Be Still My Soul: The Cadence of Grace, Book 1 (30 page)

“Mercy. Have you had more pains?”

Lonnie’s hair tumbled from her unraveling braid when she shook her head. “It’s been hurting and I don’t know what to do!” She tried to stand, but Elsie stopped her.

“How close together?”

“I don’t know,” she cried.

“I need you to keep still. No walkin’ around.” Elsie tightened her grip on Lonnie’s elbow. “This baby might be comin’ whether we want it to or not.”

“Is the baby going to die?”

Lonnie’s words hung in the air, unanswered. She whimpered.

Elsie tightened her grip on her arm. “We will do everything we can. And the midwife will be here soon.”

Lonnie struggled to stand. Another pain came. It grew and grew. Just when she thought it was going to stretch her body to the limits, it faded away. Overwhelmed, Lonnie leaned her cheek against Elsie’s shoulder. She needed Gideon.

“Was that another one?”

Lonnie nodded, fearing the worst when Elsie’s face darkened.

The older woman touched trembling fingers to her lips, then lowered her hand, shoulders square. “I’m here. I’m not going to leave you, and Orla will be her soon.”

“Will she know what to do?”

Elsie pursed her lips and sank onto the bed. Her hand was cool when she took hold of Lonnie’s, and her eyes slid closed. Lonnie tried not to cry, but she could not help it. Elsie’s fingers trembled as she prayed, and Lonnie felt air leave her chest as if she’d been struck with a blow.

They both knew the truth. It was too soon.

G
ideon thrust his hand into his pocket yet again and grinned. He had spent less than two hours in town, and even in his rush, he had delivered Lonnie’s letters and sold his entire bundle of furs. Cold coins jingled against his fingers. He now had two and a half dollars to his name. Not much, but it was a start all the same. Soon his debt would be paid.

He drew in a chestful of chilly mountain air as he neared the spot where he’d seen Bert’s still. Slowing, Gideon dusted the remains of his dinner off his coat and swiped a hand across his mouth.

A tune he recognized floated on the breeze, and as Gideon came around the bend, he saw a small shanty, the same one he’d spotted the day he’d been to Bert’s still. Gideon glanced around, realizing it wasn’t far off. An old man sat on a rickety porch, carving knife in hand. The gray-haired man sat hunched over, clearly engrossed in his work. His hat tipped forward, blocking out the late afternoon sun. Not wanting to startle him, Gideon took a cautious step closer.

He looked up when Gideon approached. “Don’t even think about robbin’ me. I ain’t got a dime.” The old man snatched up a cane and poked at the ground near Gideon’s feet.

Gideon’s hands flew up. “I wasn’t going to rob you, sir. I’m just passin’ through.”

The man grumbled something about young uns and tipped his hat back. “Few folks come up this way.” He glared at Gideon, his stick held in front of him. “Unless they’re lookin’ for somethin’.”

And he was.

“See that trail?” the old man mumbled without looking up.

Gideon nodded.

“It ends here. Anyone who passes on is askin’ for nothin’ but trouble.”

Gideon studied the trail of footprints in the snow that disappeared into thick brush. He took a step forward and tipped his hat.

The man eyed Gideon. “Don’t say I didn’t warn ya.”

Gideon stepped into the trees. He climbed for several minutes. A branch snagged on his coat, and he pushed it away. Ducking beneath the branches of a laurel bush, he stepped into a small clearing. A firepit held nothing but gray ashes, smoke trailing skyward in a flag of surrender. Men didn’t often leave their stills unattended. It struck him as odd. Gideon glanced around at the empty place when the silence gave him an eerie feel. Where had they gone?

“Drink this now. It will ease the pain a bit.” Elsie tipped the steaming cup to Lonnie’s lips. “Just tiny sips now.”

Lonnie swallowed and panted for breath before sinking into the pillow. The clock in the parlor chimed twice.

Elsie said nothing of Jebediah, and Lonnie feared that the midwife might have already been called away.

Through a veil of tears, Lonnie looked up. “Gideon?”

“I know, honey. I know.” A cool cloth touched her cheek. “He will be here as soon as he can.”

Frustration burned the back of her throat. Lonnie stared at the window. Another spasm found her, and she curled onto her side, gripping the brass headboard with white knuckles. “Elsie,” she groaned and felt hair being pressed away from her face. The cool cloth smoothed down her cheek, and when the pain subsided, the room brightened as Elsie flung back the curtains.

With her face near the window, the woman stared into the yard and sighed. She turned back and took Lonnie’s hand. “You are doing so well. It will be over soon.”

Lonnie’s chin trembled as fear wrapped its hands around her. Her carrying time was over too soon. Would the baby be strong enough? She stared up at the ceiling as if to find the answer written there.

“It will be over before you know it,” Elsie whispered again. Words meant to soothe fell like daggers to Lonnie’s heart.

A door slammed below. Elsie rushed out of the room, then returned just as quick. “They’re here,” she breathed.

“This little thing?” a cool voice drawled.

Lonnie’s eyelids fluttered open.

A wrinkled face hovered above her, and a pair of sunken eyes peered through wire-rimmed spectacles. The old woman frowned. “She don’t look a day past thirteen.”

“This is Aunt Orla.” Elsie patted Lonnie’s arm.

Lonnie moaned.

Orla placed a hand low on Lonnie’s stomach. “Hmm,” she mumbled and raised silver eyebrows. “Baby’s comin’, that’s for sure.”

Reluctantly, Lonnie bobbed her head.

“How old are you?” Orla pulled off her spectacles.

“Eighteen.”

“Well, that ain’t too young at all.” She picked up her doctor’s bag and dropped it on the bed. “I’ve seen ’em younger.”

“How will the baby be?” Elsie’s voice trembled. “Is it too soon?”

Orla bumped Lonnie’s leg as she sat. “How long you been carryin’?”

Lonnie glanced from one face to the other. “Over seven months.”

Orla inched her bag onto the nightstand. “Don’t you trouble yourself about it. I’ve seen them come out as soon and be fine. You’re doin’ all right now, you just sit tight.”

Lonnie sank into the pillows and watched Orla take out a bottle of auburn liquid and set it on the nightstand. “Apple brandy,” she said to Elsie, before pulling out a pair of scissors and a ball of heavy string. “See that these get boiled.” She held the offerings out to Elsie, who hurried away.

Lonnie rolled onto her side and cried out, and Orla held her hand and spoke in hushed tones. When it ended, the hunched woman straightened the blanket and looked up as Elsie strode in. “How often is the pain comin’ on?”

“It was every few minutes.” Elsie set a handful of candlesticks on the dresser. “But now it seems to come quicker.”

The wrinkles around Orla’s mouth puckered.

Lonnie studied her face, hoping to get the answers she needed. The flesh beneath Orla’s high cheekbones was sunken, and the clear wisdom shining through her eyes comforted Lonnie.

As if reading her thoughts, Orla adjusted her spectacles. “I’ve delivered more babies than I can count. I’m gonna take real good care of you.” She rolled up the sleeves of her black dress and came around to the end of the bed. “You started those things boiling?”

Elsie bobbed her gray bun.

“Where’s your husband?”

Lonnie felt Orla studying her. “Gid’s gone today … should be back tonight or—” She squealed and gripped the sheets. Her heart thudded away the seconds, and when the pain finally passed, she peered up. “Is the baby coming
now
?” she panted.

“Well, let’s see. Try and sit tight a bit, Lonnie. I’m going to check you over.”

With her mouth pursed, Orla pulled a tube from her bag. She placed the small metal end in her ear, then slid the broad end over Lonnie’s round stomach. The metal was cool against Lonnie’s skin. Orla sat quiet as she listened. “You still got some time to go. Just hang in there.” She removed a pair of small bottles from her bag before bustling to light another candle.

When Lonnie’s chin trembled, a thin, rough hand squeezed hers. “You’re doin’ a fine job, li’l missy.” Orla reached into her bag. “Don’t worry, dear. There ain’t no city doctor who knows what he’s doing more than I do. I been catchin’ babies for years.”

L
eaving the clearing, Gideon held his fingers to his mouth and blew warm air on them. It took him several minutes to trace his snowy trail back the way he had come. He spotted the shanty and strode toward it. He hoped the old man could give him the information he needed. Gideon rounded the tiny house.

Still in the same spot, the man looked up when Gideon approached. “What’s your business, anyway?”

Gideon hitched his pack up higher. “I need to repay a debt.”

The old man ran his knife through a soft piece of wood. “You ain’t the first man to say that ’round here.” A pair of small brown eyes searched Gideon’s.

“I believe it.”

“You gonna stand ’round waitin’ all evenin’?”

“If that’s what it takes.” Gideon crouched against a tree and propped his forearm on his knee. The snow had already soaked through the hem of his pants. He peered up into the old face. “I’m ready to be free of this.”

“So I see.” The man pulled a pipe from his pocket and stuck it in the crook of his mouth, where it dangled, no match in sight.

Silence settled between them. Gideon opened his pack and broke off another piece of bread. His stomach rumbled as he chewed the dry crust. One glance at the changing sky and he frowned. Even if Bert returned by nightfall and he was able to set off for home, he wouldn’t get far in the dark. Gideon hung his head in frustration, but there was no changing it.

He suddenly wished he’d left a better note for Lonnie. Worse, he wished he’d told her where he was going. But it was too late now. Glancing up at the sky, he knew his dry blanket would be no match for the layer of clouds lining the gray sky. He had passed an empty trapper’s cabin on his way down and hoped to get that far before sunset.

“Any idea when they’ll be back?”

The old man shrugged a bony shoulder, the arms beneath his dingy shirt wiry. “They went out lookin’ for some fella. Heard ’em grumblin’ about it as they passed by.”

Gideon blinked up at him. His food turned to ash in his mouth.

“Someone’s always owin’ those boys money.” The man pulled the pipe from his lips. “Ain’t right the way they bully around this mountain.” The breeze stirred the silver hair that grazed his shoulders.

Something inside Gideon turned ice cold. He rose as blood pulsed through his veins. If what this man said was true … if it was him they were looking for …

Gideon snatched up his pack and, without so much as a good-bye, darted from the clearing. A cold breeze crept beneath his thick layers of clothing with a boldness he did not like. The trail rose toward home—toward Lonnie—and his feet quickened as if a fire had been lit under his boots.

Elsie rushed in with an oil lamp just as the first candle flame burned down to a puddle of wax. “How is she?”

“She’s as brave as they come.” Orla smoothed her hand over Lonnie’s stomach.

Lonnie could hardly hear over her own groans. She swiped at a bead of sweat, and Orla stuffed rags beneath her back.

“This is too much blood for my likin’,” Orla murmured. Elsie knelt beside the bed, and the hunched woman shook her head. “I don’t like this. Not one bit.”

Nausea rose in Lonnie’s stomach, and she tried to sit up. She cried out.

“I know it’s hard, but try and stay calm. The baby needs you to relax.”

“What’s happening?” Elsie’s voice was sharp.

Using the back of her hand, Orla pressed her spectacles farther up her nose.

Lonnie’s chin fell to her chest and she grunted. Her jaw shook and her lips turned numb.

“You’re a brave girl.” Orla squeezed her hand. “Just breathe now and try to stay calm.”

Despite Orla’s caution, a squeal slipped from Lonnie’s throat, and she sank into the mattress. Elsie slipped a wet rag inside Lonnie’s sweaty palm, and she barely had time to clutch it before more pain seized her. This time, it struck her body harder than she’d ever felt before. Lonnie screamed. When the throbbing subsided, the crushed fabric fell to the floor.