by Sarah Lark
“Why don’t you go lie down for a while, Miss Linda?” Vera said.
Linda let the girl lead her over to the tent, acting as though she appreciated the suggestion. Once there, she confronted Vera.
“What are you planning?” she demanded. “What kind of show are you putting on?”
Vera’s open expression had transformed immediately once she was alone with Linda. She gave the young woman a contemptuous look.
“I’m sick of sleeping in the wagon,” she said curtly. “I want a house.”
Later that evening, as Vera and Fitz were cooking dinner with the men, frying a few fish that they had caught in Linda’s traps, Linda excused herself and retired to the tent. She was tired of Vera’s lies, her flirting with the men, and their hymns of praise for the girl that Fitz joined eagerly. Proud and patronizing, he raved about what a big help Vera was, especially to Linda.
“We couldn’t do without her. Hard to imagine she might leave us someday.”
Linda cried herself to sleep in anger and disappointment. There wouldn’t be a house on the hill for her. There wouldn’t even be a house for Linda and her family. Fitz was building a house for Vera.
Chapter 59
Indeed, the log cabin at Fitzpatrick Station was finished in no time. Linda, Fitz, and Vera, for whom Fitz had built a kind of spacious annex, were able to move in well before the baby was due. Linda tried her best to feign excitement, although she felt more bitterness than anything else.
Regardless, this close to giving birth, she had other things on her mind. There was one supposed midwife in Patea, but Linda didn’t trust her. Besides, to get her help, Linda would have had to move to town days before the baby was due. Major McDonnell grudgingly provided the settlers’ wives with accommodations at the army base for this purpose. This didn’t appeal to Linda. She would much rather bear her child in her own bed with Fitz helping her. As an experienced midwife herself, she trusted her ability to guide him with clear instructions. Back at Rata Station, she had helped countless lambs, calves, and foals into the world, and she had assisted Cat and Makuto with several births of human children too. It had taken little to convince Fitz of her plan. The challenge of helping with a birth seemed to reawaken his old euphoria, and Linda knew that her husband could move mountains when he was in that kind of mood. As a result, the young woman was looking forward to her delivery. The pregnancy had been free of complications so far, and she was expecting an easy birth. Should there be problems, she was convinced she could count on Omaka, who must be experienced in midwifery.
For her part, Omaka made no mention of the impeding birth. She seemed often to live in a different world, conferring with the spirits of her people. At the same time, she followed the escalating conflicts between the pakeha and Maori anxiously. Over the last few months, there had been several attacks on their settlement. Linda was a little surprised to discover that Omaka wasn’t on the warriors’ side.
“They are not my people,” she remarked when Linda asked her about it one day. The two had been foraging for medicinal herbs when, yet again, they heard the thunder of rifles in the distance, and the trumpeters on their ramparts called the settlers to the front lines. Omaka had sung a karakia to evoke peace and to keep the warriors safe—but not for victory. “In the old days, tribes fought each other,” the old tohunga explained. “There were friends and enemies, land was taken, heads were taken, slaves were taken. And then you returned to your own village and tilled your fields. Now, we have no more villages or fields, and the pakeha are too strong for us. Their weapons spit fire, while all ours do is wound men. And they are too many. More and more are coming from across the sea. For every one of them we kill, twenty more take their place. We can hate them, but we cannot fight them as we used to unless we all want to die. Our warriors do not see this, or they do not believe it. They flock together under the leadership of a ‘prophet’ who does not even speak to our gods, but to the pakeha’s, and he promises them they are invulnerable. They do not belong to their tribes anymore; they are just a horde of possessed men, wild and cruel. And for every drop of blood they spill, every head they take from a pakeha soldier and carry around proudly, the pakeha grow angrier. That anger, fueled by Haumene, fell on my tribe. So, who destroyed us? The pakeha or Haumene’s warriors? Or both? Those men shooting at each other now, mokopuna, are not really enemies. In a manner of speaking, they are all fighting on one side. They are fighting against me and you, against the spirits and the peace between Papa and Rangi in Aotearoa.”
Linda admired the old tohunga’s power of insight and her ability to fight the hatred in herself, no matter how much grief for her people weighed on her. Moments like these made Linda feel very close to her, and she knew Omaka wouldn’t refuse her request to help with the birth. Should there be trouble, she could always send Fitz to get her.
On a dry, sunny day in early June, Linda’s baby was ready to enter the world. It was a little cold out, but also beautiful. Linda delighted in the fresh morning view of Mount Taranaki, seeming so close in the clear winter air that it could have been right there on her doorstep. As she stepped outside, she could feel the child shifting downward inside of her. That day, or maybe that night, her contractions would begin. She had to go look for Fitz and remind him not to report for guard duty that day.
As usual, Linda was annoyed that she had to walk around the hill that their house should have been standing on before she could see Brianna’s pasture and the river. If they’d built according to her original plans, she could have overseen all the outbuildings from the house, and could have just called Fitz instead of having to go look for him. She expected to find her husband with Brianna. He usually rode the horse to work, even though it was a short walk. And at this time of day, he wasn’t usually on his way yet. All he would do was feed Brianna and then return to the house to eat his breakfast.
That was why Linda was surprised not to find him. Neither he nor her mare were in the pasture where Vera was filling the watering trough with her usual sullen expression. She returned Linda’s greeting with a grumble.
“Where did Fitz go?” Linda asked. “I think the baby’s coming.”
Vera looked up at her, her normally blank eyes flashing triumphantly. “Fitz rode to Patea, to the livestock market. He’s buying me a horse.”
“He’s doing what?” Linda cried.
For a few months now, every first Tuesday of the month, there had been a small livestock market in Patea. They mostly dealt in substandard sheep and cattle, and sometimes pigs or chickens. Still, settlers were eager for the animals and would pay steep prices for them. Horses were sold there, usually of decent quality. The merchants willing to drive their four-legged wares all the way to Patea knew their clientele. Most of the military settlers had never farmed before, but they were travelers. They knew enough about horses not to let some lame old mares be palmed off on them.
“He’s buying me a horse,” Vera repeated flippantly. “I saved up enough money.”
For the last few weeks, she’d worked on one of the nearby farms almost every day. Linda was ignorant as to what exactly she did there. Vera wouldn’t answer any of her questions, and Fitz just mumbled something about gardening or herding. Linda had her own suspicions, but at any rate, Vera had managed to save up a lot of money in a short time, and now it seemed she had sent Fitz to spend it for her.
Linda stared at the girl. “Vera, I’m expecting a baby! Fitz knew it could happen any day now. I need him with me during the birth. How could you send him away? How—”
“The market is today,” Vera said calmly.
“And there’s another one next month, and the month after that and after that. You didn’t have to—”
Vera smiled slowly. “Fitz didn’t have to go.”
Linda had often heard the saying that people could see red. Now, she knew how it felt.
“You little tramp! You planned this!” she cried. “And Fitz, what an idiot, what a childish fool!”
Fitz had b
een looking forward to the baby’s birth. Vera wouldn’t have been able to coax him away from Linda’s side with one of her usual demands. But a horse . . . Fitz considered himself a horse connoisseur, and it had been hard for him not to own one since Otago. He hadn’t been able to resist the temptation of choosing one for Vera, of having her trust him to pick the right animal. He probably hadn’t thought of the baby for a second, or he’d pushed the thought away with a laugh. Linda could almost hear him: “It’s not going to come today, of all days, sweetheart. And I can be back by nightfall . . .”
“Let me guess.” It took all Linda’s self-control to keep from slapping Vera’s haughty face. “He told his superiors he needed the day off to stay with his pregnant wife. So he’s risking getting caught in a lie or insubordination again. Or do you expect they just won’t notice him in Patea?”
Vera pursed her lips and shrugged, unperturbed.
Linda glared at her. “This is the last time!” she declared. “You’ve gone too far, Vera. I won’t stand for this anymore. It’s time for you to leave!”
“Where am I supposed to go?” Vera asked.
“I don’t care!” Linda screamed. “Go back to your family. Or live with one of your customers. That’s what they are, aren’t they, Vera? Those men you say you garden and feed the animals for? Because I don’t see any gardens on their land, and they don’t have animals yet either. I know exactly what you are! And now get out of here!”
That very moment, Linda felt a pain in her abdomen. Seconds later, liquid began running down her legs. Amy, always by her side, barked in alarm.
Vera smiled again. “Then who’s going to help you with the delivery, Linda? Do you really want me to leave?”
Linda buckled under the contraction. Suddenly, she was scared. The baby was probably in the right position, and she was young and strong. She could survive the birth without help. But afterward, she’d be weak, and the baby would be helpless. What if Vera did something to hurt him and then claimed the child had been born dead . . .
“Get out of here!” she screamed.
She turned her back on the terrible girl. She must try to reach the house. She couldn’t have the baby in a pasture. It would be best if she could find Omaka. If things didn’t go too quickly . . .
Linda headed for the house, but after only a few steps, her next contraction gripped her. It felt as though somebody was ramming a knife into her belly. Linda stumbled and immediately gave up the thought of going for help. She wouldn’t be able to reach Omaka’s camp under the kauri tree in time. This child was in a hurry. Normally, she would have been happy about it. But now, she would have liked to prolong the labor. If only Fitz could be back in time to protect their baby!
Linda wrapped her arms around her belly and took another few steps toward the house. The girl followed, and Linda felt herself trembling. She vomited into one of her gardens and forced herself to go on. After what felt like an eternity, she reached the cabin. Linda dragged herself inside and crumpled on her bed to endure the next contraction.
“Would you like some tea?” Vera asked, closing the door in Amy’s face. The dog barked anxiously and scratched at the door to be let in.
“I want you to leave,” Linda panted. “Leave me alone.”
Vera smiled. “I think I’ll make myself some tea.”
Linda watched the girl put the kettle on. She’d prepared some herbs for Fitz to brew a pain-relieving, labor-enhancing tea for her, but she wouldn’t ask Vera to do that. She wouldn’t eat or drink anything the girl gave her, although she didn’t think Vera knew enough about herbs to poison her. She squirmed under her next contraction, groaning. She had to undress. She had to get out of her clothes and put on a nightgown or give birth to the child naked, like the women she’d helped in the Ngai Tahu village. But she was already so weak that she couldn’t have loosened all her stays and opened the buttons, never mind pulling the heavy woolen dress over her head. It was constricting her, and she was sweating—when she wasn’t shivering violently. Linda’s body shook with cramps. Vera pulled a stool up next to the bed, watching her struggle like a cat toying with its doomed prey.
On top of all this, Amy was still barking outside the house. Linda could hear the small dog scratching at the bedroom wall now.
“That stupid mutt,” Vera said. “She annoys me, Linda. She annoys me so much.”
The girl’s gaze wandered to Fitz’s rifle. It was leaning on the wall. Of course he’d forgotten to take it with him yet again, defying orders.
“Don’t you dare,” Linda gasped. “Run, Amy! Go find somebody! Go get help!”
The animal was clever; she knew some of the most complex orders used for herding sheep. But Linda knew full well that Amy wouldn’t understand this command.
Amy raced around the house frantically. Something was wrong. And now she could hear her mistress calling! Amy barked, but that wasn’t enough to express her fear. Just as Linda was torn apart by her contractions, Amy was torn by grief and helplessness. Linda screamed and Amy howled. Like a siren, her howls echoed across the farm, earsplitting and pitiful.
Fairbanks, their next-door neighbor, didn’t hear it; he was away on duty at the earthworks. The lookouts at the fort heard but didn’t think twice. Why shouldn’t a dog howl every now and then? But Amy’s howls did drown out the voices of the spirits talking to Omaka. The old woman got to her feet and gathered a few things. She quickly made her way to the river, walking.
As she got closer to the house, she heard the sound of Linda’s screams mixed with Amy’s howls. As soon as the dog recognized Omaka, her howls dwindled to whimpers. Amy jumped all around the tohunga in relief, and tore into the house as soon as the old Maori woman opened the front door.
Vera’s jaw dropped, then she recovered quickly. The girl grabbed the rifle and pointed it at Omaka, but she was too clumsy with it to scare the priestess. Omaka spat a curse at Vera and crossed to Linda’s side.
“It—it’s not loaded,” Linda gasped. “He always forgets.”
Vera dropped the rifle and ran out the door.
“She was going to kill the baby,” Linda whispered through her tears. “She would have killed him . . . What kind of person is she?”
Omaka’s expression remained impassive. “She is not like us. She is like your husband.”
Linda started in shock. She wanted to tell Omaka that Fitz was a crook and a fool, but not a wicked person like Vera. She wanted to tell her how exuberant he could be, how happy he had made her time and again. And then, she forgot everything as a fresh wave of pain crashed over her. She cried out, but she wasn’t alone anymore. Amy licked her hand comfortingly, and Omaka helped her out of her dress, washed her, and gave her tea to relieve the pain. She sang karakia, and Linda cried because she thought she could hear Cat’s bright, warm timbre behind the old woman’s brittle voice. Ko te tuku o Hineteiwaiwa . . . Linda gave herself up to the old tohunga, crying and laughing at the same time as the child slid into Omaka’s wrinkled hands a short while later.
“A girl,” the priestess said, wiping her face gently so Linda could have a look at her.
The little one was tiny, red, and wrinkled, and Linda felt as though she was peering out from under that dark thatch of hair almost as curiously as her father would have.
Linda laughed. “I hope you’re going to take life a little more seriously than your daddy does!” she cautioned her daughter.
“She is healthy and beautiful,” Omaka said as she cut the cord.
The child began to cry, and Linda took her into her arms. It felt amazing, much better than all the animals and human children she’d held before. How sad that Fitz was missing this moment!
Soon, Linda was groaning in pain again. A few minutes after that, the placenta was expelled.
“Will you bury it, karani?” she asked Omaka. It was traditional to bury the umbilical cord and placenta in a carefully chosen spot. According to Maori belief, a person would always be drawn back to the place of their birth. “My chil
d is now a part of your land too, tangata whenua.”
Omaka shook her head sadly. “This child will not draw her mana from this land,” she said calmly. “It would be wrong to bind her to it.”
“But—” Linda was about to object, but Omaka placed a hand on her and the baby, who was now peacefully slumbering in her mother’s arms.
“Do not ask this, mokopuna. Instead, tell me what you will call her.” She smiled warmly. She seemed to be dropping the austere demeanor of a priestess, truly becoming the little girl’s karani.
Linda thought for a moment. Of course she’d discussed names with Fitz, but only boys’ names. Linda would have liked to name a son after Chris. Finally, they’d agreed on the name Christian Roderick Fitzpatrick. And now they had a little girl. A daughter who owed her life to a priestess.
Linda smiled. “I will name her after you, karani.”
Omaka raised her eyebrows, and her eyes became veiled once more, the karani giving way to the seer. “She will not draw her mana from this river either, mokopuna.”
Linda shook her head. “I will not give her the name your people gave you, but the one the spirits call you by.”
Omaka frowned.
The baby opened her eyes, and Linda smiled at her. “I’m going to call you Aroha,” she told her daughter. “Love.”
Chapter 60
The night after Aroha’s birth passed quietly, perhaps too quietly. Omaka, who was holding the child and keeping a close eye on her young mother, would step outside the cabin every now and then to listen. Many birds on the North Island were nocturnal, and normally they crowed and cried, foraged for food on the forest floor, and fluttered around in the treetops. This night, though, nothing stirred expect for Amy. She kept starting in fright, barking. Twice she even woke Linda, who was sleeping in bone-deep exhaustion.