Vada Faith (30 page)

As the blood continued to flow, I lay back on the bed. I wanted the life to drain out of me as well.

It didn’t, of course.

Instead, I was left with thoughts of the little baby I’d never get to hold or love. Guilt and sorrow encompassed me as I lay there unmoving willing myself to die right along with my baby.

John Wasper came rushing in and took one look at me and rang the bedside buzzer. Nurses and doctors swarmed in. Saving me. Putting me back together again like Humpty Dumpty. Sticking needles in me. Blood.

They could do all the fixing they wanted. On the inside I was empty. A blown out egg shell. With all the substance gone. Only empty space was left inside.

The following morning all I wanted was to hold my two little girls. John Wasper said he’d bring them in.

I’d grown weary of watching the activity in the nursery across the hall. I was relieved when the drapes were drawn and the doors were closed. You could hear a pin drop without the baby sounds.

When I heard the girls coming down the hallway, giggling, their patent leather shoes dancing on the tile, I pushed away my untouched lunch tray and put on a smile.

“Mommy!” Both girls shouted when they caught sight of me sitting there tied into the blue cotton hospital gown. They threw themselves on me, acting as though I’d been gone for eons instead of overnight.

“Hey, pumpkins,” I said, wrapping them tightly in my arms. “I’ve missed you.”

“Honey,” Mama said, teetering in behind them on skinny spike heels. “How are you?”

I felt tears roll down my cheeks as she bent to hug me and then we held onto each other and cried.

“Well, now,” she said, brushing away tears and looking at me. “Just look at you. I can tell you’re feeling some better.” She put a gift bag on the night stand in front of me. “This is for you.”

“Thanks,” I said. “How are my girls?” They had snuggled into the bed beside me. “Let me look at my babies.”

“We’re not babies, mo-ther. We’re grown up,” Charity Mae said, wiggling off the bed. She leaned over and peeked into the gift bag. “Can we have a mint, Mommy, please?”

“Sure.” I opened the bag and gave them each one.

“Grandma said we aren’t having a baby anymore.” Charity Mae studied the candy in her palm while her sister hurriedly popped hers into her mouth.

“We’re not supposed to talk about it,” Hope Renee said to her sister.

“Remember? Grandma said.”

“It’s true. We aren’t having a baby,” I said, fighting the lump in my throat. “It’s okay to talk about it.”

“The Kilgores baby isn’t inside you anymore?” Charity Mae studied my stomach.

“No.” I could feel tears gathering in my eyes. “The baby had something wrong with it, the doctor said. It couldn’t be born the way you were. So I lost it.”

“Lost it?” Charity Mae’s eyes grew round as she thought about this. “Like you lost your car keys?”

“No,” I said, “not like that. The baby died. It was sick.”

“Oh,” Hope Renee said, “like Toby got sick and died and we buried him in the woods behind the house?”

“Not exactly,” I said, wiping candy from her hands. “Our baby didn’t get to be born. Toby was born and he lived to be ten.” I made a feeble attempt to smile. “That’s good for a dog.”

Charity Mae went to examine a framed print of a mother and baby across the room. A lump came into my throat just looking at the girls. They seemed to have grown inches since I’d seen them, their daddy’s beautiful eyes shining, and my blond hair. Had I been so caught up in myself that I hadn’t looked at them recently?

“Joy Ruth is waiting for the girls.” Mama turned from the window where she’d been staring down at the gardens below. “She has a new book for them. John Wasper will be here soon. He had a stop to make.”

“Aunt Joy,” Charity Mae cried, catching a glimpse of my sister waving to them from the hallway. Both girls dashed out the door and into her arms. So much for missing mommy.

“I’m sorry,” Mama said, when the room was quiet. “I know you wanted this baby.”

“I did,” I said, my heart pounding. “I still do.”

“I know,” she said. “It’s hard losing a child.” She pulled a dead leaf off the flower arrangement on the window sill that she had sent.

“How could you know?” I asked, a great mountain of grief and anger suddenly unleashing itself inside me.

“I lost you girls.” Her shoulders drooped as she dropped the dead leaf in the trash.

“You didn’t lose us!” I was so angry now I was shaking. “You left us, Helena.”

“Is that what you think, Vada Faith?” Anger had crept into her voice too. “That I left you? That I didn’t care about you? That’s not true and it’s time you knew it. I left because of problems between myself and your father. I tried to come and see you. I even tried to get back with Delbert so I could see you. He said it was too late. His pride was hurt when I walked out on him. We could never talk without fighting. We couldn’t be in the same room without having a shouting match. Not until the day you went into labor and had the twins.”

“It doesn’t matter,” I sobbed. “Nothing matters. My baby is gone. I loved it and it’s gone.”

“Please. Don’t upset yourself, honey. I know how you feel.” She came to my side and tried to take my hand but I pushed her away.

“You don’t know how I feel.” I sobbed into the blankets.

“Vada Faith,” she said, sinking into the chair beside me, “I lost a baby too. I hadn’t planned to tell you this, but here goes. Delbert was dead set against more children after you girls. I loved you babies so much I went ahead and got pregnant anyway. After I lost it, I was depressed and I blamed it on your father for not wanting the baby. I left him. When I came to my senses it was too late. I’d left you girls and he wouldn’t let me come back. He’s a prideful man. He wouldn’t let me see you no matter how hard I tried. Then I quit trying. I didn’t want to ruin your life. I was young and foolish. Don’t let this ruin your life.” Tears rolled down her cheeks and she let them run freely as she sat there, her hands twisted in the straps of her purse.

It took awhile for her words to register. She’d lost a baby too and she hadn’t left us because she didn’t want us. By then I was drifting off to sleep and I dreamed of mothers and babies and children being left alone.

“The doctor says you’ll be staying another night,” the nurse said that afternoon, “just to keep a check on that crazy blood pressure of yours. First high then low.”

John Wasper sat beside me while the nurse bustled around bringing me ice water, a pill, and fluffing my pillows. With visiting hours almost over there wasn’t a sound coming from the hallway.

“Roy Kilgore called,” he said, swallowing hard, “Dottie tried to kill herself. She couldn’t face the loss of the baby.”

“What happened?” I asked, stunned by the news. I was still holding the card he had brought me along with a single rose. It wasn’t covered with his usual I love yous. Instead it said, “From Your Husband.”

“She took an overdose of pills,” he said. “He found her just in time and called the squad. He says she needs some help. He’s taking her back to Mississippi for treatment. He said he’s planning to sell his business here.”

We sat in silence. The sun shining through the window gave the room a rosy glow. The glow didn’t reach into my heart. It didn’t reach into John Wasper’s either from the sadness in his eyes.

“Do you think you could have loved this baby?” I asked.

“Don’t ask me that,” he said. “I love the girls.” He squirmed around in the chair. “Just don’t ask me, okay. I don’t know anything for sure anymore.”

I closed my eyes and let the soothing effect of the pain pill wash over me. I could feel his pat on my hand then he tiptoed out thinking I was asleep. I didn’t close my eyes the whole night. Each time I thought I could sleep, the nurse came to take my blood pressure. It was finally normal but that didn’t make the ache in my heart go away.

I slowly dressed and packed my overnight bag. John Wasper would come early. He was eager to get me home and return to his own life.

As for me, I was going home with someone else’s blood. If only I could have someone else’s life. Only I couldn’t. All I had was what had gone before me and what would come after me.

When I realized all this had been for a lark, a quest for a new house, and money in the bank, it made me sick. It had ended with the loss of my baby. My real baby. Not some make-believe baby, a baby in a store window. Had I really looked on it as that in the beginning? My baby was gone and it had taken a piece of me with it. The rest of my life would be marked by its short presence and none of it could have been foreseen. Not one single solitary piece of it.

Not a day in the future would go by without me thinking of it. Wondering about it. Wondering if I could have done anything to make a difference in the awful outcome.

At the first light of dawn, I closed my overnight bag and stood in the doorway of the bright yellow stork bordered room waiting for my husband. He came for me just as the babies were being wheeled to their mothers. One by one they passed me in their little see-through cribs, their tiny arms waving.

John Wasper took my arm and we waited until the last precious baby had been wheeled past. Then, we walked slowly to the elevator.

For days I moped around the house in my robe and wallowed in my pain. It was the kind of pain that squeezed my heart until I thought it would stop beating. I prayed that it would but it didn’t.

I’d received dozens of cards and notes from all my customers but mostly everyone left me alone and I grieved for my lost baby until I was numb.

The sun still rose and set every day, my children still needed bathing every night, and John Wasper still hadn’t come home. He’d take the girls on outings and come by occasionally to see how I was doing. Once he’d even told me he was sorry I’d lost the baby and I believed him. The closest we’d come to being more than strangers was one day when he brushed up against me in the doorway as he was leaving. He looked like the man I’d married. His eyes lit up and he smiled that beautiful smile of his. Then, as if remembering something distasteful, he pulled himself away and said, “See you later,” and hurried to his truck.

Then, one morning as I stood staring out the front window at the frost covered lawn, I saw Sandy Dooley taking pictures of our house.

I ran upstairs and pulled on jeans and a sweatshirt.

By the time I got to the sidewalk she was gone. Sandy was a realtor. Was John Wasper going to sell the house? Was he moving on with his life and leaving me behind?

Had I been shut inside the house too long?

The brisk air felt good and I couldn’t bring myself to go back inside.

Joy Ruth had phoned earlier as she did most mornings. “Hell-o-o, Vada Faith,” she’d said. “The world is still turning over here at the Beauty Bar. Just in case you’re wondering and I have a news flash for you, girl! Women are still having hair emergencies in Shady Creek.” She paused for breath. “So, get your butt on over here. Pronto!”

I had slammed the phone down on her.

Suddenly, going to work sounded like a good idea.

The very minute I opened the shop door, Dorene Moon squealed, “You’re back! You’re back! Thank you, Lord,” she clasped her hands together and looked upward, “thank you, Lord Jesus.”

Dorene’s hair stood on end as though she’d just been struck by lightening. She grabbed me in a bear hug. “Bless you, Vada Faith, bless you, honey for coming in. Did you get my cards?”

“Yes, Dorene, thank you,” I said, and she released me from her embrace.

“Vada Faith,” Joy Ruth said, grinning, “welcome back to the real world. Now,” she turned to Dorene and pointed her comb at her, “tell Vada Faith what happened to your hair.”

“Well, honey,” Dorene started in, “I snuck on over to Leroy’s Barber Shop.” She fingered her choppy gray hair and plopped down into the pink chair near me. “Now I like your cuts, Joy Ruth,” she rolled her eyes at my sister, “but you’ve been so doggone busy since Vada Faith has been out. I needed a trim and I needed it fast. Herbie McAlister was taking me to the Methodist all night sing and pig roast.” She blushed and started waving her hand in front of her face like she was having a hot flash. “After my trip to Leroy’s I had to go over and mingle with them Methodists looking like something the cat dragged in.”

“If you want me to fix this mess, Dorene,” I said, picking up my scissors as she swiveled in the chair, “you’ll have to sit still.” She had already tied a pink plastic cape around her own neck and someone had shampooed her hair.

“Yes, yes, honey. Please. Fix it.” She turned to look at herself in the mirror and I could see her eyes fill with excitement. “Tonight Herbie is taking me over to see his cousin’s brand new baby boy. Oh.” Dorene’s face turned red and she slapped a hand over her mouth when she caught sight of me in the mirror.

“I’m sorry, Vada Faith. I didn’t mean to say anything about anyone having a baby.”

“It’s okay, Dorene. Let’s get a move on here,” I said, sectioning her hair for a cut. At least everyone knew I did not want to discuss babies in any way.

Thankfully Dorene had stopped herself. Otherwise she would go on for hours and I wasn’t ready for that.

“Hey, girl. Welcome back.” Midgy high-fived me from my sister’s chair. “I got some good news. An old woman from all the way down in Florida sent us enough money to finish the cemetery project. Seems she buried her mother out there years ago.”

“That is good news, Midgy,” I said.

“We’ve missed you, girlfriend,” she said, and I knew she meant it.

“I’ve missed you guys, too.” I ran my fingers through Dorene’s hair. “I mean that.”

“I’m next.” Marge Randolph looked up from the new Star Magazine.

I nodded. Nothing like starting my first day back with two high maintenance maniacs. As I worked on Dorene’s hair, I knew I could easily fix the damage Leroy had done. I wished I could fix the damage in my own life as easily.

“You okay?” Joy Ruth asked, looking over at me as she gave Midgy’s hair a final spray.

“I’m okay. As okay as anyone can be who has lost a baby and her husband.” I snipped away at Dorene’s hair feathering what was left of it.