Before she finished four inches, she heard his heavy step on the porch. She exhaled mightily in relief; she didn’t know she’d been barely breathing. Then a terrifying pain ripped through her back, her sides, scraping slowly, with jagged nails. It was so powerful, so overwhelming, it crushed the rest of the breath out. When it eased up, Harry was kneeling by the side of the chair, looking into her face with worried brow. She took some deep breaths, perspiration beading on her upper lip, and managed a smile.
“It’s the baby.”
“Now? There’s no way I can get Doc.”
“Don’t worry, Harry. This takes a long time. Maybe the storm will clear.” He helped her to their bed.
The wind howled outside, blowing snow so hard it sounded like sand rasping off a layer of wood. Fern listened to it quietly, taking strength from it between pains. Harry made her tea, fussed over her, worried himself into a frenzy, and paced, cursing. He hated this. This was something he had done to her, and he was sorry. He saddled up a horse in the barn, to keep ready in case the storm eased and he could ride to Addie’s. Addie had experience in things like this. Addie could help.
Just before the white dusk turned to dark, the wind stopped. Absolute silence outside made Fern’s raspy breathing loud and terrible to his ears. The pains were frequent. He’d tied a rag to the headboard for her to hold, and as he walked into the room, she was pulling on it, perspiration rolling down her face and neck, moaning, cords and muscles standing out in her neck and arms in dramatic chiseled relief. He slid into his overcoat, and when the pain passed, he walked to the side of their bed.
“Storm broke, Fern. I’m going for Addie,” he whispered softly.
“No. Harry, it’s close. Stay here.” Another pain gripped her, and he ran out of the house.
Addie grabbed a coat and swung up behind Harry. Sam said he’d saddle up a horse and be along presently. They rode urgently through the knee-high snow, only guessing where the road was. The wind began to pick up again as they neared the house. They heard the screams, both fearfully telling themselves it was a trick of the wind. It was no trick. Addie jumped off the horse and ran inside, dropping her coat on the kitchen floor. Harry dawdled in the barn, his heart racing, feeling helpless and useless.
Fern’s knees were bent high, tenting the covers. She gripped the rag, her face and pillow soaked. A wail began deep inside, forcing its way through her exhausted body. Addie closed the door quickly and whipped off the covers. The bed was soaked with blood. The wail stopped abruptly as Fern’s eyes bulged, a dark vein stood out in the middle of her forehead, and she gave a tremendous grunt, a push, and Addie saw the brown top of a head poke out, then recede back inside.
“Push, Fern, he’s almost out!”
Fern pushed. She let go of the rag and gripped her thighs with strong fingers. Addie watched as they dug deep into the flesh, little droplets of blood mixing with sweat and trickling down her thighs. Fern’s back arched with the effort, oh, God, it was so awful, it was right there, why won’t it come out, push, push, oh, God, PUSH!
The baby gushed out into Addie’s waiting hands. Fern fell back against the pillows, her eyes rolling. Addie noted it was a girl, and laid the baby down on the sheet. She quickly ripped the hem of her dress and tied the umbilical cord.
“It’s a girl, Fernie. A baby girl!” So announced, the child took a mighty breath and let out with a cry.
“A girl,” Fern sighed, trying to smile.
Addie ran to the kitchen for a knife, signaled to Harry who had just come in. “A girl, Harry.”
“A girl?” His face brightened. It was over, and they had a baby girl. Addie bustled back inside the bedroom, Harry following her. He was not prepared for the mess he saw. It made him sick to the stomach. He’d seen plenty of birthings—cattle, sheep, dogs and cats, but never so much blood. And this was from his wife!
Addie cut the cord, then lifted up the baby. “Look, Harry, a baby girl!”
They both looked, and Addie’s arms went limp. She almost dropped the child.
“Oh my God,” she breathed quietly.
“I knew it, I knew it. I knew it!” Harry’s voice shook with emotion, with grief.
“Addie? Harry? Give me my baby.” Fern leaned up weakly on an elbow, looking at their faces. Something was wrong. Oh, God, something was terribly wrong. “What is it?”
The two stood there, looking at the child crying and waving its little arms and legs. They looked at each other, then at Fern. Addie’s face was a mask of misery and pity; Harry’s had that strange grimace of distaste drawing his lips away from his teeth. “Oh, God, what’s wrong?”
CHAPTER 7
Doctor Withins knocked on the screen door, startling Martha out of a television-induced drowse.
She scrambled to her feet quickly as the doctor came in, smoothed down her housedress, and patted at her hair.
“Hello, Martha!” The doctor was a big burly man, a country doctor, with a wide-open face and big bear hugs for all his patients. Everyone in the community knew and relied on Doctor Withins; he was even known to help a horse or a cow in trouble. Martha was a regular on his list; he stopped by periodically to give her a checkup and make sure she was all right. “It’s that time again.”
“That time,” Martha repeated, delighted. She’d always loved Doctor Withins.
“How are you feeling?”
“Good!” Martha’s eyes lit up. “Baking bread for Mr. McRae, got television, making friends.”
“Well! Isn’t that nice. Come sit down here, loosen the buttons on your dress.” He set his black bag on the table and withdrew a stethoscope. “Friends, huh? So you’re getting out a little more?”
“Went shopping.”
“That’s good. Take a deep breath. Good. Another one. Okay, now cough. Again. Again. Good. How are your feet?”
Martha held up her swollen ankle. “Hurts.”
“Yes, I can see that.” He sat down in a kitchen chair with the foot in his lap and probed it gently. “You twisted it?”
Martha remembered standing up too fast, scared, startled at the snapping jaws of her mind. “Yes.”
“Okay. I’m going to tape it up for you. He fished in his bag for an Ace bandage. “Watch how I do this now. End under your foot, wrap once around the foot to catch the edge, see? Now wrap around the ankle up to here—not too tight, just stretch it a little—then fasten with these little clips, see?”
Martha nodded.
“Okay, now listen, Martha, this is very important.” He spoke slowly, deliberately. “If your toes get cold or turn blue, you take this bandage off right away, rub your foot for a while, then put the bandage back on looser, okay? If your toes turn blue, you’ve put the bandage on too tight.”
She listened carefully, then nodded.
“Take it off when you take your bath, then put it back on again. Wear it until”—he stood up and pointed at the calendar—“here, okay?” He put a little mark on a square with his pen.
“Next Thursday,” Martha said.
Doctor Withins turned around slowly and looked at her expectant face. “Why, that’s right. You’re learning a lot these days, aren’t you?”
“Yes. New friends.”
“Well, that’s good. Now. One more thing before I go. I think you need to lose some weight. Your ankle will feel better and so will your knees. Do your knees hurt?”
Martha nodded.
“Lose some weight and it will be easier for you to walk into town.”
“Lose weight.”
“Yes. Don’t eat so much bread and potatoes. More vegetables, chicken, meat.”
“Okay.”
He didn’t need to repeat it. She was learning. Her mind was growing. Maybe she wasn’t as retarded as everyone thought. Maybe being cooped up here with Fern and old Harry for so long had retarded her more than was necessary. He’d stop in again soon. This was very interesting.