by ML Gardner
Caleb saw the struggle in her eyes and he knew she didn’t have it in her to back down. He stepped confrontationally close to Marvin.
“Back your wife up, now,” he ordered.
Marvin grinned. “Are you sure you don’t want to let them work it out? This has been a long time coming.”
Caleb didn’t stop to think, or care, that Marvin was a sheriff’s deputy beneath the fancy clothes he wore as he balled his fist and warned him one more time.
When Marvin laughed him off again, Caleb punched him, sending him sprawling onto his back, looking quite shocked. Everyone in the hall gave a collective ‘Oh!’ and stepped back.
“Oh, shit,” Jonathan said, jumping up. Caleb dropped down and grabbed Marvin by the shirt and gave him a shake. “Back your wife up. If she touches Arianna or if you take a swing at me, it’s a deal breaker, Marvin.”
Marvin knew exactly what he was referring to, and it wasn’t worth losing the safe spot in Caleb’s barn just to let Donatella have her fun.
“Donna! Go back to your seat,” Marvin yelled from the floor. She looked at him with her mouth agape in furious horror. “Now,” he finished.
Slowly, reluctantly, and angrily, she took a step back, her threatening eyes still pinned on Arianna. Caleb let Marvin get up only after giving Arianna the satisfaction of the whole hall watching Donatella back down and slink away to her table.
Marvin said nothing as he stood up and dusted himself off. He went back to his table whispering furiously to Donatella, and they quickly got up and left. The hall erupted in whispers and even though everyone had witnessed what happened, they all asked each other if they had just seen Caleb punch the deputy and, more astonishingly, how the deputy backed down afterward and could they believe it?!
The music started again as Arianna sat down. She leaned over and put her hand on Caleb’s thigh.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
“Is it always like this when you guys go out together?” Gordon asked.
“It’s always interesting,” Jonathan said with a smile.
Arianna stared at the two piles of money on the table and one eyebrow went up. “Who the hell bet against me?”
February 17th 1931
Gordon finished his route early and stopped to buy flowers before heading over to Claire’s. He had the ring in his pocket but gave his leg a pat, checking for the tenth time that it was still there. It was a simple silver band, but one day he hoped to have a diamond put on it for her.
He knocked on her door feeling more nervous than the first time he came calling on her. They both knew it was coming, it wouldn’t be a surprise. But it was still nerve-wracking. He cleared his throat, adjusted his shirt and straightened his posture as he heard someone on the other side of the door. Maura opened it with a smile.
“Hello, Gordon, how are ye today?”
“Good. I’m well. Is Claire here?”
“Of course. Close as she is, I’m not letting her wander. She’s just upstairs.”
“That’s good. Can I see her please?” His stiff posture and darting eyes gave away the intent of his visit. Maura grinned as she turned away, leaning into the stairwell to call Claire.
She came downstairs a moment later. She walked with a slow and awkward wobble.
“Hi,” she said with a smile. “Were you coming over for dinner tonight?” Claire asked with a look to Maura, questioning if she had forgotten the date.
“No, I just came to see you.” He remembered the flowers and held them out. “And to give you these.”
Maura’s lips were pursed up in excitement. “I’ll just step out now,” she said quietly.
“No, Maura. Stay. I’d like you to. After all, you’re responsible.”
“She’s responsible for what?” Claire asked.
“I wanted to do this earlier. Last Saturday night, actually, at the dance. I had it all planned out but, well, things got…interesting, as Jon put it, and the right time never came.”
“The right time for what?” Claire asked.
“It would have been so much better last Saturday. The mood and the music, the atmosphere and all your friends there, it just didn’t work out that way.”
“What didn’t?”
He pulled the ring out of his pocket, took a step toward her and smiled, bashful and terrified.
Claire’s eyes widened. Though she had been expecting it, eventually, she wasn’t prepared for the fact that it was happening right now.
He lowered to one knee. “Will you marry me?” he asked, and held his breath.
She nodded with a modest smile. She felt the sting of tears, not for the emotion of this moment, but because she vividly remembered the last time she was asked to be someone’s wife. This paled in comparison to the intensity of that moment, and she had to push the memory away.
He stood, put the ring on her finger and smiled. An awkward moment lingered, and Maura offered to make drinks to celebrate.
Ian congratulated Maura on a job well done as he joined them at the table. They set a date, and began to make plans for a spring wedding.
It was then that something began to bother Maura. This had been her life’s work recently, seeing Gordon and Claire to this moment, making sure Claire and her babe would be cared for, and she could find her way to a happy life. It had all worked according to plan and she should have been overjoyed with herself, and the situation. She gazed out the kitchen window, tuning out the others, trying to figure out exactly what it was that nagged at her.
February 20th 1931
Dawn barely broke for all the black clouds in the sky. They’d been warning of it for days—the old timers, that is—a storm to beat all storms was heading their way. They could feel it in their bones, see it in the odd way their animals acted and could smell it in the icy air. The wise ones closed shutters and kept the candles close by.
Jonathan rose early, hoping they were wrong. He hadn’t slept well, between the winds starting to pick up and the bed, crowded as it was. Ava slept with Amy nestled in the crook of her arm and Jean snuggled in close on the other side. Jonathan had clung to the edge of the mattress all night. He dressed quietly and as he passed his parents empty room, he felt the stab of missing them.
He set a pot of coffee to percolate on the stove and pulled back the curtain above the kitchen sink. It was nearly black as night and the wind had started to pick up. He sighed. There would be no work today.
They had what they needed to get through a storm—a long one, even—and though he was disappointed at not being able to work, he looked forward to spending the day with his little family. He heard footsteps overhead and knew them to be Jean’s. Quiet as the child tried to be, he walked like a giant and could be heard coming for blocks. He poked his messy dark hair around the corner.
“Morning, Dadee.”
“Morning, Son.”
“Are we having a storm?”
“Looks like.”
“Will it be bad?”
Jonathan shrugged. “Might be. But we’ll be fine.”
Jean sat down at the table while Jonathan poured him a glass of milk, watered down to conserve.
“Cricket sure cries a lot.”
“Babies do that. You can sleep in your room, you know. If her crying bothers you.”
His face popped in surprise. “I couldn’t do that! What if she needs me?”
Jonathan laughed. “Well, Ava and I are right there if she needs anything.”
“No, I should be near,” he said firmly. Jonathan wondered if he could talk him into sleeping on a pallet next to the bed to make a little room. Doubtful. Jean loved babies and Amy was extra special. He hadn’t been back to school since Amy was born. Ava had seen nothing wrong with him starting the following year and pulled him out, despite the fit the teacher threw.
A wind gust slammed into the house and the lights flickered.
“I’d better start breakfast before we lose them,” Jonathan said.
“Should I get the lamps and candles?
” Jean asked.
“Might not be a bad idea.” Jonathan watched the wicked weather and took a deep breath.
∞∞∞
Claire woke up with a moan. She rolled to her side and breathed in quick, hard bursts. The practice pains had been going on all night and she was growing tired of them. So tired, in fact, that she wished it would all just get started and be over with. She sat up and pushed the hair, wet with perspiration, out of her face.
She took a bath, dressed in comfortable clothes and went downstairs, catching the eye of the ever observant Maura.
“Have a seat, Miss Claire.” She pulled out a chair and motioned for Tarin to get her some water. “How long’s it been now?”
“Off and on all night. Started with the storm.” She grimaced and stretched her back.
“Here’s some water,” Tarin set down a glass and looked to Maura. “Should I go get Gordon?”
“No,” Claire said. “No one is going to get Gordon.”
“So you don’t think it’s time?” Maura asked.
She twisted in her seat and stood, leaning on the table with her head hanging down, taking deep breaths. Maura glanced at the clock. When the pain stopped she raised her head. “Oh, I wouldn’t say that. I think it is. But he won’t know about it until it’s over.”
“Miss Claire, he’s going to want to be here!”
“No. He thinks he does, but he doesn’t.”
“You’re not thinking clearly, dear.”
“I’m thinking perfectly clearly,” she barked as she sat back down. “His wife died in childbirth. The last thing I want is him sitting down here, wringing his hands while I’m up there screaming.”
“You don’t think he’ll be upset at being left out?” Tarin asked.
“Frankly, I don’t care if he is. It’s for his own good. He’s done nothing but think of my feelings and I intend on thinking of his. Someone can run over there after it’s over.”
“Miss Claire, come now. Don’t you think he should be with you? At least waiting downstairs? He’s going to be your husband.”
“Then he can start doing what I say now!” she yelled, growing more uncomfortable by the minute.
“Are you hungry?” Tarin asked. “I can make you a bite to eat.”
“No, thank you.” She drained the glass of water and held it out to her. “I’m very thirsty, though.”
Maura nodded for Tarin to keep an eye on Claire and left the room. Upstairs she prepared Claire’s bed, bringing in towels and cloths, a basin, scissors and twine; everything she thought the midwife might need. She took all the oil lamps in the house, filled them, and clustered them on the dresser as the lights flickered over her head.
“What a day to be born,” she said, glancing out at the wind driven sleet.
∞∞∞
It was late afternoon when Maura finally made the decision to send Tarin to fetch the midwife. It wasn’t that Claire had progressed much during the day, but that the storm had progressed significantly in the last few hours. If she didn’t send for help now, she might not be able to later. Tarin put on as many layers as she owned and set out. If it had only been a few degrees colder, it would be snow, instead of hard icy pellets, stinging her face. She braced herself against the wind and turned the corner.
∞∞∞
Jonathan sat on the couch with Amy on his shoulder, Ava’s head in his lap. She had fallen asleep; he pat the baby’s back with one hand, and stroked Ava’s hair with the other. Jean played on the floor with two wooden cars in the lamplight. He’d lit them and turned off the lights ahead of losing power. He knew it would happen eventually with a storm like this, and he didn’t want Jean to be scared when they cut. He laid his head back, trying to catch a nap of his own. The last thing he expected was a knock at the door.
Jean turned and looked at him with fearful eyes. He nudged Ava gently and she sat up, rubbing her eyes and taking Amy.
Jonathan peeked out the window and flew to the door.
“Tarin! What are you doing out in this?” He pulled her inside. Her teeth were chattering wildly as she unwrapped her scarf.
“Auntie sent me to get the midwife for Claire. I tried but I couldn’t make it. It’s so cold and it’s still so far away. Could I trouble you to give me a ride, Jon?”
“Of course, Tarin. Let me get my coat.”
Ava smiled. “When did it start?”
“This mornin’. She’s not close yet, we don’t think. It’s just the storm is gettin’ so bad.”
“I’m surprised Maura sent you out in it,” Jonathan said, wishing they could afford to have telephones installed.
“Send us news as soon as you can,” Ava said.
“You’ll be okay here?” Jonathan asked.
“Of course. I have Jean to protect us,” Ava said, smiling at him. “Drive safely in this.”
“I will.” He kissed her and stepped out with Tarin, bending his head against the wind.
It was only a short while later they returned, shivering and soaked to the bone.
“What’s wrong?”
“We can’t get through. The sleet is driving so hard I can’t see more than five feet ahead of me. Tarin’s trying to give directions but we can’t see a thing.”
“What are you going to do? You can’t leave Maura there alone with Claire delivering!”
“I’m going to Caleb’s. I could get there blindfolded. I think he knows exactly where the midwife lives, and we can use his truck. It’s better in this weather than our old beast.”
It was clear they had only stopped to update Ava, and they set out again.
∞∞∞
The old farmhouse had lost power. The windows were dimly lit by candlelight from within.
Jonathan explained what had happened.
“We can use the truck, but I don’t know where she lives, I’m sorry.”
Jonathan turned to Tarin, growing frustrated. “You don’t remember the address?”
“No, sorry. I only knew it from walking there with Claire a few times. Maura might know, if we can go back for a moment.”
“We’ll have to. Thanks anyway, Caleb.”
Caleb held the keys but didn’t toss them to Jonathan. “I’m going with you.”
“Are you sure? You don’t have to.”
“Yes, I do. This is Aryl’s baby. I need to be there.”
Jonathan stood stock still. He’d realized, in a distant way, the significance of this birth, but until this moment he hadn’t consciously thought about it. This was a chance to see the part of Aryl that would live on. “We both need to be there,” he corrected. “We need to, for him.”
∞∞∞
“I send you for the midwife and you come back with two men!” Maura wasn’t serious in her scolding, just masking intense worry. They all stepped inside, huddling together. The door stood open, letting in the wind and freezing rain.
“I’m so sorry, Auntie. I couldn’t get to the midwife. It’s so bad out there!”
“Aye, I can see that. Is there any chance one of you can get to her?”
“If you tell us exactly where it is. We can’t see a thing so you’ll need to give us precise directions,” Jonathan said.
She raised her hand to point and started to speak just as an old growth tree came crashing down with a thunderous splintering. The trunk lay down the middle of the road, the branches blocking both lanes.
“Well, directions are a moot point now, aren’t they,” she said, staring angrily at the fallen tree. She turned to the dripping trio, who all stood stunned. “Looks like it’s up to us.”
∞∞∞
It was calm, all things considered, as Maura returned downstairs from checking on Claire. The lights had gone out hours ago. The dinner hour came and went and though Tarin made a simple stew, no one was hungry. Caleb and Jonathan sat on the couch, listening to the storm by lamplight, waiting to be useful.
“If she hadn’t been through so much I’d be tempted to slap her for having such an easy time
at this.”
It was true; they had heard barely a peep from the bedroom where Claire labored.
“Is everything okay?” Caleb asked. “Usually they’re loud. Real loud. I know Arianna was.”
Jonathan grinned. “So were you.” Caleb threw his book at him, hitting him in the shoulder.
“Everyone’s different,” Maura said with a shrug. “But she’ll be loud when it gets down to it, I’m sure. Right now she’s sleeping through half the pains.”
“I’m glad for her,” Caleb said.
“I am, too. It’s merciful after all the girl’s been through,” Maura said, sitting down in a chair. “Tarin, would you get me a cup of coffee, dear?” Tarin scurried away into the kitchen.
“So it’ll be awhile?” Caleb settled back on the couch and closed his eyes.
“An hour, maybe two. It’s hard to say. I’ve never done this on my own before.” She looked away and Jonathan could read the insecurity in her voice.
∞∞∞
When it came time to push, Maura had to wake Claire up.
“Never in my life have I heard of a woman sleepin’ through a birthing!” she said, bewildered and slightly envious. She propped pillows behind her back, brought a towel of supplies to the foot of her bed, and lit every lamp in the room.
“Is it time?” Claire asked, blinking like an owl.
“You tell me, dear, it’s your body, not mine.” She felt gingerly under the sheets. “If I had to guess though, I’d say it’s time. Sit up a little and try giving a push.”
As she did, the mercy of a painless labor was revoked. Lightning flashed as she let out a grunting scream with the next contraction. “My back!”
Maura peeked under the sheet. “Your back?” she asked with a quizzical grin. “It’s yer back that’s hurtin’?”
Claire nodded, grimacing. She flopped back down on the bed, pushed the pillows away, and tried to roll on her side.
“No, now, dear, I need ye to sit up. Sit up and push.”