by Lisa Gregory
"Oh my God!" Julia grabbed Sarah and propelled her to a chair, "Vance! Run get Luke. Tell him to hurry."
"Julia, what is it? What's happening?" Fear was etched on Sarah's face. "Am I losing my baby?"
❧
Luke set down the sack of seed with a sigh. "Time for lunch, don't you think?"
Micah grunted in agreement, dropping his hoe, and the two men walked to the creek* where they had left their lunch. Neither said much, which suited them both. Luke was a quiet, solitary man, and it had pleased him to discover that his new hired hand was the same. Last summer Luke had hired a man who had talked incessantly, and Luke had thought he would go crazy before they got in the crops.
Micah said little, and when he did talk, it was to some purpose. He was a good, strong worker, too, and quick to understand whatever instructions Luke gave him. In fact, it seemed to Luke as if their minds were attuned; more and more often Micah did exactly what Luke had in mind without having to be told.
They sat down in the shade of a willow beside the creek and opened the sack of sandwiches Julia had prepared for them. Luke pulled out the mason jars of lemonade that they had set in the stream earlier to keep cool. They drank thirstily and devoured their sandwiches. Their hunger somewhat assuaged, they ate the remaining sandwiches, hunks of cheese, and apple tarts more slowly, savoring the taste.
"Mrs. Dobson be a fine cook," Micah commented, sinking his teeth into his second apple tart.
Luke smiled as he brushed his hands on his pants leg to remove the crumbs. "She is that. She makes an apple dumpling that'd make you think you died and went to Heaven."
"This one'd almost get you there itself."
Luke leaned back against the trunk of the tree, tipping down the brim of his hat to shade his eyes. He felt warm, full, and happy. "Reminds me of Huntsville. We always used to talk about how good something tasted. How soft some woman was."
Micah's eyes opened wide, and he stopped chewing. He swallowed. "Huntsville? You—uh—"
"Was in prison?" Luke shot him a half-amused, half-defensive glance from beneath the brim of his hat. "What did you think? That I was brought up to this kind of life?" He made a sweep of his arm, encompassing the land around him. "Owning land, living in a house like that?"
"Yeah, I s'pose..."
"I wasn't." Luke paused. "I was a sharecropper's kid. Julie and I grew up in a shack that made that room in the barn look like high living."
Micah stared at Luke. He didn't know what to say. He hadn't thought about Luke's past; he had assumed he'd grown up a prosperous farmer's son. Micah didn't think of white people being poor, any more than he would have dreamed that Luke Turner had been in prison. Now that he thought about it, he could see the lines of hard experience on Luke's face. Luke's eyes weren't those of a person who had had everything handed to him. Micah realized, amazed, that the house he'd grown up in in New Mexico had probably been better than Luke's childhood home. No wonder Luke was easy to work with, comfortable to be around. He'd been on the bottom, too.
"I was lucky," Luke went on. "I found Sarah." Instinctively he glanced in the direction of the house, even though he couldn't see it from this distance. He straightened. A small figure was racing through the fields toward them. Luke rose, squinting against the light. "What's that?"
Micah glanced in the direction in which Luke looked. "I don't know." He stood up, shading his eyes. "A kid?"
Vaguely anxious, Luke stepped across the creek. He walked toward the child, and as he walked, his pace quickened, his unease increasing. Micah followed him.
"It's Vance," Luke said. He broke into a trot.
They could see that Vance was running as fast as he could, arms and legs pumping. The boy's face was contorted with effort—and fear. The alarm that had been building in Luke burst into full flower. He began to run.
"Uncle Luke! Uncle Luke!" Vance dropped to his knees, gasping for air, as Luke reached him.
Luke went down on one knee beside his nephew. "What is it? What's the matter?"
"Mama—says—to come," Vance gasped out. "It's Aunt Sarah."
"My God." Luke didn't wait to find out what had happened. He set out running for the house. Micah slung Vance up on his back and ran after Luke.
Nothing had ever taken Luke as long as it did to get to the house that day. He ran harder than he'd ever run in his life, even the time the sheriff had come for him, but still he seemed to get nowhere. His feet pounded across the dirt, and he strained forward, urging every ounce of speed from his legs. His breath whistled in and out of his lungs. His body was cold with fear despite the heat of the day, and all he could think was, "Sarah, Sarah."
When he reached the house, he took the porch steps two at a time and burst into the kitchen. He pulled up short. Sarah sat in a chair, and Julia knelt on the other side of her, holding her hand. Sarah's feet were up on the kitchen table, crossed. Her face was paper white, and the pale gold freckles across her nose and cheeks stuck out garishly.
There was blood all over her legs, all over her skirts, all over the floor.
The world jolted to a stop. "Sarah!"
Sarah opened her eyes. "Luke." Her voice was barely a whisper.
His insides went cold as ice. "What—" He dropped down beside her and looked across at Julia. He couldn't say the awful words crowding his throat. "Julie?"
Julia shook her head. "I don't know. She started bleeding a few minutes ago. She's bled a lot, but she hasn't been in any pain. We need to put her in bed. I—she was too weak to climb the stairs. And we need the doctor."
"I'll carry her. Then I'll go get Banks." His brain felt numb. He couldn't think. Oh, God. Sarah!
The screen door opened. Micah hesitated in the doorway. Luke turned to him with a rush of relief. "Micah. Can you ride a horse?"
"Sure. I done rode all my life."
"Go for Dr. Banks. Tell him Sarah needs him immediately. Take Jo-Jo; he's the fastest."
Micah nodded and turned, already out the door and headed down the steps. Julia came to the door after him and called, "The Banks house is the big white one on Main Street, about a block before downtown." Micah nodded without looking back as he loped into the barn.
Luke picked Sarah up tenderly, moving as if she were more fragile than glass. She leaned her head against his chest. He carried her slowly, carefully, out of the kitchen and up the stairs to their bedroom. Julia ran up before them to turn down the bed and cover one side with towels. Luke set Sarah down on the bed. She winced and breathed in sharply.
"I'm sorry. I tried not to hurt you."
Sarah shook her head. "No, it wasn't you." She looked from Luke to Julia and back. "I—it was a pain. Here." She laid her hand on her abdomen. Tears glistened in her eyes, and she spoke reluctantly, as if she could stave off what was happening by not admitting it. "I think it was a contraction."
Luke glanced at Julia. The worry was plain on her face. Sarah was losing the baby.
❧
It was glorious to be back on a horse. Micah smiled when he touched his heels to Jo-Jo's side and the gelding leapt forward. He urged the horse into a run, relishing the thrust of powerful muscles beneath him and the rush of air past his face. When the horse reached the main road, however, Micah slowed Jo-Jo's pace. No matter how urgent the matter, he couldn't run him all the way into town.
Micah supposed it was wrong to enjoy the ride, considering the reason for it. He felt sorry for Mrs. Turner. She was a kind lady, and there was a certain sparkle about her that was appealing. Micah liked her and her husband better than he'd ever liked any white people. It was obvious that she was in trouble. Her skirts had been soaked in blood. It'd practically kill Turner if anything happened to her. Even so, Micah couldn't help but enjoy the ride.
He passed a farmer in a wagon and farther down the road went around two men walking together. All of them stared at him as he rode past, and he knew they wondered what a black man was doing on a beautiful animal like that. They would suspect that he had stolen it. Wh
en he reached the edge of town, the number of stares increased. He rode past everyone without a glance, keeping his eyes straight ahead.
"Hey, boy!" someone called from the sidewalk. Micah gritted his teeth and pretended not to have heard. But the voice came again. "Hey, I'm talking to you."
Reluctantly Micah reined in and turned to look at the man who had called to him. He was a tall, spare man in a dark business suit. Micah carefully looked to the side of the man and down. "Yessir? Sorry, but I—"
"Where'd you get that horse? It looks familiar."
"It Mr. Luke Turner's horse. I work for him." The man hesitated, his face doubtful. "I got to go now. Mrs. Turner, she need the doctor bad."
The man turned away, still frowning, but he said nothing else, and Micah seized the opportunity to leave. He kicked the horse into a trot down Main Street.
It wasn't hard to find the Banks house. It was just as Julia had described it. To one side a smaller, one-story section jutted out from the house, and beside its door hung a small wooden sign that read "James R. Banks, M.D." Micah dismounted, tying the reins through the ring of a black wrought-iron hitching post. He ran up the narrow gravel path to the office door, knocked, and walked in.
A woman with a child and another, older woman were seated in the waiting room. They both turned, their eyes widening a little when they saw him. "'Or. Banks here? I need to see him, bad."
The older woman frowned. It was apparent she didn't find his manner satisfactory. People often didn't. Though in the recent past he had, through sheer self-preservation, adopted many of the mannerisms he saw in the blacks around him, he knew that there was something different in his stance and attitude. That was one reason he had found it comfortable around Luke Turner. Turner didn't seem to expect him to be anything but what he was.
"There's a door at the back of the house—" the woman began, but at that moment a man walked into the room from the back.
He looked at Micah inquiringly. "I'm Dr. Banks."
"It Mrs. Turner. Mrs. Luke Turner. She need you right away."
"What happened?" Already the doctor was rolling down his cuffs and reaching for his suit jacket on a hook on the wall.
"I don't know." Belatedly Micah remembered to add a "sir." "The boy called us in from the fields and when we get there, she be bleedin' a lot. Mr. Turner say to fetch you."
"I'll come immediately. I have to get my instruments." James started away, then turned back. "You rode, you say? Can you saddle a horse?"
"Yes."
"Good. Go to the stables behind the house and saddle the bay. I'll be there as quickly as I can."
Micah nodded and hurried out of the office. He cut across the front lawn to the drive on the other side and followed it down to a small carriage house and stables. Quickly he saddled and bridled the bay gelding and was leading it out when Dr. Banks joined him.
"Good. Thank you." James hooked his medical bag to the saddle horn and swung up into the saddle. He touched his heels to the horse's sides and trotted down the drive.
Micah went back to close the stall door, then started out of the stables, too. He stopped, his eyes on the driveway. The woman he had seen Saturday was strolling down the drive toward the stables. What was she doing in this part of town?
Micah crossed his arms and leaned against the doorway to look at her. She moved slowly, as though she was tired, and she rubbed the back of her neck with one hand. As he watched, she reached up to unfasten the top two buttons of her high-necked blouse, exposing the soft flesh of her throat down to the hollow. She undid her cuffs as well and rolled them up, then pulled the pins out of her hair. Her hair tumbled down in a thick black mass and she shook her head to settle it around her shoulders.
Desire sizzled through Micah. He had thought this woman was beautiful the other day, taut and restrained as she had been. With her hair wild around her face, she took his breath away. He must have made a sound, for she looked up. Her eyes fell on him, and she scowled as she hurried to refasten her blouse and sleeves.
"What are you doing here?" she snapped, pushing ineffectually at her thick, unruly hair.
"What you doing here?" he countered, grinning.
"I live here." She gestured toward the small house beside the carriage house.
Micah glanced at it. "The quarters? You work for the doctor?" A grin touched his lips. "You sure don't look like no maid."
"I'm not!" Her voice was crisp with irritation. "I teach school."
"I believe that."
"I live with my mother."
"Oh. And she's the maid."
"She is the Banks's cook and housekeeper and has been for the past twenty-five years."
He pursed his lips, amused. "La di da. Don't that make you high class? Not like the rest of us poor old niggers." He snatched off his hat and bent his head with mocking servitude.
The woman's mouth tightened. "Well, I'm certainly not like you. As I said, what are you doing here? If you want a job, I can tell you that Dr. Banks already has a gardener and handyman. If you want a meal, go to the back door of the main house, and my mother will give you a bowl of soup, I'm sure.
"I done got a job. Now, a meal with your mama sounds real nice, but not now." He gave her a little bow and set the hat back on his head. "Good afternoon, miss."
Dovie glared at him, and he gazed blandly back at her as he sauntered past. He could feel her watching him all the way down the drive and across the lawn to where Jo-Jo was hitched. He didn't mind her seeing him mount the big horse, and he couldn't resist lifting his hat to her as he rode past the driveway.
❧
"Where the hell is that doctor!" Luke strode to the front window of the bedroom, then back to Sarah's bedside. "What's the matter with him? Why doesn't he come?"
"Luke, please." Julia leaned over Sarah and wiped away the sweat from her brow. "It hasn't been long. There hasn't been enough time for Micah to have gotten to town and for Ji—Dr. Banks to have ridden back."
Luke glanced at the clock on the dresser. Julia was right. Even if Micah and Banks both rode quickly, he couldn't have gotten here this soon. And what if Banks hadn't been in when Micah got there? What if he was out tending to another patient? Micah would have had to chase him down. It could be another hour, even more. He looked at Julia with agonized eyes. Julia looked back at him, her gaze strong and steady. He knew what she was telling him: Calm down. You'll upset Sarah.
"I'm sorry. Of course, there hasn't been enough time." Luke sat down on the bed beside Sarah and took her hand. It clenched tightly around his.
Sarah clamped her jaw together. A little whimpering sound escaped her lips. It tore Luke apart. She was having another contraction. They'd been coming steadily for an hour. Now they were almost one right after the other. Sarah's hair was lank and damp with sweat, her face ghostly pale. She had chewed her bottom lip almost raw, and there were deep red scratches in Luke's hand where her nails had dug in during the pains. Luke felt her agony all through him.
But even her anguish wasn't as bad as the blood. She just kept on bleeding! Luke glanced down at Sarah's legs. There was blood all over the towels and sheets. How could there be so much blood in her? How could she continue to lose it and still live?
"Luke?" Sarah's voice was pitifully thin. Her eyes were closed and she breathed in quick, shallow pants. "Luke, it hurts."
"Oh, Sarah. Sarah." Tears sprang into his eyes. "Sweetheart, I—" If only he could do something! He felt so awful, so helpless, just sitting here watching her suffer.
"Please, get the doctor. I need the doctor."
"I know. Micah went to fetch him. He's on his way."
"Promise?"
"I promise."
"It hurts."
"I know it does." Her face contorted with pain, and she moaned. "It's all right, sweetheart. Let it out. Scream."
Sarah's jaw jutted out and she shook her head. "I won't scream. I'm not—"
"—the kind of woman who screams," Luke finished for her. "I know. But there'
s nobody here to think badly of you for yelling. Hell, if it was me, I'd probably shout the house down."
A faint smile touched Sarah's lips, and her hand relaxed in bis as the contraction faded. But her face was still drawn, and Luke knew the pain hadn't receded entirely.
"It's so different from last time," she mumbled, wetting her lips.
"I know."
Julia bent over Sarah again and placed a damp rag between her lips. "Here, this will help that thirst."
Sarah nodded gratefully and sucked on the rag. Julia went back to her task of knotting strips of rags together. When she had finished two long, braided strips, she tied them around the foot posts of the bed. Then she wiped Sarah's face again. Her voice was low and soothing. "The doctor should be here soon."
Sarah nodded. Her eyes opened suddenly. "Emily?" She tried to lift her head.
"She's fine. Bonnie and Vance are looking after her. Don't worry about her. I told them to stay down by the barn. She won't hear anything."
"Thank you. Oh!" Sarah tightened as a fresh wave of pain hit her.
Julia stepped back, patting Luke's shoulder as she passed. He gripped Sarah's hand, willing strength into her. He wanted to somehow grab this enemy that was hurting her and beat it to a pulp. He wanted to run. He couldn't bear the sight of Sarah in pain. But this was the only thing he could do for her, so he made himself stand it. He thought he'd rather be eight years old and facing his father's belt again.
There was a noise out front, and Julia hurried to the window to look out. "It's him!" Relief sounded in her voice. "I'll let him in."
She flew down the stairs and yanked open the front door. James was getting off his horse. He looked strong and capable. "Jimmy! Thank God you're here." All awkwardness at seeing him again fled in the face of her relief.
James looked at her. He couldn't quell a funny little leap in his chest at the sight of her, even under the circumstances. "Julie. How is she? What happened? The hired hand said she was bleeding." He grabbed his bag and trotted up the steps to her.
