Valley So Low (17 page)

Maude had no idea how long she wept.  She almost dropped off to sleep and would’ve if someone hadn’t touched the back of her head.  When she rose up, she expected to find Granny or even Miss McBride but Harry’s hand plucked at her.  “Don’t cry, Maudie,” he croaked, forcing out the three words with apparent effort.  His fingers fumbled against her cheek and she cupped a fist around them.  Maude pressed them against her mouth. “I won’t cry if you don’t try to talk much,” she told him with a smile. “You need to get your strength back.”

Daylight turned the shadows into the room into gray ghosts as joy, rich and full, flooded her being.  As tired as she was, Maude wanted to dance around the room or shout aloud her happiness.  Instead, she laughed and as she did, Granny came into the room.  The old woman had dressed in a plain mauve day dress.  She’d been up long enough to put up her hair and from the fatigue lines cut deeper into her face than usual, Maude doubted she’d slept much.

Her frown appeared heavy with disapproval. “I thought I heard some commotion in here.  Thought you were cryin’ but you’re not.  What’s got into you, Maude?”

Maude stood up but she didn’t let go of Harry’s hand. “Harry’s better. His fever broke.”

Granny halted.  Her eyes widened and then she whooped aloud like a young girl, something Maude had never heard her do before. “I’ll be,” she said. “Well, praise the Lord, and bless you, Maude. You kept the faith. I feared we’d be planning another funeral today but instead we’ll rejoice.”

As if she couldn’t believe it without checking, Granny placed her worn hand across Harry’s brow.  His eyes shifted to meet hers and he whispered, “Good mornin’, Granny.”

“Hush,” the old woman told him. “You need to rest.  And so does your wife. Enjoy Maude for a few more minutes, then I’m sending her to bed or I’ll be nursing her.  I’ll stay with you and then Miss McBride will be here.”

“I can doze here with Harry,” Maude said.  Granny shook her head. “No you can’t, and you won’t.  I’m going down to fix you some hot breakfast.  After she gets here, I’ll have her come fetch you down.  You need a bite to eat and a lot of sleep.  You can’t help Harry if you get down sick yourself.”

Maude resisted right up until she found herself downstairs in the kitchen.  She protested through breakfast with pancakes, sweet with syrup and butter, although she savored each bite.  The warm food made her sleepy but she continued to insist she would sit with Harry till she pulled her warm flannel nightgown over her head.  With Harry recovering in the bed she normally occupied, Maude crawled between the covers of Granny’s bed.  She burrowed into the old-fashioned feather bed and beneath the covers, then slept.

No dreams punctuated her slumber and when Maude woke, the dim light in the room indicated it must be evening.  She sat up, head thick as cotton batting, and listened.  She heard nothing out of the ordinary but she climbed out of bed.  Without stopping to dress or comb her hair, Maude padded barefooted down the hall.  When she entered the small bedroom, she paused.

Harry sat propped against the pillows, awake and alert.  Although his face still bore the ravages of his illness, Maude thought he looked much better.  The brown patches had vanished from his cheeks and little of the blue color remained.  A little color relieved some of his pallor and when he caught sight of her, Harry grinned. “There she is,” he said, his voice a bit stronger than it’d been.

“He’s been lookin’ out for you,” Granny said with a chuckle.  She lifted her body out of the chair with effort. “I’m about stove up sittin’ here.  I imagine you two want to visit so I’ll go down and see if Miss McBride needs any help.  She’s making soup and I hope she’s not using too much salt.”

As she bustled out of the room, Maude sat down.  Harry unfolded his hand and she took it.  After the angst and drama of his near-fatal experience with the flu, she grew almost bashful for a moment.  So many emotions flooded her soul she hardly knew what to say or where to start. “How do you feel?” she asked, then realized he’d be tired of the question soon.

“Like death warmed over,” Harry said.  If he hadn’t smiled, she might not have caught he meant it as a joke. “I’m so tired I can’t keep my eyes open long, and weaker than I ever been, even after I got the snot beat out of me.  Otherwise, okay, I guess.”

Maude noticed how his voice weakened as he spoke.  At first, he used a quiet but normal tone, but by the end it faded to a near whisper. “I’m so glad.  You scared me, you know.”

“Didn’t mean to.”

She sighed. “I know. I thought you’d make me a widow before I had a chance to be a real wife.”  His eyes glistened with unshed tears and she worried she’d upset him.  Maude reminded herself Harry would be fragile for a while.  No one knocked on death’s door or stuck a foot through the crack without any effect. “You’ve already been one,” he said but he sounded so puny, she put one finger across his lips.  “Hush and save your strength.”

Harry responded with a faint nod and closed his eyes for a long moment.  Maude noticed he wore a clean pair of long johns and that his hair was combed.  She sniffed and caught no whiff of either the onion poultice or the vapor rub so speculated Granny must’ve bathed him. Maude wouldn’t have dared take the risk but since Granny had, she appreciated Harry’s cleanliness.  She wanted to make a fuss over Harry, longed to pamper him, but tried to hold back.  Too much cosseting might upset him but Maude tucked the covers tighter around him.  Her braid, matted after her long sleep, fell over her shoulder and she remembered she hadn’t dressed. She hurried to change and to fix her hair.  When she returned, Harry slept, deep enough to snore a little.  Although any other time the sound might’ve annoyed her, Maude celebrated it.  He couldn’t snore dead.

Soon after Harry woke around seven in the evening, Granny brought up a cup of chicken broth for Harry along with a bowl of soup for Maude.  She enjoyed her portion first, having eaten little more than Harry had over the days he’d been sick.  The tasty broth, the rich noodles, the colorful carrots and celery were delicious.  Harry’s broth cooled so when she spooned it into his mouth it wasn’t too hot or cold but just right.  He took it with eagerness at first but managed no more than half the cup.  Maude offered him a few sips of water afterward and a pair of aspirins.  His eyes drooped with fatigue and she asked if he’d like to be lowered down from the supporting pillows.  Harry nodded. “Thanks, Maudie.”

Maude nodded.  She craved touching him and did.  The solid reassurance of his flesh eased her lingering tension, and she wondered if Harry truly grasped how close to death he’d come.  “Go to sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

She thought he’d protest but he didn’t.  He might too drowsy to bother but Maude knew she’d be there through the night.

Over the next few days, Harry grew stronger.  Four days after his fever broke, he insisted on sitting up for a short time in a chair but he wearied sooner than he expected.  A week after, he ate his first solid food—his favorite chicken and dumplings—and by the smile on his face, Maude thought he liked them very much. Fred returned home and did his best to ignore the intruders in his household. Three weeks after he fell ill, Harry came downstairs.  He moved with a slow, cautious tread and spent most of his time on the parlor sofa for the first few days.  His recovery took time and effort.  Although she tried not to hover, Maude did and she thought her efforts often frustrated him, although he didn’t complain.

On the third day he’d been downstairs and dressed, Maude’s Uncle Tommy arrived without advance notice.  Maude had just brought Harry a hot cup of tea, oolong and not herbal, when someone rapped at the door.  She opened it to find her uncle and her son.  Maude squealed as the little boy catapulted into her arms and she cradled George tight against her.  She’d never missed anyone as much as she did George over the weeks they’d been apart and she thought they would be separated much longer.  With George in her arms, she could tell how much he’d grown. “Hello, little man,” she said as she kissed his hair and cheeks.

“Mama!” he announced. “My mama!”

Maude smiled at Uncle Tommy through her tears of joy. “Thank you. I wanted to see him more than anything.”

He grinned back. “You may not thank me just yet, Maude, but  I thought you and Harry could use the company.  I hear he made it through the flu.”

“He did.” Maude stepped back so her uncle could come inside. “Come say hello.”

Before Tommy could enter, George wiggled out of her arms.  When he spied Harry, the boy made a beeline across the room and pushed his body onto Harry’s lap.  Maude rescued the cup before it fell to the floor and would’ve reached for George but Harry held him fast.  The child buried his face against Harry’s shirt and babbled.  All Maude could make out was “Pop,” but Harry appeared to understand all of it.  She turned to Uncle Tommy with a grin. “That’s the best medicine you could’ve brought him.”

Her uncle’s face blushed pink. “I figured you might need the kid around.  He’s a good one.  We ain’t had a bit of trouble from him.  Your farm’s fine too. Ain’t lost any stock and the old woman even come to take down your Christmas tree so it wouldn’t shed needles any more. Soon as your man’s up to it and you’re ready, you can come home.”

Home.
  Maude took the word and wrapped it with her mind.  She conjured up images of the old farmhouse, the valley, and the vista stretching down to the river.  Her imagination filled in the spaces between memories and she envisioned their life there, the three of them, together.  As soon as Harry grew strong enough, they could return, she thought, and then a notion struck her.  Behind her, the babble of voices indicated Granny had joined the celebration.  Fred’s deeper voice added to the conversations and Harry quizzed Uncle Tommy about the stock.   Maude hadn’t bothered to shut the door in all the excitement, and she noticed the air drifting through it wasn’t chill but almost balmy.  She peered outside at the sunshine, the unseasonable day, and although everything remained winter-drab, she swore she smelled a faint hint of spring.

Before she lost her nerve, Maude shut the door and walked into the parlor.  She stood and waited, hands tucked into her apron pockets.  Harry saw her first, then the rest, and the noise diminished as all went silent. “Maudie, what is it?”

“I want to see if Uncle Tommy might take us home,” she said. “It’s not so cold and we could be there in two hours or a bit more.  Harry could recover at home and we could get out of the way here.  Would you, Uncle Tommy?”

Surprise slackened his jaw and dropped it open.  “I reckon I could,” he said after a long pause. “If that’s what you want, Maude, I suppose I might.”

Maude sought Harry with a glance.  His smile above George’s curly head revealed his answer but he confirmed it with a nod.  “I’d like to go home.”

“Granny?” Maude asked, seeking both the old woman’s wisdom and approval.

“I’ll miss you and I hate to see you go,” she replied. “But it’s where your family belongs, out on the farm.”

One consideration mattered above all others. “Do you think it’s too much for Harry? I don’t want him to relapse.”

The woman cocked her head as she pondered the question. “I think he can do it.  You’d best make up a place for him to lay in the wagon bed and keep him covered, but Harry’ll do fine.  He’ll still need plenty of rest and he can’t take over chores yet but I say he’d stand the journey all right. He ain’t been outside yet but long as he don’t take a chill, he’ll do.”

“I’d keep doing chores anyway,” Uncle Tommy said. “One of these days I might get down in the back and he can return the favor.”

Harry handed George into Granny’s keeping. “Then let’s do it.  Maudie, you sure about this?”

“I am.”  His grin beamed brighter than the sunshine streaming through the window. “So am I.”

An hour later, they’d packed up everything they needed.  Granny spent the time with George, singing to him and cuddling him close.  “We’ll bring him back to see you, you know,” Harry told his grandmother.

“You’d better or I’ll come back to the farm,” she responded. “This little fellow makes me feel young.”

“Come back anytime you want,” Maude told her. “We’ll always have a place for you, Granny.”

After a hasty noon meal of soup and cornbread, they set out in Uncle Tommy’s wagon.  George rode perched on the seat beside the man but Maude rode in the back beside Harry.  He sprawled on an old mattress tick Granny had Fred drag out of a shed and kept cozy beneath a pile of covers.  He wore his coat and a hat too.  When Maude checked his hands and found them warm, she relaxed to enjoy the trip to the farm.

When they reached the yard, Maude sat up and so did Harry, eager for a glimpse of the place.  When Uncle Tommy rolled the wagon to a stop, he helped them both climb down.  Although Harry wobbled a little bit, he smiled and put an arm around Maude.  He began to hum and she recognized the tune as “Down In The Valley.”  Maude wondered if he’d know she sang it on the fateful night when his life hung in the balance, and she began to sing with the melody.  She didn’t stop until she reached the last line and sang it out proud,
“Angels in heaven know I love you.”

“It’s true,” she told him, content in the shelter of his arm with her son at her feet. “I do love you.”

“Oh, Maudie, I never doubted it for a moment,” Harry answered. “Woman, I love you too.”

Two weeks later…

After sharing a big pot of Maude’s chicken and dumplings for supper, the three drowsed somnolent and sated before the hearth. George fell asleep first and after a few minutes, with no hurry, Maude stirred. “Do you want me to take him up to bed?” she asked.

Harry, comfortable with his sock feet thrust toward the warmth of the fire, shook his head. “Naw, I’ll do it.” She almost protested but he’d all but recovered from the Spanish influenza. He’d been doing a few of the lighter chores over the past few days and Maude resisted the urge to coddle him.

Neither mentioned it aloud, but Maude wasn’t ready to retire. Desire prickled her skin and teased every pore of it. She wanted Harry to make love to her. So far, since Christmas night, he hadn’t. Jail interrupted their intimacy and Maude waited as he recuperated. But it’d been two months since she’d felt his hands caress her body, and she needed him. She longed to feel his cock inside her. “Are you comin’ back down?” she asked.

“Yeah, honey, I won’t be a minute.”

True to his word, Harry returned almost before Maude had time to gather her thoughts and stand up. She met him at the foot of the stairs and he opened his arms wide to wrap around her. “May I have this dance?” he asked. Caught unaware, she nodded and he began to hum “The Blue Danube Waltz.” He moved with easy grace, faltering only once or twice with his bad knee, and she followed his lead. They twirled about the room, the music he made as beautiful to her as any band, the humble room as lovely as any ballroom. As they danced, her desire increased, and when he halted, Harry put his mouth down on hers and kissed her.

A heat as intense as fever smote her mouth and the powerful urge, old as time, consumed Maude. His kisses sent ripples of pleasure through her body and her hands touched his skin. She unbuttoned his shirt and ran them over his chest, slowing to fondle his nipples between her fingers. The sounds he made thrilled her. She’d waited so long and apparently Harry had too.

“Maudie, I’ve wanted this,” he breathed in her ear. “In jail I thought about this and dreamed about it. I planned to make love to you on our wedding night but I got sick and couldn’t.”

“Are you sure you feel good enough?” she said, although Maude thought he felt very good indeed.

“Oh, yeah.” His voice whispered like the wind through her hair and into her soul.

His kisses strayed from her lips down to her throat, to the soft hollow and lower to her breasts. Harry’s mouth traveled the length of her belly, and he knelt to kiss her on each thigh. By then Maude’d managed to shuck away her dress. Her fingers stroked his skin and caught in his hair. He stood and stripped away his garments, then he kissed her, tongue deep into her mouth. Her body turned soft, as pliant as a summer green plant, and when he laid her down on the old couch, Maude opened her legs wide. He penetrated into her, plunged his cock all the way into her box. She tightened the inner walls around him and they rode together with one rhythm. Pleasure spread as they worked together, straining and gaining the ultimate. By the time they came in a wild tide of magic and delight, Harry filled all Maude’s senses and they were one, physically, emotionally, and in spirit.

They curled together before the fire, naked as newborns, and the soft light played across their skin with subtle beauty. Outside, the wind moved through the bare branches and rattled them against the old house. Maude delighted in the contentment and knew, despite all the trouble they’d weathered, she’d be happy with this man here for the rest of her days. His eyes locked with Maude’s and she sensed they were in accord. As the wind sighed and rose, Harry traced the curve of her face with one finger and whispered the lines from the old folk song, “Down In The Valley”:

“Down in the valley, valley so low, hear the wind blow, love, hear the wind blow.”

She did, and it made music all its own. The melody put a song into her heart, one she knew well and for always. Their valley might be low but their spirits soared high with life, in love.

The End