by J. F. Collen
Chapter 7 – Into the Fire
Campwoods, August 1848
Her rush out of the limelight brought her to the fringe of the woods that gave the site of the revival its name. The pines seemed to move aside to accept her, as she charged further and deeper into their embrace. At last, free from the demon preaching that chased her, she collapsed in a tumble at the foot of a tree, the pine-strewn ground cushioning her fall.
She covered her face in misery. What a spectacle I have made of myself! Gyrating on display for the multitudes to view! Mercy, the prime example of a sinner! Oh, the images they must conjure of my sordid and horrible life. True, her conscience told her she was forward. Did I not intentionally flirt with the Louisianan boy at last year’s revival, and even allow him to touch my hand? She felt the full weight of the horror of her transgressions fall upon her again, adding to the ignominy of her public display.
Cracking twigs brought her hands from her face and she looked up from her wretchedness.
Hannibal Rufus Calhoun! She was sure it was his face she had glimpsed through the trees.
She spun her head around to the right as the pine branches of the tree at her elbow moved. Hannibal stepped out of the darkening woods and appeared before her!
Her surprise was not so complete as to prevent her from registering how much he had matured since last summer. His plantation must be thriving, was the bizarre thought that flitted through her mind as she scrambled to her feet.
“Bless my soul, I have located the sinner! Repenting further I presume?” the Louisianan drawled with a laugh in his voice.
“I am mortified, simply crimson with embarrassment!” she cried, looking down at her feet.
“But for the fact that you were the center of attention, I would not have been allowed the pleasure of feasting my eyes upon you this year!” he exclaimed.
Nellie looked up into his handsome face quizzically.
“Yea, my dear girl, your embarrassment has a silver lining. My delegation has already made its final preparations for departure. The judgment was made to change our week of camping to the prior week. Therefore, we embark on our return journey for Louisiana early tomorrow.” He paused at the hurt expression on her face. “There was no time to post a letter to advise you—the decision was taken less than a day before we departed.”
Nellie stood, mouth agape, clothes in disarray, her wits scattered. Hannibal raised one eyebrow.
“Resuming my narrative then, members of our assemblage requested a departure of this morning to expedite our return to our lands, a few matters urgently needing their attention. However, I petitioned to remain this one final evening and leave post haste before dawn, logic-ing the lion’s share of daylight would speed our progress.” He twirled his recently acquired handlebar mustache. “Secretly, of course, it surely was merely a ruse to have one more night to find you. I was certain you would be here. I spared no effort perusing the crowd at dinner. Alas, but to no avail. I strolled the entire length of the tent area—no sight of y’all. I neared despair in finding you among the huge crowd for Even’song and preaching. I scanned the rows as the crowds emptied the benches, my en-tire hope ebbing away. Determining I could tarry no longer, as my assistance at the preparation of the wagons for our morning’s journey was required, I turned away. Lo and behold! It was at that exact moment, the Reverend Stowe stopped his egress from the amphitheater to expel one more demon—you!” He grinned at her with one raised eyebrow and a triumphal smile.
Nellie still looked uncertain. What a disconcerting smile! Almost a trifle demonic, she thought.
Sensing her hesitation, he took her gloved hand, bowed low and raised it to his lips.
A tingle of delight, rather like being filled with the Spirit, she thought, tickled up her arm, and bloomed in a blush on her cheeks.
“A most fortuitous spiritual cleansing indeed!” Hannibal Rufus’ manly, drawling voice, deepened in the year that had separated them, boomed off the pines. Nellie thrilled at the virile sound.
She raised her eyes and smiled. In an instant, Hannibal gathered her in his arms and kissed her soundly!
Nellie drew back in complete confusion.
“I have waited an en-tire year to take such an action. Y’all peeked in and out of my dreams with those luscious lips. I have longed to taste them, and now have not left the north disappointed.” Before Nellie could gather her wits, he dove in for another kiss. It was overwhelming, and wet and a bit...heavenly...! She frowned as his tongue began to lick her lips...in a wicked way.
She drew back and wiped her mouth with the back of her glove.
He pulled her back in again and this time, with more force, pressed his tongue in her mouth.
Strange! she thought, but not entirely unpleasant. Shivers ran up and down her spine. Should I recoil? Reclaim my lips and tongue?
As she enjoyed, yet felt a bit repulsed by, his kissing, his hand strayed from around her waist up her back.
She pulled away. Slightly panting, she said, “My goodness, but you men from the South are certainly passionate about your kissing.”
He laughed and tried to clasp her again in his arms, but she took a quick step back and began to chatter.
“My thoughts have oft turned to you as well, all this long cold winter. I had hoped we would have a chance for a stroll through the woods, or a picnic supper. Even though I am only permitted one night at the camp, I dreamt that with you in close proximity we might have a chance to become better acquainted. But now you leave before dawn! I am sorry to have but this short encounter.”
She looked at him, finally, after her burst of chatter gave her the composure to meet his eyes. He stared directly, boldly, laughingly, into hers. She was frightened by his look of naked desire.
Hannibal took a step forward, his bodily presence somehow a bit menacing to her now. “Our written correspondence acquainted us sufficiently. Now is not the time for dialogue. We have the better part of a night, my darling. I want no more words from those lips, they are now intended for something else.” He leaned in and again pressed his lips against hers. At first, she kissed back, but then realized his hand had strayed to her bosom and he was caressing the top of her breasts. She felt an electric shock that thrilled yet repelled her simultaneously. Pressing harder against her, his hand sought and found the lace of her bodice. He tugged the lace to untie the knot!
She wrenched herself free. “I thought you were a Southern Gentleman? That is not gentlemanly behavior.” She glared at him.
He took a step forward, and she, a step back.
He laughed, and began to unbutton his coat. “To the contrary, this is precisely the behavior of a Southern Gentleman. It is just not common knowledge to you Northerners.” He started to slide his coat off his shoulders.
“Then I’ll have naught of it, you cad!” determined Nellie. She turned on her heel and charged out of the woods, leaving the surprised Southern Gentleman tangled in his overcoat, mercifully unable to pursue her.
Chapter 8 – Lord, Deliver Us
Campwoods, August 1848
Nellie ran with all her might. She burst back into the clearing of the amphitheater just when she thought her lungs would explode from the arduousness of her physical exertion. She looked desperately around for a familiar face in the sparse crowd of worshippers still lingering near the podium. Nary a one! she thought, with a flash of alarm.
“There’s one of the saved,” a man nudged his companion and pointed at her. Nellie hurried through the open space in the direction of the camping tents, ears and heart burning with shame. She forced herself to calm down and focus on finding her group. Now where did Mrs. Van Cortlandt say they were to settle? In her distraught state, she could not remember the directions to the tent site. She wandered through a packed area of singing worshippers, praising The Lord as they settled their possessions and people in for the night. She peered into tents and searched for path signs, growing more agitated with each lapsed minute.
She stared down th
e alley between yet more rows of tents. Tarnation, she thought, realizing that she had already walked its length. I know there must be some area I have not checked. Lost both physically and in her misery, the sound of her name startled her. She felt a light touch at her elbow. Recoiling at the touch as if bitten, she violently pulled her elbow away. She turned toward the voice, ready to shout at Hannibal, in public, if necessary.
She looked up into the smiling face of the cadet, Obadiah Wright. He bowed low over her hand, and she felt a flush of shame at the similarity of his gesture with that of Hannibal Rufus’ earlier one. Did all men lust in their hearts like Hannibal Rufus? she wondered. Or am I truly filled with the devil, eliciting men’s wanton ways?
Luckily, Obadiah took Nellie’s blush as nothing more than an echoing of his own surprise in their chance meeting in this crowded place.
“My dearest acquaintance of all the finest ladies of Sing Sing! What a true pleasure to see you peering down the alleyway toward my tent,” he said and a smile lit his face with a warm, welcoming expression. “What circumstances have conspired to have you arrive here precisely at this moment, and unattended at that?”
She drew a deep breath.
“Alas, you look a bit distraught. Perhaps I can be of some assistance?” he asked. He smiled with that unruffled manner she found put her so at ease.
Nellie took another calming, deep breath and adjusted her shawl. “As a matter of fact, you might just be of assistance. I am here with my confidante and her family, and I am afraid I have not quite gotten my bearings as to the location of our campsite. Are you familiar with the layout of the tents? I don’t recall seeing a plan, or any trace of a map, and I fear I am rather at a loss as to the indications I should be seeking.”
“Permit me to offer my arm, my dear lady, and we shall reconnoiter.” Obadiah bowed in a courtly yet friendly manner, and proffered his arm. Nellie sighed with relief, and gratefully placed her hand on his elbow. In no time at all, Nellie saw the Van Cortlandt coat of arms fluttering over a tent flap, verifying they had found the correct tent.
Once he had ascertained she was safely in the correct place, Obadiah, true Northern Gentleman that he was, smiled at her, and bid his adieu. “I look forward to our next encounter. Perhaps we might try the lackluster convention of pre-arranging a meeting?” With a laugh in his eyes he strode away.
Nellie pulled down her shirtwaist and composed her face.
She opened the flap of the tent and stepped into the small sitting room. Her tension dissipated with the sight of the comfortable arrangement of some small pieces of her friend’s familiar furniture. Mr. Van Cortlandt rocked in a rocking chair while Mrs. Van Cortlandt hovered over him. Her friendly greeting met with anxious chatter from the pair. Not only her absence caused the commotion; Augusta was missing as well.
“I am quite certain it is of no consequence, Mrs. Van Cortlandt,” Nellie reassured them. “I am sure she stayed after the divine services at half-seven to sing psalms with the group of young adults gathered around a small campfire. I will go find her, either there, or at the nine o’clock prayer meeting. We shall take good care of each other.”
She walked back down the steps of the tent and looked across the path. Midwife Rafferty, her friend Clara’s mother, and her teacher and mentor, stood at the top of the stairs to the tent across the way looking anxiously up and down the path.
Now Cornelia felt entirely safe.
“My third chance encounter of the night,” sang Cornelia Rose in a determined-to-sound-happy voice, and she flitted across the alley to embrace the midwife.
“Child, ‘tis fine to see you, but I’m in a bit of a pickle. I’m a-needing Clara, and simply cannot ascertain her whereabouts.” The midwife continued her scan of the path in front of them.
“There must be some mischief in the air!” Nellie said playfully. “All my companions are missing!”
“By the Saints, don’t say ‘missing’! I need her forthwith! I would be happy to think she was enjoying herself with some fine young people, raising joyous voices in praise of the Lord, were it not for the baby I am about to birth. Mercy,” said Midwife Rafferty, wringing her hands. “It is not one of your uncomplicated, ordinary births, I could assist with my hands tied behind my back. No! I need the assistance of an apprentice. When a woman has been laboring for hours already and swelling in this particular fashion, something is amiss. My training and my instincts tell me this baby is breech.”
“Might I be of assistance?” Nellie asked. “I know to date I have only been entrusted with the preparation of herbs, potions and tinctures... and of course providing an extra set of hands in setting a broken bone or two, but you know I long to become a midwife. I believe I can be of some aid to you tonight.”
Midwife Rafferty folded her in her arms. “Most definitely you will be helpful. I have often told you, you show promise at midwifery. I am happy to have such an able assistant. Now help me assemble the herbs while the woman is resting in her sister’s care.” Without waiting for a reply from Nellie the midwife started listing the supplies she would need and slipped into her tent.
“Yes, yes, we will also need several of my tinctures, a bit of salt....” The midwife bustled about, pulling bottles and pouches from various baskets stacked on a travel case on the side of the tent.
Nellie stepped in behind her. “You have brought all your medicines with you for this one week in camp?”
“A midwife is always prepared—mind ye, every year the camp spawns one medical emergency after another. I am always ready to ply my knowledge for the benefit of my fellowman and kindred worshiper. Moreover, I did send Phillip, post haste with the carriage to bring me more St. John’s Wort salve. We’ve enough for the birthing tonight, but I saw by the assemblage at Even’song they’ll be adding a few more to their flock o’ chosen people before the week is out!”
Nellie immediately engrossed herself in preparing and packing the medicines. In minutes, under the skillful direction of Mrs. Rafferty, they assembled all the necessary herbs, potions, and linens. They rushed off, balancing heavy baskets, to the tent of the laboring woman.
The stench of unwashed bodies hit Nellie’s sensitive nose as she entered the tent behind the Midwife. She tried to contain her reflexive gag, but Mrs. Rafferty heard it, and said to her in a whisper, “They’ll be none of that if ye want to be a proper midwife. Next time arm yerself with a posy of lemongrass, lavender, and clove tucked in yer bodice. Decrease your sensitivity to other smells, it will.” Nellie rushed to thank her but the fully prepared Midwife, clad in a huge apron, had already begun to set up shop.
Before Nellie’s eyes, and with only a bit of Nellie’s help, Mrs. Rafferty shooed away the idling men, who stank from several weeks of unwashed worship and free flowing beer. Once they had dispersed, with strict instructions to wash their hands all the way up to their elbows, the midwife turned to the laboring woman and her sister. Nellie noted the calm reassuring voice the midwife adopted, encouraging the pair, and inspiring their confidence in her abilities. In the shake of a lamb’s tail, Nellie watched her transform a corner of the tent around the writhing woman into a clean, clutter free area lined with her baskets of remedies.
A brief examination of the progress of the labor during her absence added to Mrs. Rafferty’s continual flurry of preparations. “Mrs. Bachelor, ‘tis my understanding we are ushering in your fourth little one, is that correct?”
Nellie leaned forward over the pot of fresh herbs she had been mashing and stirring into some alcohol for a tincture, to get a better look at the woman who was the cause of this commotion. A pale face, with closed eyelids and sweat dampened hair clinging to its temples, twisted toward the Midwife and a thin sound emanated from colorless lips. “Aye.”
“‘Tis your saving grace then, that this is not your first. Ye know what’s expected of ye, and fourth children rush right on through, trying to catch up with their older siblings, don’t they now?” Mrs. Rafferty squeezed the woman’s shoulder, and
brushed the stringy damp hair back from her forehead. “’T won’t be long now. But when ye are not feeling any contractions, just focus on resting yer person. I’m going to need all yer strength when I want ye to push.”
A flutter of the woman’s eyelids was the only reply.
“Ye’ll be wanting a rest now won’t ye?” Mrs. Rafferty said to the woman’s sister.
“Yes, I’m grateful for it. Although I won’t know rest—I’ve got my own brood to contend with,” said the woman and she scurried out of the tent.
The midwife turned to Nellie. “I am certain now the baby presents in t’ breech position. I’ll need you to follow my instructions carefully. We’ll want to keep the ripping and tearing to the minimum o’ course—and with a breech that is nigh impossible. I am wagering on my combination of herbs—St John’s Wort to dull the pain, some oils to increase the elasticity of the skin—and yer fine hands to help me, that will see us through the worst of it.”
Nellie’s trust in Midwife Rafferty, already high based on all she learned in her herb lessons, swelled with the rational, calm, and reassuring words. A wave of adrenaline surged through her, helping her turn her full attention to assisting and learning.
Mrs. Rafferty cautioned, in between bouts of shouting and screaming as the labor pains overtook the poor woman on the floor, that even though the baby’s arrival seemed imminent, it could still be many more hours. After Nellie hauled water from the pump at the corner of the tents’ path, and then for the sixth time boiled it at the campfire near the dining hall, her attention and energy flagged. For the first time, she realized how tired she was. She turned to a lump of belongings piled on the floor in the tent behind her and sank into it to rest her feet. It seemed like an instant later Mrs. Rafferty was calling her name, and telling her the baby was crowning.
Nellie rubbed the sleep out of her eyes and inspected the water and the ointments to make sure they were at the ready. The water was no longer scalding hot. She wondered if she should go out to put the kettle back on the campfire.