Where Willows Grow (36 page)
She looked out the window for Harley, and something—something she hadn’t seen for months—captured her attention. Clouds. Dark clouds building in the east. ‘‘Lord, can it be?’’ she wondered aloud.
Harley slammed the door open and fell in behind the wheel. ‘‘Ern says he’ll keep the girls as long as we need him to. Now let’s get you back to Spencer an’—’’ ‘‘No, Harley, no time to go back to Spencer.’’ A pressure down low told Anna Mae things were moving faster than they had with her first two. She stared hard at the clouds, hope building in her heart. ‘‘We’d better just go home.’’
‘‘But I can’t deliver a baby!’’
Anna Mae finally looked at him. ‘‘Well, of course not in a
car
. But at home, in my own bed, we can do it. Let’s go, Harley.’’
He sat, his mouth hanging open.
‘‘Harley, let’s go,’’ she said again, using a tone she reserved for her sternest moments. ‘‘I will not have this baby in Mr. Berkley’s driveway!’’
Harley put the auto in drive and headed for the house. He guided her inside, his touch as gentle as if she were made of fine china, and helped her into her nightgown. Lying back in the bed, Anna Mae sighed. In her house, with the willow tree dancing in the fresh, scented breeze that had sprung up, she knew everything would be fine.
‘‘Go ahead and get things ready, Harley. Boil water to sterilize scissors and string, get the clean towels from the shelf, and get some newspaper to put underneath me so I don’t soil the mattress.’’
He stood near the bed, worry creasing his brow. ‘‘Annie, honey, I’m not so sure about this. . . .’’
Anna Mae gave a firm nod. ‘‘I’m sure. We can do it. And it’ll be so special, Harley, you and me welcoming this baby together.’’
‘‘But, Annie, what if—’’
‘‘I’ll be fine.’’
Anna Mae found reason to question her blithe statement as the afternoon wore on and the pains drew closer together, lasted longer, and the intensity increased. She held her breath through the hardest ones, almost forgetting to breathe, but Harley’s hand on her head and encouraging whispers got her through. And finally the moment arrived. Through a blur of pain, she heard Harley’s exultant shout: ‘‘It’s a girl! Glory be! Annie, we got a girl!’’
She thought groggily,
He should name this one. Gloria Beatrice . . . that’s pretty . . . and he can call her Glory Bea if he
wants to
.
She heard the snip of the scissors, and then Harley lay the infant across her chest. The baby girl waved miniscule fists and crunched her face into a horrible scowl. The baby’s fury at being thrust into the world brought a gentle laugh from her mama. ‘‘Hey, there, baby,’’ she soothed, wrapping a towel around the scrawny body, ‘‘you’re okay. Mama’s got you.’’
The baby’s weak wail filled the room, competing with a different sound—a rumble that had been so long absent, Anna Mae didn’t recognize it at first. But then she remembered the clouds, remembered the cause of the noise, and a smile found its way to her parched lips.
‘‘Harley, is it raining on our baby’s birthday?’’
Through drooping lids, she saw Harley cross to the window and peek out. He spun around, his smile wide. ‘‘Look here, Annie! See that on the window? Spatters! It
is
rain! The drought is over!’’ He returned to the bed as fast as his limp would allow and scooped the baby into his hands. Back at the window, he kissed the baby’s red cheek, avoiding a tiny flailing fist, and held her up to the window. ‘‘Look at that, little darlin’. Rain. It’s as much a sight for sore eyes as you are.’’
Cradling the baby in one arm, he flung the window open, and a sweet scent washed into the room. Anna Mae inhaled, filling her senses with the fragrance of rain. She closed her eyes, listening to Harley’s soft voice.
‘‘Little baby, lookee out there. Those raindrops comin’ down’ll water all the plants, quench those thirsty leaves, and water’ll be stored up underneath the ground again. See that big ol’ willow tree? It has the good sense to send roots way down under the earth to reach the deep-down water. That’s why it’s been growin’ so well all this time. That’s what I’m gonna teach you to do, darlin’ girl. You’re gonna learn to send your roots to the deep source of God’s love, so you can grow in Him. My friend Dirk taught me ’bout that.’’
Anna Mae felt warm tears wash down her face. Hearing her husband speak of God with such familiarity while rain gently pattered the roof was a pleasure beyond anything she’d experienced before.
Harley’s voice fell silent, the baby’s soft hiccups calming, as well.
‘‘Bring her over here, Harley,’’ Anna Mae begged.
Harley turned, his face lit with a smile. He carried the baby to the bed and placed her in Anna Mae’s waiting arms. The baby nuzzled against her mother’s neck, bringing a rush of pure love.
Harley pressed his palms on either side of Anna Mae’s shoulders and planted a tender kiss on her forehead. Smiling into her face, he whispered, ‘‘It’s perfect, isn’t it?’’
Anna Mae lifted her chin to kiss Harley’s lips. Perfect, yes. Their faith had blossomed just like a willow tree, despite hardship and drought. When Harley shifted to sit on the edge of the mattress, Anna Mae gasped. Through the open window, a rainbow appeared, its bright bands of color shimmering against the deep blue of the clearing sky. Harley slipped his arm behind Anna Mae’s shoulders, lifting her so she could see more clearly.
‘‘God’s just rainin’ down blessings, Annie,’’ Harley whispered into her ear.
She didn’t answer. She didn’t need to. She knew her smile said it all.
Writing a book is not a one-person undertaking—and I’m deeply grateful to the following people for their assistance.
Mom and Daddy
—You’ve encouraged my writing for as long as I can remember. Your belief in me helped me believe in myself. God blessed me extra good when He gave me you.
Don
—Thanks for telling me you’re proud of me. The only sweeter words are when you tell me you love me.
Kristian, Kaitlyn, and Kamryn
—You three are always in the back of my mind as I write. I pray your God-planted dreams will find fulfillment and you will always seek His face no matter where you go or what you do.
Connor, Ethan, and Rylin
—Gramma loves you so much! Thank you for providing comic relief and smiles and hugs. What did we ever do without you?
Mr. Harvey Kohr
—Thank you for telling me about your father’s leadership on the castle-building site. I appreciate your willingness to answer the questions of a stranger. I feel as though I made a friend.
Ron Loomis
—The hayrack ride at your place in October 2004 planted the seed of this story. Thank you for allowing me to come back in the light of day to explore the old farmhouse. The sunshine of that afternoon brought the seed to life.
Kathy, Don, Ann, and the choir members of First Southern Baptist
—Your prayers and words of support are invaluable to me. Thank you for your continued interest in what I’m up to.
Eileen, Margie, Crystal, Jill, Staci, and Ramona
—You ladies take my words, tweak them, and make them better than they were before. I think I’ve got the best bunch of ‘‘critters’’ around.
Charlene and the staff at Bethany House
—What a privilege and honor it is to work with you! Thank you for all you do.
Finally, and most importantly, praise be to God
—I feel so close to You when I’m at the keyboard, creating the stories You place on my heart. Thank You for Your steadfast presence in my life. May any praise or glory be reflected directly back to You.
KIM VOGEL SAWYER is fond of
C
words like
children,
cats,
and
chocolate
. She is the author of ten novels, including the bestselling
Waiting for Summer’s Return
. She is active in her church, where she teaches adult Sunday school and participates in both voice and bell choirs. In her spare time, she enjoys drama, quilting, and calligraphy. Kim and her husband, Don, reside in Hutchinson, Kansas, and have three daughters and three grandsons.
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