Seeking the Shore

by Donna Gentry Morton

  “I understand, but be careful, sweets. It’s hard to keep Leyton in the dark. You know that.”

  “Oh, I know that,” Julianna said, gesturing toward her belly. “Unlike this baby. There’s no keeping him—or her—a secret.” A thrill of excitement darted up her spine. “It won’t be much longer, Virginia.”

  “It can’t be much longer,” Virginia said, putting her hands on Julianna’s round stomach and rubbing gently. “You’re positively popping, sweets. There’s not much more room left at the inn.”

  Julianna honestly believed that when she awoke on the morning of April 17.

  Achy, she went to the writing desk in the alcove and carefully sat before the typewriter, wincing at the soreness of the muscles around her belly. How much farther can it stretch?

  This desk was where she worked, rapidly banging the typewriter keys and whipping pages from the roller, creating Blair scripts while Leyton wasn’t home and then giving them to Virginia for safekeeping. Today, though, she stared at a blank piece of paper, unable to focus or hold a thought. She yanked the paper free, shoved it in the drawer, and got up from the desk, moving to the front window, where she looked out on a day that had started under a canopy of fog but soon melted under the warmth of Springime’s sun. The world glowed beneath its brilliance, and even the dense trees on River Drive couldn’t block all of the rays. Some managed to cut through the treetops and splash randomly about the ivy-covered ground. Jimmy Mac had planted a spectrum of impatiens around the trees. They blazed with white, purple, and orange, injecting much-needed color into the dark, shaded grounds.

  On most days, Julianna’s eyes soaked in the colors, appreciating what they did for her spirit. Today, though, she just couldn’t be still enough to admire them. From there, she drifted from one activity to another, quickly growing bored with each one as she fought the urge to scream and jump from her skin.

  “Baby’s fixin’ to come. That’s why you’re so unsettled,” Cassie said when she bustled through the door late that afternoon. With the baby due anytime, she, Virginia, and Julianna’s mother had been taking turns spending the night with Julianna. Leyton was out of town, having gone to Boston with Julianna’s father for a weeklong banking convention.

  Though it was Cassie’s turn to stay the night, the others came for dinner. Cassie was cooking and busy taking pots down from the cupboard when they arrived.

  “I’m famished,” Virginia said. “What are we having?”

  “Wienerschnitzel.”

  “It sounds like a curse word,” Virginia said, smacking her hand on the kitchen counter. “Oh, Wienerschnitzel!”

  Julianna laughed and yawned simultaneously.

  “Best rest up,” Cassie said with a well-knowing nod of her head. “Your time is coming, mark my words.”

  Julianna, sitting at the kitchen table, now pushed herself up. “I’m going to my room for a minute,” she said. “I just need a catnap.”

  “We’ll eat in a little bit,” Cassie said.

  “Wake me if I don’t get up on my own,” Julianna said. Hand braced behind her hip, she walked swaybacked from the kitchen and slowly made her way upstairs. It looked like such a long, steep staircase, but her bed had never looked so inviting.

  She was asleep seconds after her head hit the pillow.

  She didn’t know how long she had slept before the first pain jarred her awake. Her breath caught, and she stiffened until it passed then waited to see if another contraction would follow. It did, a few minutes later, and her hands reached desperately for something to grip. There was no bedrail, so she clawed at the mattress while the contraction peaked and then leveled off before mercifully going away.

  She sat up and brought her legs over the side of the bed. Looking at the long black shadows on the bedroom wall and the butterscotch glow of the sinking sun, she knew she hadn’t slept past evening. As though it knew she was wondering about the time, the grandfather clock downstairs chimed, announcing that it was seven straight up.

  So this is labor, she thought, bearing down on the corner of the nightstand as she rose to her feet. She crossed the bedroom and went down the hall and then started downstairs. Midway down, another contraction began its climb. She froze, bracing herself for the pain by gritting her teeth and curling her fists around the rail. As the pain intensified, so did her grip, turning her knuckles so white that she half expected to see the rail crumble in her hands.

  When the contraction passed, she released her breath, unaware until then that she had been holding it so deeply. It exploded from her like air blasting from a balloon. She sat on a step to rest. Until now, she had only imagined what labor would be like; now that it was upon her, she realized that she had not been able to imagine it at all.

  “Mother! Cassie! Someone!”

  The three women seemed to materialize before her eyes, abandoning their board game and hurrying from the parlor. Cassie was the first to speak. “Labor pains? I told you your time was near.”

  Julianna nodded, a half smile on her face. “Nobody woke me for dinner.”

  “Oh, you were just sleeping so soundly—” her mother started to explain.

  “How far apart?” Cassie broke in.

  “A couple of minutes.”

  “Couple of minutes?” Cassie’s eyebrows rose.

  Julianna grimaced as another contraction reared its head, growing stronger until it ripped through her abdomen like a knife. She screamed and arched her back then collapsed so that she was laying across the steps rather than sitting on them.

  “Shouldn’t we be loading her into the car?” Virginia asked. “The hospital awaits.”

  “There’s not gonna be a hospital,” Cassie said. “Not with pains this close together.”

  “It’s 1935, for crying out loud!” Virginia shouted, panic lacing her voice. “Half the babies in this country are now born in hospitals.”

  “And the other half are born somewhere else,” Cassie calmly pointed out. “Let’s get her up to bed.”

  “Up to bed?” Julianna’s mother gasped. “And do what?”

  “Help her have this baby,” Cassie said as she looked to Virginia. “Ring the doctor but tell him it’s gonna be a house call instead of a trip to the hospital. Then get a razor blade and some string—boil ’em to death. And last, bring me a bottle of Mr. Leyton’s bourbon so I can sterilize my hands.”

  Virginia gaped at her with pure mortification, her skin ghostly white. “Have you lost your ever-loving mind?” she nearly screamed.

  Cassie came up the steps and took both of Julianna’s arms, trying to guide her to her feet.

  “Oh, Cassie, I don’t know about this,” Julianna’s mother wailed, hands flailing in the air. “We must have a doctor in attendance!”

  Cassie grunted as she pulled Julianna up. “My mama was a midwife, and I’ve helped out at the charity sanitarium for years,” she reminded the women. “Lots of babies have seen my pretty face before they seen anything else.” She stroked Julianna’s head. “I’d be honored to count Julianna’s baby among them.” She gave her hands a brisk rub. “Besides, I’m the best you got unless the doctor’s got himself an airplane.”

  The realization jolted the other women from their frenzy.

  “What can I do?” Julianna’s mother asked, twisting her fingers. “I want to do something.”

  “Get some towels,” Cassie instructed. “Fresh, clean ones.”

  As Virginia ran to call the doctor, Julianna’s mother hurried up the steps and to the hall linen closet. She came back to the room muttering, “Oh, dear, dear, dear.”

  Cassie was settling Julianna on the bed when her mother rushed in with the towels.

  Virginia followed with the other supplies, plus a cup of ice chips and a damp washcloth. “Doc’s on the way,” she told Julianna as she handed her the ice and cloth. “The nurse said to give you these. Chomp on the ice when your mouth feels dry and bite down on the wash cloth when the contractions come.”

  They began to attack with m
ore strength and frequency, nearly overwhelming Julianna with the depth of their searing waves. The baby’s head pressed hard against her pelvic floor, filling her with an intense pressure that felt like a watermelon trying to free itself from her insides. She yanked the washcloth from her mouth and screamed, the cry lasting nearly as long as the ninety-second contraction that overtook her.

  Virginia gripped her hand, grimacing when Julianna grimaced, gritting her teeth when Julianna gritted hers. Her mother retrieved the discarded washcloth and scooted on the bed next to Julianna, where she used the cool cloth to wipe her glistening forehead.

  The pain was huge—bigger than Julianna, bigger than the room. She looked desperately at Cassie.

  “There, there,” Cassie said gently. “Lots of women have done this before you, and lots more gonna do it after you.”

  Julianna nodded, the words reinforcing her strength, giving her the drive to stay focused.

  “Okay now,” Cassie said, “when the next pain comes, you need to push like the dickens.”

  The words were barely out of Cassie’s mouth when a contraction began its excruciating rise. Julianna clamped down hard on Virginia’s hand and leaned forward, pushing so hard that she thought her face might explode. Breathless from the work, she fell back on the bed until another contraction began to build.

  Again, she pushed.

  And again.

  And still, again.

  Finally, Cassie shouted, “I see the head!”

  Julianna laughed with relief, even though the baby’s crowning head caused her to burn as though being branded by an iron. Get through this part, get through this part, just get through—

  “All right, here we go,” Cassie said, a wide smile coming across her face. “Something to show for your hard work, mama, ’cause . . . here . . . she . . . is.”

  Julianna listened to the distinct cry of her newborn daughter and smiled at the vigor in her wail as she protested trading the warmth of the womb for the cold of the world.

  “Yeah, she’s got spirit.” Cassie grinned as she cut the cord with the razor blade then tied it off with the string. After cleaning the baby, she expertly swaddled her in a blanket and handed her to Julianna. “Time for you two to meet.”

  Julianna cradled her baby, knowing for the second time in her life what it was like to feel love at first sight. Unable to speak, she softly caressed the downy skin of the baby’s face and played with the perfect fingers, amazed by their miniature nails.

  Her mother and Virginia watched, smiling as they witnessed a new facet of Julianna emerge. Julianna the mother, propped against pillows, hair wild about her shoulders and wispy where it framed her face, a face that was flushed and glowing like the rosy hue of a sunset.

  “Oh, Julianna,” her mother whispered. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look more beautiful than you do right now.”

  Virginia nodded her agreement. “Did you ever choose a name?”

  “Mariam,” Julianna said. “It means . . .” her voiced trailed as she thought of the name, knowing it would always carry her back to that final summer night in Ambrose Point, when she had sat on the moon-bathed porch of the house and longed for a child with Jace.

  She smiled at the baby then lifted her tiny hand and christened it with a feather-soft kiss.

  “Mariam,” she said, “Your name means . . . wished-for child.”

  Just then, there was a light rapping on the frame of the open bedroom door. The women looked up and saw the doctor standing in the doorway, a stethoscope dangling from his neck and a black bag in hand. He looked at the small crowd around the bed.

  “Uh oh, am I too late?”

  “No, sir.” Cassie motioned him in. “Not if you came to say ‘congratulations.’”

  “Make that kid shut up!”

  Braced in the doorway of the nursery, Leyton wore the disheveled look of someone who had been tossing and turning. “It’s four o’clock in the morning!”

  Julianna paced the nursery, gently patting three-week-old Mariam, who she called Mari. The infant was inconsolable, working herself into a livid fit as she screamed against Julianna’s shoulder.

  Exhausted, Julianna had been holding tears of fatigue and frustration at bay. Now, though, thanks to Leyton, she could smile a bit as she noted his appearance. His hair was sticking up, much in the fashion of a rooster, and the belt to his maroon silk robe was tied haphazardly about his waist, hanging down his backside like a long tail. She wondered what her father would have to say about his Golden Boy now. To think that the picture-perfect Leyton could sport the sagging, hound dog eyes of sleep deprivation, just like a mortal man.

  “I know the time,” Julianna said as she switched Mari from one shoulder to the other.

  “I’ve been trying to quiet her for an hour, but nothing is working tonight.”

  He pointed an angry finger. “That’s because you have no idea what you’re doing!”

  It was an unfair accusation to hurl at a new mother, and Julianna told him so, determined to defend herself against his insult. She may be new to the role, but she was devoted to her baby and learning more about parenting every day.

  “Ha!” Leyton spat. He stormed down the hall, yelling, “Don’t think this is going to force me into allowing a nanny, though! You made your miserable bed, now you can wallow in it!” Julianna jerked at the sound of the slamming bedroom door.

  She couldn’t help but smile. Leyton thought he was making her suffer by forbidding her a nanny. He couldn’t imagine a more horrid way to spend the day than by facing the demands of a child. For Julianna, the arrangement was perfect, even enhanced by the beauty of Leyton unknowingly giving her exactly what she wanted. What he perceived as saddling her with entrapment was actually giving her the freedom to raise her child. The life he defined as misery was the only way Julianna would have it.

  She sat in the window seat and placed Mari tummy-down across her lap. Julianna bounced her legs lightly, relieved when the movement began to relax Mari’s little body. The baby had gone rigid during the screaming fit, but was now soft and flexible, her wails subsiding to quiet, shuddering whimpers as she calmed down. Julianna continued the motion until Mari drifted to sleep, then she carefully lifted her into the crook of her arm. Julianna marveled at the beauty of the little girl’s face and brushed her finger across the rosebud lips.

  Mari’s birth had not been treated with fanfare and fireworks, not even with a newspaper announcement, because Julianna’s fears of kidnapping were too great. Memories of the Lindberg abduction made her shudder, and the decade had seen a rash of other kidnappings, too. Times were desperate, and for those with wealth, the birth of a child went hand-in-hand with the fear of kidnapping for ransom. It was no secret, of course, that she had given birth, but she kept a low profile. Fortunately, this suited her father and Leyton just fine, though for different reasons. Oh, they accepted words of congratulations, but to them Mari was a disgrace, a product of inferior paternity and someone they didn’t like to talk about. Her father had yet to look at Mari or even inquire about her well-being.

  “You deserve all the love in the world,” Julianna said softly as she scooted farther back in the window seat, drawing her legs beneath her and turning so that she could look at the passing river. It was like an opal, catching the shimmering pinks and oranges of the awakening sky. She rested Mari on her chest and caressed the baby’s soft head. Throat tight, she added, “You deserve a father. He never even knew you were on the way, but someday I’ll tell you how much we loved each other, how much he would have loved you if he’d been given the chance.”

  Sighing, Julianna pressed her forehead against the windowpane. I’ve had my great love, she thought, her face tender, warm with memories of Jace and a happier life, no matter how short. She watched the water flirting with the riverbank in its slow drift beneath the dawn.

  She supposed she would always have questions about their love, one that seemed taken from her too soon. It was like the tide had rolled toward t
hem but never came fully upon the shore. Still, Julianna believed their time was meant to be, that there had to be a reason for a love so rich.

  She looked away from the water and gazed upon Mari, still sleeping, the little mouth twitching as though it were about to smile. Some said the grins were triggered by the unseen kisses and whispers of angels.

  Perhaps the reason for her and Jace was right here, dreaming sweetly in her arms. That’s what Cassie said every time she visited to coo and fuss over Mari. She said there was no such thing as a baby who was unplanned. Oh, maybe they were a surprise to the parents, but never to God. He knew them before they existed, and Cassie said that was a fact right out of the Bible.

  Several states away, Jace was watching the day wake up, too. The view was definitely different from what most of the world saw, made up of concrete walls and a sliding barred door. It was just before dawn. He no longer had the privilege of early light filtering in through a window, so he now relied on the signs to help him tell the time. The guards getting off the graveyard shift would make their final rounds, blinding him with the harsh yellow glare of their flashlight being shined about his cell.

  “What?” Jace called out to the passing guard. “You guys think I pulled an overnight Houdini? Escaped from this milk can and slipped out during one of your cigarette breaks?”

  “Why’re you awake?” the guard said, pausing by his cell. “Your breakfast-for-a-king won’t be served for a few more hours.”

  “Too excited to sleep,” Jace said dryly. “Visions of oatless oatmeal mush are dancing in my head like sugar plums.”

  The guard snorted and continued on his rounds. Jace stared at the gray ceiling with his hands folded behind his head, which rested on his too-thin pillow on his too-thin mattress. Why was he awake? A dream about Julianna had done it. They always woke him up, but he never could remember the specifics. All his brain presented was some hazy image of her, and even it faded fast, going to wherever it was that forgotten dreams went.