All Waiting Is Long

by Barbara J. Taylor

“What about God’s timetable?”

  “No harm in giving Him a little nudge.” With her finger still resting lightly against her mouth, Mother Mary Joseph smiled and walked out of the room.

  * * *

  “You’re always gone without so much as a Good morning,” Lily said as she lumbered into the nursery after prayers.

  “Good morning.” Violet lowered a baby into a carriage, and lined that carriage up behind four others pointed at the door.

  “Not even a How are you this fine day?” Lily glanced at the infant closest to her and wrinkled her nose.

  “They’re ready,” Violet said to a novice standing nearby. The young nun pulled the first carriage into the hallway and headed toward the front door. Violet looked over at her sister. “And how are you this fine day?”

  “I’ve been better.” She lowered herself into a rocker. “My back aches something awful.”

  Alarm crossed Violet’s face. “Did you tell Sadie? You’re too close to your due date to ignore any symptoms.”

  “I’m telling you, Sadie’s not family. You are.” She adjusted her position, pushing her lower back up against the rocker.

  “There you are.” Carol stood in the hallway, peering into the nursery at Lily. “Elocution lessons start in five minutes.” She looked at Violet, who was pushing the last carriage toward the door. “It’s a wonderful class,” Carol said, as if Violet had asked her opinion on the subject. “Sister Immaculata teaches us how to say no like real ladies.” She threw her head back and laughed.

  Lily scowled.

  “Come on,” Carol said. “I can always get a rise out of you with that one.”

  “She’s out of sorts today,” Violet said.

  “I’m stuck.” Lily stretched her arms straight out.

  Violet grasped Lily’s hands and pulled her to her feet. Violet stood stunned, noting the size of Lily’s belly. Could the baby have grown that much in a day or two? “It’s pretty quiet in here today,” Violet said. “How ’bout you save me a seat at lunch?”

  “I best not miss my lessons,” Lily said, making her way slowly toward the doorway.

  Violet took her sister’s arm and the two walked down the hallway with Carol just ahead. “Ask Sadie to look in on you in the meantime,” Violet said. She dropped her sister off at the door of the classroom at the end of the hall, then headed for the front porch to sit with the babies.

  * * *

  The late-morning sun burned through the clouds, carrying the promise of summer. A gentle breeze freed the remaining blossoms from the dogwood trees, and a flurry of white petals settled on the grass in the front yard. Violet sat on the porch, surrounded by eleven napping babies inside six wicker carriages, imagining a world where she could return to Scranton with Michael in her arms. Maybe the neighbors wouldn’t judge her harshly. Just maybe they’d say, That woman’s a saint, when they saw her with the child. No one else would have taken on such a burden. What choice did she have? And perhaps she could convince Doc Rodham to perform the operation. He was a good Christian man, and he’d always loved her family. Of course there was Stanley to consider, but how could he say no? He’d been adopted himself and would probably welcome the chance to do the same for some other poor soul. She’d have to come up with some explanation for the baby—found in a basket on a set of church steps; abandoned on the seat of a streetcar—but surely God would forgive such a small lie. Maybe taking Michael home was part of God’s plan as well.

  Two pairs of booted feet scraped up the stone steps. Violet’s eyes flew open and she wondered in that moment how long they’d been closed. “May I help you?” she called out as the pair reached the top.

  The woman spoke first. “We’re here about a baby,” she said, glancing from one carriage to the next. “Any boys?”

  “Four.” Violet stood up to shake off her drowsiness. She studied the couple before her, their clothes patched, their faces as worn as their boots. They looked barely able to feed themselves, let alone a child.

  “I don’t have all day,” the man said to the woman, who stepped a few feet closer to the carriages and started to peer inside.

  “Perhaps you’d better to speak to the Reverend Mother.” Violet placed her hand on the woman’s back and pointed her away from the babies and toward the door. “Through the foyer, then the first room on the right. She’s giving lessons, but they should be over any time now.”

  The man stayed planted on the top step. “I’m not so sure about this.” He shoved the toe of his boot into the railing.

  “I’m not leaving empty-handed,” the woman said with a resolve that seemed to surprise them both. She took a breath and steadied herself. “Not again.” She turned and walked through the door.

  Mumbling to himself, the man gave the railing one good kick, pushed past Violet, and headed inside.

  * * *

  Half an hour later, with the help of the novice, Violet got the babies back to the nursery. As she walked past the parlor, she noticed the man and woman were standing up as if to leave. Not surprising, she thought, as she pushed the last carriage down the hallway. No matter how much a couple wanted a child, Mother Mary Joseph had to be selective about the families.

  Once the babies were settled, Violet headed across the hall to have lunch with Lily. Sadie met Violet just outside the dining room door. “She’s starting to drop. Could be any day now.”

  Violet’s breath caught. She had been aware that Lily’s time was coming, but knowing the truth didn’t make the hearing of it any easier. “What did she say when you told her?”

  “She’s in a bit of denial. It happens at this stage.”

  “What do we do?” Violet peeked into the room and spotted Lily at the end of a table.

  “Keep an eye out. I’ve alerted Dr. Peters.” Sadie started down the hall.

  “Aren’t you going to deliver her?” Violet called out.

  Sadie swung around. “I’ll assist,” she said, “but Dr. Peters made a good point the last time he saw her. She’s narrow-hipped. Best to have him on hand. Better safe than sorry.”

  * * *

  After lunch, Violet brought Lily back to the nursery. “You should rest in the afternoon from now on. No need to go to classes if you’re not up to it.” She held onto her sister’s arm as Lily dropped into the rocker. “Can I get you anything?”

  “A footstool.” Lily leaned down toward her feet. “My ankles swell so.” She made an attempt to lift her legs into the air but quickly abandoned the idea.

  Violet pulled an empty milk crate over and lifted Lily’s feet onto it.

  The Reverend Mother walked into the room clapping her hands. “Wonderful news!” She headed over to Michael’s crib and lifted him into the air. “Our prayers are answered.” Mother Mary Joseph raised the baby into the air one final time before handing him to Violet. “Sister Immaculata is on her way to relieve you. As soon as she gets here, meet me in the front parlor with Michael. There’s someone I very much want you to meet,” she said as she rushed back out of the room.

  “What’s all the fuss about?” Lily asked as soon as the nun disappeared.

  “Sounds like Dr. Peters found someone to do Michael’s operation.” Violet tried to look cheerful, but the worry in her eyes belied the smile on her lips.

  “Well, that’s good news.” Lily started to fan her face with both hands. “He’ll be able to live a normal life now.”

  “Yes,” Violet said, lifting him out of his crib, “I suppose.”

  “You better get going,” Sister Immaculata said as she walked into the room. “Mother Mary Joseph is expecting you two.” She looked at the baby in Violet’s arms and shooed both of them to the door. “Go on now, they’re waiting for him.”

  Michael cooed as Violet carried him down the hall. She thought about Dr. Peters and wondered if she’d judged him too harshly. If he found someone to do the operation, perhaps he wasn’t a scoundrel after all. At the very least, she thought as she stepped into the parlor, she needed to thank him for
going out of his way in this instance.

  “There you are,” the Reverend Mother said. “I’d like to you meet Michael’s parents.”

  Violet stopped cold at the sight of the impoverished couple from the front porch. “You can’t have him.” She turned to Mother Mary Joseph. “They can’t adopt him. It wouldn’t be fair.”

  “This is not your decision.” The nun’s tone left no room for discussion.

  “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” the woman cried as she stared at the baby in Violet’s arms. “I never should have left you here.”

  The man looked around the room and settled his eyes on a portrait of Pope Pius. “Let’s hurry this along,” he said. “I’ve already missed half a day’s work.”

  “It’s you?” Violet said, trying to recognize something about the woman—her shape, her voice.

  “I’m so sorry,” the woman said again and broke into choking sobs.

  Mother Mary Joseph directed the woman to a chair and turned to Violet. “I told them they have you to thank for their son’s good care.”

  “Yes,” the woman managed, and she extended her hand to Violet. “Thank you.”

  “You’re his mother?” Violet said, ignoring the proffered hand. “You left him in that cradle?”

  “It was too much,” the woman said. “We have three other mouths to feed, and my husband didn’t think . . .” She stopped. “It’s different now. We’ve come to take him home.”

  “As long as they can fix his face,” the man looked up from the painting, but averted his eyes from the child, “we’ll keep him.”

  “I found work,” the woman explained. “In a hospital. One of the doctors says he knows how to do the operation. Says he’ll do it for free if they let him.”

  “Answered prayer,” Mother Mary Joseph said, nodding for Violet to pass the baby to his mother.

  But Violet could not let go.

  “It’s always better to be raised by your own,” the nun said. “The way that God intended.” She lifted the baby out of Violet’s arms and handed him to his mother. “And will he be named for his father?” she asked, avoiding Violet’s tear-filled eyes.

  “God no!” The man’s face reddened as he turned to his wife and said, “If he’s coming with us, he’s coming now.”

  “Henry,” the woman answered as her husband pulled her up from the chair. “My father’s name, God rest his soul. You’d be hard pressed to find a better man.” She walked toward the door and turned back. “Thank you, again,” she said. “And God bless both of you for watching over my boy.”

  Violet burst into tears, pushed past the couple, and ran into the hallway.

  “Hurry!” Sadie yelled from the foyer. “Lily’s baby is coming, and she’s asking for you!”

  Chapter fourteen

  LILY CRIED OUT FROM HER HOSPITAL BED, but Dr. Peters remained unruffled on his side of the curtain. He pulled a long, thin, fine-tipped cautery electrode from his medical bag and placed it next to several pairs of forceps on the wheeled instrument table. “I’ll be in momentarily,” he said in Lily’s direction. A well-thumbed copy of Eugenical Sterilization in the United States lay open in front of him.

  “She’s crowning!” Sadie hollered. “You better hurry!”

  “Don’t let her push!” the doctor snapped as he filled a syringe with a novocaine-adrenalin solution. According to the book, a physician who’d been testing cauterization of the tubes as a method of sterilization suggested numbing the vaginal walls before burying the electrode to keep the patient from screaming out. Although tubal ligations resulted in the highest success rates, they could only be performed undetected when patients delivered a baby by means of a cesarean operation, making that technique impractical for a significant number of Good Shepherd girls who gave birth vaginally. If effective, Dr. Peters felt, cauterization at the horns of the uterus held great promise for the science of eugenics and the betterment of the human race. It would allow physicians on the front lines of the movement to sterilize women who were deemed morally, intellectually, or racially unfit, and no one would be the wiser. Dr. Peters studied the diagram provided in the textbook and reviewed the experimental procedure.

  From the other side of the curtain, Lily kicked as Sadie gently tried to press the girl’s knees together. “Not too much longer,” Sadie said, but Lily would have none of it. Her body could no longer allow her mind to deny the baby inside her. Something bigger than Lily, something beyond reason and pride, coursed through her.

  “I can’t wait,” she said to Violet, who bent over her, rubbing her head and holding her hand. Don’t let her push! Was he insane? Lily wondered. Try telling a swollen river to keep within its banks, for in that moment she was a river whose natural path had been choked off from its rightful destination with fallen leaves, twisted branches, and shattered notions of how life was supposed to have been. But suddenly, she knew that if she pushed hard enough, down and over and through, she’d finally rid herself of this one complication and find her way back to the life she’d deserved all along.

  She pushed.

  Dr. Peters be damned. And George Sherman, and Little Frankie, and everyone in Scranton who ever looked down their noses at her for being the daughter of a miner.

  She pushed again, knowing that soon this baby business would be behind her, and the old Lily could return home to make something of her life.

  She pushed once more with all her might, and when she opened her eyes, Sadie stood at her feet, cradling the baby in her arms, clearing its mouth with her fingers.

  “A girl.” Violet’s voice cracked as she spoke. “A healthy girl.”

  Boy or girl—it made no difference. Lily watched as Dr. Peters wheeled his instrument table over to her bedside. She focused on his liver-spotted hands as he cut the umbilical cord, severing the last connection she’d ever have to this child. Her contractions started again, milder this time, but insistent.

  “I’ll deliver the afterbirth,” the doctor said to Sadie. “She needs a few stitches. You two run along and tend to the baby.”

  Violet hesitated. “Can’t she hold her? Just for a minute?”

  “No reason to,” Lily said, turning her face to the wall. “She’s not mine.” As the pain rose again, she winced.

  “Let’s get you cleaned up.” Sadie said to the bundle in her arms, and carried her across the room to the changing table. “Dr. Peters will take good care of your mother.”

  Violet started to walk away, but stopped in the center of the room, her head turning from Lily to the baby and back again.

  Dr. Peters marched over and pulled the curtain shut, cutting Violet out of the scene.

  “You can’t be in two places at once,” Sadie said, nodding toward a bottle of boric acid beyond her reach. “It’s either Lily or this baby.”

  Violet stood for a moment, staring at the curtain. “I’ll clean her up,” she finally said, grabbing the boric acid on her way to the changing table. She saturated a square of cotton batting and patted it around the baby’s eyes. “Blue.” The word tethered itself to her breath and floated out in a whisper.

  “She has her mother’s eyes,” Sadie said, as the baby flailed her limbs like a ladybug that had somehow landed on its back.

  “And Daisy’s.” Violet wiped mineral oil across the baby’s brow and over her cheeks. Tears fell from her eyes onto the infant’s slicked skin.

  Sadie didn’t say anything. She simply watched as Violet cleansed and swaddled the child, all the while whispering that name.

  Violet picked up the infant and breathed her in.

  “Nothing like the smell of a baby,” Sadie said, straightening all the bottles then straightening them again. “Let’s get her over to the nursery and see if she won’t take a bottle.” She walked to the door and held it open.

  “There’s no denying it.” Violet stood a moment longer, running her fingers through the shock of dark hair at the top of her niece’s head. “You’re a Morgan all right. So much like Daisy.” The though
t of her older sister pierced Violet’s scarred heart, and she pulled the newborn into her chest, a salve on a chronic wound. She glanced at the closed curtain before carrying the infant through the door and down the hallway.

  * * *

  On the other side of the room, Dr. Peters palmed the syringe and said, “You may feel a slight pinch.”

  Lily stared at the wall without saying a word.

  * * *

  After Lily’s ten-day hospital confinement, she returned to the girls’ ward for observation and waited for permission to travel—another week or so at most, according to Dr. Peters. This was good news for Violet, who was anxious to get back to Scranton, where she hoped Stanley would be waiting for her with open arms. Violet was almost able to convince herself he hadn’t seen her from the trolley. The Stanley she knew would have jumped off that car, no matter how fast it was moving or how crowded it was, to get to her. Most days, though, she knew she had fences to mend when she returned, and she prayed that Stanley would accept whatever story she chose to tell him, though she had absolutely no idea what that would be.

  She’d always believed in the value of truth—for the sake of virtue, yes, but also as a matter of practicality. Hard truths were easy to remember. Lily had a baby. There’d be no forgetting that. But would Violet remember all the lies she’d have to tell in order to make that first one about going to Buffalo ring true? “A lie begets a lie,” their Sunday school teacher used to say. And what about Lily? Would she remember to tell the exact same lies, the exact same way? Truth had a way of making itself known.

  Yet Violet couldn’t tell Stanley about the Good Shepherd. She’d given her word to Lily—foolishly, reluctantly, but she’d given it. No going back now, she thought. Besides, she loved Lily and wanted the best for her. A clean slate for the price of a lie. A bargain made.

  Maybe it was best that Dr. Peters advised them to wait another week before traveling. Violet needed the time to figure out what she’d say to Stanley when she saw him. And she also enjoyed the idea of spending time with her niece. She knew enough to guard her heart from the child. Michael’s return to his parents had taught her that much. Still, this baby was family, and unlike Lily, Violet couldn’t just ignore that fact.