Naked in the Winter Wind (The Fairies Saga Book 1)

by Dani Haviland

  Both times had problems with alcohol. Booze has always been a part of human culture, its abuse an ever-present challenge. And there have always been deaths from wars and passion, but the suicide bombings that were almost a side note in modern daily newspapers were unknown before we became ‘civilized.’ Large-scale kidnappings and killings as a result of the oil and drug cartel wars—those were totally modern-day casualties. Eating disorders, heart disease, cancer, Alzheimer’s, rampant diabetes, AIDS, and all those broken families due to drug addiction were horrible additions to the human race caused in part, I believed, by modernization and all the chemicals, corruption, and conveniences that came with it.

  On the other hand, we didn’t have slavery in modern America. Homosexuality would be accepted, grudgingly by some, but still recognized as a normal aspect of human life in the United States, and in many other parts of the world, too.

  Why can’t people just accept each other as what we are?—souls with a mammalian shell. We shouldn’t have to live in fear. We’re at the top of the food chain, but have to be wary of others who share our top rung. I figure it must be part of God’s big plan to see how we cope with the situations in our own era. Then again, after all the pains, joys, and sorrows people go through while on earth, heaven seems a wonderful place to go when our physical bodies wear out.

  The sun streaming through the window—and the fact that there was nothing else for me to do but philosophize more—brought me to the conclusion that now was a great time for a nap. I really was expending a lot of energy just growing babies.

  I was always hungry, but my stomach was so crammed up into my chest, I could barely eat a cupful of food at a time. What I really wanted was a banana. I knew that was an impossible fruit to have, but I could dream, couldn’t I? I grabbed a chunk of sourdough bread, rolled it up into a banana shape, and spread a little of Sarah’s delicious peanut butter and honey mixture on it. It wasn’t quite the same, but was still good and would probably hold me through my nap.

  I dreamt of deserts and snakes. I wasn’t afraid of these snakes: they had no rattlers. I walked closer to the one sitting on a rock because he looked like he was talking to me. As I got to within a foot of him, he leaned his head back and blew on the whistle he had been holding with his tail. The ground beneath me suddenly opened up, and I dropped into a pit filled with water, so deep that I couldn’t feel the bottom. I panicked, my arms flailing about, reaching and grasping the empty air.

  My thrashing and moaning woke me with a start.

  “Are ye okay, lass?” a male voice asked.

  My heart was thumping in my throat, choking me—it was Ian!

  “Ian!?” I yelped, shrugging away from the hand on my shoulder.

  “No, I’m sorry, lass; it’s only me, Jody. Sarah took Wallace outside fer a bit to help her bring in the surprises we brought back fer ye. I said I’d keep an eye on ye. Can I get ye anythin’?”

  “How about a husband who won’t ditch me?” I said under my breath, ill at ease with the phantom voice of Ian still echoing in my head. “Oh, I’m sorry,” I said aloud, shaking my head to try and Etch A Sketch erase it. “I think it’s just those raging hormones of pregnancy.”

  “Ach, I dinna ken anythin’ about ragin’ whore moans, but I do ken that a woman gits a bit out of sorts when she’s carryin’ a bairn, especially toward the end of her time. How far gone are ye now?”

  “A little over eight months. I don’t think I can get much bigger without bursting. Look,” I said, and pulled down the waistband of my skirt, “I don’t know if I’ll ever get my belly button back again. I do want to carry the babies for as long as I can, though. They’re much easier to take care of and feed while they’re on the inside. I still have to find more cloth for diapers…er…clouts, too. Did you find anyone who had cloth for trade? Right now I’d swap one of my gold nuggets for a bolt of good cotton.”

  “Weel, ye can keep yer nugget. I happened to meet a man who was stopped on the road. He had too much packed onto his wagon, along with another problem. I asked if he needed help with his lame mule. He said he’d appreciate it. I dug a stone out of the mule’s foot, trimmed her hooves as best I could with my dirk, then she was right as could be. He asked what I would be wantin’ fer payment. I saw he had quite the load of dry goods. I thought this hank of pretty green cotton cloth would be right nice for a proper dress fer ye, and maybe some garments for the wee bairns.”

  “Oh, thank you!” I gushed. “I’d hug you if I could.” I made a valiant try at getting near enough to him to reach around his neck, but my belly was in the way. Instead, he bent over and hugged me about the shoulders.

  “Ye willna always be this big. I’ll let ye owe me the hug. Julian has somethin’ fer ye, too.”

  Julian walked in, holding a dead pheasant by the legs.

  “Ooh, pretty feathers,” I said. “Are they good to eat?”

  Julian smiled and said, “Well, I don’t know if the feathers are good to eat, but the meat is mighty tasty. I’ll ask Wallace to pluck it. Sarah can manage to cook it, I’m sure.”

  “I’m starting to feel worthless,” I said. “Isn’t there something I can do?”

  “You can eat well, stay healthy, and promise to tell us about Alice and the looking glass after supper,” said Wallace as he walked in, hiding something behind his back. “And you might try showing me how to work these while the food is cooking.”

  Wallace held out his hands. He had carved two crochet hooks for me. I had told him what they looked like, and that they were made in different sizes. He presented me with one, very small—just the right size for baby booties—and the other one, larger, perfect for a shawl or blanket.

  “And you can get started with these.” Sarah handed me a small basket loaded with hanks of yarn in a wide range of colors. “When Jody told the man with the wagon what the cloth was for, he offered this for you with his blessings for a safe and healthy delivery for you and the babies.”

  “Oh, they’re such beautiful colors,” I said, then started crying unexpectedly. I sobbed and sniffed, then excused myself as I wiped my nose with my sleeve. “Raging hormones again, I guess.”

  “Sarah, when ye git a moment, would ye care to explain about ragin’ whore moans to us menfolk so we can understand.” Jody grinned at me, then Sarah, as he said it. He was doing his best to make me feel at ease. I was on an emotional roller coaster, for sure. “Yer doin’ jest fine, lass, jest fine,” he soothed.

  Ӂ Ӂ Ӂ

  Sarah put the freshly plucked and butter-basted pheasant into the clay pot, wiped her hands, and grabbed the bolt of fabric. “You’ll need new clothes to wear after the babies are born. That skirt isn’t going to last much longer,” she said and poked her finger into a patch that had come loose, tickling my sweatpants-covered leg. “Those pants you wear are sure durable. What did you say they were made of?”

  “Polar fleece; it’s a manmade fabric that stays warm—even when wet—stretches, wears like iron, but feels oh, so soft. It also washes well. I’m glad these had a drawstring waistband. Even though I have them slung beneath my belly now, I’ll be able to wear them again as regular pants after I deliver. They’re much warmer than a petticoat could ever be.”

  “Now can ye explain to me what a polar is?” Jody asked. “My sister had some Merino sheep that produced some verra soft wool, but yer fleece is maybe softer still, and its verra warm, ye say?”

  “I guess you weren’t around when I was explaining man-made fabrics, Jody. They actually make all sorts of cloth out of petroleum…that is, oil…products. I think they’ve already discovered oil in Pennsylvania, but the technology to make this is a couple hundred years away. I don’t know how, but somehow they spin the oil real fine, and then weave it so the fabric has air pockets that can trap the body’s heat. It’s good for really cold weather, like they have at the North Pole, so they call it ‘polar’ fleece. I don’t think we’ll be able to get any more of this, though.” I sighed at the loss; it would be so warm and com
fortable next to a baby’s skin.

  I quickly snapped out of my funk, more for Jody’s sake than my own. I didn’t like making others uncomfortable, and here I was acting like a ninny at the loss of a chunk of fabric. “I’m sure I can help Sarah construct a dress and a shift,” I said, “or maybe another skirt and a blouse. I’ll see if I can put together something convenient to wear when nursing babies so I won’t offend the folks around here—that is, if we ever see anyone else again. Sarah, we‘d better get started on my new trousseau soon. I doubt I’ll have time to sew if I’m taking care of twins.”

  She pulled out a length of the new cloth, hummed, and folded, as she designed my new apparel in her head, assessing me through one squinted eye to imagine me as a normal-sized woman.

  Julian spoke up, “I’m sure the people will return soon. This is good farmland, and there’s still time to get in some crops. They’ll need food for the winter. From what Jody and I have heard the last few days, most of the fighting is to the south. I doubt there’s anything here of strategic military value for the British.”

  “I guess some days it’s good to be poor and isolated,” I said. “Sarah, how long until that fowl becomes feast? Do we have time to start cutting out the skirt? Shoot, maybe we should make the babies’ gowns first.”

  “Oh, I’d say we have an hour or so until dinner. Are you feeling up to the task? You look a little peaked.”

  “I’m okay. I’ve just had a horrible backache all day. I guess the pain is showing on my face. There’s no way I can get comfortable anymore. Now, if we just had a big, warm swimming pool, I could float in it, and get the load off my legs and back.” I got up to walk around the room, hoping to work out some of the stiffness in my joints.

  “Oh, no! Oh, no, no, no! Sarah, I think I just started to make my own swimming pool. I think my water broke. I didn’t feel any gushing, but it’s dribbling down my legs. Oh, sorry, guys—that’s a bit graphic… But, hey, we’re going to have babies! Yahoo!”

  Sarah put down the bolt of fabric and walked over to the chaise where I had been sitting. Gross—she stuck her finger in the wet spot and sniffed it. “Sar-rah!” I shouted.

  “Oh, don’t worry, I was just checking. I think you’re right; your water broke. That wet spot isn’t urine. You men may want to make up some beds in the barn. It’s likely to get noisy in here before we’re done.”

  “Aye, I remember the skellockin’ my sister Elly let out when she was birthin’ her bairns. I guess we’d better find a bottle of whisky, too. It willna help the women, but it might quieten some of the noise comin’ from the house.” Jody gathered up the spare blankets and grabbed the rest of the loaf of bread from my afternoon snack, gathering goodies for his self-imposed banishment to the barn.

  “Uh, hello, guys?” I said and waved my hand, lightheartedly looking for attention. “I’d really appreciate it if you stayed around, at least until it does get noisy. I don’t plan on yelling, and I’d really like your company.”

  Jody snorted. “Weel, a woman never does plan on yowlin’, but when the time comes, the rarin’ isna from the menfolk nor the midwife.”

  He sighed and shook his head in resignation at the sight of my frown, changed emotional gears from sassy to sweet, and nodded, “But we’ll stay in here with ye a bit, if it makes ye more comfortable.”

  “Thank you; I’d really like the distraction. From what I’ve heard—or read, or whatever—about labor, the first several hours are uncomfortable, but tolerable. It’s the last hour that’s rough. So, I’ll save my breath and make sure to give you fair warning when I plan on getting loud. Lord knows, I wouldn’t want you to suffer from sore ears,” I said dramatically, the back of my hand on my forehead to complete my theatrics.

  I sat back down, but was too antsy to stay still. I got up again, and then realized how small the room really was, even more so with everyone inside. “Julian, why don’t you and Jody stay in here and play chess. And Wallace, would you take me for a short walk al fresco? Maybe it’ll make the time go by faster. I think it speeds up the delivery, too. Is that okay, Sarah?”

  “You can walk just until you’re tired, but make sure you hold on to Wallace the whole time. No more than half an hour, and then I want you back in here so I can check you. Before you go, though,” Sarah ripped off a 3-yard-length from my newly gifted bolt of fabric, “make yourself a sarong. I don’t want you wearing those pants anymore.”

  I went behind the privacy screen, dropped my drawers, wrapped the Calcutta ‘calico’ cotton fabric—green, interspersed with rusty-nail red and high-noon blue flowers—around my middle, and secured it by tucking it under my very heavy breasts. I emerged with a big smile, “Dorothy Lamour never looked so great.”

  “I’ll agree with that,” said Sarah, “and Bob Hope and Bing Crosby never were as prone to trouble and excitement as Jody, Julian, and Wallace are.”

  “I don’t know who Bob Hope and Bert Crosby are,” said Jody, “but I dinna think ye need to look farther than to the end of yer own nose to see someone who is as attractive to trouble and excitement as ye are.”

  We all laughed, then settled into our zones—Sarah to the kitchen fire, Julian and Jody to the chessboard, and Wallace and I to the door. I turned back before we went out and said, “I don’t know what’s going to happen in the next twenty-four hours, everyone, but I want you to know that you are the best family anyone could ever ask for. I love you all, and thank you for all you’ve done for me.”

  I hurried out the door, pulling on Wallace’s arm to get us away before my tears started to flow. I stopped at the bottom of the steps, sniffed, wiped my face, and turned toward him. “I’m a little scared; well, maybe a lot scared. I know childbirth is a dangerous time for a woman in any era…” Insecurity was overwhelming me, but I had to get this out. I took in three quick gulps of air, trying to avert a full breakdown. “So would you be the godfather to at least one of the babies if something happens to me?”

  Wallace straightened up in shock. He was stunned, but regained his composure just as quickly as he had dropped it. “Evie, I would be most honored to be the godfather of any or all the children. I hope you know, though, that I don’t ever want to leave you, or the babies. If only we could be married right now…”

  He grimaced, a fleeting squint of anger—probably at Ian—shadowed his face, and then disappeared. “I know the importance of fathers, and godfathers, in a child’s life. It would take more than this war, or any war, to tear me away from my new family. You honor me with your request, but I know you’ll come through this delivery fine. You’re the strongest, bravest, and sweetest woman I’ve ever met…or ever heard of.” He bent down and kissed me gently on the mouth. My lips were an easy target, too—I tilted my head up to accept his kiss before he bent down to give it.

  My arm went back into the crook of his elbow and we walked, both of us at peace, crisscrossing the yard like a giant word-search puzzle. There was just enough of a breeze to keep the mosquitoes at bay. I didn’t talk much—I was breathless from being so big—and was also out of shape. In the last three weeks, I had seldom walked more than thirty steps at a time. Our pace was slow, but comfortable, my earlier worries about dying in childbirth forgotten. I knew the Lord had it all under control, right down to providing me with a moral support coach, Wallace.

  We must have been outside for forty-five minutes when Sarah came looking for us. “I told you no more than half an hour. Come back inside and let me check you.”

  When we came in, Julian and Jody were still playing chess. I never liked the game—too much tension for me—but I could tell something was going to happen soon. Julian was holding his drink to his lips to hide his excitement. I think Jody was getting ready to fall into a trap. If Jody was aware of Julian holding his breath, he didn’t show it.

  “Damn, Julian, ye got me again,” said Jody, as he knocked over his own king. “Should we try cards next? I might be able to best ye at that.”

  “Evie, come over here. I’ve set u
p a little labor and delivery area for you.” Sarah had moved the privacy screen and chaise so they were near the fireplace, and arranged the two tables on the other side of it. The fire would provide better light than candles for a while, and the screened-in aspect would create a warm and toasty area to greet the newborns. The two little greenstick baskets I had crafted months ago were nearby, getting pre-warmed. The baby nests were padded with well-worn, but clean rags, too small to be used as anything other than batting. Wee blue and red quilts rested atop each, pieced from the linings and softer parts of Wallace and Julian’s former military jackets.

  Sarah had the kitchen table loaded with a basin and ewer of water, a stack of clean rags, and my crank-operated dynamo lantern. Her little medical kit and a bottle of medicinal alcohol were set out on the side table adjoining it. She had torn more fabric lengths from the bolt of green print cloth, rinsed out the residual inks and dyes, and had them hanging out to dry on her simple little twig and twine drying rack. These were apparently the first batch of diapers—or clouts as she called them. I’d have to wrap the babies in swaddling cloths for the first few days until we could make some gowns for them, but that had been working for newborns since mothers started using homespun instead of animal furs.

  “Men, I don’t want you over here unless I call you,” Sarah said, using her loud ‘I’m-the-person-in-charge’ tone, then lowered her voice, speaking only to me. “Evie, scoot your bottom down here and bring up your knees. I need to see if you’re dilated.”

  Sarah grabbed the lantern, wound it up a few times, and switched it on. She held it between my knees and peered up to inspect my privates.