The Back Building (17 page)

“Suzette, it’s alright.” I picked up my baby and allowed her to nurse even though it hadn’t been a full three hours since her last feeding. She ate frantically on the right side and I alternated her to the left.

“Lucy?” I called out for Lucy, who was never far from her sister. I worried about how long I slept in the coop and called out for her again.

I stood with the baby and called out as I searched the house. A sinking feeling settled in my gut and I ran outside, I screamed “Lucy! Come here right this minute!” at the top of my lungs.

“If you are playing hide and seek you need to come out. Lucy? You are scaring mommy.”

I ran behind the house, towards the garden but Lucy was nowhere to be found.

I put my finger against my nipple to break Suzette’s suction. I put her in her crib and although she cried nonstop I had to find Lucy. After searching the house and surrounding property to no avail for half an hour or more I knew I had to get my husband.

I ran the two miles to the mill, leaving the baby in her crib so I could get here faster.

“James!” I screamed as I approached. He heard me at once and stopped what he was doing.

“Iona, what is it, are you okay? Where are the girls?” He asked frantically.

“I can’t find Lucy! James, I can’t find her.” I told him I put the baby in her crib after I nursed her and ran all the way here to fetch him. The men at the mill stopped working and formed a search party for my daughter. I went back to Suzette while the men paired off into teams going in all possible directions. James stayed behind to get the rest of the story.

“I scolded Lucy for interrupting me, she sulked into the parlor and played with her blocks. I nursed the baby and put her down to nap, went to the coop for eggs and fell asleep. James, I didn’t mean to, I just closed my eyes for a minute.”

“Then what happened?” He asked calmly.

“I heard the baby crying and woke up, nursed her again, and called out for Lucy. I thought she was playing hide and seek, James.”

“We will find her, Iona. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

But I knew I did. I had done the unforgivable and let Hetty back in. I scolded my daughter because she was interrupting my discussion with Hetty. Hetty was on my back about the rugs and I just didn’t care about their cleanliness. I was telling Hetty to leave me be, but Lucy was being a bother and needing my constant attention. I didn’t have the patience for her at the moment so I sent her away with a spank to her bottom and warning to hush. She whimpered softly, as she dragged her blanket behind her towards the parlor. My heart broke because I knew I owed her an apology, and intended to give her one just as soon as she was found.

The men would find her. There were ten of them and she couldn’t have gotten too far, but then I thought of the river. Oh, God. Please, God, no. Don’t let her have tried to cross the river. She knew how to get to the river’s edge for we often walked there for our picnics. She was always tempted to dip her toes in, and we were fearful one day she’d wander down alone and try to swim.

A few men came back but they didn’t have Lucy with them. They got drinks and set off in a new direction. Some men brought dogs, and others brought rifles. I sank to the ground with Suzette in my arms and cried.

Chapter Twelve

Sorrow

Lucy was found face down in the river. Her lifeless body was swollen and blue when they returned her to me. I was in a state of shock, my hands were cold and my breath was shallow. I had to lie down and close my eyes, close it out and wake from this nightmare. My husband’s wails pierced my ears and my heart, he and I were inconsolable. We climbed into bed and held each other, needing to be touched and soothed. Jennifer took the baby for a few days and I let my milk run dry. I sprouted grey hairs overnight and sank into a deep impenetrable depression.

James tried to tell me that Lucy’s death was not my fault, but it was. I was solely responsible for her well-being and I neglected her. I hated Hetty for making me fail in such a life altering way. Hetty cried into her handkerchief over our loss as she stood at my doorway, but I refused to let her in.

“Who are you talking to?” James asked the morning after Lucy was brought to us.

“I am telling Hetty to leave now, forever. It’s her fault!” I yelled so she would hear. I started banging my fists against the wall and bashing my head against the counters. James grabbed my hands and pulled me in.

“Stop this,” he ordered.

I slunk to the ground and wanted to die. My heart was overflowing with grief and pain so deep that I no longer wanted to live. I cried myself to sleep and when I woke I searched the kitchen for a knife. I found a sharp blade and began sawing at my wrist. Tiny droplets of blood began to drip on the floor and as the pain intensified I felt woozy. I dropped the instrument and collapsed.

When I woke, I was in bed. My left wrist was wrapped in linen and soaked in blood. It needed to be changed. James came in and offered me a sip of water. He unwrapped my hand, but I refused to look at the cut. He cleaned it and put an emollient over the laceration before bandaging it.

“What is wrong with you? Do you think you are the only one who is hurting? You thought you would be selfish and try to take your own life so you don’t have to feel anything? What about me?” He began to shake and scream at me.

“Huh, what about me and Suzette? You would just leave us so willingly, like we didn’t matter at all?”

I was sapped of all my energy. I had no words and didn’t reply. I just closed my eyes and willed myself to die. The next time I woke, James was sleeping in our rocker. He heard the bed-springs and came to my side immediately.

“Iona, please drink something, I need you. I can’t live without you.” He begged but I remained still and closed my eyes once more. My husband cried until there were no tears left, and still he whimpered and then dry heaved. I closed him out. I refused to think of my children and pretended they were nothing more than visions. Hetty and Lucy held hands and played a game of patty cake while I watched. I hated Hetty now, but I hated myself more. The anger I felt for being who I was, a delusional woman who brought children into the world, needed to be punished.

For everyone around me, time went on. James had to return to work and the baby required care. I didn’t budge from bed. I soiled my nightgowns and sheets, and refused to eat, drink, or move. James lifted me and transferred me to the couch when the bed needed changing, and he raised my arms to put me in a fresh gown daily. Every day he put water and crackers at my bedside, and then left.

I didn’t know or care who had Suzette, she was better off with anyone but me. I rolled myself into a ball and rocked back and forth, reeling with guilt.

James was full of emotion, I heard him weeping at night, as he lay turned away from me, trying to sleep on his side of the bed. I wanted to reach out to him, but I couldn’t. I was dying inside and the only way to hurry the process was to shut everyone out and turn off my humanity.

I heard James in a concentrated discussion with someone in the kitchen, and a short while later, Suzette was brought to me. Tears escaped my eyes at the sight of her. I was afraid I would only hurt her too, so I rolled over and ignored her presence.

“She needs a doctor, James. Right now she is merely existing in her room, she is not living and you aren’t qualified to heal her.”

“Jennifer, she has been traumatized. She will be fine. If you can help with Suzette during the day I will handle everything at night.” James refused to betray my trust and ever run the risk of having me admitted to an insane asylum again.

“But the two of you are so young, you don’t have anyone else to help you, James. Let me keep the baby a while longer and you try to get her medical attention. How long can you keep this up?”

Weeks led to months and when I allowed myself to glance at James, he looked like a ghost. He was gaunt and thin, overworked, tired, and suffering. I knew I was deserting him and he couldn’t continue this way for much longer. He missed the baby and eventually brought her home at night-time. He always brought her into the bedroom when she was alert and held her out for me to see, or if my eyes were closed, to hear.

I started looking forward to the evenings, I didn’t want to allow myself to feel, but when Suzette was right in front of me my heart broke with yearning. At night, James sang her lullabies and tucked her into her cradle that he positioned beside him. He would come to me then, wipe away my tears with his gentle fingers and kiss me on the cheek. Every night he said he loved me and that he wouldn’t give up on me. Every night he told me Lucy was in heaven and that it was an accident.

Every night his mercy took hold of my heart and brought me out of my shell a little bit more. It was his kindness alone that allowed me to begin to find the strength to forgive myself, and Hetty. He was loving me back to health one moment, one day at a time.

One morning when James left with Suzette for work, I unrolled myself from the balled up fetal position I had adopted. I opened my arms, exposing my chest. I felt the air rush in and fill my lungs and lay my hand across my heart to feel its soft beating.

“God,” I whispered, “If you are listening, I need to ask you why? Why was I born this way?” I paused for a moment, thinking of the diagnosis Dr. Macy gave me. I sipped some of the stale water at my bedside before continuing.

“God, are you punishing me for being a defiant child? I would take it all back if I could, but then I wouldn’t have gone to Willard and met James. His love for me is more real than anything else in this life. I get confused sometimes, God. I don’t always know if a person is real, if they are truly talking to me, or if I am making them up. But when James is beside me, I feel his love and I know, without a doubt that it’s real. It penetrates the barriers I built over the years and fills my heart, just as my girls do. What do I do, God? How do I keep living without my precious daughter? Do I let my husband go and build a life with someone better, more deserving of him? How do I live when my daughter is buried in the ground?”

A shuffling sound caused me to open my eyes, standing before me with tears in her eyes was Jennifer. She heard my prayer, and I wondered if God hadn’t sent her to me, at precisely this moment for a reason.

“I just wanted to be here, in case you needed anything,” Jennifer said in explanation before hugging me tight and crying for both of us.

“Then where is Suzette?” I asked anxiously, suddenly needing to know she was okay.

“She is here, in the parlor, sleeping. She has been napping for three hours mid-morning. I was hoping you’d let me take care of you too?” I nodded yes to her and decided she was the answer to my prayers.

She filled a tub with warm water and stripped me of my soiled nightgown. She took my hand, ever so gently, and led me to the bathroom where she bathed me and washed my hair. She kneaded my scalp and soaped my back. When I was rinsed and dried she put lotion on my legs, my feet and hands. She took her time pampering me with the grace of a mother’s love. Jennifer was a mother, so she understood my torment and guilt. She brought me into the parlor and sat me down on the davenport while she made tea and checked on the baby.

“Would you like to talk about it?” she asked, placing a steaming mug of tea beside me.

“I didn’t deserve Lucy, and I don’t deserve James and Suzette.”

“You may feel that way now, Iona, but you don’t get to choose who loves you. I have seen you with your family and I can say firsthand what an excellent mother you are. You showed Lucy nothing but love in her two years.” Jennifer stifled her tears.

“But it is my fault. I scolded for reasons I can’t explain. I shouldn’t have done that. I thought she was safe in the house when I went to collect the eggs. I needed a minute, I closed my eyes to rest for just a moment…”

“I know, I know. But it was an accident, Iona. You didn’t seek to harm your daughter, and we all scold our children for various reasons.”

I was at a crossroads. I needed to decide how much I trusted Jennifer. If, in fact, she was a loyal friend, then she would be able to listen to my story and understand the real reason I felt at fault. If I doubted that she was real, or that our friendship was honorable then I needed to keep my secret locked away. Her eyes sought mine for understanding.

“I am tired, Jennifer. But I do want you to understand that there is more to the story. I’d like to tell you if you’d be willing to listen.”

“I am here, aren’t I?” The baby stirred for a moment and I turned my ear towards her, but she settled herself once more.

“I had a difficult upbringing. I felt very alone in my home although I did have two siblings, brothers. No one in the family ever really loved me, I suppose they were more concerned with outward appearances. I was continually in trouble for not being more feminine, or taking more of an interest in domestic matters. Truthfully, I was just a child, a child who wanted to run free and play outside all day long. I was subject to emotional abuse from a young age. My mother gave me the silent treatment, withheld food from me, and locked me in my room if I failed to do my chores properly or if I sassed her in anyway. My father despised me. During this time, I developed an imaginary friend. Her name is Hetty. I wish I could tell you that Hetty went away as I grew up, but in fact, she became a stronger influence. I convinced myself that Hetty was our new house-keeper. She came several days a week and part of her duties included teaching me how to keep house. I scrubbed the tubs with her and learned how to wash floors, laundry became second nature. From there we moved on to the kitchen where she was teaching me some basic cooking techniques. Hetty was as real to me then as you are to me now.”