by Ryan Scott
Chapter 3
A powerful storm swept in from the Ocean, lashing the old quarry house with wind, rain and hail. Ella pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders to ward off the drafts slithering through cracks. As the lavender windows rattled in their frames, she watched a drop of condensation form and slowly descends. Turning to her mother, she said, Mama, I’m glad you’re here, especially with the baby overdue, but it doesn’t feel like Christmas this year. Rico can’t find a job and Papa is so sad. I’m sick of being pregnant. When will it be over?”
Her mother looked up from the smoldering fire she was trying to ignite and replied, "I don't know honey. I hope it's over soon. I’m sorry Christmas feels bleak, but I can’t blame your father for being discouraged. You know, our home was destroyed and everything else. Things are hard for you too. Maybe a cup of coffee would make you feel better."
“Thank you Mama, I would like that a lot," she replied, forcing a smile.
Frances went into the kitchen and returned with the coffee, placing the cup near her daughter. “There you are honey. It’s nice and hot. I hope it’s not too sweet.”
Ella took a sip, but when she returned the cup, she winced.
Observing her grimace, her mother speculated, "Maybe this is the beginning of your labor. You stay right there and I’ll get the clock.”
During the remainder of the day, Ella’s contractions became more frequent and acute. Frances paced back and forth, muttering, “Where in blazes are those men? We need the doctor.”
Late that afternoon Rico and Ansel finally returned from an unsuccessful search for work. When Frances informed them about Ella’s, Rico Rushed upstairs and saw his wife writhing on the bed, drenched in sweat. He went to her and said, "Your mother just told me the good news. How are you feeling?”
She replied through clenched teeth, “Oh Rico, I’m in so much pain. I’m afraid something’s very wrong, like my poor dead sister."
He laughed. "Aw, hell, Ella, you're going to be all right. There's nothing to giving birth. I seen lots of cows having their calfs."
Puffing from climbing the stairs, Frances entered the bedroom and asserted, "Rico, it's time to get the doctor!"
He scratched his ear. "Jesus, Frances, I don't know if I can get through this storm. The creeks are coming out of their banks. Just look out there. That meadow is a lake."
She exploded. "God damn it I don't give a fig how much it's raining. You have to get that doctor. Now, by Jesus, go!"
Ansel came up the stairs and said placatingly, "Calm down Mama; Rico and I vill get the doctor."
As the old Ford sputter to life, Ella looked helplessly at her mother, asking, “Mama, how long will it take to get the doctor?"
Her mother wiped the perspiration from her face and replied, “Well, it’s raining mighty hard, but the men will do their best to bring him as soon as possible."
Ten hours later, Ella was screaming and writhing in pain. Frances paced back and forth. There’s something’s definitely wrong. I think the baby’s stuck, but I don’t know what to do. Oh, where are those men, she thought, trying not to show her apprehension.
Throughout the night, Ella moaned and cried out, “Mama, for God’s sake help me!”
Frances felt impotent with fear, remembering the death of her first daughter, but she stayed with Ella, patting her hair, murmuring, “There, there Honey. You’re going to be all right.”
By daybreak, the rain had slackened, but the men still had not returned. The sound of approaching Vehicles caused Francis to rush to the window and peer into the morning mist. Slamming her fist down on the sill, she groaned, “Tarnation, it's just those damn dump trucks!”
Suddenly, the old steam shovel roared to life, shaking the house and rattling the windows. It began to crawl towards the desecrated hillside, squealing and clanking with its iron jaw poised like a bird of prey. It dropped its bucket and gouged the earth with a vicious bite. After it slammed its load into a waiting truck with a resounding crash, it continued to violate the earth. The first truck roared away only to be replaced with another.
Ella cried out, "Mama, I'm being torn apart!"
Frances rushed to her side. "Honey, what's wrong?"
"I think the baby’s coming, but I can't stand the pain."
Frances wiped the sweat from her forehead, saying, "Honey, the doctor should be here soon. The rain has stopped. Just hold on for a little longer."
When Francis heard the Claxton of their old Model T, She looked through the curtains and announced, “Good news Ella! Dr. Silva is here. Now you're going to be all right!”
Flanagan barked at a small wiry man who was getting out of a LaSalle and carrying a black bag. Francis shouted, "Hurry, Doctor, Ella needs you badly."
He rushed into the house, went into Ella’s room and shut the door behind him. Rico and Ansel got out of their car and wearily stomped mud from their boots. After they entered the house, Frances helped her husband with his coat, saying, "Ansel, you must be frozen half to death. I have hot coffee for both of you."
"Thank you Mama. Ve had a hard time getting through the water."
When Ella screamed, they stared quickly at the bedroom door. "Is she going to be alright?" Rico anxiously asked.
Francis, thinking of her first daughter’s tragic end, replied, "Oh I think she's fine. She's young, and it's taking her a while, but I'm sure Dr. Silva has everything under control."
The doctor abruptly came from Ella’s room. When he noticed the unspoken question in everyone’s eyes, he quickly said, “Ella is going to be all right, but it's going to be difficult. Mrs. Schultz, can you help me? I'll need lots of hot water. I suggest you men fetch fire wood."
That evening, Rico and Ansel were waiting impatiently for developments, flinching Whenever Ella screamed. Rico whined, “Why is everything taking so damn long?”
“I don’t know. Vat are you going to call your baby if she's a girl?" Ansel asked.
Rico thumped his chest. "Why, he's going to be a boy, of course, and his name will be Enrico Thomas Ferrari."
Ansel chuckled. "That’s too bad. My middle name is Wolfgang. That would be better.”
Shortly after midnight, Rico was aroused from his slumber by an insistent wail. The doctor came out of the bedroom with a broad smile, saying, "There's a ten and a half pound boy up here ready for inspection."
Rico rushed upstairs and saw his son lying in Ella’s arms. With tears in his eyes, he asked, "Ella, how are you feeling? I was worried.”
She replied weakly, "I’m all right now, but I'm so tired."
The doctor sat in the corner, entering the date on the birth certificate, and said, “I declare, it's Christmas, December 25, 1931!"
Ella clasped Rico’s hand. “Rico, just look what we’ve done! We’ve given each other a wonderful Christmas present. Merry Christmas."
“Merry Christmas Ella,” he replied and squeezed her hand.
Later that morning, she awoke to the fragrant scent of a Christmas tree festooned with colorful paper chains. She smiled when she heard the festive sounds drifting up from the kitchen. Her mother was preparing an austere Christmas dinner, jackrabbit stew, persimmon pie and vegetables left over from last year's garden. Rico was playing "Jingle bells" on a borrowed accordion while Ansel boasted to a neighbor. "I have a son born Every 21 years on Christmas, first Kyle and now my grandson."
As Ella cradled her baby in her arms, she pressed her nipple to his mouth, whispering, "Merry Christmas Little Rico. Enjoy your first birthday dinner."
