by Robert Elmer
Merit groaned, shuddering at another contraction. Her forehead glistened with the effort. The sheets were soaked with sweat.
“When was the last one?” he asked, trying to hold his panic in check.
Stephanie glanced at her watch. Her other hand held Merit, who squeezed the life out of it.
“Um, I’m not sure. Two or three minutes, I think.”
“You think?” Will snapped. “You’ve been standing here, haven’t you? The doctor’s going to ask, and we’re going to need to know.”
“Will, honey, please.” Merit panted, her eyes shut with the exertion. “It’s okay. Not her fault.”
He took a deep breath, wishing he could breathe for his wife. “I’m sorry. It’s just…I should have taken you to the hospital a long time ago, as soon as—
“Stop, stop.” Merit held up a trembling hand. “It is the way it is, and God is in control. Not her fault, not your fault. It’s going to be fine.”
“No, it’s noti” he yelled, wishing he could put his fist through the wall. “You can say that, but…”
He heard himself for the first time. Heard his words echoing off the walls, the steady pounding of rain, the beating of his heart. He might have screamed if he’d thought it would do any good or if he thought anyone would listen to him.
God, he silently prayed, she really thinks it’s going to be fine. Does she know something I don’t?
At the moment it seemed entirely plausible, because he couldn’t remember feeling more helpless in his life than he did right now standing watch over his struggling wife.
“This is like a bad episode of Little House on the Prairie” observed Michael from the doorway, where he’d been hovering since coming inside.
“What?” Stephanie squinted at him. “That was totally random.”
“No, really.” Maybe he thought he was adding to the conversation or maybe he was just changing the subject, pulling them away from his father’s awkward outburst. “The people in that show were always having babies in log cabins. Somebody rides off to get the doctor, but before the doctor comes, the lady has the baby anyway, but they boil some water and it turns out fine. I mean, the baby usually looks about six months old, but—”
“I can’t believe you’re talking about a TV show right now,” said Stephanie, turning back to Merit. Will would have added his own version of “shut up, Michael” but Stephanie seemed to have it covered.
“No, it wasn’t about the TV. I was just…I don’t know.” Michael shrugged. “It just seems like we ought to do more than mop her forehead.”
“You’re right, Michael. We ought to be. But I can’t deliver a baby, if that’s what you’re saying. Don’t even start to think that.”
“No, no, no. I’m just…oh, forget it. I’m just freaked out.”
“Don’t be.” Stephanie sighed. “Right now your mom doesn’t need freaked out people around. Why don’t you go…boil your water or something.”
“Sorry. Here’s another reason they need to get cell phone coverage out here.”
“Coverage…” Will pressed his hand to his forehead. “Coverage! Michael, I can’t believe we’ve just been sitting here!”
“Me neither. I think I’m going to paddle a canoe to town and get some help.”
“Not yet. The radio, down in the store. See if you can raise someone and get George over here in a big, fast boat. Have him arrange for an ambulance to wait at the city dock.”
“George?” Michael repeated. “Who’s George?”
“Paramedic,” snapped Stephanie. “And your dad’s right. You need to call for help. Now.”
“Emergency channel sixteen! What am I, brain dead?” Michael bolted out the door and down the hill.
Stephanie glanced across the bed at Will. “Was he really in the army?” she asked.
“Air Force.” Will shook his head. “And yeah, I know what you mean. Sometimes I wonder myself.”
They watched Merit breathe.
“Listen,” Will said to break the silence. “I didn’t mean to yell at you a minute ago.”
“You don’t need to apologize. We’ll—we’ll get through this.”
For a moment, Will almost believed her, the same way he believed Merit when she told him something would work out. Hadn’t Merit always been right before? Hadn’t she always been the one with enough faith for both of them? Will nodded and moved to the window.
Merit cried out louder than before. “Will! Don’t you dare leave me!”
“I’m not going anywhere.” He returned to the bed and held her hand as she shuddered and moaned.
“Neither am I, Mrs. Sullivan.” Stephanie mopped Merit’s brow with a washcloth.
“How many times have I told you?” Merit arched her back and gritted her teeth in pain. “It’S…Merit!”
“I’m sorry…Merit.” Stephanie smiled sheepishly. “Is there anything you need us to get you?”
“Drugs.” Merit groaned again, then forced the shadow of a smile to her chapped lips. “Really strong drugs.” She waited a beat before saying, “Kidding. Just…just be here with me, both of you. Pray. That’s all I need.”
Will looked out the window after the next contraction and thought about carrying Merit down to the docks and paddling her to safety himself. But the early spring storm had intensified, and the rain lashed against their windows with ferocity “What’s that noise?” Merit looked toward the window, and Will hoped it wouldn’t blow in on them. A small stream of rainwater had already found it’s way through a small crack, in the ceiling.
“I’ll get it.” Stephanie disappeared into the kitchen and returned a moment later with a small pot, which she placed in the corner to catch the drips. Merit focused on the drips, staring at the ceiling.
Will leaned over to whisper in her ear. “How are you doing, honey?”
She answered by biting her lip until it started bleeding. Her chest rose and fell, and her nostrils flared as she gasped for air.
“Maybe you should try some of that Lamaze breathing,” he told her, “like we did with Abby.”
“That was Olivia,” she corrected, her eyes squeezed shut. “Didn’t work then; wouldn’t work now.”
“Are you sure? Because—”
“Will!” she interrupted. “Just be quiet and hold my hand. That’s the best thing you can do right now.”
“Right.” He hadn’t let go.
“Somebody’s coming,” announced Stephanie, looking out the rain-splattered window.
“Michael?” he asked.
“No, it’s a couple of boats. The fireboat maybe. I see a flashing light.”
“That was quick.” Will hadn’t checked his watch, but Michael couldn’t have been gone more than a few minutes. How had George come so soon?
Less than a minute later, the town paramedic burst through the front door, followed by…
“Sydney?”
Aunt Sydney had no time for pleasantries. She tossed her rain-soaked slicker on the chair and brushed her brother-in-law aside.
“She insisted on riding over with me,” explained George, mopping his head with a towel. He unsnapped the top of his paramedic’s case and set it on the chair next to the bed. Will and Stephanie backed out of the way.
“You guys made it here awful quick.” Will stayed as close to Merit as he could, but he could no longer reach her hand. “Did Michael get you on the radio?”
“Not until we were already halfway here,” George said as he snapped a stethoscope into his ears.
“So you were already coming?” Will asked.
George nodded. “We didn’t know how far the rockslide went and were worried it had hit you guys too. Came over to check. Glad it didn’t.”
“So you didn’t know—”
“No idea.” George shook his head and took Merit’s pulse. “Merit, you’re a couple weeks early, aren’t you?”
She nodded weakly.
“Need me to help get her back to the boat?” Will asked. “We should get her to an ambul
ance quick, right?”
George shook his head. “Wish we could do that, Dad, but we don’t want to deliver your baby out on the icy cold and rainy lake—or on the highway.”
“What?” Will felt lightheaded and thought he might need to sit down. “You’re not going to keep her here, like some kind of…Little House on the Prairie episode.”
“No choice, Will.”
“No, no. Absolutely not.” Will waved off the idea like a swarm of mosquitoes. “We could lose both of them.”
“I don’t think you get it, my friend. This baby’s coming right now, whether we’re ready or not.” The paramedic looked at Will, while Merit fought her way through another contraction. “Can you handle this without passing out on me, Will?”
Will looked at his wife arid then through the window at the fireboat with it’s blinking blue light.
All my fault. I should never have waited.
“Will?”
He nodded weakly and took his wife’s hand.
She looked up at him. “The pain is killing me, Will!”
Oh Lord! He tried to keep his eyes from filling with tears, tried to keep his focus. She’d never said anything like that before. Never sounded that desperate.
“No one’s…” He gulped and looked for the fire in his wife’s eyes that would tell him she was still the same Merit. It was there—a few degrees dimmer, but there. “No one’s dying here.”
“Okay,” she answered, taking a ragged breath, “but I’ll kill you if you faint on me.”
“Quit it,” said Sydney, interrupting with a schoolmarm’s gruff tone. “And nobody’s going to faint. But if he does, we’ll be fine.” She straightened out Merit’s sheets.
“Thanks a lot, Sydney,” Will said. “I appreciate your coming, but you don’t need to—”
“Now Merit,” she said, ignoring him, “you listen to me while George gets his equipment ready. I know a natural breathing cycle that’s going to filter out all the negative energy and release the pain if you let it. It’s a yoga technique. I think it’s going to do the trick for you too.”
Merit looked up at her husband and managed a wink before the next wave of contractions rolled over her, and she closed her eyes.
thirty-six
Do not abandon yourselves to despair. We are the Easter people
and hallelujah is our song.
POPE JOHN PAUL II
Will wiped the sweat from his brow and checked his watch. Nearly 4:00 a.m.
“How are we doing, Chief?” he asked.
George looked up at him but didn’t smile. “Well, I’m not an obstetrician, but as far as I can tell, your daughter’s fine.”
Will grinned, watching his daughter. Ten fingers, ten toes. Eyes like her daddy’s, head of beautiful chocolate brown hair like her mothers, and a set of lungs like her two older sisters—combined.
Aunt Sydney had charmed the tiny newborn into submission after the initial squall. Or perhaps the little girl had charmed her aunt, as Sydney rocked her and gently sang a few verses of Bob Dylan’s “Blowin in the Wind.” Will wasn’t sure about Mr. Dylan’s theology, but if nothing else, his youngest daughter would be properly introduced to the greatest hits of the sixties.
“But your wife’s really weak,” George continued. “We lucked out with the delivery, but I don’t know what to do with somebody in her condition. She should have been admitted to a hospital a month ago.”
“I know.” Will wiped his hands dry on a fresh towel. “I let her talk me into staying here, which I never should have done. Can we get her out of here soon:
George nodded as he snapped his case together. “As soon as we get her ferried over in the fireboat, I’m sending her to Coeur d’Alene in the ambulance.”
“At least the storm’s let up.” Will gazed out the window at the nearly full moon peeking through scattered clouds. It’S glow reflected into a million slivers of pale blue light on top of the gentle waves lapping at the lakeshore. Out of habit, he almost called Merit to the window, it was so beautiful.
“That’s in our favor. If you can get her ready to go…” The paramedic snapped open a little notebook, checked his watch, and made a few notes. “Guess I’m the delivering physician of record. What was it, about 3:00 a.m.?”
“Three-oh-four,” Sydney told him, still holding the baby but gazing at the paramedic with an odd smile. “And you did an unbelievable job.”
Will’s eyelids drooped with exhaustion, but he couldn’t miss the look she gave the man. George wasn’t married, was he?
“Er, thanks,” George replied, still scribbling in his notebook. “So…Baby Sullivan. Three hours, four minutes into the new day. Easter day, as a matter of fact.”
“Resurrection Sunday.” Will dropped to his knees by the side of Merit’s bed. Like the ancient tree that had trapped them at the resort, the weight of this time pressed fully on Will’s shoulders and on his heart. He knelt by his sleeping wife, buried his face in the quilt, and sobbed quietly.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, first to his wife but then to God. “I didn’t even believe You could do this.”
What had he believed? Not enough, it seemed. But now he prayed with the unusual but entirely distinct impression that God was listening.
“I can’t tell You that I like any of it, but if Merit says it’s okay, then what can I say different? It’s all up to You now, God. Now she can get treatment. Now You can do Your thing. Please do Your thing. If anybody deserves it, it’s Merit.”
He wasn’t sure how long he knelt there, praying in a way he’d never prayed before, a way he had rarely been called to pray outside the comforting confines of a written script in the approved Book of Worship. When he had finally emptied his heart and lifted his head, George was gone, leaving Will alone to pack a few things for his wife.
“What does she need?” He looked at Sydney and the baby, still sleeping in the corner. They needed to take the baby in for a checkup too, but he knew she would come home again. Unable to imagine what that would be like, he pulled open the curtains and stared at the disappearing stars as they glittered on the lake, anticipating the dawn. An owl fluttered noiselessly by. Down on the water, a procession of lights that were not stars drew nearer, red lights and white, early morning fishermen headed out to catch the big one.
But so many? And on Easter morning? He squinted as the parade grew closer.
“What’s that?” he asked himself.
“Who are you talking to, honey?”
Merit’s raspy voice brought him back. He hurried to her bedside.
“You just relax,” he told her. “I’m not talking to anybody.”
“Hmm.” She nodded weakly, her eyes barely open. “Where’s the baby?”
“She’s sleeping with Aunt Sydney.” He checked again to make sure. “She’s fine.”
“Is she?”
“She’s beautiful, Merit. Looks just like her mother.”
“I’d like to hold her when she wakes.”
“If you can pry her from your sisters arms.”
A light knock by the door announced that George had returned.
“Ready to go?” he asked, quiedy enough not to wake anyone still sleeping.
Will waved back at him. “I’m just getting a few things together for Merit.”
Merit reached up and clutched his hand. “I want to stay here, Will. I want to stay home.”
“Absolutely not. We’re taking you to town in the fireboat in a few minutes, and then they’re going to take you and the baby to the hospital. We should have done it a long time ago. This time you don’t have a choice.”
“I was afraid you would say that.” All the usual fight had drained from her voice, and he knew she wouldn’t argue with him anymore.
“It’s not even a question anymore, Merit.”
She nodded and started to close her eyes, then snapped them back open. “What’s that noise?”
Will hadn’t heard anything, but when he listened for a moment, he realized she
was right.
“Sounds like singing.”
Will stepped out on the front porch to check and nearly collided head-on with Pastor Bud, just ahead of Abby and Olivia.
“Daddy! “Olivia cried as she and her sister clutched their father.
“There you are!” The pastor had traded his usual jeans and fishing cap for a proper Sunday morning pair of tan slacks and a knit pullover sweater. “I hope you don’t mind.”
“Uh…” Will held on to his girls and watched the growing crowd on his lawn, unsure he could have objected even if he’d wanted to.
About fifty people, not counting kids, had gathered like Easter carolers on the lawn, facing the porch and many holding hands. At least another fifty were making their way up the hill from the docks. All joined in softly with the words to the Easter hymn Will had heard so often growing up:
Christ the Lord is risen today, alleluiai
“We didn’t want to wake anybody,” explained Pastor Bud, as his congregation sang on, “but we heard you were on your way to the hospital. We figured if Merit couldn’t make it to this Easter sunrise service, well, we’d just bring the sunrise service to Merit. Before she leaves, that is.”
Stephanie accompanied the song with her guitar, warming the background. Michael stood next to her, holding a sheet of music.
Raise your joys and triumphs high, alleluiai
“Did those two contact you on the radio?” Will asked.
Bud smiled and nodded. Though it was a touching gesture, Will knew it would have to be a short service.
Where, oh death, is now thy sting? Alleluiai
Will didn’t like those words and their reminder of what lay just ahead. But he let himself sing along and felt the words move him—or maybe it was just exhausted emotion after the longest night of his life. Longer still for Merit.
Where’s thy victory, boasting grave? Alleluiai
Will had never believed in sappy Kodak moments, when background music would rise to the occasion, but a spodight from the fireboat broke through the mist just then, sending golden beams of light to flood their service.
Ours the cross, the grave, the skies! Allelu…
The singing faltered at that point, as if the choir conductor had waved his baton for them to halt.
