Miss Julia Rocks the Cradle (13 page)

Snatching it up from under the bed where I must’ve flung it, I answered it.

“Miss Julia? It’s me, Etta Mae.”

“Is everybody all right?” I asked, gripping the phone. “How’re the babies? How’s Hazel Marie? Is the doctor there?”

“Not
her
doctor. He’s in Asheville. But some other doctor who was already here checked out the babies and her too. Then he decided—now don’t get upset because I’m not a bit surprised—that she needed a little repair work. He’s doing that now. But they’ve called Dr. Hargrove, who’ll get here as soon as emergency workers pick him up. He can’t get out on his own. I tell you, it’s slick out there.” She paused to take a breath. “How’re y’all doing?”

“We’re all right,” I said, walking back into the living room where there was a modicum of heat. “Candles have about burned down, so I’ll have to search for some more. And I still haven’t called Mr. Pickens.”

She laughed. “You better get on that pretty quick. She was asking about him before they took her to the operating room.”

“Operating room! What’re they doing to her?”

“Just a little nip and tuck,” Etta Mae said. “She’ll be back in her room within the hour, so I wouldn’t even mention it to J.D.”

“I was just about to call him. But, listen, Etta Mae, Coleman said he’d come pick us up when he gets off duty and take us over there. You want me to bring you some clothes?”

“Yes, ma’am, I sure do. I’m still wearing my coat ’cause this ole bathrobe is so tatty looking. Everything I need is laid out on the chair in the sunroom, if you don’t mind bringing it all. Oh, and Hazel Marie wants her makeup case.”

After a few more reassurances from her that Hazel Marie was fine and after she’d given me a rundown on the babies’ weights and measurements, we hung up so I could call Mr. Pickens.

But just as I started to punch in his cell phone number, the door to the hall slid open.

“Has them babies got here yet?” Latisha stood there, bleary-eyed and yawning.

I opened my mouth to announce their arrival, then thought better of it. “Run wake up Lloyd, Latisha, and both of you bring down your warmest clothes. I’ll tell you all about it when you get back.”

Her face lit up and she turned to dash upstairs. I walked over and closed the door she’d left open, trying to retain what little heat the fireplace was putting out.

Then I called Mr. Pickens.

He answered in a deep sleep-laden voice. “Yeah?”

“Mr. Pickens, this is Julia Murdoch. I’m calling to tell you that your babies have arrived. Everybody’s fine and they’re all over at the hospital, being well taken care of.” Then hearing a beep on the line, I asked, “What’s that?”

“What’s that?” he repeated.

“I said,” I said, “your babies are here. Two little girls, one weighing four pounds, six ounces, and the other, five pounds even. Hazel Marie’s asking for you, but I’m not sure you can get here. We’re snowed in—power lines and trees are down, and not even the emergency services could get to us. Coleman had to bring in four-wheel-drive pickups to get her and the babies to the hospital.” I heard another beep and decided to watch what I said in case our conversation was being recorded.

But the next beep was drowned out by the swish of covers as he sprang out of bed. “What’d you say?”

So I told him again and he could hardly take it in, kept asking the same thing over and over. “In the living room? You mean,
your
living room? Who delivered them? Is she all right?”

Finally I got tired of it and said, “Mr. Pickens, I’ve already told you all I know. Now, you should check the interstates before you start for home. You may not be able to make it up the mountain.”

“Oh, I’ll make it. Soon as I wake Sam, we’ll be on the road.”

“Well, you be careful and don’t have an accident. I tell you, after last night I don’t need another thing to have to deal with.”

Just as we hung up, Lillian came in bearing a tray filled with cereals, bowls, a carton of milk, cups, and a saucepan. “I’m gonna see can I heat this water up over the fire and we’ll have us some instant coffee.”

Instant coffee was not normally my cup of tea, but right then it would certainly hit the spot. Lillian, fully dressed—in fact, more than fully dressed with heavy stockings and socks over those, plus two sweaters over her dress—drew up a footstool and stoked up the fire.

We heard the clumping of feet on the stairs and Lloyd and Latisha bounded into the room. Lloyd’s hair was standing on end and his eyes were huge and wild looking.

“Where’s Mama?” he asked, shivering in his flannel pajamas. “Latisha said the babies came.”

“They did,” I said, reaching for him. “And they’re all at the hospital. You have two baby sisters, Lloyd. And we can thank Lillian for their safe arrival.”

“You mean . . .?” His head swiveled from one to the other of us, although I didn’t know how he saw either one because his glasses were askew on his face. “You mean they came here,
right here,
and
nobody woke me up
?”

“Your mother didn’t want to disturb you, honey,” I said, attempting to soothe his hurt feelings. “And, besides, giving birth is woman’s work, always has been, always will be.” Of course, that pronouncement didn’t take into account all the male obstetricians around, but Lloyd didn’t notice and I didn’t add a disclaimer.

“Well, that just frosts me good,” he said, shivering from cold or excitement, or maybe both. “Looks like somebody could’ve called me. I could’ve helped, couldn’t I? I mean, they’re
my
little sisters, aren’t they?”

“I knowed they was comin’,” Latisha chimed in. “But I got sent back to bed, so I didn’t get to see a thing.”

“Look now,” I said, trying to reassure the boy, “Coleman will be here in a little while to take you and me to the hospital. We’ll visit with your mother and see the babies and hopefully get warm. So you run and get your warmest clothes, both of you, and get dressed here by the fire.”

“I wanta go too,” Latisha said. “I jus’ got to see them babies.”

Lillian, who was heating milk over the fire for hot chocolate, turned to her. “You not goin’, little girl. Them babies is Lloyd’s sisters, so he gets to see ’em first. ’Sides, I need you here with me. We may have to bundle up and keep each other warm.”

Hazel Marie’s cell phone rang then and I hurriedly removed it from my pocket. Glancing at the display, I saw that the charge was low, and no wonder, because it’d been under the bed most of the night. It had been warning me, I realized, by beeping its head off and was still at it. Hoping it would last a few more minutes, I answered it to hear Mr. Pickens.

“How is everybody?” he asked without any kind of greeting.

“Cold,” I responded.

“I mean, how’s Hazel Marie?”

“She must be doing fine. She’s asking for her makeup case. Coleman is coming to get Lloyd and me in a little while, so I’ll be able to tell you more when I can recharge this phone. So talk fast.”

“We’re just past Greensboro, so we’ll be there in a couple of hours. Maybe three.”

“Don’t count on it, Mr. Pickens. If the highway is anything like Polk Street, you’re going to have trouble getting up the mountain. If the highway patrol even lets you try.”

“Is it that bad?”

I cut off the sharp retort that was on the tip of my tongue and said instead, “Under ordinary circumstances, Mr. Pickens, we would not have had a home delivery. So, yes, it is that bad and we’re about to freeze to death.”

“Did you check Sam’s house? The power may be on there.”

“Why, Mr. Pickens, I didn’t even think of that. Of course, we have had a busy night and Hazel Marie was in no condition to walk four blocks in a foot of snow, and there is a tree down across the driveway, covering my car and Etta Mae’s, and power lines are down, flipping and snapping in the streets, but I’ve really been slack for not looking into that possibility.”

There was silence on the line and I worried that the phone had given out. Then he said, “Okay. We’ll get a generator as soon as we get back.”

“What a good idea,” I said, warming to him again. “Except, I expect everybody in the county has already had the same one.”

“Figures,” he said in that snippy way of his. “Maybe Sam can find one. Just tell Hazel Marie I’m on my way.”

“Speaking of Sam, may I speak to him?” But the phone went dead and that was the end of that.

Lloyd and Latisha came in, bearing armloads of clothes, their teeth chattering as they hurried to the fire.

“Boy,” Lloyd said, “this house is freezing.”

“That’s why we got all the faucets dripping,” Lillian said. “Next thing you know, water pipes be bustin’ all over the place. Y’all wrap a blanket ’round yourselves and drink this hot chocolate while it hot.”

Latisha took her cup, eyed it carefully, then said, “I sure wish we had some mushmellers to go in here.”

As Lillian started to tell her to be thankful for what she had, Lloyd got tickled and almost spilled his cup. “Well,” he was finally able to get out, “I wouldn’t mind having some mushmellers either.” And that set them both laughing.

After Lillian got the hang of toasting bread over an open flame without setting it on fire, we had the semblance of a breakfast.

“Time for you both to get dressed,” I said, after my second cup of lukewarm instant coffee. “It’s getting light outside and Coleman will be here before long. We can’t keep him waiting, Lloyd, so hurry and get your clothes on.”

“You mean, right here in front of
every
body?” The boy was shocked at the thought.

“No, you and Latisha can each get behind a chair. Nobody will look, I assure you.”

While they did that, I went to the window and opened the draperies. The sun was up in a clear sky, shining as if a storm had never ravaged the landscape. But the evidence was there in the damage left behind. Still, it was a scenic view with snow covering the boxwoods, the walk, the street, and the church across the street. In fact, it was beautiful if you didn’t have to go out in it and if you could admire it from inside a warm house, neither of which applied to me. All I could do was wish I were gazing at a Hallmark card instead of the real thing.

“One good thing,” I said, turning back to Lillian. “Looks like the snow has stopped and the wind’s died down. Maybe the storm’s passed on by.”

“Le’s us hope,” she said, as she buttoned Latisha’s sweater. “I already had enough of it.”

Lloyd turned himself around to warm his back as he stood by the fireplace. “Me too,” he said. “The worst thing about a fireplace is that you burn up on one side and freeze to death on the other. You never can get warm all over.”

Lillian rose from her chair and wrapped a blanket around Latisha and placed another one across Lloyd’s shoulders. “That’s the way people used to live all the time. Now you chil’ren stay close to the fire and not be runnin’ all over the house.”

Wishing I didn’t have to run all over the house, I nonetheless left on my rounds to gather Etta Mae’s clothes and Hazel Marie’s suitcase, long packed for the expected trip to the hospital, as well as her makeup case. If that was left behind, somebody would be trekking back to the house on a pair of snowshoes.

Hearing the growl of a heavy motor and the crunching of ice as I brought the plunder into the living room, I glanced out the window.

“Coleman’s here, Lloyd. He’s a little early, so get yourself ready. Bundle up—coat, cap, gloves, everything. You have your boots on?”

“Yes’m, I do, but you better get yours on too.”

I already had my coat on but sat down and pulled on a pair of galoshes that were so old the snaps no longer worked. They barely covered my shoes, which meant that I was going to have another case of frozen feet as they flapped around my ankles.

Coleman came in looking bone tired and half frozen, but he got Lloyd and the suitcases loaded into his truck, while I lingered at the door listening to Lillian tell me not to fall and break something. It was the first time I’d gotten a good look at the tree that had fallen during the night, seeing that it wasn’t the actual tree but a huge limb that had broken off. Still, it covered my car and Etta Mae’s, and would take a chain saw to remove. But the day was clear with no sign of the heavy clouds that had brought so much snow the night before.

Coleman crunched back through the snow to the porch where I waited. “Hop up on my back, Miss Julia. I’ll carry you to the truck.”

“I certainly will not,” I said, picturing what I’d look like with arms and legs clamped around his back. “Just let me hold on to your arm and I’ll get there under my own steam.”

He laughed. “Let’s do better than that.” He lifted me off the porch, then with an arm around my shoulders walked me safely to the truck, which, thank the Lord, was warm.

It was a slow ride to the hospital over streets that had been scraped of snow but left with a layer of ice. Tree limbs, heavy with ice, hung over the streets, and power lines drooped low over the sidewalks. Broken limbs littered the yards.