LeClerc 01 - Autumn Ecstasy (29 page)

Giving them the privacy they deserved, Linsey walked outside the lodge, breathing deeply of the early evening air. She desperately needed Bear to hold her, to reassure her that this nightmare would end. He was somewhere in the village, but she couldn’t find the willpower to go in search of him. Her walk earlier still clung to her memories, and she knew she’d forever hear the sounds of anguish in her dreams.

Night fell, the death toll mounted and Linsey tried to fool herself into believing that Morning Moon was cooler. Exhausted, she slept when Bear returned to the lodge and insisted she needed to rest. She woke before daylight, the whisper of voices penetrating her fogged mind.

“What’s wrong now?” Linsey sat on the edge of the bed and looked at the two men who stood near the door on the far side of the room.

Seeing that she was awake, Wolf left the lodge and Bear approached her, his eyes searching hers, finding them clear but still showing signs of exhaustion.

“You shouldn’t be awake yet.”

“Well, I am.” Linsey felt dizzy and nauseated, not at all in the mood to be pleasant. “What’s wrong.”

“Morning Moon has gone into labor. Her water broke a short while ago.”

“Oh, God,” Linsey moaned, burying her face in her hands. “Why now? The baby’s waited this long; why can’t he wait another week?”

“Babies choose their own time, which is rarely for the convenience of others,” Bear replied, sharing her discouragement. He sat down and pulled her into his arms. He didn’t need to tell her that there was every chance neither Morning Moon nor the baby would survive.

“Bear, I don’t know anything about delivering a baby! What do we do?”

“Wolf has gone for the old Grandmother.”

Linsey looked up, shocked. Not knowing exactly who had died, she figured the very old and very young would be the first to do so. “She’s alive?”

“It makes no sense. The disease does not discriminate; it kills the old and the young, the healthy and the weak. Somehow, Grandmother has missed catching it and is working like a slave to help others.”

Wolf returned, the Grandmother following on his heels. Linsey had thought the elderly woman looked old before; now she appeared barely strong enough to support her meager weight. Her heavily wrinkled skin stretched tautly over her fragile bones; blue veins pulsated vividly beneath the pale copper flesh. Sparse gray hair hung in stringy strands around her face, and she walked with a shuffling slide.

But her dark eyes were bright and clear, glittering with intelligence as her timeworn hands moved quickly and deftly over Morning Moon.

She talked with Wolf for several minutes, then turned her attentions toward Linsey. Forcing herself not to flinch as the knar led hands touched her face, Linsey knew the Grandmother was asking questions and wondered what reply Bear was giving. With a satisfied nod and a toothless smirk that might have been a grin, she slapped Bear firmly on the back and walked out of the lodge.

“What was that ail about?” Linsey asked in bewilderment. “Where did she go?”

Bear’s eyes narrowed, and he looked at her for long minutes before answering. “She says it will be hours yet before Morning Moon has her child. She says others need her now, but she’ll return when the baby i6 ready.”

“She can’t just leave!”

“Maybe she can’t, but she did,” he replied, running his linger through his thick hair.

“What do we do for Morning Moon?”

“Just what we’ve been doing. The Grandmother will be back later in the day to check on her again.”

The nightmare seemed to have no end, Linsey thought as she sighed deeply and stood up. She had started to move away from the bed when Bear stopped her.

“Linsey?”

“Yes?” She turned and noticed his puzzled expression.

“She asked… she said … uh, is it possible…

His bewildered hesitation was so unlike him that Linsey grew curious. “Who said what, Bear?”

“Oh, never mind, we’ll discuss it later.” Bear stood, grabbed the water containers and walked out of the lodge.

His confusion played through her mind until concern for Morning Moon washed away any other thought.

Later, Linsey would remember the day as the longest of her life.

Morning Moon moaned, the pain of labor reaching through her delirium. Linsey placed the cool damp rag on her brow, then straightened, rubbing at her lower back to ease the annoying pain that had been bothering her for hours.

Wolf and Bear had come and gone frequently during the day, giving her news of any development in the village. When the death toll climbed to over two hundred by mid-afternoon, Linsey had quit asking.

Morning Moon opened her eyes, her gaze unfocused. She had been lucid only once that morning but had been too weak to speak. The Grandmother returned twice to check on the progress of her labor, but since she spoke no English, Linsey did not know how it was going.

“Are you all right, Summer Eyes?”

Linsey turned, startled by Wolf’s question. “Just tired, like everyone else.”

“You rest, I will tend her for a while.”

“Wolf, you’ve had no rest for two days,” Linsey could not shake her fear that he, too, would get the measles.

“I have gone longer without sleep, Summer Eyes.” He turned toward his wife, his eyes closing briefly. “When it is over, we will all have too much time to rest … and remember.”

Linsey stretched out on the shelf, the pain in her back easing immediately. She did not sleep but lay there staring at the thatched roof and listening to the quiet sounds of Wolf caring for his wife. Tears filled her eyes, slowly flowing down her face. She cried silently for what had been and what would be.

When her tears dried and she knew sleep was impossible, Linsey prepared a meal from the supplies in the lodge. She set the kettle to the side of the fire so that anyone wanting to eat could do so whenever they were ready. To her, food had never looked or smelled so revolting.

When the Grandmother reappeared, Linsey was glad Wolf was there to ask questions; she didn’t think she could stand not knowing again. The old woman placed her hands on Morning Moon’s belly, a frown crossing her face. She spoke with Wolf, shaking her head sadly.

“What’s going on?” Linsey asked, hurrying across the room.

“Grandmother says that the labor has stopped. Morning Moon is too weak to birth the baby.”

Instinctively, Linsey touched the swollen abdomen. “Is there nothing we can do?”

Wolf carried on a brief conversation with the old woman, then turned to Linsey. “Grandmother says it may do some good if we rub Morning Moon’s stomach. She has seen it work before, but sometimes nothing helps.”

Beneath her hand, the baby kicked as if telling Linsey it wanted help to be born. “Have her show me how,” she said with determination. “You will have to continue with the sponge baths.”

The old woman took both of Linsey’s hands, placing one on each side of Morning Moon’s stomach. Pushing firmly, she slid them down and around, until they met at the base. Each time the movement was repeated, Linsey’s hands were placed slightly higher on the sides of the swollen mound. When they reached the top, she started working her way back down. She was instructed to slowly slide her hands from the top of Morning Moon’s abdomen to the bottom of her pelvis but never in reverse. Over and over Linsey’s hands moved along the tight burning skin, pressing firmly, evenly.

When the old woman was satisfied that Linsey was doing the massage correctly, she told her, through Wolf, what to look for that would tell her the labor had begun again. Wolf did not repeat the Grandmother’s words that she thought it to be a useless waste of time. He knew Linsey would try to save the unborn child in spite of all obstacles.

The afternoon turned slowly to evening. Linsey and Wolf worked well as a team. When she tired, Wolf insisted that he take a turn. They traded places, Wolf massaging, Linsey sponging.

When Linsey thought she’d surely drop from fatigue, Bear returned and understood the situation at a glance.

“Show me what to do.”

Bear was startled by the heat beneath his fingers when they first touched Morning Moon’s body. He almost withdrew his hands in shock as the baby kicked.

“It moved!” he said in amazement.

Tired beyond exhaustion, worried beyond hope, Linsey and Wolf looked at each other and suddenly grinned.

“What did you expect?” Linsey asked. “That poor baby is all scrunched up in there and wants out!”

“Oh.” Bear looked sheepish. Despite the growth of hair that nearly formed a beard, Linsey thought she saw a blush creep up his cheeks.

The light moment was over as quickly as it had come. Linsey rested while the two men worked, returning shortly to relieve Wolf, who rested, then returned to relieve Bear. Through the darkness of the long night, they shared the loving chore of saving Morning Moon and her child.

The inky darkness of the never-ending night slowly turned to shadows with the rising of the sun. The Grandmother returned, her knowing eyes seeing the fatigue on the three faces as they stood back and watched hopefully while she examined Morning Moon.

The words were Shawnee, but the tone might as well have been English; Linsey knew clearly what the old woman said.

“It has done nothing, Summer Eyes,” Wolf translated, confirming her fear. “Grandmother says that Morning Moon’s body is not opening for the child.”

“There must be something else! We can’t give up now!”

Intent on their conversation, they were not prepared for the sudden movement from the bed. Three pairs of eyes clouded with horror as Morning Moon suddenly stiffened then thrashed wildly; her eyes opened wide before rolling up into her head. The Grandmother nodded grimly, her shoulders slumping with defeat. The convulsion lasted for a fraction of a minute but seemed to go on for hours as they stood helplessly back.

It ceased as suddenly as it had begun. Morning Moon relaxed, her body going limp. She opened her eyes, her gaze locking with Wolf’s. Only because of the total quiet in the lodge were they able to hear her whispered words. As her eyes closed, Morning Moon released a deep sigh and was still.

“My husband,” Linsey whispered. It was one of the few Shawnee words she recognized.

Wolf reacted first, moving to her side and laying his hand on her chest. His eyes closed, devastation aging his face far beyond his years.

“She is dead.”

His words seemed to echo around the lodge. Linsey put her hands to her mouth, fighting back the urge to scream as the pain of loss racked her body with agony.

“No,” she moaned. “Please, God … no… .”

Bear wrapped his arms around her, holding her tightly. They watched the mound of her stomach move and roll. The new life extinguished before it could begin as the infant fought its last battle.

“The baby! Oh, dear God, the baby!”

“I know,
mon ange.”
Bear’s voice carried the desolation of the helpless.

With no words to anyone, the Grandmother moved to the side of the bed. Her knowing hands rested on the swollen abdomen, feeling the position of the baby. She snarled a command to Wolf, who responded in a daze by handing her the knife he carried strapped to his thigh.

Once more confirming the location of the baby, the Grandmother placed the knife at the top of Morning Moon’s abdomen. With a swift; movement, she slit open the stretched skin.

Linsey’s eyes widened in panic at the actions, but the old woman ignored her startled scream; time was more important than a white woman’s squeamishness. She cut through the uterus, exposing the membrane containing the child. Piercing through the sack, the Grandmother lifted the baby from Morning Moon’s body. Laying it on the edge of the shelf, she quickly tied off the cord and cut it.

The child was still, its dark, wet skin tinted blue. Supporting the baby’s head, the old woman cleared its mouth and firmly slapped its behind.

Linsey held her breath, her fingernails digging unheeded into Bear’s arms.

In a world filled with dying and dead, one little body filled new lungs with air. Its voice, feeble at first, quickly gathered strength. Tiny eyes opened to squint in the light of a new day, small arms and legs waving as cool air rushed over its skin.

“You have a son.” The Grandmother turned, handing the child to his father.

Wolf gently held his son, rubbing his cheek against the soft, wet one, then handed the baby to Linsey. She wrapped him in a soft blanket, carefully wiping him clean, the job made difficult because of the tears clouding her vision.

The Grandmother pulled a fur over Morning Moon, whispered quietly to Wolf then shuffled out of the lodge. Wolf knelt and tenderly gathered his wife in his arms, resting his cheek on the head against his chest. In a voice breaking with emotion, he chanted the death song of his people as he rocked her back and forth, stroking the thick black hair that flowed over his arm.

Linsey held the baby against her breasts, turning her back on Wolf so that he could have privacy in his grief. His song flowed around her, and she closed her eyes against the haunting sound, tears washing her face with silver.