Handful Of Flowers

by Hake, Cathy Marie

  “Hold it right there, mister.” Aunt Tempy parked herself in front of him and glowered. “You don’t belong in here.”

  “I’m Dr. Walcott.”

  “We’re pleased to make your acquaintance,” Polly said crisply, “but a man doesn’t belong at a birthing.”

  Aunt Tempy folded her arms across her chest. “Everything’s swimmin’ along, right as a tadpole in a water hole.”

  “I’m gratified to hear that.” He pushed past Aunt Tempy. “I’ll just have a look—”

  “No, you won’t.” Polly couldn’t fathom the arrogance he displayed. “Mother and child are both in my hands, and—”

  “And if someone competent doesn’t see to matters, they’ll just as likely be in God’s hands within the week.”

  “I got me my niece and my sister-in-law here. I’m farin’ better than after any of my other birthings.”

  “And we’re glad they were here to help you,” the doctor said smoothly. Stubborn as could be, he reached the bedside. “However, a woman who’s had several children and is your advanced age—”

  “You a-callin’ me old?” Aunt Eunice nearly shouted, “I’m only thirty-seven! I got plenty of years left in me and pr’bly two or three more babes, too.”

  “Right now, I need to be concerned with Aunt Eunice and this baby.” Polly pivoted to the side to block him. Under any other circumstances, she’d find it entertaining that her aunt had just shaved a year off her age, but right now, other matters were more pressing.

  Aunt Eunice shot her a look of relief. “Doc, you cain step back outside ’til after my Hezzy sees his young’un. ’Tis fittin’ for a man to see the child he fathered afore anyone else does.”

  “The father can come in and see the babe. I’ll tend you,” the doctor announced.

  Polly looked over her shoulder at him. “Doctor, we don’t know you from Adam. Now’s not a good time for introductions. You need to honor Aunt Eunice’s wishes.”

  “He’s upsetting me. If my milk a-curdles, I’ll know who to blame!”

  The doctor frowned at the collection of instruments on the table, then looked at Aunt Tempy. “You must have some basic knowledge; else you’d not possess these things. The multiparous woman is likely to hemorrhage. Ergot—”

  “Whoa. You’re talking to the wrong woman.” Aunt Tempy pointed at Polly.

  The doctor’s gray eyes widened in frank disbelief.

  Polly sought to assure him she’d anticipated the need to administer ergot. “I have scrapings from rusty rye.”

  “Hit come from Hattie back home in Salt Lick Holler,” Aunt Eunice said. “None better. Now you scat.”

  The doctor’s jaw clamped shut. He nodded curtly, turned, and left.

  Two

  Eric Walcott left the cabin and practically got mobbed.

  “What’re you doin’ out here?”

  “Git back in there and holp my Eunice!”

  “Is sommat a-wrong?”

  Plenty’s wrong. That woman in there could be bleeding to death, and all she has is a few well-meaning, backward family members who don’t understand the danger and are too steeped in ignorant folklore to accept help. Only Eric couldn’t face these worried men and children and tell them those harsh truths. To add to the mind-boggling peculiarity of the whole incident, he noticed everyone happened to be dressed in some shade of gold.

  “Doc, my Eunice—she didn’t. . .”

  He forced a smile and tried to give what reassurance he could honestly offer. “The babe’s already made her appearance.”

  “Boy or girl?” one of the large, hairy men asked.

  “A girl, you dolt!” The other smacked him with a battered hat. “He said ‘her,’ so it’s gotta be a girl!”

  “And my Eunice? She’s fairin’ well?”

  Well, he’d tried to avoid this. But he couldn’t very well lie. “I can’t say. My offer of help was refused.” The admission galled him—a little because of his pride but mostly because he genuinely worried about that woman. Her niece wanted to treat her with—of all things—rust and bootleg rye whiskey.

  “We’ll see ’bout that!” The father shouldered through the crowd of children who spanned everything from diapered to desirable and opened the door. “Eunice, you let this here sawbones come see to you and little Elsiebelle.”

  “It ain’t been half an hour yet, so you jest turn tail and wait ’til me and Elvera are ready!”

  Someone slammed the door, and Eric watched in disbelief as the other two men burst out laughing. “Shoulda knowed that’d happen,” one said.

  “You broke the rule,” the other short, wiry one agreed.

  A school-age, barefoot boy scratched a bony elbow and scrunched his sunburned nose. “Pa, what’s a vera?”

  The father glowered at them. “She done went and named my baby girl Elvera!”

  “I swan that name’s sorta pretty, Pa.”

  The scowl melted, and the huge man sat down on the porch step. He opened his arms, and a whole bunch of children pressed into him for a tangled hug. “Iff’n she’s half as pretty as y’all, my heart’s gonna bust.”

  Another redheaded woman came toward them from behind the barn. From the looks of her, she’d be having a child in four or five months. From the way she waddled at this early point of her carrying months, Eric knew this child had to have several brothers and sisters ahead of it. For now, that redhead had a knot of young children skipping at her heels and clinging to her skirt. “Did Eunice make me an aunt?”

  A hundred times or so, I’d say, Eric thought.

  “Aunt Lois! She had a Vera!”

  Lois grinned and nodded. “Now ain’t that the finest thang you ever heared? Johnna, yore old ’nuff to come on inside with me. The rest of you young’uns pay heed to what your pas tell you.”

  Things continued in that bizarre vein. The crowd parted to allow them access, then the door shut yet again—with both the doctor and father still left outside!

  Eric marveled that this clan endured. They must be exceptionally hearty stock to survive the appalling medical “practices” he’d witnessed. The cabin had been tidy, and a quick glance around showed the ranch to be well kept. Surely that ought to be counted as a good sign. These folks wanted to succeed. They might kick a little, but when he demonstrated the advantages of the scientific advances, they’d progress into the modern age.

  “Thanks for coming anyway, Doc.” The young man he’d seen in town—Peter—extended a callused hand.

  Eric shook it. “I’m glad no one used the ax.”

  Peter shook his head. “Uncle Hezzy’ll never hear the end of that.”

  “I saw a perfectly good pair of scissors in there.”

  Confusion furrowed Peter’s brow. “What do scissors have to do with anything? They’re too puny to cut much pain.”

  “The ax was supposed to cut the pain,” Eric deduced. He didn’t know whether to be astonished by that nonsense or glad they hadn’t used it to cut the cord.

  Unaware of the doctor’s thoughts, Peter nodded. “Only Uncle Hezzy lost the ax, and Aunt Eunice has a long memory when it comes to things like that. Bet he’ll even let her name the next baby, too.”

  The door opened. Lois came back out. “Hezzy, go say howdy to yore new babe. The rest of you, take your turn, then come on over for supper. Got a big ol’ mess of chicken an’ dumplin’s ready.”

  As the others crowded to go see the latest member of this enormous family, Polly exited the cabin. “Doctor, let’s talk.”

  “Yeah, Doc.” Lois beamed at him. “We’ll fatten you up a mite and get to know you.”

  Eric shouldered through the throng and made it to Polly’s side. They’d mentioned Polly was a niece. No use insulting her—and especially not in front of family. He’d ruffled feathers, and as soon as he calmed her, they’d review Eunice’s delivery. In the meantime, he refused to budge. “This little lady and I need to compare medical notes. I’m sure you all understand.”

  “We’ll sit here on
the porch.” Polly lowered herself onto a bench. “That way, we’ll be close to Eunice and Elvera.”

  Eric sat on the other end of the bench. “Absolutely.”

  “Then I’ll jest send out some vittles for ye.” Lois turned and headed into another cabin.

  Eric’s stomach rumbled. He figured he might as well have a quick supper and turn Polly into an ally. Then he’d go make sure Eunice and Elvera hadn’t suffered any complications. A mouth-watering aroma filled the air, and he nodded his head as a young woman handed him a sizable bowl. “Thank you.”

  “Welcome.” She blushed.

  Polly accepted the other bowl and murmured her thanks. He’d said a quick prayer, but he waited until she finished her silent grace before taking a taste from his bowl. “This is excellent!”

  “Lois would be pleased to send you home with a jar.”

  His sense of humor kicked in, so he muttered, “Eunice was ready to send me home in a jar.”

  Polly didn’t bother to muffle her peal of laughter. “You caught her at a bad moment.”

  Her reaction pleased him. This young woman might be misguided, but she wasn’t malicious. That boded well. “Soon as I’m done with this”—he lifted the spoon to his mouth and chose his words with exceeding care—“I’ll go in and make sure matters are resolved.”

  Polly looked him directly in the eye. “Matters between you and Eunice, or medical ones?”

  “Both,” he answered succinctly. Several more MacPhersons ambled out of the cabin, but he stayed focused on her. “I took an oath—”

  “I lernt ’bout that at school,” a wiggly boy boasted. “It’s the hip. . .the hip. . .” He strained, then jumped up and down. “The hippopotamus oath!”

  “Nah, silly.” One of the other older boys poked him. “It’s the hypocrite’s oath.”

  Amused, Eric said nothing.

  Polly laughed again. The woman’s laugh was light and free—sweet and nothing like the practiced giggles of the debutantes back East. “You’re close, boys. It’s the Hippocratic oath. Hippocrates was the father of medicine.”

  “Don’t tell that to Hezzy,” a beefy man moaned from the doorway. “He’ll take a mind to name his next ’un ‘Medicine’ iff’n you do.”

  Though that observation set off a round of hoots, Eric knew better than to express an opinion. He lifted his bowl. “Good supper.”

  “Always welcome to come back for more, Doc.” The man and children all ambled over to the supper cabin.

  Eric then turned back to finish his explanation. “Polly, I meant every last word of the oath. It would be remiss of me to fail to render care.”

  “It would be remiss of you to fail to offer care. You did that.” She took a bite of a dumpling, chewed it thoughtfully, then swallowed. “You’re wearing what my mama calls a ‘dig-in-the-heels look.’ I suppose I could tell you everything’s fine, but you’re still going to march back in there.”

  He shrugged. “I won’t pretend otherwise.”

  “Eunice is sure her milk will curdle if you upset her again.” Nicely enough, Polly didn’t even react when he choked on that little piece of information. Instead, she merely continued, “Perhaps it would be best if I eased you in and out real quick.”

  He gulped the last bite as he thumped his bowl onto the bench between them. “Good. Good.”

  She set aside her own half-eaten bowl and rose. Eric winced. In his urgency, he’d rushed her. It was all for a good cause. Only the dear Lord knew just what was happening with that mother in there.

  “Stop scowling. I’ve had plenty.” She tapped on the door, then opened it. “Aunt Tempy, Uncle Hezzy? Why don’t you go eat supper? Doc and I will come sit with Eunice and the baby. I’m sure they’ll be keeping you up all night.”

  “I don’t need no doctorin’.” Eunice lifted her head from the pillow and glowered at him.

  “Doc wanted to see Elvera.” Polly kept her tone light. “Let’s let him estimate her weight.” She slipped the baby from father to physician.

  “Well, now!” Eric gently bounced the baby in his arms as a sense of awe swept over him. “Nice-sized. I’ll have to take away a few ounces for this blanket, though. Someone quilted a fine one—warm.”

  “Eunice makes ev’ry young’un one whilst she’s a-carryin’,” her husband boasted.

  “Well, I’d say she makes a fine blanket, but she makes an even prettier daughter. This one’s eight pounds even. Let’s take a look at those little fingers and toes.” He needed to examine the babe, so he laid her on the bed next to her mama and opened the wrap.

  “She’s got long fingers. I’m thinkin’ with our passel of young’uns, mayhap we should get a piany.”

  “Hmm. With those fingers, that would be possible. Wasn’t that a mandolin I saw in the corner?” He lifted the gown and continued to confirm Elvera’s health rated as superior.

  “ ’Tis mine,” Tempy said. “And many of the children play it passingly well.”

  “If I don’t put a stop to this, the next music is going to be you singing the praises of the MacPherson children.” Polly plumped Eunice’s pillow. “Aunt Tempy, Uncle Hezzy, go enjoy your supper.”

  “I reckon we will. You’ll be jest fine here, Lambkin. Doc agrees with our Polly that Elvera’s eight pounds, so he must know what he’s about.”

  That had to be the most backhanded, ridiculous endorsement Eric had ever received. He didn’t let on. Instead, he nodded. That action, he’d found, often rescued him.

  He tucked the baby into Eunice’s arms as the others departed, then deftly drew back the covers.

  “Polly, if that there doc dares ta lift my hem, I aim to clobber him. Should you be a-holding my little Elvera?”

  “The doctor can speak for himself.” Polly’s calm blue gaze rested on him.

  “I’m able to assess the womb like this.” He placed his hand over Eunice’s gown. “It’s firm, and that’s good. Very good.” Satisfied she couldn’t be hemorrhaging, he covered her once again. “Mrs. MacPherson, I’m pleased you and your daughter are in the pink of health. Having thirteen children is quite an accomplishment.”

  “Yore a-tellin’ me.” She let out a raspy laugh. “All of us together got twenty-four. Lois and Obie got ’leven—soon to be twelve—but no need to mention that since you pr’bly took note on that fact. Tempy and Mike have nine.”

  The woman must not have had any schooling. Her arithmetic was faulty.

  She lovingly traced the tiny whorls of the baby’s hair. “We done lost five when the diphtheria hit, and a few others jest winnowed away back to the bosom of Jesus when He took a mind to call ’em home.”

  “My condolences.”

  “He talks pretty, Polly.” Eunice gave her niece a weary look.

  “I venture it’s more owed to him having a good heart than a glib tongue.” Polly gave Eunice a sip of something. “Now you sleep. We’ll be here.”

  We’ll be here. Not I’ll be here. Eric pulled up a chair and sat by the bed. Things were looking up. When he first got here, Polly told him a man had no place at a birthing. Now she’d accepted him.

  Surely this little MacPherson woman had opened the door for him. If her loving but misguided family allowed him to treat them, then the rest of Reliable ought to follow suit. It was all working out so well—he’d asked the Lord to send him somewhere where he was needed. Now, more than ever, Eric knew he was in the center of God’s will.

  Three

  “Wake up, sleepyheads.” Polly woke her cousins the next morning as she put down her gathering sack. She and Mama Lovejoy went gathering almost every morning—as much for the quiet time together as for the opportunity to harvest essential plants. Even though Uncle Mike had brought Polly home late last night, she hadn’t been able to sleep in. As soon as the first rays of sun crept into the sky, her eyes always popped open.

  “Polly,” Laurel said from their bed up in the loft, “must you sound so cheerful this early?”

  “ ‘This is the day the Lord hath made; I
will rejoice and be glad in it.’ ”

  April and Kate crawled out of the bed they shared and shimmied down the ladder in their ruffled nightgowns. Kate waggled a finger at her. “It’s a good thing the Bible doesn’t say anything about being jolly at night, because you’d use that as an excuse to wake us up, too!”

  “It’s our turn to make breakfast,” April said. “Stop teasing her.”

  Laurel stayed in bed and began unwinding the rags from her hair. She managed to make rolling and unrolling those long tresses look so easy. It took her just a few minutes to accomplish it.

  Polly unraveled her night braid, brushed her hair, and twisted it several times to form a bun at the back of her head. No matter where she stabbed in the hairpins, they didn’t tame the wisps or keep the arrangement orderly. One last glance at Laurel made her give up. “I’m hopeless,” she muttered.

  April turned backward so Polly would help her with her stays. “Not too tight.”

  Polly tugged and tied, then gave her back a pat. Sweet April. She could cook, and her waistline tattled on all of the little tastes she took. “How about if I make coffee cake this morning?”

  “I’ll help you.” April whirled around. “We’ll bake bread, too.”

  Polly arched a brow. “Are you doing that for my sake or yours?”

  Her cousins all laughed. Polly could follow instructions to formulate any elixir, unguent, or salve, but she couldn’t follow a recipe if her life depended on it.

  Yanking on a stocking, Kate mused, “I think it’s because April wants to hear more about that new doctor.”

  “So what if I do?”

  “April!” Polly gawked at her. “You’re only sixteen.”

  “Plenty of girls marry when they’re sixteen.” April’s chin lifted. “And—”

  “And it’s because they either don’t have family to help them or the brains to know better.” Polly shook her head. “Your daddy hasn’t given you leave to even walk with a boy. What makes you think he’d let a doctor half again your age pay you court?”

  Laurel stood at the mirror and neatly tied a bow at her throat. “You’re simply too young and unsophisticated.”