by Janette Oke
I hadn’t paid much attention to it at the time.
“She didn’t say anything,” I added.
“She wouldn’t,” commented Doc, and he picked up speed, for which I was thankful.
When we reached the house Uncle Nat was not there to greet us. Doc knew the way to the bedroom, so after letting him in, I knew there was little else that I could do—except keep praying.
The time dragged on forever. Or so it seemed. In reality I guess that things happened in good time and order. But for me, it seemed an eternity. I paced back and forth in the kitchen, and I paced back and forth on the porch, and I paced back and forth on the front board walk that led up to the small parsonage.
At last I heard the small, funny, squeaky cry of a newborn, and I knew it was finally over. I strained with my whole body to catch any further sounds. I guess I was listening for a cry from Aunt Lou. None came. And then I heard laughter and the voice of Uncle Nat raised in prayerful thanksgiving. I breathed again and ran toward the back entrance.
Uncle Nat met me in the kitchen, his face beaming. We didn’t even speak to one another, just stopped long enough for a quick embrace and then hurried on to the bedroom. I suppose there were tears on both our cheeks, tears of relief and joy.
Doc was talking when I entered the room. I wasn’t sure if he was talking to Aunt Lou or the tiny bundle he held in his big hands.
“Sure surprised me,” he was saying. “I was looking for a big, bouncing boy, but just look at this young’un. Healthy and hearty as you please.”
Lou was smiling a contented, love-filled smile. She still looked pale to me—but, oh, did she look happy!
Doc continued speaking to Aunt Lou. “You did a fine job, little lady—and just look at your reward. Beautiful baby. Just beautiful. Reminds me of her mamma when I delivered her some twenty-odd years ago.”
The word her caught my attention. It was a girl! Aunt Lou’s dream had come true and Doc’s “big boy” had been a girl instead. I grinned and suddenly felt shy and awkward. I hung back a bit, not really knowing what to do or say. Aunt Lou sensed it immediately. She raised slightly from her pillows and held out her hand to me.
“Come see her, Josh,” she encouraged. “Like Doc says, she’s beautiful.”
I moved slowly forward just as Doc reached down and laid the precious bundle in Aunt Lou’s arms. The little face was red and wrinkled and her eyes were almost squinted shut. She had a thatch of dark hair that for the moment was plastered tightly to the well-shaped little head. She really wasn’t all that beautiful, as Doc and Aunt Lou were insisting, but even I knew she was very special.
And then she waved a small fist frantically in the air and went searching for it with a puckered-up mouth. Miraculously, she managed to connect the two and began sucking noisily. We all laughed and Aunt Lou held her even closer and Uncle Nat’s eyes filled with tears again. She was beautiful.
When Aunt Lou could speak again she looked down at her baby and then up at me. “Sarah Jane,” she said, “meet your cousin, Joshua Jones. He’s about the finest cousin a little girl could ever have. You’re a lucky little girl, Sarah Jane—No, not lucky—blessed.” Aunt Lou gave me one of her special smiles. I could feel the firm arm of Uncle Nat about my shoulders, and it gave me a warm family feeling.
I looked down again at the tiny bundle in Aunt Lou’s arms. Since my own folks had died, Aunt Lou had been like a mother and aunt all rolled up in one. Now I had little Sarah Jane too. I might not be all that Aunt Lou had generously boasted me to be, but I knew one thing. I loved that little bundle with all of my being, and I knew instinctively that no harm would ever come to her that I had the power to stop.
CHAPTER 4
Sharing the News
“SOMEBODY’S GOTTA GO to the farm!” I burst out excitedly, tearing my eyes from the baby and Aunt Lou to implore Uncle Nat.
“I guess that can wait ’til morning,” Uncle Nat said, and I could see he wasn’t too anxious to leave his wife and new daughter.
“Morning? This news will never keep until morning. And Grandpa and Uncle Charlie would never forgive us!”
“It’s pretty late,” Uncle Nat continued. He reached down to lift his pocket watch. “It’s almost midnight.” Then he spoke to brand-new little Sarah Jane. “You missed being born on your grandmother’s birthday by about ten minutes, little one.”
Uncle Nat didn’t talk about his ma too often, but I could tell by his tone that he would have been real pleased if Sarah had prolonged her coming just a bit.
I wasn’t put off by Uncle Nat’s diversion.
“Midnight or not,” I went on, “someone should go out to the farm. I can go. Chester could find his way even if it was pitch dark—and it’s not. Looks really light out yet. Moon must be shining—”
“Well, Lou?” Uncle Nat asked. Lou just smiled and nodded. “Bring me a pen and the writing tablet,” she said, and I knew it was decided that I could go.
Aunt Lou had to have her hands free to write, so Uncle Nat lifted the small bundle of baby from her arms and began pacing the floor with her, talking softly to her all the while. I didn’t listen to what he said, but now and then I caught a word. He was already telling her about God. Imagine! A tiny tyke like that, and Uncle Nat was already preaching the little one her first sermon.
Aunt Lou found it a bit difficult to write, propped up on her pillows like she was. I guess she wanted to tell Grandpa and Uncle Charlie about the new baby herself, because she seemed to write on and on. I wondered how she could find so much to say about someone she had just met, so to speak.
At last she was done and folded that paper and handed it to me and laid the tablet and the pen on the small night table by her bed. She smiled again—that contented, happy smile—but I could see she was really tired.
A movement caused us all to look at the doorway. It was Doc. I had quite forgotten about him. Guess he had been in the kitchen having himself a cup of tea while we all got acquainted with Sarah Jane, and now he was back again to check everything one more time and tuck Aunt Lou and the baby in for the night. I kissed Aunt Lou on the cheek, took one more look at Sarah Jane to see if she had grown or changed any yet. I was always hearing ladies exclaim how quickly babies did that. But she looked just the same to me, only she had fallen asleep—right in the middle of Uncle Nat’s sermon.
Chester seemed to sense my mood, and once we were on the road he was ready to run. I guess he thought that this time he might be able to get away with it. I didn’t let him though, for even though there was a bit of a moon and even though his night-eyes were better than mine, I still knew it was unwise to let a horse travel at full gallop in the dark.
It seemed to take an especially long time to cover the distance to the farm. Normally I would let my mind wander to many things, but tonight I could only think of the new baby. Whole and well and brand new and Doc said that she was fine, just fine.
At last I reached the farm and was a bit surprised to see the house all dark. But I should have known it would be. Grandpa and Uncle Charlie went to bed somewhere around ten each night, and this night being no different than any other as far as they were concerned, they would have followed their usual pattern.
I argued briefly with myself as to whether to flip Chester’s rein over the gate post and run in with the news or to take Chester to the barn—as would need to be done eventually anyway—and then go to the house. I decided to go ahead and bed Chester down. It was hard to make myself go to the barn first but I knew I would hate to come back out to care for Chester after I had delivered the good news.
Chester was glad to see his own stall. I didn’t figure him to be too hungry, knowing that he had already been well fed, but I hurriedly forked him a bit of hay just in case he had a notion to eat. He started in on it right away.
I scarcely took the time to secure the barn door before I was off to the house on the run. It was a fair distance between the house and the barn—a fact I had never particularly noted before. I was puffin
g by the time I hit the back porch. The back door, as usual, was not locked. I wasn’t sure my Grandpa could lock it even if he wanted to. I pushed it open and it squeaked just a bit.
I wanted to holler out my news, but my good sense held me in check. If I came in shouting I’d scare Grandpa and Uncle Charlie half to death.
I climbed the steps quickly, trying not to make too much noise. I never even thought about the squeaky one until I heard it protest beneath my foot.
“Who is it?” Grandpa called out.
“Me,” I answered in a whispery voice.
I heard Uncle Charlie stirring, but the noise didn’t come from his bed. He was sitting near his window in the old chair. I knew then that he had watched me ride into the yard, take Chester to the barn and run for the house.
For a moment I forgot about Grandpa, about Aunt Lou, even about the new baby.
“What are you doing up?” I quizzed Uncle Charlie.
“Nothin’ much,” he answered evasively. “Just can’t git along with my bed sometimes.”
Grandpa called out again, “Be right there.” I could hear the bed springs groaning as he lifted himself from the bed and began to pull on his pants.
“I take it you have some news,” Grandpa said as he came out of the bedroom, a lighted lamp in his hand.
“Sure do,” I beamed, my thoughts jumping immediately back to Sarah Jane.
“Well?” prompted Uncle Charlie.
“Another girl,” I fairly cheered. “And she is just fine.”
“And Lou?” asked Grandpa. In his heart he knew that I wouldn’t be grinning from ear to ear unless Aunt Lou was just fine, too. But Lou was his little girl, and Grandpa wouldn’t be at ease until he heard it said.
“Fine!” I said. “Just fine—an’ happy.”
“Thank you, Father!” Grandpa said softly and I understood his little prayer of gratitude. Then he began to grin. I could see his face by the light of the lamp he held in his hand. He was beaming.
Uncle Charlie had moved to join us in the hallway. He was grinning too—a wide, infectious smile. He looked about the happiest I had ever seen him. But I was surprised at how slowly he moved. Grandpa turned to him with concern in his eyes and voice.
“Another bad night?” he asked, and Uncle Charlie nodded. I didn’t understand the question—or the answer. Why was Uncle Charlie having bad nights? Why was he moving toward the stairs like an old man? Why did he reach out a hand to assist himself as he descended? I hadn’t known about any of this. Why hadn’t someone informed me?
“Was Doc there?” Uncle Charlie asked. He knew that sometimes Doc was out on one call when he was needed elsewhere.
“Got him myself,” I explained. “He was right at home when I went for him.”
“Was Nat there?” asked Grandpa, and I knew that Grandpa was thinking of the last time.
“All the time,” I answered.
“Good!” said Grandpa, and he beamed some more as he set the lamp on the kitchen table.
Uncle Charlie shuffled to the stove, shook it up, and put in a few more sticks of wood. The stove had been banked for the night; before long the wood caught and I could hear the blaze grow. Uncle Charlie pushed forward the coffeepot.
“Tell us about her,” Grandpa was saying, excitement filling his voice.
Uncle Charlie eased a chair toward the table and lowered himself slowly onto it. He leaned forward eagerly, not wanting to miss a word.
“She’s not very big,” I started, indicating with my hands, much as I often did when I told a fish story.
“ ’Course not,” cut in Grandpa.
“An’ she—she—” How could I say that she was red and wrinkled and sort of puffy? Would they understand?
“Has she any hair?”
“Lots of it—dark.”
“Just like Lou,” cut in Grandpa.
“What color are her eyes?” Uncle Charlie asked.
“I—I—don’t really know. She didn’t open them much, but they are sorta dark, I guess.”
“Did Doc say how much she weighs?”
I hadn’t heard him say anything about her weight. I just shook my head.
“Tell us about Lou,” Grandpa was prompting.
“Well—”
“Was it a long—?” began Grandpa again.
It had seemed half of forever to me, but I shrugged and said honestly, “Doc said it was real good. Real good. I went for him about quarter-to-nine and Sarah was born just before midnight.”
Grandpa and Uncle Charlie exchanged grins and nods and I understood that they were well satisfied with that.
“But Aunt Lou says that she was having some—some—” “Contractions.”
“Yeah, from about one o’clock on. But they didn’t get strong until about suppertime.” I didn’t want them to get the idea that it had been too easy.
“But she’s fine now?” This was from Grandpa again. “Just fine,” I reassured him.
Uncle Charlie eased himself off his chair and went for the coffeepot. I wasn’t sure that the coffee would be hot enough yet, but perhaps Uncle Charlie needed something to occupy his hands.
He poured three cups and brought two of them, a bit of steam rising from each, to the table. He passed one cup to Grandpa and put one down in front of me. It was the first time I noticed that his fingers looked funny. I was about to ask if he had hurt his hand when I noticed that the other hand looked the same way. I shut my mouth quickly on the unasked question and looked at Grandpa, but he didn’t seem to read the question in my eyes. I guess he was still too busy celebrating his new granddaughter.
“Her name,” he said suddenly. “You haven’t told us her name.”
“It’s Sarah,” I told him. “Sarah Jane.”
“That’s nice,” said Grandpa, and Uncle Charlie, who was just returning to the table with his own cup of coffee, repeated the name after me. “Sarah Jane,” he said, “Sarah Jane. That’s nice.”
I suddenly remembered Aunt Lou’s letter. I fished it from my pocket and handed it to Grandpa. He opened it eagerly and began to read it aloud to Uncle Charlie. There wasn’t much more for me to say about little Sarah Jane. Aunt Lou was saying it all.
We sat and drank our coffee and chatted some more about the new baby and Aunt Lou and Uncle Nat. But watching Uncle Charlie’s clumsy fingers try to lift the coffee cup to his mouth took some of the joy out of the event for me. He spilled a bit as he tried to drink. I noticed the dark liquid dribble over his fingers more than once as he raised the cup to his mouth. Maybe this was why Uncle Charlie didn’t let the coffee get as steaming hot as he used to.
I thought of all the times I had watched Uncle Charlie lift the cup to his lips and take a full gulp of steaming hot coffee and somehow manage to swallow it with no harm done. But he had steady hands then. Not gnarled fingers that couldn’t grip things tightly.
“I’m pretty tired I guess,” I finally excused myself. “Think I’ll go on up to bed.”
Grandpa was still grinning but he stifled a yawn. “Me, too,” he said and reached for the lamp.
“You two go ahead,” Uncle Charlie waved us on. “I think I’ll just sit here for a bit longer. Maybe have another cup.” I looked at Grandpa.
“Did you take one of the pills?” he asked.
Uncle Charlie nodded.
“Still no relief?”
“Some.” Both Grandpa and I knew that Uncle Charlie wasn’t admitting to much.
Grandpa left the lamp on the table and we climbed the stairs without it.
When we got up to the hallway I reached out a hand to Grandpa.
“What is it?” I asked in a whisper.
Grandpa didn’t seem to understand my question.
“What’s the matter with Uncle Charlie?” I asked then. “What do you mean?”
“His hands—all—all twisted, and his walk so slow and—” “Oh, that,” responded Grandpa matter-of-factly. “That’s just his arthritis. It’s gettin’ worse.”
Arthritis! Worse!
How come I’d never noticed it before? “How long—how long has he been this way?” I found myself asking.
“He’s had arthritis some for years,” Grandpa responded. “But he has his good days and his bad days. Folks say the weather. It’s steadily getting worse, though. It’s really into his hands bad now. Used to just be in his knees and his back.”
There wasn’t much that I could say, so I let Grandpa go. “See you in the morning,” I muttered and turned to my bedroom.
I lay awake a long time that night—thinking of more than our new Sarah Jane. I thought a great deal about Uncle Charlie. It scared me, this arthritis. Already it had made him into an old man. It had happened so gradually that I had missed it.
But not now. Now it was obvious. Uncle Charlie was not a complainer, but it was easy to see that even small tasks were hard for him to accomplish. And how could he ever farm?
I fought for sleep, both to escape my uneasy thoughts and because I knew I would need it. Grandpa had said that we would leave for town just as soon as we could finish up the chores the next morning, and I knew without asking that Grandpa would start those chores a little earlier than usual.
Even so, it was a long time until I could lay aside my excitement—and my worry—and let sleep claim me.
CHAPTER 5
Graduation
IT TOOK SEVERAL DAYS for things to fall back into a normal routine. Grandpa and Uncle Charlie visited the parsonage with far more frequency than usual. I think they were a little afraid that young Sarah Jane might grow up when they weren’t looking. Anyway, they came in often to check on her.
Sarah Jane greatly changed the procedures of the household. Aunt Lou didn’t seem to get as much baking done as she used to, and both Uncle Nat and I found ourselves helping around the house more. That baby was either hungry or wet every five minutes.
She was a good little tyke, though. Lou kept telling Uncle Nat and me over and over what a good baby she was, and I was quite willing to take Aunt Lou’s word for it. She certainly did a great deal of sleeping. Whenever I brought one of my friends in for a peek at her, she was either sleeping or eating, it seemed to me, and neither one worked too well for showing her off.
