“The bastard,” Sarah huffed. Jody’s eyebrows went up at hearing her coarse comment. “Sorry, no disrespect meant to your sister.”
“Aye, the word may be wrong, but I feel the same. By the way, he did say to say ‘hallo’ to you.”
Sarah’s mouth twitched for a moment. She didn’t know whether to grin, frown, or say something profound. Instead, she issued an “Hmph” and let it drop.
“I agree with that,” Jody said. “Come on in. We’re havin’ egg burritos for supper, a la Evie. By the way, she dinna ask about Ian, and I dinna offer up what he said. She’s in a good mood now, and I dinna want to spoil it.”
Sarah led the way into the house, with Jody and the basket of eggs following.
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“Sarah!” I shouted as soon as I saw her. After giving her a big, heartfelt hug, I grabbed the eggs and started on the scrambled egg part of the burritos. Jody grabbed the wooden plates and set the table. Sarah noticed the fresh tomato and onion I had set on the cutting board, and began preparing fresh salsa.
“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather sit down and take a load off?” I asked and nodded to the chaise. “You must have ridden all day today, or at least I’ll bet it feels like it.”
“That’s for sure. By the way, it looks like Mrs. Donaldson is going to be the first to have twins in the neighborhood. It turns out she isn’t due for a month or so. I left Hannah with her to watch the girls and take care of the house so she could get some rest. You are putting your feet up several times a day, aren’t you?” she asked, using her head-nurse tone.
“Yes, ma’am, I am! Hey, I have some news—unless Jody already told you.”
I felt perky and knew it showed in my words and voice. Sarah looked at Jody, but he just shrugged his shoulder. Okay, I guess there’s something else going on, but I really don’t care to know about it right now.
I continued as if I hadn’t seen any of their unspoken conversation. “Ian came back. And get this; he didn’t come back for me...” I hesitated and added sarcastically, “big surprise,” then bounced back into pert and sassy mode. “He came back for my old cell phone!”
“Cell phone,” asked Sarah, “as in cellular phone?” I nodded my head vigorously. “Where did you have a cellular phone hidden? I never saw you take one out of your bag.”
“It was in one of my coat pockets. I didn’t even know I had one. Jody, show it to her.”
Jody pulled it out of his sporran and handed it to her, pinched between thumb and forefinger, his pinky out as if he were removing a dead shrew.
“Well, I’ll be. They sure got small, didn’t they? Too bad there aren’t any signals, you could… Oh, sorry,” she apologized when she saw that my excitement had turned rancid.
“Sarah, cell phones do more than just make phone calls. Like I was telling Jody, you can type notes to people—they call it texting—and they’ll get the message immediately. You can also record and play music, take pictures and look at them right away, even make movies with that little thing in your hand. It has a bunch of different types of calculators and language translators in it, and a radio—which wouldn’t work here and now, of course, since there aren’t any radio signals. Neither would the phone...” I stopped when I saw how stunned Sarah was.
“It’s real scary how fast technology is moving—or rather, will move. It’s all so quick and disposable in my time, my former time. Sarah, I don’t want to go back!” I walked over to her and held her hand to my chest. “Good grief, I don’t even know how I got here, so how could I go back? And, as I was telling Jody, I don’t want to know about the old me—who I was—before all ‘this’ happened.” I gestured to the small living quarters that I now called home. “I’m fine just as I am,” I said, and hoped they could see how proud I was of how well I had adapted, how content I was.
“Hey!” I let go of Sarah’s hand and looked down at the phone.
I was flabbergasted at the sight of it.
“When did this happen?” I asked Jody, trying not to show too much apprehension. “When did the light go from green to red?” The green battery-charged light was now red for recording in process.
“I first noticed it when I tried to give it to ye as ye were sittin’ at the table. Why? Is there somethin’ wrong?” He snatched it from Sarah as if it was a bomb, and she might get hurt.
“No, not wrong,” I said as I stared at the red light flashing near his thumb. I pushed the button next to it, and it returned to its steady green glow. “I think we just made a movie.”
It was total silence and stares for a full minute. Sarah spoke first, “Jody, put that thing away, please. We won’t need it for anything.” Jody obeyed, wordlessly putting it back into his sporran.
“Thanks,” I said as I leaned into Sarah for a big face-in-her-shoulder hug. I wasn’t even near crying, but I was burying all my fragmented, disassociated emotions into her collarbone. It felt as if I had been full of static electricity, and had now discharged all my tingly sensations into her body. I pulled away and smiled. My emotions didn’t hurt anymore. “Thanks, I needed that,” I said to her. I straightened up, smiled again, and asked, “Is anybody hungry?”
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Life went on. A week had passed, and Wallace still hadn’t returned from helping Julian and José at the ranch. I assisted in the delivery of a couple of kids—goat kids, that is—but other than that, nothing exciting had happened. Sarah was frustrated at not having anyone to mend or deliver, and she was getting on my nerves.
“Sarah, why don’t we go and check on Mrs. Donaldson? If nothing else, I’m sure she and Hannah will appreciate the adult company.”
Sarah looked at me, opened her mouth as if to protest, then stopped, closed her mouth, and put her hands on her hips. “You’re right, you’re absolutely right. Even if Mrs. Donaldson was a month off of her estimated due date, twins are frequently born early. Two weeks early would mean that they could be here at any time. Are you sure you’re up to traveling?”
“It’s been weeks since Pyle’s Massacre, and if it’s just two women traveling, I’m sure we’ll be safe. Pretty soon I won’t be able to travel, and I’d like to talk to Mrs. Donaldson about babies and, well, stuff.”
“Jody, do you mind if we leave by ourselves?” Sarah asked.
Jody shook his head as he looked at the two of us, one at a time. “Do ye think I could stop either of ye if ye got it into yer heids to do anythin’?”
“Thanks, you’re a dear,” I said and gave him a one-armed hug. I grabbed my backpack and said to Sarah, “I’m ready.”
Sarah opened the door and looked out. “Well, it’s early enough, and the weather looks like it’s going to cooperate. Put together some food for the road while Jody and I get the horses ready so we can leave right away. No use in waiting for tomorrow.”
I looked at Sarah with mock sincerity. “Don’t you know that tomorrow never comes?” I gave her a big grin and added. “Okay, okay, I’m going,” my hands up to protect myself, as if she had smacked me for my corny remark.
“Well, at least with ye around, Sarah will never be lackin’ fer entertainment,” Jody said and blinked. His attempt at a wink was a failure, but the broad, familial smile that came with it was a comforting coup.
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It was a practically perfect day for a one-hour ride with my favorite sister. The aroma of birch tree buds breaking open, lovelier than any Paris perfume, and the translucent tinge of green along the naked, gray tree limbs, were welcomed promises that spring was indeed on its way. Although it was chilly, it was sunny, the air still. The brightness gave the illusion of warmth. Of course, I also had a built in heater with my pregnancy. My additional body mass made me feel hot, even when others around me were shivering.
We could see them from afar. Three bright-faced little girls and Hannah, holding a fourth one, greeted us at the gate to the Donaldson’s homestead.
“How did you know it was time?” Hannah asked. “Mr. Donaldson left for town this morning and, n
ot an hour later, Mrs. Donaldson’s water broke. Oh, how rude of me…here, let me help you down.”
Hannah offered her free hand to assist Sarah, who was perfectly able to dismount by herself. She still had the youngest Donaldson daughter on her hip when she came over to help me. “Oh, dear,” she said when she saw how big I had become.
“Don’t worry. Sarah, would you help me down before you go inside?” It was obvious that Hannah wouldn’t be able to hold the baby and help move my bulk at the same time.
“Here you go.” Sarah, feet planted firmly, stood in front of me, and grasped me about my ribcage. I braced my hands on her shoulders and was able to touch down safely, her strong hands and body stance absolutely necessary for my dismount. “Take it easy,” she warned, holding me close as we walked side-by-side to the front steps. She knew I had ‘horse legs’ and wouldn’t be sure-footed for a few minutes, at least.
Sarah led me to a chair in the kitchen, made sure I was okay, and then transformed into midwife mode. “Hannah, put some water on to boil. Oh, I see you’ve already done that. Good. Now, did you get some clean rags put aside?” She turned to her patient and saw the pile of clean cloths neatly folded by the side of the bed. “Good job. How are you doing, Mrs. Donaldson?”
“The pains, they’re comin’ right close together now, they’re…oh, my,” she blurted, then groaned and held her breath.
I rushed to her side. “Breathe, breathe,” I said. Her eyes squeezed shut in pain, popped open and stared at me in disbelief at my command. “Take a breath in, blow it out, in, come on now,” I instructed.
She obeyed, but only because she was shocked that I was the one telling her what to do. She had already birthed four children and knew what she was doing. Sarah was the midwife, and Hannah was the trainee. I was just the very pregnant young woman who had come along with the midwife.
Sarah looked at me, her face pinched into a frown of disbelief, and asked, “What are you doing?”
I sidled up to her and whispered, “I don’t know, but it seems to work. I guess it’s one of those things I ‘know’ without knowing how I know. Let’s go with it as long as I’m comfortable with what I’m doing, okay?”
“Okay, but let me know discreetly,” she stressed, “if you stop ‘knowing’ what you’re doing, okay?”
“Okay,” I said. I pulled a chair over to the side of Mrs. Donaldson’s bed. “I’m going to help you with the babies, okay?”
Mrs. Donaldson nodded and said, “Okay,” very meekly.
I could tell she didn’t have much—if any—confidence in me, but that would come later…or never.
“First thing I want you to do,” I said, “is relax.”
That was easier said than done. The woman was as stiff as an oak board. “Okay, I want you to lie on your left side like you’re trying to go to sleep. Don’t worry; I’ll let you know when it’s time to start the breathing. First you have to take a slow deep breath in, and then let it out…slowly.”
Mrs. Donaldson looked at Sarah, then Hannah, with a ‘help me’ expression on her face, and then back at me with a weak, insecure smile. I had my hand on her belly and felt a contraction start. “Take a slow breath in now and go limp. Breathe, breathe.”
She was following my instructions, but inhaling and exhaling too quickly. “Slow down, slow easy breath in, then slow blow out. Again.” The contraction stopped. “Now take a deep breath in and blow it all out.”
She followed my instructions well this time. Her eyes lit up with surprise. “Lawdy! That weren’t bad at all.” She smiled at me, then looked at Sarah as if she wanted her to believe this miracle, too, and repeated, “Really, not bad at all.”
“Now, I want you to do the breathing when I tell you to. If you start too late, or try to talk during one of the contractions, it’ll hurt again. This will work for most of the contractions, and there’s no magic way to stop all the pains, but the breathing…um…patterns…will help. Oh, get ready, here comes another one!”
And so the Lamaze method of labor management was introduced into 18th century North Carolina. The twins were born a relatively short two hours later. There was just a little manipulation needed to bring the second child’s—the second son’s—head into alignment for a proper presentation and delivery. The boys were both small, but very strong.
We had just cleaned up the second boy, and the first one was nursing, when Mac came bursting into the house. “What…where’d …Oh my, they’re here?” he asked.
Mac was accustomed to his little girls coming out to greet him when he came back from town. When they hadn’t come outside, he was concerned. They were all in the house, safe and being held in check by Hannah, as best she could. The youngest girl was squalling because of all the excitement, and the older ones were shoving each other aside, trying to get a better view of their new brothers.
“Papa, Papa,” called Miranda, the eldest, “we got brothers; two of ‘em, and they got huge balls ‘tween their legs.”
“Aye, just like their...” Mac started to brag, but realized just in time that this was the wrong audience. “Just like they’re supposed to,” he said. “Boys are different, you know.”
He picked up the two youngest girls as the older two crowded next to him. He walked over to Mrs. Donaldson—I never did find out her first name—and said, “Well done, well done.” He gave her a kiss on the top of the head. “Only two more to go, and then we can have an even number.”
“Not for a while, Mac, not for a long, long while,” she said with a grin.
The girls were almost too excited to eat, but I told them they had to finish their supper so they would grow big and strong, so they could help Mama and Papa take care of their baby brothers. They all finished in a hurry—except for baby Rebecca who decided it was more fun to wear her oatmeal than eat it.
A quick but thorough hand and face washing after their privy visit, and the girls were ready for bed. The excitement was almost too much for them, so I decided it was time to see if I could recite a bedtime story. I gathered all the girls together in their great bed and sat in the chair next to them. I knew that if I lay down with them, I’d never be able to get back up without a lot of help. I settled myself in the hard kitchen chair and just started to babble.
“One fish, two fish, red fish, blue fish.” The littlest girls just looked at me as I rattled on.
“We don’t know that story,” scolded Miranda.
“Well, maybe you can learn it,” I said. “Black fish, blue fish, old fish, new fish, this one has a little star, this one has a little car.” I took a deep breath and paused. “I mean this one has a little scar, he got hurt, but he’s all better now.” This wasn’t going to be as easy as I thought.
Two of the girls were soon residing in dreamland and Miranda’s eyelids were flickering, battling sleep. “One fish, two fish, red fish, blue fish,” I repeated, softer and slower, two more times. It worked—all the girls were asleep, and I was still awake.
Mac was sitting next to his wife, holding one of his sons, positively beaming with pride as he studied the boy’s face, gently stroking the wispy hair on his soft spot. “Have you decided on names yet?” I asked.
He looked up and presented his son to the world. “George Washington Donaldson and his brother,” he pointed with the son he held to the one his wife was nursing, “Nathanael Greene Donaldson. May they be as strong and wise as their namesakes. May God bless America and my family.”
“God bless us all,” I said, then shrank back a bit. I realized I was being disrespectful by adding to the man of the house’s blessing.
“You’re right, Evie, God bless us all.”
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The next morning I peeked over Mrs. Donaldson’s shoulder as she was changing little George’s diaper. It was easy to tell the difference because the boys weren’t identical twins. Little George was fair-haired and Nathanael was dark-haired like his mother. “Is that normal?” I asked.
Sarah came over to join us. “What, you mean th
e big balls?” she asked bluntly.
“Um, yes,” I said meekly.
“Perfectly normal; they grow into them, although sometimes it takes a long time,” she laughed.
I didn’t know if she was serious or not. She saw the look on my face, and Mrs. Donaldson didn’t look too sure herself.
“No, really, they’re fine. Just keep them clean down there and wash and boil the clouts—don’t just let them dry out and reuse them. And if the room is warm, let their little bottoms air out for a bit without anything on them. Keep the boys warm, dry, and well fed, and they’ll grow up just fine. What am I saying? You did a great job with your daughters.”
“Thank you,” Mrs. Donaldson said. “And thank you, Evie, for the help with the birthin’. It was the easiest for me ever, even though there were twice as many to get out. I’ll have to remember that next time,” she said as she looked over at her husband, who was holding and admiring little Nathanael, “…if there is a next time.”
I knew Mac had heard her, but he was ignoring her comment. “You’re such a fine young lad, and one day you’re going to be a wonderful big brother, too. That is, a big brother to a little brother or two.” He turned and winked at his wife. “Fine work, Mrs. Donaldson, fine work.”
“What’s today?” I asked. “Sarah, you’ll have to record the births in your book and in the family’s Bible.
“It’s March 13th, not quite the Ides of March,” she answered.
“Oh, crap,” I said softly.
Sarah looked at me, but I was stunned and didn’t see her. She reached out, lifted my chin, and asked—obviously not for the first time, but the first time I heard her— “What’s. Wrong?”
I looked at the joy of the new family, at the bright sunny day outside the window, and then back at Sarah. “We have to go. Now,” I said emphatically. “Hannah, can you stay here a little while longer? I have to take Sarah somewhere. Right. Now.”
Naked in the Winter Wind Page 37
