by Janette Oke
I was out there weeding in the garden late one afternoon when I got an awful urge for a cold drink of water. The afternoon sun could really beat down hot and made my throat dry and my skin prickly awfully quick. I stood up and stretched a bit and eyed the row ahead of me. I would easily finish it by suppertime.
When I got to the kitchen the potato pot was still sitting on the table with a half-peeled potato laying beside it. That was strange. Aunt Lou always had the potatoes cooking at this hour.
I listened, wondering if Aunt Lou had been called away for some reason. Then I heard a strange stirring from the bedroom, followed by a groan and my whole body went weak with the sound of it.
Aunt Lou lay on her bed, her face covered with her hands and a strange agony showing in the rigid way she was holding herself. Before I could even speak, another groan had escaped her and I ran to her side.
I was afraid to even touch her, so I just stood there, shaking, wondering what I should do and how soon Uncle Nat would be home.
Then she relaxed somewhat and took great gulping breaths of air. Her hands slipped down to rest on her full abdomen and I saw that her eyes were teary and pained looking.
"Aunt Lou?" I whispered.
She turned her head toward me and tried a weak smile.
"Oh-oh-Josh. Sorry, I-I'm not feeling so good."
"Should I find Uncle Nat?" I asked, wondering if I dared to leave her.
She nodded. Then she put out a hand to stop my dash.
"Get Doc first," she managed before another moan took hold of her.
I ran like I'd never run before, praying all the time I was running. What if Doc isn't home, Lord? I prayed. What ever will I do? Aunt Lou needed him, and she needed him now.
Doc was home. He was busy stitching up a cut on little Jeremy Sweeden's hand when I burst into his office room, calling out before I even reached him.
"Doc, come quick! Aunt Lou is awful sick:"
Doc looked up from his stitching, his eyes showing immediate concern. But he didn't jump up and grab his black bag like I thought he should. Instead he said, "What is it, Joshua?"
"Aunt Lou;' I said again, puffing out each word. "She's awful sick. She needs ya. Right now!"
"I'll come;' he answered and turned back to his stitching.
"Right now!" I repeated almost shouting. I wanted to grab him by the arm and drag him to Aunt Lou's bedside.
"Yes, Josh. I'll be right there. Soon's I finish his hand"
It made me mad. I reckoned the hand wouldn't fall off or nothing if he left it, but who knew what might happen to Aunt Lou?
"You go on home and make sure there's a fire going and a kettle of water on," Doc told me. "I'll be right behind you."
I ran back to Aunt Lou, glad to have something to do. She was still groaning and tossing when I entered the house, and I nearly went wild with panic.
I guess it wasn't long till Doc joined us, but it sure did seem like forever. He didn't even stop in the kitchen to check on the fire or the water or nothing but went right on into Aunt Lou's bedroom and shut her door. I could hear the two of them talking in between Aunt Lou's groans. I checked the fire again to be sure it had lots of wood and then left again on the run. I had to find Uncle Nat, and I had no idea where he might be calling.
I ran all over the little town. I did find a few folks who said they had seen Uncle Nat earlier that day, but no one who knew where he was presently. At last, all tired out and panting, I turned for home. That was when I found Uncle Nat-at least signs of him. Poor old Dobbin stood at the hitching rail looking tired and hungry. Uncle Nat had deserted him and I was sure he was now in with Aunt Lou.
I took care of Dobbin, glad to be busy. I was very relieved that Doc and Uncle Nat were both with Aunt Lou.
After giving Dobbin his oats and brushing him down, I went to do my other chores. The woodbox still needed wood and the kitchen needed water even if Aunt Lou was sick. I left the unfinished row in the garden. I had no heart for it. The weeding could wait.
When I couldn't think of any more chores that needed doing, I returned to the kitchen. I wished there was some way I could just stay outside, but it was dark now and there was no reason for me to not go in. I hated the sounds of Aunt Lou's moaning. It made me hurt all over just to hear her.
I rumbled around in the kitchen peeling the rest of the potatoes and getting them on to cook. The smell of a roast baking was already coming from the oven. I didn't know what else she had planned to have for supper, so I went down to the cellar and took a jar of her canned beans from the shelf.
When I got back to the kitchen, Doc was sitting there on a chair at the table.
"Know how to make coffee?" he asked me, and I nodded that I did.
"Put on a pot, would you, josh?" he asked me. "We could be in for a long wait until that baby decides to join us"
I stopped in my tracks, nearly dropping the jar of beans.
"Baby?" I said. "It's not time yet for the baby. It's not to be born until July."
"That's what we thought, but the baby has other ideas," said Doc knowingly.
"But it's too early," I continued to argue.
Doc sighed and drummed his fingers on the oil-clothed table. He raised his eyes to me and there was both sadness and hope there. Still he said nothing.
"Will she be okay?" I asked shakily. I was one who had voted for a baby girl. I wanted her to be just like her mother-so I would have a tiny Auntie Lou whom I could love and care for, just like Aunt Lou had cared for me when I was a baby.
"Can't say," said Doc quietly, and the whole inside of me trembled.
"Can't you stop it?"
Doc just shook his head; then he sighed a deep, sorrowful sigh.
"I've done all I can, josh, but it's no use. This baby's going to come now."
I wanted to scream at him. To tell him he wasn't much of a doctor if he couldn't stop a tiny baby from coming before it should, but the words didn't come. Everything inside of me seemed to sort of freeze up.
Doc must have known how I felt. He cleared his throat and began to speak.
"We might have missed on the time, josh. It happens. Remember, your aunt Lou was sick about then. But even if we didn't, and the baby is rushing things a bit, well, it still might be okay. Lots of babies have made it just fine even as early as your aunt Lou's will be. We just have to do everything we can-be ready to give him the best of care, and leave the rest to the Maker:"
I somehow managed to put on the coffee Doc had asked for. I don't know how it tasted but Doc drank it anyway. He had probably tasted some pretty bad coffee in his day.
We had our supper. No one felt much like eating. Doc fixed a plate of food and took it to the bedroom for Uncle Nat, but it came back nearly as full as it had left the kitchen.
Along about eleven o'clock there was a knock on our door. It was unusual for someone to be calling at that time of night, and I didn't know just what to expect. It was Tom Harris. I knew he had been running pretty hard, in spite of the darkness. His eyes were sorta wild and he had a hard time talking because of his panting.
"Is Pastor Crawford here?" he asked me. I nodded my head that he was.
"We need him, right away," puffed Tom. "Old Sam is dyin
"What?" I couldn't help my question.
"Old Sam," went on Tom between gasps of air. "He's dyin. He wants to talk to the parson"
"He can't come now," I told him frankly. "Aunt Lou is havin' her baby"
"But he's gotta! Old Sam won't last long. He said he has to see the parson."
I was about to shove Tom out the door when I heard Uncle Nat's voice behind me. "What is it, Tom?"
Tom told his story again and I watched Uncle Nat's face as he listened. I could see the agony deeply etched there.
"I'm sorry, Tom;" Uncle Nat was saying, shaking his head. "I'm sorry, but I can't leave just now. Lou needs me here, I-I-I'm sorry."
Tom stood looking bewildered. He didn't leave like I figured he should have.
"He s
aid not to come back without ya;' he insisted.
"Where is he?"
"At the livery stable"
"You can't get him here?"
"He won't let us touch him. Says he'll die for sure iffen we try to move him:"
"I'm sorry;' said Uncle Nat in a tired, hurting voice.
Tom left then, slowly, sadly.
It wasn't long afterward that Uncle Nat came from Aunt Lou's room with his hat in one hand and his black Book in the other. I knew he was going to see old drunken Sam, our useless town bum.
"I'll take Dobbin;" Uncle Nat said to himself as much as to me. "I'll be right back as soon as I can"
I guess I nodded or maybe even made some reply, I don't know, but deep inside me there was a feeling that this was wrong-all wrong.
CHAPTER 21
The Baby
Doc stayed in the room with Aunt Lou, and I paced back and forth in the kitchen. I guess I prayed. I don't really remember. I do know that I was hoping Uncle Nat would get back quickly.
I was annoyed with Old Sam. After all, Uncle Nat had talked with him many times about making things right with his Maker, and he never would pay him any heed, and here he was now, sick and dying and deciding that it was time he clean up his life.
Now, I didn't blame Sam none for not wanting to face God in his present state, but it did seem to me he could have picked a better time to start getting sorry for all his sins.
I guess I was a little annoyed with Uncle Nat, too, but I had the sense to know he had really been caught in a fix. I knew he really wanted to be here with Aunt Lou, and I sure knew that was right where Aunt Lou wanted him. I had heard little comments many times between them about how the two of them planned to share together in the birth of their baby. And now Aunt Lou was facing it alone.
The minutes kept ticking by. It was taking the old kitchen clock an unusually long time to move forward. I even thought about pouring myself a cup of coffee to give myself something to do, but I changed my mind. I never had cared for the stuff and often wondered how older folk managed to drink it.
It was right around midnight when I noticed there seemed to be more activity in the bedroom. I could hear Doc's voice talking to Aunt Lou. I couldn't tell if he was comforting her or instructing her. Soon I heard Aunt Lou give a little high-pitched cry, and then there was silence.
I strained to hear something, but there was nothing. The quiet was even worse than the moans had been. I walked slowly toward the closed bedroom door. I was almost to it when I heard Doc's voice again. I couldn't hear the words, but I could hear the tone and it made the fear run thick all through me.
Then there was a cry from Aunt Lou. It sounded like she said, "Oh, no! Please, dear God, no!" and then she started to sob. I could hear the loud crying right through the bedroom door and I wanted to fling it open and rush in to her. I didn't. I just stood there rooted to the spot, shaking and sweating and willing Uncle Nat to get back in a hurry.
He didn't. It was almost one-thirty and he still hadn't come. Doc had spent most of that time with Aunt Lou. She was quiet now and when Doc came back out to the kitchen, he looked old and tired.
"She's sleeping now;" he said.
He knew very well that I wanted to know more than that.
I couldn't ask. As much as I wanted to I couldn't ask.
"The baby didn't make it, Josh;' said Doc, and that's all he said.
A thousand questions hammered at my brain, but I didn't ask a one of them. I couldn't. No words would come. I wanted to cry, but tears wouldn't come either.
"You should go to bed, josh," said the doctor and he poured himself another cup of the strong black coffee with a rather shaky hand.
I didn't think I could sleep but I decided to go to bed anyway. I had to get out of that kitchen, to get off by myself somewhere. I turned to leave. Doc was stirring around in his black bag. He came up with a little bottle. He unscrewed the lid and a small white tablet fell into his hand.
"Take this, josh," he said. "You'll sleep better."
Like a sleepwalker, I woodenly moved to do the doctor's bidding without giving it conscious thought. I put the pill in my mouth and lifted the dipper with water to my lips to wash it down, then headed for my bedroom.
Why isn't Uncle Nat back? Where is he anyway? If Old Sam is dying, he should have done it by now. My thoughts churned through my brain. I felt angry at both of them. Aunt Lou needed Uncle Nat. Or at least she had needed him. It was too late now. The baby was already dead. Aunt Lou had faced all the pain of it alone. She was sleeping now. Most likely won't even hear Uncle Nat come in. What is keeping him anyway? I raged.
Just as I reached the door I heard Doc's voice. He had lowered himself into one of the kitchen chairs and was sipping at the hot coffee, but he was talking to me.
"It was a girl, Josh. A baby girl"
I almost ran then, choking on the sobs that shook my whole body. I didn't even wait to undress, I just threw myself on my bed and let the sobs shake me. I cried for myself, for the loss I felt in not being able to love and care for that little baby. I cried for Aunt Lou in her pain of losing a child. I cried for the little baby, the tiny girl who would never know sunshine or flowers or the love of her family. And after I was all cried out, the bitterness began to seep into every part of me.
I was angry. Deeply angry. God could have stopped all this. At least if He was going to take Aunt Lou's baby, He could have left Uncle Nat with her to share her sorrow. But, no, Uncle Nat was gone. Out caring for some old drunk who had never listened to Him in all the months he should have been listening. So Aunt Lou had been all alone. Why? Didn't God care? Didn't He look after those who followed Him? After all, Aunt Lou and Uncle Nat were serving Him-were working in His church.
One thing I knew for sure, I would never be a minister. Not for anything. If a man couldn't even count on God to be with him and look after him, then what was the point of spending your life serving Him?
Maybe Mr. Foggelson was right. Maybe the Bible was a book of myths. Maybe the whole thing didn't make any sense. How do I know? was my last hopeless thought. In a state of confusion and rejection, the small white tablet claimed me for sleep.
When I awoke the next morning, I was still in turmoil. I was still angry, too. I was not undressed, but someone had thrown a blanket over me some time during the night.
There were voices coming from the kitchen, and I forced myself to get off my bed. I wasn't too anxious to leave my room, but I couldn't just stay where I was. Reluctantly, I pushed open my door and stepped from the bedroom. I knew the voices then. I could hear Grandpa, then Gramps, and they were talking in soft tones to Uncle Nat.
When I finally forced myself to enter the kitchen, I saw that Uncle Charlie was there, too. There were coffee cups sitting on the table, but at present no one was drinking coffee.
A hush fell on the room when I entered, and I was embarrassed. I knew I looked a mess. My clothes were crumpled, my hair standing on end, and my face swollen from crying myself to sleep.
"Mornin; Boy," said Grandpa and he reached out an arm and pulled me to himself. I almost started crying again. Grandpa just held me close, like the holding would somehow lessen our pain.
Uncle Nat was there. I don't know when he returned. I didn't even care to ask him. Whenever it was, it was too late, by my way of thinking.
"You'll be happy to hear that Sam asked God to forgive him last night;' said Uncle Nat, and I knew he considered that very good news.
I looked at the faces around the table and I could see that all of them shared Uncle Nat's feeling.
I nodded. So Old Sam had made his peace with God before he died. I knew that was good, but I just couldn't get too excited about it.
"Doc is carin' for him now. He's much better this mornin'
"He didn't die?" I sputtered in bewilderment.
A gentle chuckle rustled from man to man around the table.
"No, he didn't die," said Uncle Nat. "He had himself a good scare though."
So he didn't die! He had called Uncle Nat away from Aunt Lou and then not even had the common decency to die. And as soon as he was back on his feet and able to stumble around the town, he'd be right back to his sinful ways too, I'd wager. It made me even angrier. I turned from the men at the table.
"I gotta get ready for school," I muttered.
Grandpa cleared his throat.
"Boy," he said, "iffen you're not up to it, you don't need to be goin' to school today."
I didn't want to go, but I didn't know what to do if I hung around at home, either. Seemed to me there wasn't much for choices. Then I thought of Aunt Lou's garden. It still had some weeding to do. I mumbled a thanks to Grandpa and went to wash for breakfast.
It was a long, bitter day for me. The work in the garden helped, but all the time I weeded I could hear the saw and hammer, and I knew what was going on in Uncle Nat's shed. All four of the men were in there and they were working on a tiny coffin.
Every few minutes Uncle Nat would break from the others and go into the house to see how Aunt Lou was faring. If she was awake he would stay with her, but if she was sleeping he would come back out and help the men some more.
Doc called twice. Once in midmorning and once in the afternoon. He talked quietly to Uncle Nat, and I heard him say something about Aunt Lou being "as good as could be expected;" and then he said that she was "accepting it well:'
I finished the weeding and looked for other things to do. I cared for Dobbin and cut lots of firewood. Then I hauled water until I had all the buckets full.
The long day began to draw to a close. The menfolk took turns peeking in on Aunt Lou. I knew she welcomed the support of her family, but I just wasn't ready to see her yet.
The three men left for the farm, chores needing to be done. They said that they'd be back again in the morning.