by ML Gardner
“I can’t. I have to get off my back!” She kicked awkwardly at Maura and began a fifty point turn, trying to get to her side. Another quick peek showed the baby was not going to wait until she got finished. Maura dashed to the door.
“Jon! Caleb! Can I get a hand?”
They moved quickly up the stairs and into the room as Maura tried in vain to keep Claire covered as she flopped.
“She’s having back pains and can’t sit up. I need you to—”
Before she could finish, they were each to Claire’s side, coaxing her to lie on her back. She tried to fight them, but they lifted and turned her anyway. They sat down on the edge of the bed facing her and hooking their arms through hers, pulling her up.
“Perfect,” Maura said, smiling.
It relieved some, but not all of the grinding in her back, and when the next pain hit, she pulled against them to lie down. They held on to her, keeping her from falling back as she grunted, sweat and cried for the next ten minutes.
Mercy returned and the baby was born. Maura held it, slippery in her hands and for a moment, seemed in shock. Jonathan and Caleb eased Claire down to rest and looked back, seeing only small, purple feet and an umbilical cord.
“Clear the mouth,” Caleb said softly.
Maura nodded quickly, coming back to the moment.
“Turn it over and tilt it downward.” She did and a small amount of fluid drained from the baby’s mouth. It took its first breath; a short, shocked inhale and let out a cry.
“Now, tie off the cord and cut it.” She worked quickly as Caleb looked on. Jonathan stared at his steadiness in awe.
The baby was starting to work up to a good cry. Maura’s instinct was to cradle him, but Caleb stopped her.
“Let him get going.”
“Him?” Claire asked weakly, raising her head.
Maura swaddled the baby. “Aye, dear. Tis a boy. And he’s beautiful.” She walked around the bed and handed the baby to Caleb, who took a good long look before giving it to Claire.
Jonathan watched as she studied him. His hair was on the darker side. His eyes, too early to tell. Most likely they’d be brown, Jonathan thought. He wanted to say he looked like Aryl. He wanted to see Aryl, but his rational mind knew that it was impossible to distinguish features yet in the small, wrinkled face. In time, Jonathan thought, with a smile for the future.
“Have you thought of a name?” he asked.
Claire smiled at each of them in turn. “His name is Jac. After all of you,” she said, knowing Aryl was there with them, looking on.
∞∞∞
The storm began to wane in the late hours of the night. The clouds parted sharply allowing enough moonlight for them to break back limbs of the fallen tree and get the truck out. It was near dawn when they finally started making their way home.
“You were pretty amazing in there,” Jonathan said. “Never in my life did I think I’d see someone else walking Maura through something, but you really got her through those first few moments.”
He shrugged, brushing off the compliment. “We owe him, you know?” Before he could get too emotional he grinned. “The steps are the same. It’s no different when a cow gives birth.”
Jonathan laughed. “I won’t tell Claire you said that.”
March 10th 1931
“The Ides of March,” Jonathan grumbled as he carried Jean back to his bed. He’d been terribly sick, vomiting through the night.
He was pale and feverish as Jonathan laid him in his bed.
“How is he?” Ava asked from the darkness of the hall.
“No better. He’s burning up. Can’t hold anything down.” Jonathan sighed and scrubbed his face. Jean whimpered and Jonathan turned down the oil lamp beside his bed.
“I don’t know what to do.” He sat back, helpless and weary, looking to Ava for answers.
“Maybe we could—”
“Don’t come in here,” Jonathan said. “Stay there. I don’t want you to get sick. We can’t let Amy get it either.”
He’d spent the last two days in Jean’s room, only traveling to the bathroom and back, in an attempt to not spread the sickness. He cleaned up behind himself and Jean meticulously and prayed it was enough. It wasn’t.
Ava stepped into the dim light of the room. “I think I’m getting it anyway, Jon.” She was pasty white and beginning to sweat. “I’m sorry. I know how hard you tried to keep it from us.”
“What about Amy?”
“So far she seems fine.”
Jonathan dropped his head and rocked for a moment. “You’ve been taking care of her all this time. If she’s going to get it, there’s no stopping it now.”
“We can get some ice from Gordon for Jean’s fever,” Ava suggested.
“Good idea. I’ll go now. Will you be okay here for a bit?”
She nodded.
He walked over to her and felt her head. “You’re warm. Try not to handle Amy too much, although it’s probably too late. Why don’t you get to bed and rest?”
“No, I’ll sit with Jean.”
Jonathan put on a jacket and stepped out, bracing against the wind. He thought to stop at Caleb’s, but didn’t want to make them sick if they weren’t already. The streets were unnaturally empty as he drove. He knew much of the town had fallen ill and it worried him.
∞∞∞
Gordon gave him as much ice as he could spare.
“I haven’t been to visit Claire and the baby for three days, though I’ve been making deliveries.”
“Are they ill?”
“Ian and Scottie. So far the rest are fine. Maura has Claire and Jac in her room, hoping they’ll avoid it.”
“Caleb and his family?”
“No one yet that I’ve heard.”
“That’s good.”
“Damn near half the town has come down with it.”
“Half the town?”
“Seems like it. But then, a lot of folks are holing up at home, trying to wait it out. Seems to ease off after three days.”
“Jean’s nearly there then.”
“Go on,” Gordon said. “See to your boy. If you need more ice, I’ll see what I can do.”
Back at Jonathan’s house he broke the ice up with a hammer, wrapping chunks in towels and sheets. He and Ava striped Jean down to his underwear and packed the ice around him.
“Am I doing it right?” he asked.
“I think so,” Ava said, sitting down to catch her breath.
“You should be in bed,” he said, frowning at her.
“No, I want to be here.” A wave of nausea rolled over her and she held her aching head.
“Gordon said no one at Caleb’s has it. Maybe we could have Amy stay there until this passes.”
“She might bring it to their house. And like you said, if she’s going to get it, there’s no stopping it now.”
He nodded with worry for Jean. He touched his head. He was on fire. Jonathan arranged the ice around him. It had already begun to melt around his body, soaking the sheets and bed. With her eyes closed, Ava leaned over in the chair. Jonathan added more ice until Jean was fully packed and only his face could be seen.
Amy began crying and Ava tried to stand.
“No, I’ll get her. I’m not sick,” Jonathan said. She sat down wearily and watched Jean. His whole body had begun to vibrate, shivering against the ice.
Jonathan lifted Amy and inspected her carefully.
“How are you feeling, my princess?”
Her blue eyes were bright. She stopped crying when she saw Jonathan and smiled. Her nose was clean and her lungs were clear. Changing her diaper he found nothing out of the ordinary. Relieved, he kissed her cheek and she squealed, grabbing handfuls of his hair. Nestling her in the crook of his arm, he took her downstairs and made a bottle. She babbled and waved her fists around, trying to grab everything Jonathan touched.
After feeding her and laying her back down in the cradle, he checked on Jean and Ava. She was sleeping, pale and swea
ting, over the arm of the chair next to his bed. Most of the ice surrounding Jean had melted. Jonathan could almost see the heat radiating, and he knew his little body couldn’t take much more. He woke Ava gently.
“I’m going to get Maura and more ice. She might know what else to do.”
She touched her aching head. “Hurry back,” she whispered.
Jonathan left in a rush and Ava reached out to touch Jean. She knew his fever was high, but his skin was so hot she pulled her hand back in shock. Vivid and terrifying memories of her parents flashed though her mind.
“God, no. Please, no.” Helplessly watching someone die—slowly cooked alive from fever—wasn’t something she thought she could stand to do again. Something deep in her mind told her that she’d better prepare herself, just in case. She pushed the thought away, refusing to accept it. This was bigger than she was. Big enough to make healthy adults succumb, let alone a young child. They had done everything there was to do, which included only aspirin and ice, and Jean still lay so sick. She wanted to have faith that Maura would have a magical answer. Pull an old world cure from her bag and save the day. But this was bigger than Maura, too. She could think of nothing else to do, as she knelt by his bed, except pray.
She stayed there a long time. Might have even fallen asleep a few times, poorly as she felt. She raised her head when she felt the bed move. Her weak smile dropped when she realized he wasn’t waking up, he was violently shaking. It started quickly. His back arched and the most horrible gurgling noise came from his throat. His eyes were white, having rolled far up into their sockets. Ava screamed. She tried to hold his shoulders but his body was rigid, twisting and contorting under her hands. She took a step back, mouth agape in horror, having no idea what to do. She could only watch as powerful currents exploded through his body for what felt like a very long time. And then he was still. She covered her eyes and screamed. And screamed again. Falling to the floor with one last desperate wail, Jonathan burst into the room, Maura close behind him. He took one look at his son and yelled his name. Maura pushed past him and threw herself on the wet bed. She felt his head and moved her hand to his throat.
“He’s still alive,” she whispered. She turned to make sure they heard her, and saw Jonathan pulling Ava up.
“What happened?”
“He was shaking…so bad, Jon, his whole body was shaking…I couldn’t make it stop.”
Maura motioned for Jonathan to move closer. “Feel him, Jon. Is he as hot as when you left?”
After putting Ava in the chair, he touched Jean. “No. He was hotter than this when I left.”
“Sometimes a body gets so hot it’ll seize. It’s awful to look at but it serves a purpose.”
Ava was still gasping and sniffling. She couldn’t take her eyes off Jean.
“Let’s pack him with more ice. Take advantage of this small break and see if we can bring it down even more.”
Jonathan, who was so very tired, carried large blocks of ice up the stairs. He broke it up and handed the chunks to Maura. And they waited.
Maura left after nightfall to tend to her own. Jonathan slept on a blanket on the floor. Ava insisted on sitting in the chair where she stayed on the edge of sleep, waiting for the horrible gurgling noise again. Amy’s cradle was placed in the hallway, close enough to hear, but hopefully not close enough to catch the illness. For the first time, she slept through the night.
Ava watched Jean with swollen, tired eyes. The first rays of light were streaming through the window. The birds were attempting to rouse the world, flitting about the windows.
She didn’t notice him wake up. It was only when he whispered her name, and she nearly jumped out of her chair, did she look at him and see his blue eyes looking back at her.
She was to his bedside in a flash. He was still pale. His eyes still ringed in dark but his skin was cool and dry. With a ragged breath of relief, she took his little hand in hers and kissed it.
“I’m okay,” he said.
“I know.” She smiled through her tears. “I’m so glad, Jean. We were so worried about you.”
“She said you would be.”
“Who said, sweetie? Maura?”
“No, my Mother.”
“Your…Mother?”
He nodded weakly. “I saw her.”
Ava stared at him, unsure of what to say. Was it possible to dream with such a fever?
“I saw her,” he repeated. “I tried to leave my bed but she came and said I had to stay. She said I couldn’t go with her, that you were very worried about me and would be sad if I left.”
Ava’s face rippled as she nodded. “I would be. I’m so glad you stayed,” she said in a whisper.
“She told me something else. She said she didn’t know if you knew and I should tell you.” He looked down at his bare stomach, lacking the energy to do much more than that. “She said that you were my mommy now. And that it was okay.” His eyes moved up with hesitation. “Is that true?”
“Yes, Jean. It’s true.” She broke down in tears, lifted him up and hugged him.
April 10th 1931
“We can have the wedding here,” Arianna said. “We can do it down in the side yard. There’s plenty of room.”
“That would be nice,” Claire said. Jac lay on her lap. She watched his every move and delighted in the twitchy movements of his limbs as he grew accustomed to his new world.
“Isn’t he the most beautiful thing?” she asked, letting him grip her finger. He strained to bring it to his mouth.
“He is,” Arianna said, looking down on him. His eyes were deep brown with little flecks of green sprinkled in. His hair, while still thin, was the color of Aryl’s, and starting to curl in the same places. He’d plumped up in the last two months and Arianna giggled as she touched the little roll of fat on his wrist.
“So much like Aryl,” Claire whispered. “It’s amazing.”
Arianna didn’t ask if it was hard, she knew it had to be. Her Samuel looked remarkably like Caleb and to have him gone with a walking reminder of him toddling about would be a comforting heartache.
“I don’t know if I can bear to leave him,” Claire said.
“I’ll take good care of him. In fact, I probably won’t put him down the whole time you’re gone.”
Claire hesitated to hand him over. “Promise?”
“I promise. You have a good time with Gordon. And when you get back, we’ll talk more about the wedding.”
“We’re not so much having a good time as we are making plans ourselves. He wants us to move in with him after the wedding.”
“Well, you weren’t going to continue to live in separate houses, were you?”
Claire turned her eyes to Jac, feeling silly. “I hadn’t thought about it, really.”
“How could you make plans to marry someone and not think about living with them?” Arianna laughed.
Claire shrugged. “I don’t know.” She took a deep breath and stroked Jac’s head. “You know sometimes when you look to the future; you can see some things and not others?”
Arianna shook her head, clueless.
“What I mean is, when I think of living with Gordon, I just can’t see it. I mean, I know it’s going to happen. It’s just hard to picture. Being busy with Jac has kept me from thinking on it too much, I guess,” she said, seeming to answer her own question.
“Everything will work out, Claire. Now go have a good time. It’s such a beautiful day and you look fantastic. And, maybe walking around Gordon’s house and making plans with him will help you see it,” she said with a shrug
“Maybe,” she smiled. Reluctantly she handed the baby to Arianna and stared at him for a long time.
“Jean’s coming over today.”
“Is he?” Claire asked.
“Oh, yes. He found out the baby would be here and wild horses couldn’t keep him away. I will have an expert helper.”
She smiled as Claire stood, ushering her out the door. She turned several times to look at J
ac desperately.
“He’ll be fine,” Arianna assured. “I’ve done this before, you know.”
∞∞∞
Gordon met her on the porch with a kiss. “I’m glad you came.”
“It was hard leaving Jac,” she said.
“You could have brought him.”
“I thought we were going to do some work getting the rooms ready.”
“We are. Well, I did already. I wouldn’t have you moving furniture.” He laughed as if she were silly and held the door for her. His home smelled of cleanser and she could tell he’d been working hard. All the small breakables had been moved, the bottom half of the bookshelves sat empty and the knit doilies that had hung over the edge of the end tables were tucked back, away from little fingers that might grab onto them and pull the table over.
“You’ve been busy. There was time to do all this, you know. He’s not getting around just yet.”
“I have a room cleared out for him. I just don’t have any furniture in it yet.” He opened the door to an ordinary bedroom with a big window that let a lot of natural light in. Their voices echoed off the walls and hardwood floors.
“I can bring his cradle,” she said. Other than that, all he had was a bag of clothing and diapers. They walked together through the living room and down the hallway.
“I made some other changes, too. I moved my room. Our room.” He closed his eyes and corrected. “I hope you don’t mind.”
“No, I don’t.” Her heart began to beat a little faster as he opened the door to his bedroom. The four poster bed was neatly made. The bedside tables each had a lamp and small rag rugs lay in front of each one. A large chest of drawers against the wall had been cleared of all pictures.
“I started to clean out some of the drawers for you and that’s when I realized that I needed to move everything. I needed a little distance myself. New life, new room.”
“I understand,” she said. And she did. Nothing else needed to be said.
“I gave you the top three drawers so you don’t have to bend over.”