They Called Her Mrs. Doc. (17 page)

Cassandra continued to receive letters from home, which she always answered immediately. If her mother detected a change in her attitude over the months, she did not make comment. Cassandra herself did not realize how much difference her submission to God and her friendship with Virginia was influencing her outlook on life.

When Cassandra’s turn came to deliver, Samuel was making a house call in the country. Though Cassandra did not know exactly where he was, she had been given strict instructions to get word to Morris at the drugstore via one of the neighbor children, should she feel the least twinge of labor. Unknown to her, Samuel carefully reported his whereabouts to Morris several times during the day so that he could always be found quickly.

Cassandra waited until she was sure the pains were actual contractions, then walked the short distance to the neighbor’s house.

“I think the time has come,” she said simply when the woman answered her knock. The lady nodded and turned to call, “Jake. Jake, ya there?”

A boy answered.

“Run on down to the drugstore and let Mr. Foigt know it’s time.”

Cassandra heard the back door slam before she even turned from the front door.

“Thank you,” she called over her shoulder, but Mrs. Hardy was right at her elbow.

“How far apart?’ she asked Cassandra.

Cassandra frowned. She wasn’t sure what the woman was talking about.

“How far apart are the contractions?” asked the woman again.

“Well, they are about from here to here,” replied Cassandra, indicating the area on her broad abdomen.

Mrs. Hardy began to laugh.

“I meant, how many minutes apart,” she corrected.

Cassandra flushed. “I—I don’t know. I haven’t paid any heed,” she admitted.

“Well, we’ll time ’em,” said the woman as she purposefully took Cassandra’s arm to assist her in climbing the steps to her home.

They were barely settled in Cassandra’s bedroom when the next contraction came. Mrs. Hardy laid a hand on Cassandra’s tightened stomach. “Nice and strong,” she said, seeming pleased.

Cassandra laid back against the pillow when the contraction ended. She wasn’t sure that she shared the pleasure. The pain had been quite sharp.

She relaxed again and was content to allow Mrs. Hardy help her slip out of her dress and into a comfortable nightgown. Then the woman busied herself about the room, making Cassandra feel strangely comforted and uncomfortable at the same time.

The comfort came because the woman was company and also because she seemed so relaxed, so knowledgeable about what should be done. The uneasiness came because she seemed to be preparing for a delivery—and Samuel was to be present for that. Cassandra began to fret that Samuel might not make it home after all.

But he did. He arrived breathless and flushed. She knew by his face that this was a bit different for the young professional. This was his wife. His baby.

“How are you?” he asked Cassandra, brushing her red hair back from her face, but before Cassandra had answered he turned to Mrs. Hardy. “How is she?”

“About ten minutes apart. Nice and firm, though. It’s labor all right.”

Then Samuel turned back to Cassandra and gave her his full and undivided attention, while Mrs. Hardy went to the kitchen to put on a pot of coffee.

Joseph Henry arrived at one-thirty in the morning, after what seemed to Cassandra a very long time. But Samuel appeared well pleased with the progression of events. And as soon as baby Joey was placed in her arms, Cassandra was willing to admit that the whole experience was worth it. She loved him instantly, from the tip of his perfect ten toes to the top of his reddish fuzzy head. As he nestled up against her and seemed to snuggle himself in against her breast, she would not have traded him for all the treasures of the world. She was sure her father would be pleased to hear that he had a grandson bearing his name. She did wish she could have the privilege of sharing her joy in person with her faraway parents.

The two young mothers now had even more to share. Though their babies kept them busy, they made time for visits back and forth. Cassandra dreaded winter anyway, but now she was afraid that the cold would keep her homebound with young Joseph.

“He’ll be fine if you bundle him up,” Samuel assured her. “Fresh air is healthy. He should have outings.”

Following the doctor’s advice, Cassandra took full advantage of the milder days and brought Joseph with her to visit Virginia and Anthony and even over to the church while she practiced the Sunday hymns. He seemed to love the music of the complaining, rasping old instrument, and Cassandra would smile as she played and her baby cooed.

Cassandra couldn’t help but be disappointed when she discovered she was pregnant again.

“I wanted Joey to be my baby for a longer time,” she fretted. “He’s only a year old. He will need to grow up before he should.”

Samuel looked at his growing son, trying to pull himself up by the chair rungs. “Maybe God knows that he will be ready for a brother, Red,” he replied.

But it wasn’t a brother. It was Vivian Ann. And if Cassandra had felt busy before, she was doubly so now.

Joseph seemed to go from being a baby to a young boy before Cassandra had time to make the mental adjustment. One day he was cooing in her arms and the next, it seemed, he was insisting on playing outside where he could have freedom to run and explore.

Cassandra had to constantly watch him, chase him, bring him home from a venture, rescue him from climbs, warn him about dangers. It was a constant demand on her time and attention.

Samuel noticed her difficulties and hired a man to build a swing so the toddler would have something to do close to home. He also provided a sandbox and small pails and shovels. But the special play things drew the neighborhood youngsters. Cassandra was happy to have playmates for her son, but it meant a constant vigil on the gate leading to the yard. Children were always forgetting to close it. Cassandra feared that they might one day leave it open and Joseph would wander at will. Dozens of times daily she checked the gate. And dozens of times daily she closed it herself, then reminded the neighborhood children to please close it as they entered or left. They always nodded their agreement and promised faithfully to fulfill her request, but again and again Cassandra found the gate swinging in the summer wind.

One day when Cassandra went to shut the gate, she found an empty sandbox, a lifeless swing—and no Joseph.

Panic seized her. She rushed to the street and looked first one way and then the other. Only a team of plodding horses moved before her eyes. The old gentleman driving lifted a hand and called a cheery greeting. Cassandra tried to respond, but her frantic thoughts were on her missing son.

She was about to dash off down the street looking for him when she remembered little Vivian. She hurried back to the bedroom, picked up the sleeping baby from her cradle, and rushed back out into the street.

“Perhaps the Hardys’,” she said, and ran to the house next door. But no one was home, and as Cassandra looked around the yard, she saw no trace of Joseph.

On she went from one neighbor to another, from one yard to another, but she found no Joseph, nor anyone who had seen the small boy. People soon joined her in the search. Children dashed on ahead to see if they could be the first one to find the missing child. Women walked along beside her, trying to give words of encouragement, assuring her that he couldn’t have gone far. Men left their work and fanned out in another direction so more ground could be covered faster.

Someone brought word to Samuel, and he met Cassandra on the street and relieved her of the baby, who was now feeling that she should be fed.

“I just left him a few moments,” sobbed Cassandra. “I had checked the gate only a few minutes before.”

“We’ll find him,” Samuel tried to assure her and then repeated the words that had become so familiar to her, “He couldn’t have gone far.”

Cassandra wanted to scream.

Baby Vivian began to fuss more insistently. “It’s time for her to eat,” admitted Cassandra as Samuel handed her back to her mother.

“Why don’t you go home and feed her? We’ll all keep looking. I’ll bring him on home just as soon as we find him,” Samuel urged. With tears on her own face, Cassandra took the crying baby and headed for home.

The day was hot and she felt exhausted from the heat and the worry and terribly angry with herself for not having kept a better eye on her son.

Vivian cried harder and Cassandra felt like sitting down right on the sidewalk and nursing her baby girl. She couldn’t stand the crying. Couldn’t stand her anguish. Couldn’t stand the thought that her young son might be in real danger. She wanted to draw her baby girl close and get at least a measure of comfort from her soft little body.

But Cassandra plodded on home—through the heat, through the dust, her heart heavy and her back aching.

“Oh, God!” she cried. “I admit that it was my fault. I should have watched more closely. But please—please—let him be okay. Help us to find him. Help us, please, God. Please!”

Cassandra followed their wooden sidewalk through the offending gate, which still swung open, and headed for her back door. She would be so thankful to get in out of the heat. She would be so thankful to sit after walking for what seemed forever. She would be so thankful to be able to hold her baby close and give her the comfort of nursing. But oh, how she ached and longed for her lost son. The nearer she drew to her own door, the more the tears flowed.