1929 (64 page)

∞∞∞

“Congratulations, Caleb, here’s a little
something for you,” Michael said and handed him a bottle of brandy
wine with a big smile.

“Where did you get this?” he asked.

“I know a guy. Sit, have a drink and let us
enlighten you of the horrors–I mean, ah, joys of fatherhood.” He
chuckled and called for Aryl and Jonathan, who stood outside
enjoying one of Jonathan’s preciously rationed cigars.

“So, how are things with Ava?” Aryl
asked.

“A little better,” Jonathan said. “A far cry
from where we need to be, but I can see she’s trying.”

“Trying not to hate you or trying to make it
better?” Aryl asked with a laugh. “There is a difference.”

“I know. She’s trying to be open, trying not
to shut me out, trying not to see Elyse every time she looks at
Jean. And I guess, to a certain extent, trying not to hate me,” he
said. “We’re just going to take it very slow.”

“That’s all you can do.”

“What about you?” he asked in return. “I
never hear about you and Claire. What are you? The perfect couple
or something?” he scoffed jokingly.

“Far from it,” Aryl said, smiling. “It’s
hard, she really . . . .” He tried to find the right words. “She
depends on me to keep her spirits up. It was worse in the tenement,
of course, which is what fueled me to find something, anything to
give everyone some hope, especially her. Even now, she still has a
hard time. I get tired trying to keep her up, but I’d never tell
her that.” He cast his eyes downward.

“We all depended on you, Aryl. I wouldn’t be
here, in more ways than one, if it weren’t for you. We all wouldn’t
be here in Rockport with at least a fighting chance at a new life.
Hell, I sent for you first thing when Elyse showed up. I talked
your ear off every day with all my problems, and Caleb, too. That
had to be tiring.” He felt a small sting of guilt for his
consummation with his own trials. “So, how are you then? You and
Claire. What’s going on with you guys?” he asked.

Aryl shrugged. “Well, we decided to try for a
baby. She swings back and forth, worries that it’s not the right
time, like something is going to fly out of nowhere and make us
regret it.”

Jonathan thought for a moment and said, “I
think once you’ve lived through what we have, you don’t ever stop
looking over your shoulder. You always feel like something is about
to swoop in and destroy you.”

“Very true.” He nodded slowly. “I still feel
like that a lot of the time. I know she does, too.” Aryl smiled.
“I’m taking her to our lighthouse next month for our anniversary.
It’s a surprise. My dad is helping me set everything up.” As if on
cue, Aryl’s father’s laughter boomed from the house, something at
Caleb’s expense, to be sure.

Aryl grinned toward the house. “I tried to
think of what I could do to top last year’s anniversary, but, under
the circumstances, of course, I can’t.” He shrugged helplessly as
he looked far off, past the yard.

“Paris, wasn’t it?” Jonathan tried to
remember where they disappeared to for two weeks last year.

“No, London.”

“Ah. That’s right. I’ve got until August to
figure out something. Hopefully things will be better by then. I
just keep trying to remember what you told me that first night when
Jean arrived.”

“I’m surprised you remember anything I told
you,” Aryl teased.

“No,” Jonathan said seriously. “I remember.
Miracles happen . . . that’s what you said.”

Aryl smiled, brown eyes crinkling at the
edges, and said, “They do. I really believe they do.”

May 7th 1930

Ava stood at the edge of the pier, waving
frantically as the boats came into view. Jonathan squinted, watched
her for a moment, and realized something wasn't right. He waved to
the others to hurry along. Edging up to the pier, he threw the rope
over.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, dropping off the
side of the boat to the pier and tying down the boat.

“It’s Arianna,” she said breathlessly. “She’s
in labor.” Jonathan stared at her stupidly for a moment, and then
turned to yell for Caleb as he edged up to the pier. He ran to his
boat, jumping the three feet over open water to the deck.

“Go. Arianna’s in labor.”

Caleb stood frozen. Jonathan gave him a
shove, and he jumped to the pier, lost his balance, and nearly
rolled off the other side into the water. Ava ran up to him and
grabbed his sleeve, pulling him up.

“It started this morning, right after you
left.” She guided him toward the car where Aryl’s mother waited in
the driver’s seat.

“Your mom tried to stop it, had her go back
to bed, but–”

“It’s too early,” he realized suddenly,
turning to her with wild eyes. “Ava, it’s too early!”

“I know. Your mother has sent for the doctor.
For now, she and a midwife are taking care of her. But she wants
you.” She shoved him in the car, slammed the door and jumped into
the front seat as Aryl’s mother sped off, leaving a plume of dust
and sand in their wake. Aryl and Jonathan locked serious and
fearful eyes and hurried to wrap up the boats’ work, so they could
try to be of some help.

∞∞∞

“Arianna!” Caleb took the stairs two at a
time and nearly knocked the midwife over, who was heading
downstairs for more towels.

“Easy there!”

“How is she?” he asked, a lost, frightened
look as sweat beaded up on his forehead.

“She’s all right. She’ll be glad you’re here.
Why don’t you go in, see her for a moment, then settle yourself
downstairs with the other men. It won’t be much longer now.”

“It won’t?” he asked in shock.

“No, her water broke just after dawn. The
pains are only a few minutes apart now,” she said, patting him on
the arm. “Now everything is going to be fine, don’t you worry.” He
ran his hands through his hair and shifted his weight
nervously.

“It’s too soon,” he whispered. His eyes
darted around nervously.

“It’s early, true. But I’ve delivered earlier
that’s survived. It’ll need a bit of extra care and nourishment,
but we need to hope for the best. Now go see your wife. She's very
tired. It’s been a long day for her. And no talk of the baby coming
too soon. She’s scared enough as it is about that. No need to upset
her more.” After giving the firm orders, she turned away, leaving
Caleb to stare at the closed door.

He knocked softly and heard Kathleen’s voice
call to come in. He entered hesitantly and took in the whole room.
From afar, Arianna looked no different than when he left in the
early morning.

“Caleb,” she whispered as he walked quickly
over and sat on the edge of the bed. Closer now, he saw her ghostly
pale face with cheeks red from exertion, dark and sunken eyes, and
hair matted to her head with sweat.

“Ahna, honey, how are you?” He ruled his
voice steady despite his panic, held her hand, and wiped the wet
strands of hair out of her eyes.

“It hurts . . . .” she cried. Her eyes lost
focus and her face grimaced, involuntarily drawn up to a
half-sitting position from the pain and growled through her teeth.
Caleb went white.

“What do I do?! What do I do?!”

“Just help hold her up,” Claire said. She
handed him a wet cloth with a shaking hand. “Wipe her face and arms
with this when it’s over.”

It ended suddenly, and she fell back on the
bed, gasping. The midwife returned with an armload of supplies and
began laying everything out where it needed to be for the doctor
when he arrived. Caleb sat with her through five more pains. The
last one in particular was violent and seemed to be a signal to the
midwife.

“I think it’s time you head downstairs,” she
said, gently laying a hand on his shoulder.

“No.” He kept his eyes on Arianna, who lay
spent, eyes closed, relishing the brief moments between pains. “I’m
not leaving.”

“Caleb,” she said his name as if she knew him
personally. “I need to check your wife’s . . . progress. That’s a
rather intimate procedure, and I think it best if–”

Irritated, he turned to her. “I’ve seen it
before,” he said sharply. “Do what you need to do. I’m not
leaving.” He turned back just as Arianna’s shoulders came off the
bed, no longer growling, but screaming through to the end of the
contraction.

The midwife moved to the bottom of the bed as
Claire and Kathleen held the sheet up for privacy.

“Kathleen.”

The midwife’s voice was too calm. Kathleen
focused on the midwife’s horror-struck face and then followed her
gaze. It landed between Arianna’s legs; more specifically, to the
tiny arm that protruded out.

“Go get that doctor. Now!” she whispered with
urgency. Kathleen rushed out of the room. The midwife did what she
could to get the little arm back inside, so she could turn the
baby, but every attempt resulted in Arianna screaming bloody
murder, gasping and wrenching out long streams of profanity.

“Caleb.” She moved beside him, pulled him up
by the arm, and looked at him squarely. “I need you to go
downstairs and–”

“I told you I’m not leaving!” he yelled at
her. She grabbed his shirtsleeve and pulled him to the door,
whispering through gritted teeth.

“Caleb. The baby is turned the wrong way. I
need to move it, and I need you not to be here when I do it. It
will be difficult. I need you to boil as much water as you can. If
you want a healthy baby, then for the love of God, go boil some
water!”

The midwife held her hand gently after Caleb
left. “Arianna. The baby is turned the wrong way, dear. I’m going
to need to move him. It’s going to hurt,” she said. Arianna met her
eyes and nodded weakly. The midwife knew from experience that this
process would be so arduous that Arianna may not have the energy to
push when the time came. She called Claire over, who was now pale
and shaking with fear.

“Go downstairs and get another woman. We’re
going to need help.” Claire nodded, ran down the stairs, and
bounded into the kitchen, looking for Ethel.

Aryl spotted her and quickly made his way
across the room. “Claire. What’s wrong?”

“We need help . . . It’s, uh . . . .” She
looked at Caleb across the room, who was yelling at a pot of water
to boil faster. Jonathan was by his side, trying to calm him. She
looked back at Aryl as a drop of sweat rolled down her temple. The
panic in her eyes told him something was very wrong.

“Tell me,” he whispered and pulled her into a
tight hug. She spoke quietly in his ear. “The baby is turned
around. One arm is . . . sticking out. Arianna is exhausted and we
need someone to help us turn it.” She pulled away to peer for Ethel
or Kathleen.

“Is she going to be all right?” he asked in a
hushed voice.

Uncertain eyes met his. “I don’t know.”

“I’ll help.”

“Aryl, no, it needs to be–”

“A woman? Well, there’s no other woman here.
Ethel and Kathleen went to find the doctor, and Margaret and Ava
went with Jean to get food from her house.”

He put an arm around her, turning her toward
the stairs. “I’m not going to let Arianna or her baby die for the
sake of modesty. Let’s go.” He took her shaking hand and pulled her
up the stairs.

The midwife positioned Aryl and Claire on
each side of Arianna. She felt for the baby then laid their hands
where she wanted them and instructed them what direction to apply
pressure when she gave the word. They stood waiting, hands at odd
angles on Arianna’s massive stomach, locked eyes briefly, more
frightened than they had ever been in their lives. Arianna lifted a
limp hand and laid it on Aryl’s. “Thank you,” she whispered. She
looked as if life was draining from her by the second, and the
horror of it must have shown on his face.

“She’s very tired, but she’s a fighter,”
Claire reassured and smiled down at Arianna, who attempted to
return the smile as another pain consumed her suddenly.

“Keep the position of your hands. We’ll turn
after this pain,” the midwife ordered and they stood stock-still
and helpless as Arianna screamed through another twisting pain.
Aryl instantly regretted taking his eyes off Claire as he caught
sight of the tiny protruding arm, now turning blue from the
constriction of the contraction. His face went white and his
stomach did a little flip.

“Now!” The midwife gently worked the little
arm back inside as Aryl and Claire applied pressure, and then to
Aryl’s shock, her own hand disappeared to the wrist. He looked a
little green and felt slightly queasy as he helped push the
unyielding mass from above.

“Stop!” she called just as another
contraction racked Arianna. She passed out immediately after it,
and they set to work again. There was a sudden shifting under their
hands with the third try, and they gawked with wide eyes.

“Did that work?” Aryl breathed. Before the
midwife could answer, there was a rush of liquid, splashing the bed
and up onto the midwife’s birthing gown.

“I thought her water broke this morning?”
Claire asked.

“It did. This must have been behind the baby.
When we moved him, it was free to flow. By the size of her, she’s
made too much fluid. I’ve never seen so much . . . .”

Aryl took a step back. “Do you need me
anymore?” He wiped his forehead and looked at Arianna's unconscious
face pitifully.

“No, thank you, Aryl, very much. Why don’t
you go down and make sure Caleb’s doing all right?” He opened the
door to see Margaret, Kathleen and Ava rushing up the stairs with
Ethel leading the group. Aryl stepped aside as they streamed
in.

“You missed all the fun,” he said
shakily.

Ethel ran straight to the midwife. “The
doctor is on an emergency. He can’t come.” She glanced at her
unconscious daughter-in-law and back to the midwife.

“We’ve handled it,” she said proudly.
“Shouldn’t be long now.”