightened and whispered again. “Tend Sonia. Wait until she’s asleep. Then come down to the garden. Bring everything.” She let go of Lesia’s arm and slowly waddled through the door, one hand bent backwards, rubbing at the base of her spine.

  “Mama!” Sonia would have hurled herself out the door if Lesia hadn’t stopped her.

  “Everything is fine, darling.” Firmly she guided her sister back to bed, eased her down and tucked the blanket around her. “Soon you will have a new sister or brother.” Lesia stretched out beside Sonia and pulled her close. Only then did she shut her eyes for a quick, silent prayer. God willing.

  The words caught the child’s attention. “The boy kind.” Her breath was soft and sweet on Lesia’s chin.

  She smiled. “That’s a brother.”

  “A brother.” Sonia yawned. “Night, Lessie.”

  “Sleep well.” She planted a kiss on her sister’s downy head.

  Lesia wanted Sonia to go to sleep right
away—and she wanted her to stay awake all night. She wanted to help Mama, and yet she didn’t. What was it that Baba used to say? That birth and death are two sides of the same coin. The memory of Baba stabbed at Lesia’s heart, and she could feel tears gathering behind her eyes. Furiously she blinked them away. Baba wouldn’t want her to cry. Not now.

  Soon Sonia’s breathing slipped into a regular rhythm. Slowly Lesia eased her arm away and peered at her sister. She was sleeping peacefully Hopefully she would stay that way until morning.

  Grabbing the makeshift cradle and supplies, Lesia stepped outside. The night was clear, the sky was full of stars. The fire crackled and burned, sending sparks into the darkness. The water in Baba’s carrying can hissed and bubbled. Could she carry it and the cradle too?

  No. She would have to make two trips.

  She moved swiftly towards the garden, quickly adjusting to the sounds of night. The low hoot of an owl. The snap of her feet on a twig as she followed the familiar path.

  Then she heard another sound—a low moan that quickly turned into a wail.

  “I’m coming, Mama!” She clutched her supplies and began to run.

  The wail crested and dropped. Another low moan took its place. Lesia followed the sound and found Mama at the end of the garden, near the corn.

  “I’m here now.” Lesia dropped to her knees and cradled Mama’s face between her hands.

  “Lesia.” Mama’s eyes were shut but she smiled weakly. “So glad … the baby … is coming.”

  Bozhe, not already! “Mama, I have to get the water. We need hot water, remember?”

  Mama’s eyes opened. She attempted a nod. “Go now.”

  Lesia ran back to the fire, yanked off her apron, wrapped it around and around the handle of the old tin can and hurried back.

  “Baba was right,” she panted, placing it on the ground nearby “This old can just gets heavier and heavier.”

  But Mama didn’t hear. Her eyes were shut; she was moaning, low and deep. Her hair was slick with sweat and plastered to her head. Her face glowed a sickly white in the darkness.

  “I… must… push.” Mama struggled to sit up.

  There was a lump the size of a plum in Lesia’s throat. Bozhe! According to Baba, the pushing could go very fast or very slow. Either way, beloved Baba had always been so solemn when she talked about the pushing part. It was, she had said, the most dangerous part of all.

  Lesia swallowed but the lump in her throat wouldn’t go away. “Now, Mama?”

  “Up.” Mama leaned on her elbow. “Stand up … to …push.”

  In spite of her massive stomach, Mama was still thin. Lesia, on the other hand, was stronger and more muscular than she’d ever been. It was no trouble to cradle Mama as she squatted in the garden.

  Mama was so quiet at first Lesia thought she’d fallen asleep. But then she felt it. Mama’s body tensing. Her belly shaking. A deep groan rumbled into the darkness. Lesia tightened her arms while Mama pushed.

  Nothing.

  Three times that happened. Mama tensed and groaned and pushed. And nothing happened.

  The fourth time was different.

  This time, the noise came first. And this noise was like no other. It was a loud, powerful howl that sent shivers down Lesia’s spine.

  “Noooooooowwwwwwwww!” Mama leaned forward. Her face contorted as she struggled to release the baby she had carried to this new land.

  “Noooooooowwwwwww,” she moaned again. Her body tightened and she pushed. Lesia could feel a shift in energy. Movement.

  Mama fell back.

  Lesia’s eyes widened. “The baby!” she breathed. “Mama, the baby is half out.”

  Mama’s eyes were closed but her body was tensing again. Another guttural moan was coming.

  “Push, Mama,” Lesia urged. “Push!”

  And Mama did.

  The baby slipped into Lesia’s hands. Shocked, she could only stare. It was a baby. Fresh and newborn. Covered in bits of blood and white slop and still attached by its silvery blue cord to Mama. And it was a boy! Just like Sonia wanted.

  Upside down! Lesia could hear Baba’s voice. Turn him upside down.

  Lesia turned him. He sputtered and coughed. And then he began to wail softly.

  His mouth. She could hear Baba again. Clear his mouth.

  “Baby?” Mama said weakly. “See …the …baby.”

  His mouth! She wasn’t sure if she was imagining the words or really hearing them, but she turned her little brother over. He was as slippery as a fresh fish. With her index finger, she reached as far into his mouth as she dared. Mucus was clogging his throat. As soon as she removed it, the baby’s wail grew stronger, more forceful. Ach, yes … And Baba’s voice gently faded away.

  “Baby,” Mama reached for him.

  Lesia put her brother into Mama’s arms. “It’s a boy,” she said softly.

  Mama stared down at her newest child. “A blanket,” she whispered. “We must cover him.”

  Wordlessly, Lesia tucked it around the baby, being careful not to touch the cord. She would not look at that. It seemed to be pulsating and moving. Instead, she stared at her little brother. His eyes were open, watchful, unblinking. She grinned. He was so peaceful, so accepting.

  Did he look like Slavko? Lesia wondered. She didn’t remember Slavko as a baby. She’d been young herself when he was born. But she had been old enough to remember everything when he died.

  Mama glowed with happiness as she examined his tiny fingers, traced the dark lines of his brows. “Your Papa will be so proud,” she whispered. “Of him and of you.”

  “But Mama, I did nothing.” Now that it was all over, Lesia felt her part was nothing.

  “Ah!” Mama smiled. “But there’s more to do. Remember the thread? And the oil? And the flour?”

  Lesia nodded.

  “The thread is to tie off the cord. You’ll have to do that and cut it, too. Then we’ll clean him and dust him and swaddle him.”

  “But—”

  Mama reached out and touched Lesia’s lips with her finger. “Hush. You can do it, moye sonechko. There’s nothing to be frightened of now. The worst is over.” She turned back to the baby.

  Pushing is the most dangerous part of all.

  The voice was so clear and so strong that Lesia whirled around, expecting to see Baba standing behind her. Dearest Baba, Lesia thought, I learn of your death on the day God gives me the gift of a baby brother!

  Following Mama’s instructions, Lesia sterilized Baba’s scissors and pulled the thread around and around the cord. After it was cut, she cleaned the infant and gently rubbed oil into the creases of his arms and legs while Mama delivered the afterbirth. Carefully Lesia took some flour and dusted the bit of cord that was still attached to his stomach. Soon, Mama told her, it would turn black and fall off. Finally it was time to wrap the baby and put him in the cradle.

  “Not a blanket, Mama. This.” Lesia reached for Baba’s shawl.

  “Yes.” Mama’s smile was tinged with sadness.

  Lovingly, Lesia wrapped her litde brother in the warmth of the colourful shawl and then placed him in the cradle. She tucked another blanket securely around him.

  “We will call him Adam,” Mama said. Her eyes were shut. She looked peaceful.

  Adam had been Geedo’s name. Awestruck, Lesia studied his perfectly shaped eyebrows, his thick lashes, his small, pink hands. For a long while, he studied her back, silent yet alert. Eventually, his eyes grew heavy and he drifted off to sleep.

  Soon she would have to help Mama and Adam back to the burdei. But for a minute, she just wanted to enjoy the peacefulness of the night.

  The dark sky was huge, like an upturned bowl of velvet, glittering and shimmering with stars. As she watched, a star shot in a silver arc over her head before disappearing over the edge of the horizon.

  Lesia smiled. She felt blessed.

  Chapter Eleven

  Ah, my darling Laisha, I never forgot Baba. My grief for her was like a shirt th
at I wore until it crumbled into dust and became part of my skin.

  Adam helped. He cried on and on in those early weeks. Then, he grew into such a happy, loving baby. He was a joy to care for. When we had eggs to trade for milk and butter, and when we still had flour and potatoes, Adam grew plump on the richness of Mama’s milk.

  I would stare in awe. Adam was a promise fulfilled. A rich reward from the land of milk and honey. A blessing from God. For the first time ever, Mama was able to nurse a baby quiet. Fill a belly. I was so proud. So hopeful.

  I worked hard, always so hard, but especially those weeks after Adam’s birth. There was Sonia to care for and meals to cook and still the land to clear and the fence to weave. Mama could not help. She was too weak to do more than nurse Adam, so it was all left to me. Some nights I fell asleep in my chair. But it was worth it. All of it.

  God took Baba, yes, but He gave us Adam to ease our pain. In His infinite wisdom, God knew what was best. So Baba had always said. I had my grief, but this I accepted.

  When the horror came, I was able to see that Baba’s passing was a blessing too. She was old already. She had known misery. She did not need to live with more.

  Ah, my darling Laisha, the shame of that time. Bozhe! Bozhe! The fear and the anger and the styd. How you say that in English? The disgrace. Baba would have died a thousand deaths to learn of it.

  It was better that she was gone. I could take comfort at night when the stars winked down at us. She was there, sending us light in all the darkness.

  For some things that happened under that prairie sky are so horrible they are without words. Unspeakable. Unacceptable. Then and now.

  September 5,1914

  The Magus homestead

  The evening was still and warm and the mosquitoes loved it. They swarmed at Lesia, biting whatever skin was exposed—her hands, her feet, her face. With a cry of anger, she slapped her neck, flicked another dead insect to the ground and rubbed her blood-smeared hand down the side of her apron. If she could resist the urge to scratch, the bites would stop itching soon enough.

  Raising the axe above her head, she let her anger and frustration propel it down onto another tree stump. She wanted honey in the hives, wheat in the fields and respect in the eyes of the townspeople.