The house seemed quiet after the violent storm of the night before. Almost as if it waited for the next storm about to take place within its walls.
Jessie opened the drawer of the small nightstand sitting beside the bed. Peering inside, she found what she sought. Tucked into the back of the drawer she saw a large bottle of laudanum, the liquid pain killer her Uncle John used when the headaches that had plagued him for years could no longer be tolerated. Holding the bottle in her trembling hand, she stared down at it for a moment, a cold chill going over her, and then she uncorked the bottle. With a shaking hand, she lifted the bottle to her lips. “May God have mercy on my soul.” Without giving herself time to think, Jessie gulped large mouthfuls of the strong-tasting liquid. Taking several deep breaths to quiet her stomach, she at last leaned back against the pillows, willing her eyes away from the small infant sleeping nearby. Minutes slid by unremarked. Her eyelids drooped. She shook her head, trying to ward off the drugging effects of the laudanum, then looked over at her sleeping child.
“Don’t hate me, Tia. I don’t wanna abandon you,” her words sounded disconnected, “but I got no choice.”
Time seemed to stop. The drug made her feel very relaxed, slowing her rushing mind and quieting the ugly words that had haunted her for so long. She became aware of the monotonous ticking of the wind-up clock sitting on the dresser across the room. Its persistent toll grew louder with each beat of her heart, making her all too aware of how fast time continued to pass.
“What will go through their minds when they know I’m gone?” she wondered, aloud. “Will they pity me? Or will their hearts be filled with shame because I’ve dared to do the unforgivable? I’m not doin’ this to cause them guilt. Although Mama and Hattie will blame themselves for what I’ve done. I’m sorry they’ll feel that way. Hattie tried so hard to help me be a good girl, and I failed her.” She remembered the night Hattie sat on her bed talking to her. How she hated to lie to her, but she had no choice. If Hattie had suspected she could be pregnant, she would have gone to her mother and told her. Then she would have lost any chance to be with Two Spirits.
Without any warning, the face of the man who had destroyed her world drifted across her mind. He smiled and held out his arms to her. So many times she had run to those arms and heard him promise nothing bad would ever happen – that he would always be there to protect her. She had loved and trusted him with all her heart. Of all the people who could have turned their face from her, brought her world tumbling down around her, why did it have to be him?
Hot tears slid unnoticed down her face, covering the hand she held pressed against her mouth. Had there ever been a child more loved or protected than she was? A child more blessed with all the comforts the world had to offer?
But why did there have to be so much hatred? Hatred against what one person believed, opposed to the beliefs of another? Hatred against race. Was it really so wrong to fall in love with someone whose skin was a different color than yours? Couldn’t her father see she no longer needed his constant watchful eye? Couldn’t he see she had needs beyond those of a child?
Could that be the real reason he felt the way he did? Her mind danced around the theory that he still saw her as the little girl he had sworn to protect. If that was the reason, then deep in his heart that love had to still be there. Love can’t die because of anger. Somehow she must find a way to bring that love back to life. To show him she would always be his daughter, but with the needs of a woman now. She tried to reason through the haze. A bond as strong as theirs couldn’t be destroyed because of one mistake. It just couldn’t!
“Oh God, help me!” Jessie moaned, pushing herself away from the pillows. “I don’t want to die!” The room tipped then swirled as she tried to bring her line of vision into focus. “Aunt Martha!” she called out, her voice little more than a whisper. “Help me!”
She inched her legs off the side of the bed. But when she tried to stand, her useless limbs refused to support her and she toppled forward onto the cold floor.
“I have to get up. Oh, God! Why can’t I get up?”
Struggling to reach the bed, she crawled to the side, but as she reached out to grasp the bedpost and pull herself up, she found all the strength had drained from her body. With a sob, she let her head drop back to the floor.
For long moments Jessie lay there, trying to muddle through the fog of incoherent thoughts. Trying to hold fast to fleeting reason as she drifted in and out of reality.
Why was it so difficult to stay awake? Why did she try, when it would be so much easier to close her eyes and allow the fog to wrap itself around her like one of Hattie’s handmade quilts? Of course! The thought flickered, tried to gain strength. That’s why she felt so relaxed and safe. Her daddy had come to take her home, back to her own room! To her own bed!
Jessie stopped fighting and allowed the soft blanket to enfold her in its warmth. She smiled, for she knew he had kept his promise. No one could ever hurt her again. She was going home.
***
Martha could hear the wind wailing throughout the early morning hour. Trying to ignore its mournful cry, she burrowed deeper into her pillows, but the howling became louder, more insistent. As the happenings of the night before came rushing back to her, she sat straight up in bed.
“Jessie’s baby! Why in the world is she letting the child cry instead of picking her up and tending to her?” She snatched up her red silk robe lying at the foot of the bed, to wrap it around her slim waist. Ignoring the warm slippers beside the bed, she padded barefoot down the hall toward Jessie’s room.
“I’m going to have a talk with that young lady about facing up to her responsibilities.” Then, recalling the hard time Jessie had had in giving birth, Martha felt ashamed of herself.
Jessie’s door stood ajar, allowing the cries of the hungry child to filter out, even louder now, into the long hallway.
“Jessie,” Martha called, pushing the door open wide, “can’t you hear your baby crying?” Then she caught her breath as she spied Jessie’s small body lying beside the bed.
Going to the still form, she dropped to her knees beside her.
“Oh no! Jessie! Wake up!” Martha shook her, drawing back in alarm at the coldness meeting her touch.
Spying the opened bottle of Laudanum on the nightstand, she cried, “Jessie, what have you done?” She grasped the bedpost to pull herself upright, staring down at the beautiful girl lying so cold and unmoving before her.
“Oh God, nooooo!” She wrapped both arms around her trembling body, trying to shield herself from the awful truth that refused to be denied. Tia’s angry cries finally penetrated her fear-dazed mind, releasing her from the cold shock threatening to overpower her. Picking the sobbing baby up in her arms, she held her against her chest, crooning to her all the while.
“Don’t you worry, my darlin’ no one will ever hurt you as long as I’m alive to protect you.”
Averting her frightened eyes from the still body on the floor, Martha grabbed some diapers and pins from the small dresser, then carried the crying baby downstairs. She stopped in the library long enough to rifle through the many baby books she had purchased from Doctor Hinley, all the while bouncing the crying baby in an attempt to quiet her. When she found the book containing a recipe on preparing a milk formula, she carried the fussing infant into the kitchen to lay her down in the middle of a large dining table. After changing her soiled diaper and wrapping the blanket around the tiny body, she went to work on making the formula.
“Thank God I listened to Doctor Hinley’s advice on storing bottles in case of an emergency.” She picked up a pair of thongs to remove one of the bottles from the kettle of boiling water. “It won’t be long now, Tia. I just need to pour the milk into the bottle and cool it, and then you can eat.”
Leaving the bottle sitting on the counter, she grabbed up a large pan. She ran to the back door, throwing it open wide, and uncaring of who might be passing by, she made her way outside. Bending over
, she scooped up a pan full of snow. The icy coldness covering her bare feet and wetting the hem of her long robe made her finish her task within moments.
When satisfied the milk in the bottle had cooled enough, Martha picked the baby up in her arms. “Now see, that didn’t take all that long, did it?” She pushed the blanket away from Tia’s small face and, picking up the bottle, touched the nipple to the baby’s open mouth. The hungry infant eagerly sucked the nipple into her mouth, bringing a sigh of relief from Martha.
The sound of a neighing horse outside the back door drew Martha’s attention. Drawing back the kitchen curtain, she looked out. “Thank goodness,” she murmured, dropping the curtain back into place, “John’s home.”
***
Later, after Martha had told John what had happened, he presented another problem to be dealt with.
“How would you like me to word the telegram to Charlotte and Eathen about Jessie’s death?”
Her mouth trembled as she stared up at him. “I forgot all about them.”
“Small wonder, after everything you’ve been through.” He ran a tired hand through his thick gray-brown hair, his gray eyes filling with concern. “You know, of course, Charlotte may decide she wants the baby after all, now that Jessie is gone.”
“Oh, John, she couldn’t!” Martha stood, one hand pressed to her mouth. “Not now. Not…” She shook her head. “No…” Martha shook her head again. Her scrubbed face, free of all the cosmetics she always wore before greeting her husband, looking pale and somewhat older in the early-morning light. “I couldn’t stand to lose her now. Not after I’ve waited all these years for a child.”
“She isn’t our child, Martha.” John tried to keep his frustration out of his voice. “If Charlotte wants to take her, there isn’t anything we can do.”
“Eathen will never allow that, John.” She looked into his eyes. “He’s already said he doesn’t want anything to do with this baby. And now I know why.”
“What are you talking about?” A sudden uncomfortable feeling crept over him.
“I always thought it strange that Charlotte never volunteered any information about the man who got Jessie into trouble.” Martha tapped a polished nail against her bottom teeth. “I wanted to ask,” she declared before turning away, “but, of course, I couldn’t.”
“Martha, for goodness sake!” John snapped his patience with her at an end. “What about him?”
“He’s an Indian, John.” She whirled to face him. “Jessie told me about him last night.”
His breath rushed from his lungs. “No wonder they had been so anxious to get her away from Montana.”
“Yes.” A satisfied smile lit up her eyes. “If it ever got out that Eathen Thornton is the grandfather of a half-breed baby, he wouldn’t be able to hold his head up in Montana. No matter how much money he has.”
John inhaled a deep breath to bring himself under control. “I admit you present a strong case, Martha. However, don’t underestimate Charlotte. Jessie’s death could change everything. I want you to be prepared.”
Going into his arms, she allowed him to hold her. He had always been so strong and she had never needed him more than right at that moment.
“John, you know the one thing I’ve wanted more than anything else in my life is for us to have a child.” Martha’s voice took on a little girl tone. “I never gave up hope of someday realizing that dream. Now that dream is within my reach.”
“Does this child really mean that much to you?” John’s gray eyes softened.
“Does she mean that much to me?” Martha pulled away from him. “John! I am the one who brought her into this world! I am the one who comforted her after her own mother abandoned her! I will not lose her! Do you hear me? I will not lose her!”
“All right, darling.” He pulled her back into his arms. “What do you want me to do?”
Sure now that she had him on her side, Martha allowed her tense body to relax. “After Jessie’s funeral, I want you to persuade Charlotte to let us adopt Tia.” She drew her head back to stare up at him. “Since you’re the best attorney in Boston, you shouldn’t have any problem.”
In an instant Martha felt John’s lean body stiffen.
“You know a person should never make important decisions right after they’ve suffered a major shock.” John kept his gaze steady, forcing her to look at him. “Are you willing to risk the chance of Charlotte changing her mind later?”
“After the papers are signed, it would be too late.” Her voice rose in self-satisfied triumph. “Tia would be ours!”
“Not if Charlotte claimed she had been under duress when she signed those papers.” John stepped away from her. “And believe me, if she did, she’d win!”
In shocked bewilderment, she looked at him. “Why are you doing this?” She stamped her small foot with impatience. “You don’t care if I lose this baby, do you?”
“I care about you, Martha.” John’s voice lowered to his usual business tone. “I care about what it could do to you, if I allow you to keep this child, just to lose her later on. You know what happened after we lost our own child.” The pain of that time rushed to the front of his mind, bringing with it all the memories and suffering that they both had endured. Martha had braved the endless hours of hard labor. He had stood by, watching her suffer, unable to help. In the end, they had clung to each other, sharing their grief over the death of their son. The doctors told John the baby’s death was brought on due to the underdevelopment of his lungs.
“I can’t take the chance of letting you go through that much pain again.” With determination born of strict discipline, John pushed the memory back deep inside where it usually lived, only to surface in the quiet hours of the night.
“But, John, that isn’t going to happen.” Martha tried to make him listen, her green eyes pleading for him to understand. “Charlotte is my sister. She would never try to hurt me.”
Steeling his heart against her suffering, he tried once more to reason with her. “Martha, I love you with all my heart, but I can’t, in good conscience, stand by, while you take advantage of a woman filled with grief.”
Martha stepped back, squaring her thin shoulders. “Then you refuse to help me.”
“I didn’t say that. I said I won’t take advantage of Charlotte while she is mourning the death of her child. I will, however, talk with her about our keeping the child until she has had a chance to get over her shock.” He watched a glimmer of hope creep back into her eyes. “As for our adopting this baby, I doubt I will even consider it until enough time has passed that I feel safe.”
“Oh, John!” she squealed, hugging him close to her. “Thank you!”
“It’s against my better judgment to allow you to keep this child, providing, of course, Charlotte agrees, knowing you could still lose her. But, I can already see there is no talking you out of it.”
“We won’t lose her, John. God would never be that cruel.”
Unable to argue further against such strong optimism, John placed a gentle kiss on her pale head before turning away.
“I’ll go send the wire to Charlotte and Eathen,” he whispered.
“John,” Martha reached out halting him, “I know I am Jessie’s aunt, and therefore it should be my place to pick out her casket and see to her funeral arrangements, but I just can’t. Would you be a dear and see to everything?”
“Of course I will.” John shrugged his arms into a black fur-lined overcoat. “I’ll be back soon.”
Standing at the big bay window, Martha watched as her husband disappeared down the back steps of the house on his way to the waiting carriage. His tall, lanky body and natural gait made him appear much younger than his actual fifty-five-years. It took all her strength not to shout her joy aloud.
“I must be a very sinful person to feel this elated over another’s misfortune.” Martha crossed herself in hopes the Heavenly Father would not look upon her with too much harshness.
“I can’t help it.” She h
ugged her body close. “Tia is going to be mine. I just know it.”
Earlier, Jessie’s body had been removed and taken to the funeral parlor, where it would be kept until Charlotte and Eathen arrived. Martha was thankful they didn’t have to keep the girl’s body in their home the entire time or need to see to its preservation. It would be difficult enough to have it returned for the viewing. She had always felt ill-at-ease around death. It made her all too aware of her own mortality.
Chapter Three
Wrapped in an ankle-length coat of light brown tweed with matching hood, her hands encased within the softest leather, Martha stood with John on the South Station platform, tapping one leather-booted foot as she awaited the arrival of Charlotte and Eathen.
“I knew I should have waited at home and let you meet them, John.” She sniffed, touching a rose-scented handkerchief to her small, up-turned, nose. “Now, I may catch a chill waiting in the cold like this.”
“In that case, why don’t we wait inside, out of the wind?”
“No,” Martha shook her head in refusal, “I want Charlotte and Eathen to see us the moment they get off the train. I guess I can tolerate a little inconvenience. After all, Charlotte is my sister. I want them both to know I have their best interest at heart.”
A brief smile pulled at the corners of John’s mouth as he gazed down at her. “I’m sure they already know that, my dear.”
“I hope they realize the station we hold in this city, and dress in appropriate attire.” Her proud head lifted. “There isn’t any reason they should look like they’ve simply stepped off the farm, just because they have.”
Her haughty gaze slid over her husband’s impeccable taste in clothing, from his fur-lined black coat with the matching fur collar and black hat to his black Italian-leather shoes, and her thick-lashed eyes became hostile.
Fated Memories Page 3
