The Shotgun Proposal

by Barbara Goss

  Toward the end of Elsa’s confinement, she found it difficult to move around, and with it being icy outside, she stayed indoors so she wouldn’t fall. Instead of going to church, they had a service at home.

  They were having dinner one night when Elsa dropped her fork and gasped.

  “What is it, Elsa?” Rance asked with concern.

  “I feel something—not pain, but slight cramping,” she said.

  “I’ll run into town and get the doctor.”

  “Nein, Rance, maybe ist nothing,” but she held her stomach and gasped again. Rance noted her lapse in German, too. Whenever she got upset or excited she tended to revert to German.

  “Clara, take care of Elsa. I’m going for the doctor.”

  Rance left in spite of the snow and icy trails.

  Elsa felt better and she told Clara, “Maybe it’s nothing.”

  “It pays to be careful. It's close to your time, dear. Let’s go upstairs now, while you can still manage the stairs.”

  As they climbed the steps, Elsa suddenly grabbed the railing and doubled up in pain. “Oh, ist something, for sure, Clara.”

  Clara helped her to the top of the stairs and led her to the bedroom. She helped her into a nightgown, put a folded blanket on the sheet where Elsa would lay, and patted it to indicate she should lay down.

  “You helped bring baby before?” Elsa asked.

  “No, but I've watched a few being born. My mother had twelve children, and I was number eight,” Clara said. “I’m going down now to boil some water. You relax, and when a pain comes, try to be calm and let it come. Don’t fight it.”

  When Clara came back with the boiling water and clean rags, she opened a e drawer in the smaller dresser in the room and removed a baby nightgown, a flannel rag, and a blanket. “We may need these,” she said. During the past few months Clara, Elsa, and Marta had cut and trimmed flannel clothes to make diapers and blankets for the baby. Rance had made a cradle, and had ordered an iron crib from a catalog. It wouldn’t arrive for weeks, but they'd use the cradle in the meantime.

  Elsa yearned for Rance to be there with her as she writhed in pain. She’d feel so much better if only he were there to hold her hand.

  Clara sat by her side and held her hand. Marta poked her head in from time to time to see how her sister was faring.

  When the pains became unbearable, Rance rushed into the room with a doctor. He introduced him as Dr. Bullock, but all Elsa wanted was her husband and she grabbed his hand. “Stay with me,” she said.

  He sat beside the bed and held her hand. “Does it hurt very much?” he asked. His forehead showed lines of concern.

  “It hurts, but result will be good.” She smiled at him and squeezed his hand. “I need you with me.”

  “Of course I’ll be here for you. This is our child,” Rance said. “I just wish I could share the pain with you. I hate to see you like this. I’m praying it will be short-lived.”

  Rance looked up at the doctor and saw him shaking his head. “Can I speak to you in the hall?” the doctor said.

  Rance nodded and felt suddenly sick to his stomach. Something was wrong.

  “Sweetheart, I’ll be right back,” he said and kissed her on the lips.

  He followed the doctor into the hall and looked at him with raised eyebrows.

  “The baby is upside down,” Bullock said. “It’s supposed to be born head first, not backside first.”

  “What? Can you fix it? You must!” Rance felt a panic attack coming on. “Please, do something!”

  “I can try to turn the baby, but it might cause even more discomfort for your wife. I could let the baby be born backside first, but there’s a good chance the cord will wrap around its neck and he or she will be born dead.”

  Rance felt powerless. If the doctor said it couldn’t be fixed, what could they do?

  “Are you a praying man?” the doctor asked.

  Rance recalled that this was the second time a doctor had asked him that, but this time the situation was past praying. On second thought, nothing was past praying. That baby could be turned around if God wanted it to be turned.

  “I am,” Rance said. “And God will turn that baby around. Please, do what you can. I’ll be praying.”

  “All right. You understand why it needed it to be your decision?” Dr. Bullock asked.

  Rance nodded.

  “I want you to know it could…it could kill your wife if it doesn’t go well. Or we could let the babe be born this way and risk having it die. It has to be your call,” the doctor said.

  “Let me ask my wife. She's still new to English so I’m going to get my housekeeper to speak to her in German to be sure she fully understands. I need her to be in agreement with whatever we decide.”

  Rance went back into the room, kissed his wife, and sat down, recapturing her hand. “Clara's coming in to explain what’s happening. She can explain it better than I.”

  “It’s not good?” she asked.

  He saw fear in her eyes, which made his own eyes sting with unshed tears. He kissed her forehead. “We just need to pray, Elsa, the way I taught you. Then you must give your life to God and let him decide. All of our lives are in God’s hands.

  "While we’re waiting for Clara, we’ll pray together.”

  Rance led Elsa in prayer as she gave her life over to God, while the doctor explained the situation to Clara out in the hallway. Rance also prayed his wife would be strong enough to make a wise decision.

  Clara came in and Rance stood, giving her his seat, still holding onto Elsa's hand. Every so often she’d stiffen in pain, but she smiled at her husband after each pain subsided. He knew she did that so he wouldn't worry—his face must have shown worry lines with each pain.

  As Clara explained the situation, Rance studied his wife’s face for a hint of her feelings, and squeezed her hand. When Clara was finished explaining everything to her, she looked up at Rance and said, “God will turn. We keep praying.”

  He was never so proud of her as at that moment. Then another pain gripped her, and she groaned before smiling back up at Rance.

  “If I could take your pain, I would, sweetheart.”

  “I know,” she replied.

  Clara left the room to relate the problem to Marta and boil more water, as the water she'd brought up earlier had cooled.

  Rance sat back down on the chair and kissed Elsa’s hand. “Together we’ll get through this, but I promise you, you'll never have to suffer like this again. I'll find a way to love you without making a baby. I promise.”

  The doctor started his maneuvering of the baby externally, trying to make the baby do a sort of somersault, as he'd explained. He twisted and turned her stomach, bringing even more pain and discomfort to Elsa.

  “Doctor, can't you give her something for the pain?”

  “I’m sorry, but anything I give her will go straight through the umbilical cord to the baby,” he said.

  Rance felt his stomach twisting in knots as he watched the love of his life suffering. He held onto her hand and prayed like he’d never prayed before, crying out to God for help to turn that baby.

  Clara bustled in and out, assisting the doctor and bringing him the things he needed.

  “So far, both heartbeats are strong,” the doctor reported.

  “Did you hear that, sweetheart? The doctor said your heart and the baby’s heart are both strong and good.”

  “Good,” she said, before gripping his hand in pain.

  Rance watched the doctor pushing and pulling on Elsa's stomach and with each twist he made, Elsa groaned.

  “Can I help in any way?” he asked the doctor.

  “It’s no use—the baby won’t turn. I’m sorry. I tried,” the doctor said, wiping the perspiration from his forehead with his handkerchief.

  Rance felt the bottom falling out from his world. Was it God’s will to give him a wonderful wife only to take her away? Had He given them a baby, just so it could die? No. He kept praying.

&n
bsp; “I have no choice but to pull the baby out the way it is. It'll save your wife, but maybe not the baby. I’m so sorry.” The doctor washed his hands in the hot water Clara had provided.

  “Can I try?” Rance asked.

  The doctor stepped back and gave him a wave to go ahead.

  Rance probed Elsa’s belly until he could feel the baby. He stroked it gently, and then whispered to the baby, “Please turn for us,” and he began to massage the baby to try to turn it, stopping to kiss the baby in between, praying for God’s help all the while.

  Miraculously, he felt the baby move. He looked up at Dr. Bullock and said, “It moved a bit.”

  The doctor felt Elsa’s belly, then he checked her internally and said, “I can feel the baby’s feet. He or she wants to come out feet first., We’ll have to take the chance and do it quickly. There are two main things that could happen to a baby born this way, but it’s better than the backside coming out first.

  "I’m going to do it,” Dr. Bullock said. “It’s our only chance, and you made it happen, Rance. Keep praying. I’m going to try to get this baby out alive.”

  Chapter 17

  Quicker than Rance had thought possible, the doctor pulled out a pink-tinged baby who immediately started to cry.

  “Praise the Lord,” the doctor said as he handed the baby to Clara, who was waiting with a warm blanket. “You have a beautiful baby daughter.”

  Rance squeezed Elsa’s hand, but she just lay there, pale and lifeless. “Doctor! Something’s wrong with Elsa. Do something!”

  “I can’t. I’m still trying to stop her bleeding.”

  “Dear Lord,” Clara mumbled as she washed the baby.

  “Elsa!” Rance cried out. He picked her up and held her to his chest. “Don’t leave me!”

  Rance gazed down at the doctor. “You said if we got the baby out, she’d be okay.”

  “She would be, ordinarily, but she’s losing too much blood. I think I’m getting it under control. It’s not as bad as it was,” Bullock said. “Keep praying.”

  Rance eased Elsa down onto the bed, fell to his knees, and prayed out loud. He didn’t care who heard him. He couldn’t lose his precious wife. The baby cried in the background while Clara rocked it, but he didn’t care about the baby—his concern was to save Elsa. He beseeched God to save his wife. “Lord,” he said, “you gave me the perfect wife. Please, don’t take her from me. I believe you hear me, Lord. I know Your son died on the cross for my sins, and I thank Him for that, every day, but please, grant me this request: let Elsa—sweet, innocent Elsa live!” By now, tears were streaming down Rance’s face.

  He stood, wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, and looked at the doctor.

  “Will she make it, doc?” he asked.

  “I’ve managed to stop the bleeding, but she’s lost a lot. She can pull through, though. It’s all up to God, now. I’ve done all I can.” Dr. Bullock cleaned Elsa up the best he could and then he checked on the baby.

  “You have a healthy daughter. She’s beautiful, just like her mother,” the doctor said.

  “Are you sure Elsa will live?” Rance asked.

  “I can’t guarantee it, but it’s my opinion she will,” Bullock said.

  Only then did Rance cross the room to peek at his daughter. He touched her cheek. She really was beautiful, just as he’d pictured a daughter from Elsa would be. She had ebony fuzz on her head and blue eyes. “Wait until Elsa sees her. May I hold her, Clara?”

  Clara held the baby out to Rance. It was the first time he’d ever held a baby, and he first put his hands out one way, and then another. “Wait,” he said. He sat down in the chair beside Elsa and held out both arms. Clara handed him the baby. Rance looked at her and knew he was looking at a miracle. He thanked God, but he was still worried about Elsa.

  The doctor checked Elsa’s vitals and shrugged. “She should be coming around. She’ll be tired and weak, but she’ll bounce back, soon enough. He turned to Clara and said, “Give her a lot of foods high in iron, like meat, seafood, beans, spinach, raisins, and peas.”

  “I’ll let Marta know she’s all right, and then I’ll start making her a spinach pie,” Clara said as she rushed from the room.

  Rance simply sat and stared at his daughter, amazed. God had given him yet another beautiful woman to love. He kissed the baby’s forehead.

  The doctor took Elsa’s pulse, and she started to moan. She turned her head to where she knew Rance would be sitting and smiled.

  “I did good?”

  “You did wonderfully!” He stood and laid their daughter on the bed beside her. “Look how beautiful she is!”

  “She? But you wanted boy,” she said.

  “I wouldn’t trade this angel for all the boys in the world. Men always think they want a boy, but I just realized, sitting here staring at her, what a lovely gift a daughter is.”

  Elsa smiled. “So tired.”

  “Sleep. I’ll take care of our daughter. I won’t leave you,” Rance said.

  “Good,” she said with a tired smile.

  “I love you, wife.”

  “I love you, husband.” Elsa’s eyes drooped and then closed and she was asleep.

  The doctor was napping in the spare room as he’d agreed to stay overnight to check on Elsa's recovery.

  After a while, Rance’s arms grew numb, so he gently laid the baby in the cradle he’d made (Clara and Marta had made a liner for it, so the baby had a soft pad beneath her), removed his boots, and lay down beside his wife. He put his arm around her and she cuddled against his chest. He made sure that in his happiness and relief, that he didn’t forget to thank God for answering his prayers. That made him wonder: what if God’s will had been to take Elsa or the baby? He’d have had to accept it, but it would have been painful. Rance knew how fortunate he was, because not all prayers are answered the way we’d like for them to be.

  Elsa awoke and felt comforted by her husband’s strong arm around her. She felt weak and tired, but she wished to have another look at her baby. She thanked God it was over and that they’d both survived. She turned to face Rance, and his eyes immediately opened.

  “You’re awake!” he said.

  “Yes. I want to see our daughter again,” she said.

  “I’ll get her.” Rance rolled off the side of the bed, picked up the cradle, and moved it to the side of the bed so Elsa could watch her baby.

  He walked around to his side of the bed and lay beside Elsa, once again. He put his arm around her and rested his head on her shoulder and they both watched the baby sleep with her little fisted hands beside her head.

  “I wonder how soon I should feed her,” Elsa said.

  “The doctor will tell you. He’s resting in the spare room.”

  “What will we name her, husband?”

  “Anna,” he said, without hesitation.

  Elsa’s heart felt as though it had dropped from her chest to her feet. “Anna?”

  “Yes. She's beautiful, and Anna's a beautiful name.”

  Elsa knew she should have asked him long ago about Anna: Who was she? Was she an old lover? She knew it wasn’t his mother’s name. She felt the urge to ask him now, but she felt too tired to get into a serious discussion so she let it go and pretended to sleep, but she couldn’t relax with it on her mind.

  The next morning, the doctor showed Elsa how to feed the baby. She still hadn’t agreed to the name Anna. She disliked it, since it made her feel strangely disconnected from Rance. He had a life she didn’t know anything about, one that she wasn’t a part of, and now, he wanted to bring a memory from it into their lives. It didn’t feel right.

  Rance went outside to do work for a while, and when Clara came in, Elsa patted the chair beside her bed.

  “Clara, who is Anna?”

  “Are you all right, Elsa? It’s your daughter’s name. Rance said you two had named her last night.” Clara sat down on the chair.

  “I’m good. I just wonder where he got the name. Do you know anyone with
that name?”

  Clara put her finger to her cheek. “Let me think. There’s a woman at church named Anna, but I don’t think she’s important to Rance since she’s about eighty. Wait! I think Wade Sommers has an older sister named Anna; she’s the oldest in the family. I believe she married a minister and moved to Selena or Abilene.

  “I had a sister named Annabelle, but that’s all I can think of at the moment.”

  “Was Rance close to Anna Sommers?” she asked.

  “I don’t know. I’ve only been with Rance for a year and a half.” Clara patted Elsa’s shoulder. “Now, don’t you worry. The name's probably just a favorite of his. I had the name, Arthur, picked out if I’d had a baby boy, and Sarah Ann for a girl, but I wasn’t so fortunate. When I saw what you went through, I was a bit relieved. You really suffered, Elsa.”

  “It’s already forgotten and I'm looking forward to the next baby,” she said.

  Rance stopped in every so often to kiss her and Anna. He called the baby that all the time, yet he hadn't even asked Elsa if she approved of the name.

  She was afraid to ask Rance about the name he’d called out after he'd been shot because she was afraid it would change their relationship, and she couldn’t bear to have anything come between them. She treasured the love and attention Rance had bestowed on her. Sometimes she thought she was being silly to let it bother her. In fact, she’d forgotten all about it until he'd brought up the name again. She knew, without a doubt, that he loved her, so why was she so worried about it?

  At mealtime, Rance carried a tray upstairs so they could eat together. Anna was still awake after they ate and he laid the baby on the bed so they could both admire her. She was a delightful baby, and only cried when she was hungry. Elsa had no problems feeding her, and she ate hardily. Elsa let Rance burp her so he wouldn’t feel left out, since he couldn’t feed her.

  She loved the way he looked at the baby, like he was seeing a miracle; he was in awe of her.