South of Stavewood (Stavewood Saga Book 2) (20 page)

Chapter Thirty-Nine

    
 
T
he February thaw enticed the women out to the grounds in the soft sunlight, pale as lemonade. Rebecca sat on the bench, nearing her due date and Emma beside her beginning to show a rounding in her belly. There was the promise of warmth in the air, but the women knew it would not remain. The earth was frozen hard and the garden was a dark patch against the solid dry earth at Stavewood.

      “We did plenty of planning, Becky,” Emma remarked. “But in your condition, and me not far behind you I wonder if we ever really will get out to garden.”

      “After the first few weeks we’ll be okay. When I had Loo Timothy and Isabel were there to help, but they couldn’t feed her. Those first few days are just a blur.”

      “Isabel is going to be staying after the baby comes, right?” Emma asked. She had already prepared a room for her at the house for July when her own baby was expected. “And I’ll be at Stavewood a lot. Roland and I talked about it and we thought it would be a good idea. I think he hopes to get some practice,” Emma chuckled.

      The women watched Mark pull the wagon up to the stables alone. He stepped down, a puzzled look on his face, and walked towards the women.

      “Virginia wasn’t there. Her father doesn’t want her visiting Abigail any more. Mr. Densmore didn’t say it right out, but I think it’s because of me.” He plunked down on the bench and scowled.

      “Why, what did he say to you?”  Emma stood up in aggravation.

      “He said that he thought Virginia’s father believed we were spending too much time unsupervised together.”

      “Oh, Mark.” Rebecca put her arm around the young man’s shoulder.

      “It’s alright,” he sighed. “She hasn’t been around all that much anyway. Maybe when summer comes she’ll be back.”

      “Do you want your father or me to talk to Mr. Densmore?”

      “Nah,” he replied and headed out towards the mill.

      Mark thought about the last letter he had gotten from the girl. The letters came more and more often now, and it wasn’t the first time he had wondered if maybe things weren’t working out for the best.

      He genuinely liked the girl. She had a bright disposition and was a good listener, and she didn’t look too bad. Sometimes she looked very pretty.

      After the day they had kissed along the path her letters began to change. Although Mark enjoyed her company, she felt something much stronger and it had begun to concern him. It seemed like every time they were together she wanted to kiss him more and she was constantly egging him on to go farther and farther from the watchful eyes of any adult. In her last letter she had confessed her love for him.

      Roland walked along the mill path towards Stavewood and watched the boy kicking the dirt, deep in thought. He had seen him often in a pensive mood lately, and he had noticed that it was generally after the Densmore girl had visited or a letter had arrived in the post.

      “Woman trouble?” The man approached the boy casually.

      “Yeah,” Mark looked up and chuckled. “How did you know?”

      “I’ve had trouble with one or two in my day.” Roland smiled and placed his hand affectionately on the boy’s shoulder.

      “Mr. Densmore says Virginia’s father won’t let her visit anymore. I dunno, I like her okay, and it was fun to visit with her, but she’s kinda kissy too.”

      “Kinda kissy?” Roland stopped and faced the boy.

      Mark stripped the leaves from a branch on a nearby tree and considered his response.

      “It seems like whenever we’re together she only wants to duck away from everyone and be kissing. I just don’t feel right about it.”

      “Why not?” Roland decided it better to hear the boy’s reasoning before making any assumption and advising him.

      “Samuel Evens had a girlfriend like that. He stopped seeing her after a while then she found another guy and after that her folks had to send her away and they wanted the guy to marry her. I like Virginia well enough, but I wouldn’t want to be married to her. If I did that then when the right girl came around I would already be married.”

      “Then you’re using your head.” He was impressed by the boy’s logical reasoning.

      “You had girlfriends before you married Cousin Emma. Did you have any that were like that?”

      “Yes, more than one, in fact.”

      “How did you tell them that you didn’t like them that way and you were waiting for the right one?”

      Roland chuckled softly. “That might be one of the hardest things in the world to do, Mark.” He faced the boy seriously. “No one wants to be told they aren’t right or good enough for something. As soon as I figured out that I didn’t want a big commitment I just stepped back and took it easy. Maybe Virginia’s father just did you a big favor, and it’s the best thing for his daughter too.”

      “Why do you think she’s like that?” Mark wondered aloud.

      “Like what? ‘Kissy’?”

      “Yeah. I think that she feels like no one loves her enough,” the boy continued thoughtfully.

      “And maybe,” Roland included, “she knew that you didn’t have the same feelings and she thought if she tried harder it might change your feelings towards her.”

      “I don’t think that would work.” The young man looked up seriously and studied Roland Vancouver’s face.

      “Mr. Vancouver, I think that you’re going to be a really good father when your baby comes.”

      Roland held the boy’s shoulder affectionately and gave it a warm squeeze. “I sure hope so! It’s a pretty important job.”

      “I guess that’s why it’s better to wait until you can do it with a good mother.” Mark nodded his head. “It’s really hard at first. Loo cried all the time for a while and would not stop for nothing, but once they get used to being born it’s pretty nice, I think.”

      “Thanks for the advice,” Roland smiled. “I’ll remember that.”

      “Did you get some lunch up at the house?” Roland turned to resume his walk towards Stavewood.

      “I almost forgot!” Mark walked with him back to the house.

Chapter Forty

    
 
R
ebecca watched Timothy let the man from the mill into his study through the outside door. In all of the time she had been at Stavewood she had never seen her husband use the exterior door. She had noticed that he came home from the mill with paperwork often now, working from his den and not just the mill office. She began to suspect that he wanted to be closer when her time came.

      She placed her hand against her tightening belly and knew that her baby would not wait too much longer. She had felt a shift in the last few days and Isabel had examined her carefully. This time the baby was in position already and the mid-wife assured that the delivery should go much more easily than it had with Louisa. Timothy would wait outside with Mark and Loo, as it should be, and Rebecca could have her baby without being lifted and tossed.

      She recollected the day that Loo had been born, the soft light of morning peeking through the windows, the yellow coverlet from the bed folded neatly on the chair in the corner. She thought of the pain, all of the intense pain. Then the fear, knowing something was wrong as Isabel spoke to Timothy in a clear commanding voice she had never heard the woman use before or since. She remembered how she ached and fought when he turned her aggressively in an attempt to get her baby in the right position, and the days of exhaustion from the incredible ordeal. It would be easier, Isabel had assured her. Rebecca took a deep breath as she felt another gentle squeeze.

      She ate lightly for lunch, feeling hungry, but thinking it better to not overindulge.

      Isabel watched the young mother from across the table and saw her set her jaw, her face growing resolute and the faraway look in her eye. She knew there would be another child at Stavewood before the next morning. She nodded to Timothy furtively and he looked at his wife and then back, a questioning look on his face. Isabel nodded almost imperceptibly and then watched a slow look of controlled panic growing over the man’s face and smiled.

      Rebecca tried to take a mid-day nap with Louisa, but felt restless and alert and so she walked up the hall to the turret. She pulled open the heavy doors and the air rushed into the house. Stepping out into the bright afternoon sunlight she surveyed her surroundings. The turret allowed a full circle view of the property, stunning even still in the grasp of winter. She looked at the rows of apple trees in the far orchards and watched the curl of smoke from the stoves at the mill to the north. She could see the tops of the back barns through the rows of pine and leafless deciduous trees. To the west and north lay the railroad. Though she could not see it, she knew it well. Hawk Bend Station was out there where she had been taken captive. It sat northwest from the estate.

      To the south led the road from Stavewood and past that the Vancouver house and the meadow, pretty as a postcard any time of year. To the east lay Fawn Lake, still frozen solid and less several fish. Rebecca smiled to herself and felt her belly contract solidly. She took a deep breath and waited for the tightening to subside then walked slowly to the guest room.

      Isabel looked up from her book questioningly.

      “It’s started,” Rebecca whispered. “I think it’s time.”

      Isabel stood beside the girl, waiting for the next contraction and felt the solid tightening of the woman’s belly. The contraction was strong and she noticed that Rebecca walked with her feet further apart.

      “This one is not going to fool around,” she spoke to Rebecca softly and led her to the room they had prepared and sat her in the chair.

      “It’s time,” Isabel announced from the doorway of Timothy’s den. “Would you let the household know and send someone up to the mill for Mark and Roland and to pick up Emma. I’d like her with me.” Isabel knew that Emma’s own time was fast approaching as well and she’d learn much from this experience.

      Timothy Elgerson stood up so suddenly he banged his knee on the open drawer of the desk and cursed under his breath.

      Isabel smiled at her son affectionately as he stood behind the desk, a pained look on his face.

      “This one won’t come like Louisa, son.” she spoke firmly. “This one is going to be in a hurry. I suggest you are as well.”

      Timothy nodded and hurried to his horse.

      Emma opened the door to the room slowly after a gentle tap and a soft, “Come in”. Rebecca was on the bed puffing seriously as Isabel laid out fresh linens on the bureau, watching the girl from the corner of her eye.

      She crossed the room slowly, curious and terrified and sat in the chair beside the bed, catching her breath from the ride over.

      “Emma, I want you to wash your hands in the bath thoroughly with the hard soap that I left in there and dry your hands with the white towel I left out.”

      She did as instructed and went back to the chair by the bed.

      “Hello,” Rebecca smiled, soft beads of perspiration sparkling on her brow. She gasped deeply and began panting again.

      Emma took her hand and watched Isabel closely as she set out a clamp and a large pair of scissors. She gulped and tried to compose herself for Rebecca’s sake.

      “Relax,” Isabel spoke clearly. “You are only the spectator this time and I think we’ll be done with this very soon.”

      Rebecca let out a deep growl and panted harder.

      “Help me scoot her up on the bed.”

      They scooted the young mother easily and arranged a pyramid of pillows behind her so that she was in a semi-sitting position.

      Rebecca grasped Emma’s hand so hard it brought tears to her eyes and she watched her cousin’s face closely.

      “Rebecca, you’re doing great, honey. This baby is going to be a piece of cake. You keep breathing like that until I tell you to push. Just like last time, remember, but this time it will be over soon, honey.” Isabel waited for the next contraction.

      “Emma when I tell her to push you stay with her, you keep giving her my instructions. You are right there in her ear and you must make certain she hears you through the pain. Do you understand?”

      Emma took a deep breath and nodded in understanding.

      “Here we go.” Isabel held her hands against the girl and waited for the pain to build.

      “Now, Rebecca, push now!” Her voice was clear and commanding.

      Rebecca put her chin on her chest the way she had remembered from last time and pushed with all of her might. She fell back against the pillows and Emma’s arm as she felt the first release. She took several deep breaths and prepared for the next contraction.

      “Good girl,” Isabel encouraged. “I see you’ve done this before!”

      Rebecca choked a tiny laugh and took a deep breath as the next pain began.

      “That’s it, honey!” Isabel called out as the child slipped into her waiting hands. “It’s a boy!”

      The child let out a lusty wail as he came into the world, cradled firmly in his grandmother’s capable hands.

      Isabel wrapped the infant quickly, wiping his face efficiently and handed the infant to Emma so she could finish with Rebecca. She moved her up on the bed.

      Emma began to cry with wonder and awe as she watched the infant scowl and rub his tiny fist across his face in confusion.

      Taking the newborn gently, Isabel laid him carefully in his mother’s arms and the child looked up at her as she spoke quietly.

      “Hello,” Rebecca whispered softly, as Emma took a step back from the bed, overcome. “Ladies,” Rebecca looked up from her infant child. “I would like to introduce you to Phillip Lee Elgerson.”

      Isabel put her hand to her chest and swallowed hard, and Emma stepped up and hugged the woman in tears. The grandmother gathered herself and took the child from his mother. She looked into the eyes of her new grandchild and whispered. “Hello, Phillip,” tears streaming down her face.

      Emma coughed in an attempt to gather herself and Isabel turned to her and drew in her breath.

      “Go tell those men!” She gave her a playful shove. “Give me a few minutes to clean up in here and then send in my son.”

      Emma looked at the woman in confusion. “You want me to tell them?” She looked toward the door and back again.

      “Go, tell them,” Rebecca laughed.

      Emma stepped out from the room and closed the door behind her and leaned her back against the solid wood. She checked her appearance in the hall mirror and rubbed the streaks of tears from her cheeks. Taking a deep breath outside of the parlor doorway she pulled open the doors firmly.

      Timothy stood beside the fireplace, a large brandy in his hand, facing Roland who stood up suddenly straight. Mark nearly jumped from the sofa with Louisa in his arms. They all stood staring at Emma expectantly when Louisa asked softly, “Is it a brother or a sister?” Her face was quiet and pale.

      “It’s a boy!” Emma announced and tears began to run uncontrolled down her face.

      “Woohoo!” Mark tossed the child in the air while Roland clasped Timothy’s hand in congratulations and then walked to his wife and pulled her close to him. She smiled through her tears.

      Timothy walked to his wife’s side and kissed her forehead with infinite tenderness. He looked down at his newborn son, cradled in his mother’s arms and kissed him with equal care.

      The big man squatted down and studied the infant’s face closely and furrowed his brow.

      “He looks just like Dad,” he turned to his mother and stood upright, taking the child from Rebecca’s arms and walking towards the light of the window. “Mom,” he looked to Isabel. “He’s the image of Dad.”

      “Then it’s a good thing you named him Phillip,” Isabel stood beside her son looking down at the child with love and pride.

      “Thank you both, for choosing that name,” she smiled up to her son and then to his wife in the bed.

      “If we hadn’t have planned to I think we would have no other choice,” Timothy laughed.

      Mark led Louisa into the room with quiet reverence and watched the girl lean over the infant silently. She reached up slowly and touched his tiny fist and then his cheek and gasped as he opened his eyes just a sliver and squeaked like a mouse.

      “He’s so tiny,” she whispered, “and he looks like Grandpa Philip,” the child announced.

      Timothy laughed loudly enough that the infant jumped and Mark took the baby as Rebecca held him up. Phillip let out a robust howl and Timothy put his hand on the young man’s shoulder.

      “Start singing, boy,” he chuckled.