Wyn felt a blush stain his cheeks at the irreverent blessing, and a string of feminine giggles swept around the table amid the various toned "Amens." Some of the prayer endings were uttered in resigned voices, Prudence Elliot's being the most resigned. Wyn glanced uneasily at Sarah, seeing her studying Luke with an unreadable look. When Sarah lifted her gaze to his, he defensively prepared himself for a lecture. But the crash of the milk pitcher on the floor forestalled whatever she had been ready to say.
"Damn it . . ." Wyn jumped from his seat.
"Supper table's not the place to swear," Dan reminded him in a stern voice.
"Well, gosh darn it, Pa!" Wyn retorted. "That's why we started filling plates and glasses over at the sink and stove, then carrying them to the table. The young ones didn't break so much stuff that way as when we had to pass around stuff at the table."
"If children aren't allowed to handle things, and taught the proper way," Sarah said, rising to her feet, "they will never learn how. I'll clean up the mess Jute made, with his help."
"You're a guest," Wyn said. "Sit back down and I'll take care of it."
He hurried across the room for the mop, broom and dustpan, returning to find Sarah had completely ignored him. She was on her hands and knees, a surprisingly perky and firm rear sticking up at him as she reached beneath the table. Pulling back, she smiled in satisfaction at the large piece of clay pitcher in her hand. She handed it to Jute, admonishing him to be careful it didn't cut him, and the twin raced over to the trash can beside the sink.
In the meantime, the rest of the people at the table continued passing around the various dishes, and Dan assisted Luke with the bowls passing through the other twin's hands. Each dish came to rest in front of Wyn's unoccupied chair.
Feeling a tug, Wyn looked into Sarah's face. She'd risen and was indicating for him to let her have the mop. He loosened his fingers.
Within another minute, Wyn found himself back in his chair, filling his own plate and passing the bowls across to Sarah. The meal continued without further mishap, and with an easy give and take of conversation. He actually found himself listening to what each child had to say about how they'd passed the day, rather than refereeing whose turn it was to talk. But when the meal was over, he couldn't seem to recall more than the calm presence across from him in what had been a tumultuous time of day for many of the preceding months.
His stomach calm and full rather than tense and upset, he clasped his hands on it and leaned back in his chair, dropping his chin onto his chest. Lord it felt good to relax. The murmurs around him faded into a drone and his entire body slackened.
~~~~
The blizzard raged for two days, and Sarah passed the time visiting with Mandy and working on her embroidery. Periodically, she walked to the parlor windows and wiped away the frost on the window panes to peer out at the blowing snow and trees whipping in the wind. At times she couldn't even see the schoolhouse across the dirt road, let alone the general store catty-corner up the way.
On the morning of the third day, however, a brilliant blue sky hung over the beautiful panorama outside the window. Powder puff drifts piled willy nilly in the picture perfect scene, and pointed teeth poked up from where huge pines rested under their snow blankets.
She had missed Mairi, but she might as well get used to that. She would be leaving in a couple days — as soon as Jeeter could make it back up the mountain — and her only contact with Mairi would be in the letters the little girl had promised to write. She could hope that Dan would allow Mairi to visit her in New York City once in a while, but she hadn't broached that request with Mairi's uncle yet.
Probably the schoolteacher would accompany her down the mountain when she left. Prudence Elliot had made it clear when she cornered Sarah at the MacIntyre's the other night that she couldn't wait to get back to civilization. Who would teach the children then?
The twins were so lively and bright, she couldn't imagine them not enjoying learning, if their energy could be properly channeled. Having spent hours with Mairi in the bedroom while she recovered, Sarah already knew the child eagerly soaked up knowledge like a flower turning its face to the sun. Mairi had begun reading the fairy tales along with Sarah before they left New York City.
She didn't know Pris or Carrie well yet, but she'd listened to their chatter after dinner . . . supper, as Mandy called it. She'd actually heard the two girls discussing one of the classics, and Dan had answered her puzzled look by nodding at a wall of shelves beside the fireplace. So many books stuffed it, several were haphazardly lying on top of the upright spines of others.
Dropping the curtain back into place over the window, Sarah turned around into the parlor. Mandy had gone to the kitchen for tea a few minutes ago, and the fire was dying. She crossed to the log basket and picked up another piece of wood, tossing it onto the fire.
A blue flame flared from the new wood, and Sarah quit resisting the thoughts of the other MacIntyre family member hovering at the edge of her mind — the one with the most piercing blue eyes. She could still see him, slumped in his chair, a slight snore issuing from his nostrils. What totally stuck in her mind, also, were the faces on his family members as they realized Wyn had dropped off to sleep. She felt the love and tolerance in the room as the din of noise ceased and everyone tried to allow Wyn his nap.
Never having been around a large family, Sarah was amazed at the almost visible feelings among them. Had she fallen asleep at the dinner table back home, her father would have gruffly awakened her and ordered her to her room until she remembered her manners. To the elder Channing, appearances were everything.
When Wyn woke, he seemed to take his family's solicitude in stride, unembarrassed at drifting off. Sissy even heaved herself to her feet and brought him a piece of the blackberry pie he'd missed at dessert, for which he thanked her with a warm, loving look in those sky-colored eyes.
A pounding on the front door make Sarah jerk around, her hand at her throat. Before she could move, she heard the door slam open and thud against the wall, then the voice of the man in her thoughts shout Mandy's name.
"Where are you? Mandy!" he called, as Sarah hurried to the parlor door. Wyn tromped into the house and slammed the door behind him, his gait an odd cadence.
"It's Sissy, Mandy!" he yelled. "It's her time, and it'll take me forever to get Leery back here in this snow!"
He glanced over at Sarah, and she had to bite back a laugh. His hair was rumpled and his shirt tucked only half in his pants, as though he'd just gotten dressed. He didn't even have on a coat, and his eyes were so harried Sarah would almost have thought it was his wife giving birth, rather than his sister.
"Mandy's in the kitchen, fixing some tea," she told Wyn in what she hoped was a soothing voice. "I'll go get her . . ."
"I'll go!"
Wyn bolted away, his feet again making that odd clumping cadence. She saw the reason this time. He wore only one boot, and his sock hung precariously on the other foot, flopping at the end of his toes and leaving a wet smear on the shining hall floor. She bit the inside of her cheek to still her laughter and followed him. He had to be freezing, after running over to the boardinghouse in only one boot and without a coat, but he didn't slow down one bit.
Mandy met him at the kitchen door, already holding a small black satchel. "I heard you hollering, Wyn," she said. "Have you tried to get hold of Doc MacKenzie?"
"You know Sissy wants Leery, but I'll go after Doc as soon as you get over there, Mandy." Wyn grabbed the older woman's arm and started dragging her down the hallway toward the front door. "Hurry! Her water's already broke and she's having pains."
"I'd hope so," Mandy murmured, then tossed Sarah a tolerant glance, handing her the black satchel as she passed. "Medical supplies," she murmured. Then she pulled away from Wyn, and propped her hands on her hips.
For a moment, Wyn didn't seem to notice he wasn't holding Mandy any longer, and he barreled on toward the door. He flung it open and started through before awarene
ss evidently hit him. Swiveling around, he raced back to Mandy, reaching for her again.
But Mandy stuck her face into his and shouted, "Wyn! Settle down!"
Wyn jerked back as though Mandy had struck him, and Sarah choked on her laughter. She'd heard stories of how her friends' husbands acted during the births of their offspring, but she'd never been around a man who was actually a part of a birth. Wyn's wild-eyed stare grew worse, if anything, and he held out his hands to Mandy in a pleading manner.
"You've gotta come on, Mandy! She's having the baby!"
"It took Sissy sixteen hours to birth Bobbie," Mandy said in a placid voice. "I figure we've got a few minutes yet before this babe starts to crown."
"Crown?" Wyn repeated with a gulp that bobbed his Adams apple up and down. "Mandy, you gotta get over there and check Sissy. Carrie has no idea what to do!"
"Sissy does," Mandy assured him with a pat on the arm. "Now, you settle down and help Sarah and me on with our cloaks."
"Me?" Sarah said around a croak of fear. "Uh . . . I have no idea what happens at a birthing. I'd probably be more trouble than help."
"You can help with the children, dear," Mandy said.
"Yeah, you can help with the children, dear," Wyn echoed distractedly. He stared around for a moment, then said, "Oh, yeah. Cloaks."
Plunging to the hall closet, he threw the door open and grabbed two cloaks from inside. Throwing one over his arm, he frantically flapped the other one at Mandy until she shook her head and turned around to allow him to place it over her shoulders. Before Sarah could protest again, he stuffed her into the other cloak and shoved her and Mandy out the door.
When a sudden wind whipped around her ankles, she realized Wyn had given her Mandy's cloak, and vice versa. However, a muscled arm suddenly clapped around her waist left her no alternative but to plow through the snow beside Wyn, down the path his feet had cleared on his way over to the boardinghouse. Wyn pushed Mandy ahead of him, and once she thought he was going to stop and bodily pick up the smaller woman. Finally, they clumped onto the porch and through the door to the store.
Dan sat in his wheelchair beside the front counter, serenely smoking his pipe, and Wyn didn't even acknowledge him. He shoved both of the women away from him, then turned.
"I'm going after Doc and Leery . . ."
Mandy swiveled and grabbed the back of Wyn's collar. "Wyn MacIntyre," she ordered. "You put on your other boot and get a warm coat and hat! And get yourself a pair of dry socks before you put your boots on."
Wyn stared at his feet as though just now realizing what had been carrying him around. Dan calmly reached onto the counter and threw a pair of socks at Wyn, who caught the movement and instinctively grabbed them out of the air. Without ceremony, he plopped down on the floor and removed his wet sock, then pulled off his boot.
"Your other boot's over there beneath your coat and hat on the coat rack," Dan said. "And I sent all the kids on to school, 'cept for Carrie. Figgered she was old enough to help by at least taking care of Bobbie."
"Oh," Sarah said in relief. "Then you won't need me."
"'Course I will," Mandy admonished. "Come on."
"Where the heck are you going, Wyn?" Dan yelled.
Sarah turned to see Wyn half in, half out the front door, a puzzled look on his face as he stared at his father.
"After Doc and Leery," Wyn said. "I told you that."
Dan sighed and shook his head. "Go out the back way and get one of the horses, Wyn. No need to walk all that way."
"Horses?" Wyn asked.
"Yes, horses," Dan said with a chuckle. "We've got six of them out back in the barn. Remember?"
"Oh, yeah."
Sarah barely managed to step back from Wyn's plunging flight. Mandy wasn't so lucky, and she yelped, leaning back against a pickle barrel and lifting her left foot.
"Darn it," Mandy muttered. "He stepped on my toe."
The two women looked at each other and burst out laughing. When their hilarity finally subsided to snickers, Mandy walked over to Dan, who had a wide grin on his face.
Patting him on the shoulder, she asked, "Do we have everything we need upstairs? Or do I need to take anything from down here?"
"I think it's all ready," Dan said. "Everything Sissy and I could remember, anyway. We even put the knife under the bed."
"Good," Mandy said with a nod. "Leery will look for that first thing. We'll check on you now and then, to see if you need anything before Wyn gets back."
"I'll be fine," Dan assured her.
Mandy led the way towards the back stairwell.
"Knife?" Sarah asked in an undertone as they climbed the stairs.
"It's to cut the pain," Mandy said. "Don't know as it helps, but it doesn't hurt. It's one of Leery's requirements, and it's a belief here in the mountains."
Inside the huge loft area, Mandy guided Sarah over to one of the bedrooms at the right side of the room. The door was open, and feminine voices sounded inside. Sarah looked in to find Sissy propped up in bed, with Carrie standing there holding Bobbie. Taking the black satchel from Sarah, Mandy walked to the head of the bed.
The next few hours passed slowly, and Mandy even allowed Sissy up to pace around a few times. A tall, spare man arrived after the first hour, who was introduced to Sarah as Doc MacKenzie. He examined Sissy while the women stood by, pronouncing her doing well and informing them that he would be down in the store with Dan if he was needed.
"If he's needed?" Sarah asked Mandy after the doctor left the room.
"Leery will handle everything unless there's a problem," Mandy informed her. "That's the way Sissy wants it. Leery and Doc work pretty well together, and the reason they do is that they let their patients decide who's their main doctor. The other one is available if needed. There's no jealousy between Doc and Leery."
"I see," Sarah said.
Two hours later, Leery arrived. At first Sarah thought one of the children had returned from school, but the tiny bird-like woman continued to remove her outer wrappings and lay them on a nearby chair until she stood revealed. Her face was as wrinkled as a dried apple, her hair a mixture of gray and white streaks. She wore a snow-white apron over a neatly-pressed, blue gingham dress, and her deep-set, light blue eyes seemed to be able to pierce straight into a person's mind, past any attempt to conceal feelings.
Rather than heading directly to Sissy, Leery stood silently studying Sarah for a long moment after they were introduced. Giving a nod she evidently didn't feel a need to explain, Leery finally shooed everyone out of the room — except Sissy, of course.
"Go get a cup of coffee," she ordered in a surprisingly firm voice for someone Sarah decided was possibly very ancient. "And Carrie, put that child down for a nap. It's going to be a while yet."
"How does she know that without even examining Sissy?" Sarah asked Mandy as the door closed.
"She knows," Mandy replied, reminding Sarah that her landlady had informed her of the belief in the mountains that Leery had second sight.
Sarah also recalled that Leery had predicted a girl for Sissy this time, deciding to keep that in mind while still not thinking it would prove anything. After all, the mountain midwife had a fifty-fifty chance of being right.
But the little girl was born just before sundown, with very little fuss and bother to Sarah's mind. Sissy had a few very hard pains, and she grabbed the headboard and bit her bottom lip. Very soon, Leery held up a tiny, wet figure, with legs and arms waving and a howl that filled the room and intermingled with Leery's announcement of the babe's being a girlchild.
Leery laid the baby on Sissy's stomach and took the knife Sarah had waiting. After cutting the cord and separating the baby from its mother, she placed her in the blanket Mandy held in her hands. Sarah followed Mandy over to the washbasin in the corner of the room.
"Won't Sissy want to hold the babe immediately?" Sarah questioned.
"She needs to expel the afterbirth first," Mandy informed her. "That will give us time to clean
the babe up."
Sarah grimaced, glad Leery hadn't asked her to stand by for that procedure. But she was also extremely proud of herself for keeping vigil all day and doing her part in the birthing, while Mandy handled feeding the family. Now Sarah busied herself helping bathe the baby, her eyes filling with tears and her heart swelling as she touched the tiny piece of humanity. When it instinctively wrapped miniature fingers around her thumb, she choked back a sob.
"Beautiful, isn't she?" Mandy asked in an understanding voice.
"Precious," Sarah admitted. "I want a dozen of them."
"One at a time, I hope," Mandy teased, handing the clean baby to Sarah and nodding for her to take it over to Sissy.
After Sissy had duly admired her baby and counted all her toes and fingers, Leery sighed reluctantly and informed them it was time to allow the men into the room.
"Then," she continued sternly, "you will rest, Sissy. Your Robert will be home within a week."
"Thank you for telling me that, Leery," Sissy said.
Sarah stood back in a corner while Mandy called down the stairwell to announce the birth and allow the rest of the family upstairs once again. Carrie brought Bobbie in first to meet his new sister, although the youngster didn't appear impressed. Mairi and Pris each held a hand of one of the twins when they came into the room, but the restraint wasn't necessary. Luke and Jute were suitably awed, and didn't begin arguing about who would take the little girl fishing first until after they left the room.
Wyn and Dan came last, and Sarah assumed this was because Wyn had to get his father up the stairs in the wheelchair. Dan accepted the baby from Mandy first, snuggling her in his arm and tracing a gentle finger around her face.
"Welcome, new little grandbabe," he whispered before handing the newborn to Wyn.
At first Wyn shook his head and backed away, but Leery gave him an admonishing look. He hesitantly reached out, cupping his hands beneath the babe's head and bottom.
"I always forget how tiny they are," he murmured. "And it always scares the bejesus out of me the first time I hold a new one."
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