He set a bowl full of milk with a few eggs cracked into it on the other side of the barn aisle for Bing. The dog wagged his tail as he lapped up his breakfast. He glanced up when the barn door squeaked.
“Mornin’, Jim,” he said as his top hired man stepped inside.
“Mornin’, J.B.” The man grinned at him and pointed to the buckets of milk and two baskets of eggs sitting near the door. “Looks like you got an early start.”
“Couldn’t sleep.” J.B. motioned to the eggs and milk. “Since the ground isn’t yet frozen, I was thinking we could work on building more fence today.”
“I was thinking the same thing,” Jim said, lifting a bucket of milk and a basket of eggs. “As soon as it’s light out, we can get started. Gonna be cold out today.”
“I noticed that earlier.” J.B. picked up the remaining milk and eggs then followed Jim outside. He pushed the barn door closed then glanced up at the murky color beginning to lighten the sky. In another hour or so, it would be daylight and they could get to work on the fence. J.B. hoped to have the pasture all the way to the road fenced in before the ground froze. He’d ordered enough poles to build miles and miles of fence. He’d read that men were working on a new wire with barbs to keep livestock in, but he couldn’t imagine it taking the place of a sturdy pole fence.
“That frost is sure thick this morning,” Jim observed as he took a few steps toward the bunkhouse.
Now that the sky was beginning to lighten, J.B. could see white spikes of frost coating every surface. It looked like a winter wonderland had stolen in during the night and draped the world in a jagged layer of white. He imagined it would be spectacular to see when the sun rose and shone on all those particles of frost. He’d grinned, thinking about next year when he could wrap Grace in a blanket and bring her out to see it. Would she giggle and coo at the sight?
“I bet it’ll look mighty pretty in the sunlight,” J.B. said, grinning at Jim. “You go on and have breakfast and we’ll get started in about an hour.”
“Yes, sir,” Jim said, hurrying toward the bunkhouse.
J.B. watched as a light flickered then glowed from the bedroom he shared with Nora. Although she was normally up earlier, he was glad she got a few extra minutes of sleep. Now that Grace was sleeping through most nights, Nora had been able to catch up on some much-needed rest. He had no idea a tiny baby would require so much time, but he didn’t begrudge a single minute they’d spent with Grace. In truth, it had been hard for him to get any work done the first month after her arrival. All he’d wanted to do was sit with Nora and touch the tiny miracle they had created together.
Lost in his thoughts, he jerked, spilling milk on his boots when an unearthly scream cut through the early morning silence. He looked around, wondering if a wild cat lurked in the darkness. It wasn’t until a second scream sliced across the yard that he realized the sound came not from an animal, but the house. From Nora.
J.B. dropped the milk and eggs and raced to the house, taking the porch steps in one leap. He opened the kitchen door to find Nora holding the baby to her, sobbing like the world had ended. What on earth could have happened while he’d been outside?
“Nora, what is it? What’s wrong?” J.B. placed his hands on Nora’s arms. She was so hysterical she couldn’t even speak.
Fear clawed up from his gut and J.B. knew something had happened to the baby. “Nora!” he snapped, hoping she’d come back to her senses as he yanked off his gloves.
“Help Grace,” she sobbed, holding the baby out to him. “Help her!”
J.B. took his tiny daughter in his big hands, startled to see her lips bore a bluish tint. Her body felt cold, although she was wrapped tightly in a blanket. She wasn’t breathing.
“Gracie,” J.B. choked, uncertain what to do. He turned her over and patted her back, hoping it would encourage her to breathe.
Nothing.
Growing frantic, J.B. looked up when Jim and the other men ran into the kitchen through the open door.
“Send someone for the doctor,” J.B. said then turned his focus back to his baby as Jim ordered one of the hands to ride into town and not come back until he found the doctor.
J.B. tried turning Grace upside down, tossing her in the air, even pressing with two fingers on her tummy, determined to get her to take a breath.
Jim placed a hand on J.B.’s shoulder. “I don’t think…”
“No, she’ll be fine. She has to be,” J.B. said, shaking his head and shrugging off Jim’s hand. He bounced the baby in his arms, ignoring her lax body and alarming stillness.
Unable to admit the truth, to admit defeat, J.B. removed his coat and hat, then paced back and forth across the kitchen. Nora buried her face in her hands and fell to her knees, continuing to cry.
Quietly, Jim motioned the remaining hand to leave then closed the door behind them, leaving J.B. and Nora alone in the kitchen.
It seemed like days since he’d raced into the house, but it was likely closer to an hour when he heard pounding hoofbeats and a shout as Henry arrived with the doctor.
Jim pushed open the door and Doctor Reed rushed inside.
Without a word of greeting, the doctor took Grace from J.B. and laid her on the table. He unwrapped her blankets, pressed a hand to her chest, then bent down with his ear next to her nose. He took a stethoscope from his bag and listened to her chest, slowly put it away, then shook his head.
J.B. reached down and lifted Nora to her feet, knowing whatever the doctor said was going to require more strength than she had left to give. He slipped his arm around her, waiting for the doctor to say what he already knew.
“She’s gone. There’s nothing I can do for her,” the doctor said in a soft voice as he gently swaddled the blanket around Grace’s still form. “This happens sometimes with babies, for no reason or explanation. They can be fine one moment and gone the next. I’m so sorry.”
Nora’s wail pierced J.B.’s heart and he pulled her to his chest. Pain unlike anything he’d ever experienced washed over him, threatening to pull him back into the blackness he’d fought so hard to conquer after the war. A darkness Nora had helped dispel.
He held her tighter as her tears dampened his shirt, unable to accept the fact his beloved baby girl was gone.
Chapter Two
Snow dusted the ground, but stinging needles of sleet fell from a sky the same gunmetal hue as Nora’s glazed eyes.
The mourners who gathered in the cemetery in Pendleton for Grace’s funeral huddled together, seeking warmth and solace.
J.B. hoped with the sleet on his face, no one would notice the cold crystals mingled with his tears. He stood with one hand clenched into a fist, the other wrapped around Nora, trying to offer her strength he no longer possessed.
As the pastor spoke a few words over Grace’s grave, J.B.’s mind trailed to what had happened yesterday morning.
After spending almost an hour holding Grace and rocking her, he’d left her tucked beneath her blankets in her cradle and gone out to chore. He’d returned to the house two hours later when Nora’s screams had alerted him to the fact something tragic had happened.
From what little he’d gotten out of Nora, she’d awakened, dressed, and then gone into the kitchen. After adding wood to the stove and putting a kettle of water on to heat, she turned to pick up Grace only to find her limp and lifeless. Nora must have known she was gone the moment she screamed, but she still refused to admit their daughter was dead.
Doctor Reed shared the news with their neighbors and the man sent the pastor out to meet with them. If Mrs. Erickson and Mrs. Tooley hadn’t come to help, J.B. wasn’t sure they would have gotten the baby’s body pried out of Nora’s clasp so they could bury her.
Jim built a tiny little casket for Grace and Mrs. Tooley had provided a piece of pink velvet to line the bottom of it.
J.B. hated the thought of putting his little girl in that pine box, but he’d done it while Nora begged him to give Grace back to her. She’d cried and pleaded,
then resorted to pounding his back before collapsing at his feet.
He’d finally taken the casket out to the barn and asked Jim to keep watch over Grace while he saw to Nora.
Thankfully, the Erickson family arrived early that morning. While Einar and little Erik assisted with the chores, Mrs. Erickson had somehow coaxed Nora into taking a bath. The kind woman had helped Nora dress in a dark blue dress and styled her hair.
J.B. hoped Nora didn’t plan on wearing full mourning again. He couldn’t stand it. And in her fragile state, he was sure Nora couldn’t endure it either.
He’d questioned Doctor Reed about what had claimed Grace’s life. The physician tried to explain that any number of things could happen to babies before they reached a full year.
The doctor wasn’t much older than J.B. and he doubted the man had enough experience to make a solid diagnosis. J.B. wanted a specific reason as to what happened.
Part of him wondered if he was at fault. What if it was because of the way he’d placed Grace back in the cradle? Had she gotten too warm after he stoked the stove? Had he covered her face with the blanket and not noticed?
No, he knew he hadn’t done that. Still, he couldn’t help feel as though he was to blame. He was the last one who’d seen the baby alive. The last one to hold her and kiss her little head, to smooth her downy, dark hair.
Sorrow threatened to shut off his air supply as it constricted his throat and burned throughout his chest. How could this happen to Grace? How would they ever move past such unbearable grief?
J.B. had no answers to his many questions. He shut his eyes as the pastor offered a prayer before Grace’s casket was lowered into the ground. The moment the first shovel of dirt hit the wooden box, Nora broke away from him and dropped to the ground, sobbing as she tried to reach into the hole.
“I want my baby! Give me back my baby. Please, let me have Grace.” Nora begged, although he was uncertain to whom she pleaded. “Please? Bring her back!”
J.B. went to his wife and lifted her up. Nora struggled against him, but he managed to carry her over to their wagon. He set her up on the seat and glanced behind him at the handful of people watching them.
Finally, Pastor Whitting, a man who appeared too young to be able to shave, walked over to them. “Would it be any help if I came and sat with you folks for a while?”
“Probably not today, Pastor. Maybe you could check on us in a day or two.” J.B. tipped his head to the young man then those who’d attended the funeral, including his ranch hands who’d ridden their own horses into town. “Thank you all for coming.”
“The church ladies have prepared a meal. You’ll join us, won’t you?” Pastor Whitting asked.
J.B. wanted to refuse, but he couldn’t. Not when everyone had been so kind, doing what they could to offer assistance when there was nothing in the world that would make things any better. He glanced at the pastor. “We’ll be there.”
“Good.” Pastor Whitting nodded once then walked away. He said something to the man J.B. had paid to dig the grave and then fill it in.
Soon, the crowd dispersed. Although the church was within easy walking distance of the cemetery, J.B. chose to drive there.
Nora had stopped crying and sat stone-faced on the bench beside him. The front of her coat, where she’d knelt at the grave, was covered with mud. Under normal circumstances, she would have been fussing about the dirt on her clothes, but nothing had been normal since Grace’s death.
Summoning every bit of the strength he had left to face their neighbors and friends, J.B. parked the wagon. He led Nora inside the church where several of the women had worked to prepare a hot meal. The food was warm and filling. On any other day, J.B. would have enjoyed both the luncheon and the companionship. Today, everything he ate tasted bland and he had to work to swallow each bite past the lump in his throat.
Nora shoved food around on her plate with a vacant look in her eyes. Even when her brother shot Charlie, he hadn’t seen her so mired in despair. He wanted to do something to ease the ache in her heart, but he had no idea what.
Besides, didn’t she have every right to grieve? Their child had died. It was more than any heart should have to bear to lose a little one.
In need of solitude, J.B. rose and thanked the women who’d prepared the meal, the pastor, the doctor, and their neighbors. He placed a hand under Nora’s elbow and half-carried her out the door to their wagon.
She didn’t utter a sound on the trip home. Generally, she was full of chatter, but her silence echoed the desolation he felt. The sleet turned into snow and it fell in earnest before they reached the ranch. By the time he stopped at the end of the walk in front of the house, Nora was shivering so hard, her teeth were chattering, but she still didn’t say a word.
J.B. hopped off the wagon and reached up to help her, but she shrank away from him. Slowly, she climbed down then trudged to the house with her skirts dragging in the snow-covered mud.
After taking care of the team, he lingered in the barn longer than necessary. He knew Jim and the men would see to the chores, but he needed a few moments alone. A few moments to unburden his grief and let his emotions flow unchecked.
Finally, he wiped away the tears he’d shed, blew his nose, and made his way to the house. It was cold and quiet when he entered. He stoked the fire in the kitchen stove then built one in the fireplace in the parlor. After removing his coat, he pulled the kettle to a warm part of the stove, thinking Nora might like a cup of tea.
With nothing else to occupy his time, he went in search of his wife. With only the parlor, kitchen, their bedroom and a second room they’d planned to turn into a nursery for Grace when she was bigger, it wasn’t hard to find her
Curled on her side on their bed, Nora still wore her coat, hat, and muddy shoes. In her hands, she clutched a pink blanket she’d knit for the baby.
“Nora?” J.B. asked, not knowing what to do to help her.
When she didn’t move, didn’t answer him, J.B. removed her shoes and hat, then her coat. Nora didn’t acknowledge his presence, hardly even blinked. She wasn’t crying, just staring into space as she clutched the baby blanket to her.
She didn’t protest when he began unfastening her dress. It didn’t take long before he had her dressed in one of her warm flannel nightgowns, tucked beneath the covers of the bed.
He left her alone, closing the bedroom door when he returned to the kitchen.
Mr. and Mrs. Erickson stopped on their way home, leaving food the women in town had sent with them.
“I can stay with her, if it would help,” Anna Erickson offered as they prepared to leave.
“No, I think Nora just needs time,” J.B. said, engulfed in sorrow. “It might help, though, if you would take the cradle with you.”
“Of course,” Anna said, offering him a sympathetic look.
J.B. retrieved it from the bedroom where he’d moved it out of view. Einar loaded it in their wagon then the family waved as they left.
With a sigh, J.B. closed the door and returned to the silent house and his grief.
Chapter Three
Nora rolled onto her side, away from the sunlight streaming in the bedroom window. She squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself to go back to sleep. In slumber, she didn’t have to face the reality that her world had forever changed and might never feel right again.
She couldn’t accept the fact her precious, beautiful baby girl was dead. Grace had been the most wonderful gift Nora had ever received. She couldn’t be gone.
Nora knew she would eventually have to deal with life again, but today wasn’t the day. Not when her heart felt as though it had been broken into a million jagged pieces. Part of her hoped if she got up and walked into the kitchen, Grace would be there in the cradle by the stove.
J.B. had been the one to suggest they set the cradle near the stove before they went to bed so Grace would stay warm during the cold nights. That terrible day, he’d been the one who got up early and shut the door. If Grace h
ad been there in the room with Nora, would she have heard the baby struggling to breathe? Would she have been able to save her from whatever had claimed her life?
Eager to have someone to blame, it was easy to point a finger at her husband. He’d been the last one to hold sweet Grace, to breathe in her heavenly fragrance, to kiss her delicate little head.
Tears dripped down Nora’s cheeks as she recalled every detail of Grace’s lovely face. Grace had been born on a day so sweltering Nora thought she might suffocate from the intensity of the heat and that was before her labor started. J.B. had sent Jim into town for the doctor and by that evening, she’d held her baby in her arms.
Grace had marked her entry into the world with a loud wail. Nora supposed the baby inherited more than just her dark hair. Grace had a temper like her mother, but she was a good baby. One who didn’t cry often and was easy to get to sleep. J.B. had proclaimed her perfect and Nora readily agreed. From her rosebud lips to each tiny finger and toe, Grace was perfectly formed, perfectly wonderful.
And now she’d never hold her sweet baby girl again.
A sob caught in Nora’s throat. It just couldn’t be true. Not when Nora treasured her baby so much, loved her so completely.
Barely able to remember anything that happened from the moment she’d discovered Grace not breathing in her cradle, Nora knew there had been a funeral, but she couldn’t recall any details. Vague memories of J.B. getting her up and dressed, and taking her with him to the Tooley’s place for Thanksgiving dinner made her wonder what day it was.
She wiped her eyes on the edge of the sheet and sat up. Through the open curtain she could see sunshine glinting off snow. Had there been snow on the ground the last time she looked outside? She had no idea. It was as though she’d stopped living, merely surviving, since the day Grace died. Right now, she wasn’t sure if she wanted to keep on living. It hurt too much to exist in a world without her baby.
Gift of Grace Page 3
