The Women of Jacob’s Mountain Boxed Set

by Hining, Deborah;

  At last, Geneva found it. They had walked in a wide arc beneath the cliffs, and just as they rounded a corner, the rocks suddenly gave way to a wide trail bordered by brooding pines. It led them back up behind the wall of boulders, then narrowed and cut its way upward. When it became impossible for the horses to advance further, they dismounted and led them back into the safety of the trees, where they unsaddled and draped blankets over the animals, then they tied the reins to trees and turned back to challenge the rocky ascent on foot. It was rough and steep, and the footing was precarious. Before long, they had to pull themselves upward on hands and knees, and the arduous climb into the face of the buffeting wind exhausted them quickly. Geneva’s tired body gasped for oxygen in the thin air as she pulled herself forward and upward, and her lungs ached as they drew in the icy wind. She thought of her baby and placed her hands and feet more carefully. Thankfully, this part of the trail ran no more than a hundred feet, and before too long, they found themselves in a narrow space close to the face of the cliff, suspended high up in the air with the snow swirling around them and nothing but white death below them.

  The wall of rock gaped at her left, and the path backtracked into a deeper gloom before disappearing into a black hole inside the cliff. “I think this is it,” she called over her shoulder.

  “Wait!” he called from behind. “Sally Beth said to be very careful at the entrance. She said there’s a big dip in the floor at the extreme left, and she has nearly broken her leg a dozen times going through.” He moved ahead of her to enter the dark slash in the wall first.

  A dozen times? How many times has she been here? thought Geneva. She brushed aside the ever-present feeling of jealousy and guilt.

  “Right in through here. Yeah, it’s pretty bad. Just stay right.”

  They stepped around a rocky breach in the floor of the cave and could see a comfortable wide space opening up to the beams of their flashlights. A pale, rosy light glowed from not far into the interior. A few more paces led them into the space where they found Holy Miracle lying on a narrow bed, his thin body barely visible under a pile of blankets. A fire burned low in a rough fireplace tucked into an alcove beside him. Wayne dropped to his knees to examine the unconscious old man. “See if you can get the fire built up. We need to get him as warm as we can,” he said as he checked his pulse and temperature and pulled up an eyelid, shining the light into the sightless eyes. Then he looked at his gums. Finally, he pulled out a blood pressure cuff from his bag and strapped it onto a thin, pale arm.

  Geneva piled wood onto the fire, then, remembering Howard’s ministrations to her when she was cold and ill, she looked for jars to fill with water to warm him. She found none, so she placed rocks near the coals, taking care not to get them too close, for she knew they could explode if they got too hot. Then she took a pot outside to scoop up snow and hung it over the fire to make coffee.

  When she was certain there was nothing more she could do to help, she gave herself the luxury of looking around at this secret place, the home that had sheltered Holy Miracle and most likely his father all these many years. It looked almost like a real home, not exactly what one would expect from a hermit’s cave. There were actual furnishings, and even a sort of rug made of burlap sacks on the floor. The bed upon which Holy Miracle lay was made of tree limbs and lined with straw ticking. Tree stumps served as stools, and in the corner, a couch made of bent and twisted willow boughs sat covered with another straw tick. A rough table filled a good portion of the middle of the room, and a bookcase made of slabs of coarse wood held a small assortment of ragged volumes. The tidy fire pit and a good supply of cut firewood took up most of one wall. Geneva could see a hole higher up that served as a chimney, and the smoke curled upward and out into the night rather than escaping into the cavern. It was cozy, she thought, and clean, and homey, and for a moment, she envisioned another place with a table and stools made of tree stumps and a bed filled with fragrant herbs. The hollowness of her loss saddened her beyond description.

  “How is he?” she asked.

  “He’s unconscious, and he’s in shock, but there’s no fever, so it doesn’t seem that there is infection anywhere,” he replied as he pulled a bottle of clear liquid from his bag and tied it to the tree limb that served as a kind of bedpost. “Come hold this flashlight for me. I’m going to give him some Ringer’s lactate, and it’s going to be hard to find a vein.”

  Geneva moved to Holy Miracle’s bed and shone the light as Wayne searched both arms for a visible vein. He was extremely pale, and she could see tiny red spots and larger bruises on the inside of his arm. “What are those?” she asked.

  “Petechiae. That’s little dots of blood under the skin. His blood vessels are leaking, and that’s led to acute anemia.” He picked up Holy Miracle’s hand. “I might find a vein here. Now, get me sterilized. He’s so low, an infection would kill him. Pour some alcohol on my hands. All right, good. Now break open that package and hand me some gauze.” Geneva ripped open the packet to remove several squares of gauze. “That’s good, now pour some more alcohol on that, and—be careful not to touch it—open that package with a needle in it. And see that tubing? I need that, too.”

  Geneva carefully followed his instructions. Presently, Wayne had pierced the back of Holy Miracle’s hand with a needle and had hooked up the IV solution. Geneva moved to the fire, and wearing her insulated gloves, scraped rocks onto some of the sacking. “Here,” she said. “You can warm him up with these.” She wrapped them tightly and handed them to Wayne.

  “That’s great. If we can warm him up, it will help.” He tucked the rocks around Holy Miracle exactly where Howard had tucked mason jars around her to warm her on that cold, rainy night. Then he sat back and waited.

  “What’s wrong with him?” asked Geneva.

  “Not sure, but my guess is some bone marrow disorder that is causing anemia. He’s bleeding internally, and I see some evidence of bleeding in his gums, but I don’t see any other bloody discharge. See, here’s a bowl where Sally Beth fed him soup, so he has some liquid in him, and there is no vomit, no blood. Everything around here is clean. But it looks like he needs a blood transfusion.” He looked at Geneva sadly, “Honey, we may not be able to save him. I don’t know when that chopper will get here, and I don’t know if he can last through the night. And even if he does live, the long-term prognosis doesn’t look good. I’m thinking myeloblastic anemia or leukemia, and both are pretty much fatal at his age.” He paused before adding gently, “And neither is going to be pleasant for him. He probably is ready to go.”

  Geneva squeezed her eyelids against the tears. “I’m so glad you’re here, Wayne,” she said, grateful for her brother-in-law’s skills and his compassion. If Holy Miracle were to die here tonight, she was glad to know everything possible had been done to save him. She grasped the old man’s hand. It was cold, except where it had lain against a warm rock. “Holy Miracle, please just hang on a while longer,” she whispered to him. She didn’t know why she so desperately wanted him to live if only to face a protracted dying. Maybe she needed to have time to let him go, or maybe she didn’t want to let Sally Beth down. Whatever it was, she prayed with all her soul that he should at least last until they had a chance to say goodbye.

  They passed the evening murmuring softly so as not to disturb the stillness of the place or Holy Miracle’s slumber. It was comfortable here in the cave, with the gentle color of the firelight flickering against the walls of the granite and the wind humming in the distance. The place was warm and dry, and Geneva could not help but think of the cave that Howard had shown her. Wondering if there were cave paintings in here as well, she wandered into the interior with her flashlight and there found, not ancient paintings, but evidence of years of Pwyll and Holy Miracle.

  There were drawings of trees and flowers, and of angels, and pictures of what might be heaven. Further in, a steaming pool of still water filled most of a room. Skirting it, she stepped close to the walls ringing it and saw t
hat lines of scripture were etched into the smooth stone. In one section, a good portion of the Psalms graced the rock surface, and in another, nearly the whole of the epistle of First John. She traced her finger along the words of certainty and love.

  And this the message we have heard from Him and announce to you, that God is light, and in Him there is no darkness at all.

  Later, in another section, she found this from Peter:

  “This is my beloved Son with whom I am well-pleased.” And we ourselves heard this utterance made from heaven when we were with Him on the holy mountain. And so we have the prophetic word made more sure, to which you do well to pay attention as to a lamp shining in a dark place, until the day dawns and the morning star arises in your hearts.

  Geneva’s heart felt peace stir and eddy upwards as the holy words permeated her being. Holy Miracle surely would not live long, but she was certain that death would not fully claim his flesh tonight, and it would never claim his soul. His voice would live long enough to give her one last blessing, and his spirit would rise to live forever. And she would see him again one day in the fullness of perfect health. She smiled and turned back to the fire and humanity.

  Wayne had settled himself beside the bed, his head leaning back against the lumpy mattress. He smiled at Geneva as she came into the light. “Have a nice explore?”

  “Yes. This cave is full of Scripture. Holy Miracle has been here a long time, and probably his father, too. You should go back there and see it.”

  “I’d like to, but I don’t want to leave him. He might wake up, or I might need to resuscitate him.”

  She nodded and sat down beside him. He sighed and stirred. “Wonder what Rachel is doing right now?”

  “Probably on her knees, praying for us. You know she’s worried. I’m so glad I am here, knowing as much as there is to know about the situation, and not stuck at home, worrying about the unknown.”

  “Yeah, it’s tough, being a woman. I’m very selfishly glad I am a man, getting to be the one who goes out, has the adventures, when women have to stay home and do the really hard part—waiting and tending and just being patient.”

  “Wait a minute,” Geneva flared. “A woman can do anything a man can do. This is nineteen seventy-seven, Wayne. Things have changed.”

  “Not that much, and especially here. Women can do anything a man can do, but in rural West Virginia, they may not, if you understand your grammar school use of the words.”

  “Like what? Look at Dianne, running the theater, and there’s…” she stopped, realizing she had run out of examples.

  “Yes, ‘there’s…’ exactly,” he said, waving his hand vaguely. “And it’s not really just here. There were only two women in my class in medical school, and everybody gave them a hard time. Some of the professors flat-out told them they were taking up space that would be better used by men who wouldn’t drop out of the profession to have children.”

  Geneva fell silent. She had to admit that the world still placed limits on women. Even in DC, she had gotten her job only because her boss was a rabid feminist who had lobbied hard to hire a woman.

  Wayne continued, “Just last month we interviewed an excellent nurse practitioner who was really pretty and not married, and my director didn’t want to hire her because he was afraid she was wanting the job just so she could find herself a doctor for a husband. He actually said she would be trouble if she were on staff. If that had been a man, his being single or good looking wouldn’t have been an issue.”

  Geneva swallowed the lump of desolation she felt rising in her throat. How was she going to make a living for this baby if she were not able to find a job? Even in DC, it would be difficult to raise a baby by herself, and she knew in the core of her heart she wanted her child to live here, among her own people, among her own hills and clouds and rocks. She did not know how to answer Wayne, and she wondered if he would remember this conversation when he found out about the baby. She rose. “I think I’ll go get a breath of air. You okay? Can I get you anything? Coffee?”

  “No, I’m fine. Don’t fall off the cliff. I don’t feel like rescuing anyone else tonight.”

  “I’ll be careful.” She threw another log onto the fire and put on her coat and gloves, then moved toward the entrance to the cave. Darkness had completely enveloped the face of the mountain, but the snow and wind had stopped, and the stars spilled into the now-clear night sky in riotous exuberance. Breathing in the frigid air, she looked upward as her hand found its way to the pendant she wore around her neck, and she grasped it tightly, comforted by its warmth as she scanned the sky in the hopes of seeing a shooting star. The spangled heavens looked back at her, silent, still, and cold, with no echo of her hope. Yet, although she was alone, with the little gold comet resting within her fingers, imbuing her with an optimism she should not feel, she was not lonely. Love has a way of filling in gaps, she thought, as she leaned her head against the cold stone.

  Thank you, Lord, for the life of Holy Miracle, and for saving him, at least for now. And thank you for Wayne. Please let Holy Miracle live long enough so that he can say goodbye to Sally Beth. And then, unbidden, her thoughts rode across the mountaintops, leaping through the ebony and silver night to Howard. She imagined him coming to rescue her, of finding her in this snug cave, and they would stay and live here by this holy mountain, far from the tarnished world, and raise their child in peace and ever-present love, free from pain or want. Then she scolded herself for her vain foolishness. Howard had chosen not to love her, and she should accept that. Please God, take this impossible desire from me. Let me be content with what I have, with Your love, with this child. Help me to find my own way, to lose my hopes for Howard.

  A reply came in rhythm with the throbbing of the stars: For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so my ways are higher than your ways, and my thoughts higher than your thoughts… For you will go out with joy, and be led forth with peace; the mountains and the hills will break forth into shouts of joy before you, and all the trees of the field will clap their hands. She smiled despite the wounding loss that pulsed through her veins and her heart. Her joy lay just under her belly button.

  The distant whine of a motor came to her on the wind, and she strained to listen. Yes, the sound of the approaching helicopter. She turned and rushed back into the cave.

  “Wayne,” she whispered, motioning to her brother-in-law. “The chopper is coming!”

  He was on his feet immediately, flashlight in hand, and they rushed outside. Standing at the entrance, perched high above the wild tumble of boulders, they waved their lights at the approaching bird.

  There was no hesitation. The pilot easily skimmed over their heads and landed in the flat space twenty feet above them. Within seconds, they saw two flashlights waving beams at them. “Hey!” came Sally Beth’s voice.

  “Hey!” yelled Wayne back. Can you make it down here?

  Sally Beth’s voice came from the distance. “No, there isn’t a path. We’re jist gonna lower the litter down, and you’ll need to put him on it.”

  A man’s voice broke in. “Hey, buddy.”

  “James. Thank you for coming. I owe you.”

  “Nah. I think this is just a payback for what I owe you. Is he stable?”

  “Yes,” Wayne shouted back, “but his vitals are weak, and he needs more Ringer’s lactate right away. And oxygen. Do you have that on board?”

  “I’ve got ‘em both, and we’ll get to the hospital pretty quick. Your wife is one smart cookie. She called the ER and had Sally Beth talk to the attending, and they are going to be ready for him.”

  “That’s great. Shall I come back with you?”

  “No, I don’t have the equipment to get you up here without jury-rigging the harness. Actually, the harness is jury-rigged to get this gurney in place, and it will take too long to get it back to normal. Don’t worry. I may be retired, but I know how to take care of a patient in the field. Now, I have to get airborne before I can lower the stretcher, else w
e’re likely to damage it. Then I’ll land again and take care of him. You ready?”

  “Ready! Bring her down!”

  There were a few moments of silence, then came the sound of the helicopter’s engine firing up. It flew straight up, and presently, an object descended from it. Geneva and Wayne reached over the abyss to pull a litter in and settle it on the ground in front of the cave, and Wayne uncoupled the lines while Geneva held it steady. “Let’s get him out here!” he shouted above the roar of the chopper. Working quickly, they carried the gurney and, running into the cave with it, gently lifted the old man onto it and brought him back outside, where Wayne secured the harness again and waved his flashlight. The pilot switched on the winching system, and Holy Miracle rose into the black sky, into the piercing lights beyond, as if he were being taken up into heaven. The helicopter sailed upward and landed again, then after a few minutes, James called out, “Okay, all secure, and I have the IV going. He’s warm, and bp and pulse are not too far out of range. Don’t worry, we’ll get him there.”

  “Thank you, James! I probably won’t be able to get there tonight, but I sure appreciate this. I owe you a hunting trip!”

  “I’ll collect next fall! See you!”

  “Bye! Thank yew!” shouted Sally Beth. The motor started up, and the chopper took off.

  They watched the lights ascend and move off to the east. Within moments, Geneva and Wayne found themselves alone in the still, spangled night in front of the holy cave.