Wonderland Creek (23 page)

“Where’s your husband?”

The pain finally seemed to ease. June Ann stopped moaning and stood a little straighter. She lifted her apron and wiped the sweat from her face. “He rode off on the mule to fetch the midwife. You didn’t pass him on the way up, did you?”

“No. I didn’t see anybody.”

“Well, thank heaven you’re here. I was so scared, being here all by myself. You can’t even imagine how much it hurts! Like I’m about to
die
! Please stay with me.
Please
, Allie?”

“Okay . . . okay . . . I’ll stay. But I should warn you, I don’t know anything at all about having babies. Back home they always chased the unmarried girls away whenever it was a woman’s time so we wouldn’t see what goes on. I think they were afraid we’d never want to get married or have children if we found out what it’s like.” I didn’t tell June Ann, but in my experience, the secrecy only made girls like me even more frightened of the whole mysterious process.

“Oh, I seen babies birthed before,” she said with a wave of her hand. “My mama had eight kids and I was the oldest. It ain’t that I don’t know how it’s done. But it just hurts so bad! No wonder my mama used to scream like she was being torn in two. And my baby ain’t even coming out yet.”

Thank heaven for that.

“Maybe we should go inside,” I said. “Don’t you want to lie down or something?” I was afraid that June Ann might double over in pain again any minute.

“Okay. Come on in.”

I followed her inside, but it was so dark and dreary and smoky in the windowless cabin that I was immediately sorry for suggesting it. As near as I could tell in the gloom, the house was much like Cora’s brother’s cabin with an open hearth and simple furnishings. An iron-framed bed stood in one corner.

“Do you want me to light a lamp?” I asked her.

“We can’t waste lamp oil. Wayne was saving up for glass windows, but then the mine shut down. I told him never mind. The cabin stays warmer in the winter without windows. There ain’t as many drafts.”

I stood in the middle of the dark room feeling helpless. “Is there anything I can do? I don’t know what to do. How far away does the midwife live? Will it take her very long to get here?”

“Well, it depends on which horse she’s riding—”

Before I could stop myself, I groaned. I should have been used to that answer by now, but I wasn’t. It frustrated me every time.

“What’s wrong?” June Ann asked.

“Nothing . . . Do you think they’ll get here soon?”

“Wayne says it might be a while because our mule don’t like to be ridden. He might have to walk a spell if it starts acting up.”

“How long ago did he leave?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. At least an hour. Wayne should be pretty near to Ida’s place by now, but if she ain’t there, he’ll have to go fetch Sadie, and who knows how long that’ll take.”

My knees went weak. I needed to sit down even if June Ann didn’t want to. I groped my way to the table and pulled out a chair, not waiting to be invited. June Ann stood beside me.

“They say the first baby takes a long time, but my pains started about sunrise and I’m already hurting real bad.”

“Do you have any neighbors I could fetch? The other day I brought books to a family a little ways up the creek, and they had a whole pile of kids.”

“You mean the Sawyers?”

“Yes, that’s the name. Mrs. Sawyer must know a lot more about giving birth than I do. I could ride up there and be back in a half hour or so.”

June Ann gripped my arm. “Please don’t leave me all alone!”

“H-how about your family? Do they live nearby? My mother always stays with my sisters and helps them out when they’re expecting.” Fear was making me babble. Surely June Ann’s mother would have come by now, if that were possible.

“Wayne won’t let me ask my mama, because his kin and mine are feuding.”

“What are they feuding about?” I wasn’t supposed to ask nosy questions, but it was all I could think of to say as I tried to stay calm and pass the time. June Ann was making me very nervous as she stood beside me, swaying back and forth and holding her belly as if rocking without a chair.

“Well, the story is that the feud started over money. My great-granddaddy and Wayne’s great-granddaddy was best friends. They came upon a whole pile of money, but they buried it in the ground and never said where. When they both died, each family accused the other family of stealing it instead of sharing. There’s been a lot of fighting over the years, and the families stopped talking to each other. Their children weren’t supposed to marry each other, but Wayne and me did get married and now everyone turns their backs on us. We was doing okay without their help until they had all that trouble and the mine had to shut down.”

“What trouble?”

“You know, when Hank Coots got killed and . . .” She paused, and I saw the color wash out of her face as if lifting a drain stopper. She started panting as though she had just run up a steep hill. Then she doubled over again, moaning and groaning like it was the end of the world.

I leaped to my feet, terrified. Should I rub her back? Hold her hand? I began to pray, silently crying out for help, meaning every word of it for once. I had been forced to do so many ridiculous things since coming here, but please, God,
please
, don’t make me deliver a baby!

At last June Ann’s pain eased. She stopped moaning and gave a heavy sigh. “Sorry. The booklet Cora brought me says that you can tell when the baby’s coming by how close together the pains get.”

“How close are they?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t have a clock or anything. How long you been here?” She looked at me and broke into a smile. “Goodness’ sakes, you look as scared as I am, Allie. Look at you! You’re as white as a sack of flour. I’m the one having the baby. You better sit down again.” I did.

“I am nervous, June Ann, I’ll admit it. I’ve been trying to remember everything I’ve read in novels about delivering babies. Aren’t we supposed to boil water or something?”

“I don’t know. Go ahead and boil some if you think it’ll help.”

It also seemed to me that a lot of women in novels died in childbirth, but I didn’t mention that to June Ann. “I’ll get some water if you tell me where it is.”

“The well’s out back. You can fill that kettle there on the hook.”

June Ann already had a fire going in the fireplace, but I stoked it and added more wood, then grabbed the cast-iron kettle. It wasn’t hard to find the pump out back, but it was impossible to get any water to come out of it. I worked the handle up and down, up and down, until my arm felt like it might pull out of its socket. At last the water began to trickle, then gush. I filled the kettle and hauled it back inside, turning the fire hook so the kettle would hang over the flames. I prayed the entire time I worked. Really prayed, talking to God the way my father did when he beseeched His help.

Done. The water was heating on the fire. I had no idea what I was supposed to do with it once it boiled, but at least it would be ready when the midwife got here.
Please, God, get the midwife here! Soon!
June Ann watched me in mild amusement. I wondered what to do next.

“How about if I read a book to you?” I asked. “It might take your mind off everything.”

Her eyes brightened. “Did you bring me another book?”

“As a matter of fact, I did.” I got it out of my saddlebags, and since June Ann couldn’t afford to light a lamp, I dragged one of the chairs over to the open door and sat down to read. June Ann couldn’t stay seated, nor did she want to lie down on the bed. She paced back and forth as I read to her, stopping every now and then to double over and moan.

“Go on. Keep reading,” she would say after the pain faded away.

By the time I reached chapter three, I figured it must be lunchtime. I was hungry. I had brought a sandwich with me, so I got it out of my saddlebag and offered half of it to June Ann.

“No thanks. I don’t feel so good.” No sooner had she spoken than another labor pain struck and she doubled over, gripping her stomach. All of a sudden water began to gush as if she had dumped a kettle full of it on the floor. I jumped aside as some of it splashed onto my boots.

“What’s happening? June Ann! Is it . . . is it the baby? Is the baby coming?” I held my breath, waiting while she continued to grit her teeth and groan.

“Oh, Lord! It hurts, it hurts! Make it stop!”

But I had a feeling that the only time the pain would stop was when the baby arrived, and I certainly didn’t want to pray for that. She finally stopped moaning. June Ann swayed in place and leaned against the table as if she felt dizzy. I grabbed her arm and eased her onto a chair.

“What happened? Are you okay?”

“Sorry, Allie. I’m so sorry. I don’t reckon the baby’s coming yet, but my sack of waters just broke.”

“What does that mean?”

“Means the baby’s gonna come for sure now. But look at this mess!” She started to rise.

“No, stay there. You need to sit down. I’ll clean it up. Tell me where the mop is and I’ll do it. Do you want to change your clothes? And don’t you want to lie down?”

“I don’t have any other clothes . . . and it hurts too much to lay down.” I managed to mop up the water with some rags, then June Ann asked me to continue reading. It was a short book, and if the midwife didn’t come soon, I’d be reading “the end” with a baby on my lap. Every time I turned a page I prayed that the midwife would arrive before the baby did.

Finally, June Ann’s dog started to bark. I heard horses galloping up to the cabin. “Thank God!” I breathed. And I meant it. Wayne Larkin hurried into the cabin with Miss Ida, the midwife, and I was so relieved I wanted to hug them both.

The midwife made June Ann lie down so she could look her over, feeling her bulging belly. “It ain’t time yet,” Ida said, looking at me. “May as well be on your way.”

I went to June Ann’s bedside to say good-bye. “Thanks for staying with me,” she said. “I’m so glad we’re friends. You don’t know how much it means to me to have a friend. You’ll come back again, won’t you?”

Guilt squeezed my heart when I remembered that I would be returning to Illinois soon. I didn’t have the courage to tell her. “Sure, June Ann. I’ll stop by on my way home today. Maybe I’ll get to see your new baby.”

By now it was afternoon. I couldn’t decide whether to continue with my route or head home. I was too rattled to think straight. But when I got to the creek, Belle surprised me by turning upstream. Twenty minutes later, I recognized the trail marker—the pine tree and two rocks—and headed up to the Sawyers’ cabin.

“You’re back! You’re back!” the children shouted when they saw me. They insisted that I dismount and read from the storybook I had brought them. I explained to Mrs. Sawyer why I was so late, but she didn’t seem to take much interest in her young neighbor. I didn’t ask why.

My last stop was at the home of Cora’s brother Clint and his wife, Gladys. He was still bedridden. “Got any news today?” he asked. I knew that the other librarians not only brought books but also news of the outside world. Yet I had to be careful, as Cora had said, not to be nosy or spread gossip.

“Do you know June Ann Larkin?” I asked.

“Her clan is kin to me,” Gladys said.

“Well, she’s having her baby today. Her husband, Wayne, just arrived with the midwife.” Gladys seemed as disinterested as Mrs. Sawyer had been. She clamped her lips shut and didn’t say another word. I had half a mind to give her Lillie’s speech about holding grudges. Didn’t anyone care that June Ann was lonely living way up in the woods? How could their families possibly allow a feud over money to separate them from their children?

By the time I turned toward home, my hips ached, my tailbone felt bruised, and my legs were weary from hanging on to the big horse’s sides. But Belle never once gave me a rough time, even when we reached the lower ford and I urged her across the creek to return to June Ann’s house.

Wayne was out in the field busting clods again. Rex tore out of the house to snarl at me in greeting, but the midwife called him back. “June Ann had a baby girl,” she called out to me. “It went pretty quick for her first one. Healthy baby, too. I’d say about seven pounds. Want to see her?”

I climbed down and went inside the cabin. “Oh my!” I breathed when I saw the newborn lying at June Ann’s side. She was so tiny yet so perfect, with a halo of reddish fuzz encircling her head, the same color as June Ann’s hair. And I had played a tiny part in her birth.

June Ann looked flushed and exhausted. “How are you?” I asked.

“Tired. I feel like somebody turned me inside out.”

“She’s beautiful, June Ann. What are you going to name her?”

“Wayne ain’t made up his mind yet. He ain’t too happy about her.”

“Why not? She’s perfect.”

“He wanted a boy to help out with the farm. I told him I’ll try and do better next time.” She wiped a tear from her eyes. I wanted to walk out to the field and punch Wayne Larkin in the nose.

“Don’t cry, June Ann. She’s beautiful.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

The midwife offered me a cup of chamomile tea from the water I had thoughtfully pumped and boiled, but I shook my head. “It’s getting late. I need to go. And June Ann needs to rest.”

“You’re gonna come back and finish reading the story to me, ain’t you?” she asked.

I nodded, aware that I was lying. I was returning home to Blue Island. I would never see June Ann and her baby again. My heart ached for her. She wasn’t much more than a child herself and too young to be a mother. But if she followed the example of the other women in these hills, she would be pregnant again by next week.

“Thanks for staying with me, Allie.”

“You’re welcome. I’m glad I could help.” And very glad the baby hadn’t come while I’d been alone with her.

I told her good-bye and tiptoed out.