Dances Naked (3 page)

Rachel’s face skewed up as she listened. It was obvious she didn’t understand Sarah’s explanation. I translated it for her into plain and simple childspeak, “Sarah is going to give you a special tea so the baby will come out
,
but we have to do it right away or you could die.”

“Oh,” she said dejectedly but with total understanding. “Should I feed the boy first?”

I looked at Sarah and saw she
wanted
me to help. “I can do it,” I offered willingly. “You’re going to need all of your strength for the delivery.” I looked over and saw the sweaty shawl in a heap on the floor. I didn’t want to even touch it with my hands much less drape it across my shoulders as a scent diversion so the baby would nurse. Inspiration came to me with the sight of the stack of fresh clouts. “Just a minute,” I said, “Sarah, watch that he doesn’t roll off the table,”
even though
we both knew he probably didn’t have enough energy to move.

I rushed out to the well
,
refilled the ewer
,
and
came back in.
I held a clean clout over the basin and poured water over it. I approached Rachel with it and said, “Here, this is an old trick I learned a long time ago.” I
intended to use
the cloth to wipe her face and neck
in order to capture her aroma
. She pulled back in shock at being bathed. I doubt that she did it herself much less let anyone else
approach
her is such a familiar manner. “I’m going to nurse your son but I need your body’s, um, scent so he thinks that he’s getting milk from you. I don’t know if you saw them outside in the pen under the tree
,
but I have three babies I’m nursing right now so one more won’t be a problem.”

Rachel’s eyes got huge. “Three?” she asked, “All at the same time? No, that couldn’t be.” She hung her head again and resumed her beaten down woman posture. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t talk so much.”

“No, you’re fine,” Sarah declared. “But
,
I need to get the tea brewing. Evie, can you finish up here?” she asked as she cut her eyes over to the lethargic and still feces encrusted baby boy.

I
tossed
th
e clout with the eau d’ Rachel
over my shoulder
then
started soaking the boy’s bottom. “What’s his name?” I asked. I didn’t want her to feel like she shouldn’t speak, especially around other women.

“Atholl Grant MacLeod
Junior,” she replied, almost apologetically. “His father insisted the name be the same as his.” She looked at Sarah
,
then me
,
and
stuck out her chin in defiance,
“But
,
I don’t think he’ll need to use the
‘
Junior
’
part of his name. I’m pretty sure his father is dead,”
she said
then spat on the ground next to the bed, making both Sarah and me jump, “so he’ll be the only one.”

I squeezed my eyes shut, my hand still on Little Atholl’s belly
,
and panted, trying to control the overwhelming urge to vomit. This was the son of the man who had robbed me, shot me, attacked Sarah and my little Jenny, killed her two biological brothers
,
and then was beaten to a bloody pulp by my husband after a grand confrontation involving Julian, Jody, Master Simon
,
and
many
Redcoat soldiers. If Captain Atholl ‘Asshole’ MacLeod was dead, and I was pretty sure that he was at least sentenced to die, I couldn’t feel sorry for him. But
,
I really did feel compassion for his widow and son.

Sarah understood my shock and asked, “Then who’s the other man? I thought he was your husband?”

Rachel shook her head quickly as if trying to erase the image of
him
being her husband. Maybe he had tried taking husbandly privileges and she didn’t want his attentions
,
or maybe he was just a thug who she was with against her will. Either way, it was obvious that she didn’t care for him. “He’s my brother and,” she started to say more but quickly bit her lip and repeated, “He’s my brother.”

Sarah went to the cabinet and took out her medicinal box. She rummaged through it
and
found the right little packets of herbs
,
took the smallest pot from the hook on the wall, nodded to e
xcuse herself, and went outside to finish her task. The hearth fire was out—
it was left cold in the summer. We cooked outdoors when the nights stayed warm. I craned my neck to look through the doorway
,
watching
as she stoked the cooking fire
.
She
brought the kettle to the well, filled it anew
,
and
placed it on the hook of the iron framework above the flame.

I bundled up the baby boy who still stank but was as fresh as possible without more soaking. He couldn’t help who his father was and I held him no animosity
,
but I couldn’t bring myself to think of him as anything but ‘baby boy
.
’ I settled back on the porch bench, the damp cloth still draped over my shoulder
,
bared my breast
,
and urged the little tyke to nurse. He started fussing which I took as a good sign. A motionless baby is not a healthy baby unless he’s asleep. This baby felt
too warm and probably had a low-
grade fever and I knew why. He had an infection in his little, well, not too little because of the swelling, male reproductive parts. We’d have to see what we could do about that later
,
but right now
,
he needed fluids. I pinched the skin on his arm and saw that it didn’t fall back right away but stayed raised as a little ridge of flesh. Yes, he was definitely dehydrated.

His little mouth opened wide as if to cry but no sound came out, no tears. He gnawed on his fist and tossed his head back and forth. I didn’t know if it was because I was not his mother or something else
,
but Rachel spoke up and explained. “He hasn’t wanted to suckle for a few days now. I didn’t know if it was because,” she halted and looked down at her still swollen belly, “because the baby inside of me was dead or not. Maybe it made my milk bad.”

I looked up a
t her as she held onto the door
frame, looking out at the playpen under the tree with my three healthy babies. They were all sound asleep at the same time
, which was rare:
I considered it a blessing taking into account the current situation. Sarah could use my help with this one.

Rachel was, or soon would be, a widow
,
and had a dead baby in her womb. Her one living child didn’t look to be in such great shape either. She was still young and probably could have more children
,
but she already seemed worn out. “How old are you?” I asked noticing the look of amazement on her face when she saw that all three of my babies were the same size.

“Um,” she halted, biting her bottom lip as if she didn’t know if she should share the truth. “I’m fifteen come winter.” She walked over to the playpen, holding onto the porch as she neared them. “These are all yours? And you had them all at the same time? And they all lived
,
or were there more?”

I shook the cloth with the eau de Rachel on it in front of the baby’s face then replaced it just above my breast
,
but his face was turning toward his mother’s voice. “Rachel, could you come over her and I’ll tell you all about it. Your son is attracted to your voice so if you could talk over here next to me, maybe he’ll nurse.”

Rachel eased her way over to the bench beside me. I wafted the cloth again and answered, “Yes, all at the same time and there were only the three. The
y’ve all been very healthy, too;
thank you, Lord. Are these your only two?” I asked, not only curious but wanting her to speak so the baby would hear her voice.

“No, the first one didn’t make it. She was a girl and I thought she was fine but then, well
,
she died. Then I had him,” she nodded to her son, “and then got pregnant again right away. I didn’t know babies could come so close together.”

Baby boy had started nursing when he heard his mother’s voice. She grinned at the sight. “You seem to have lots of milk. I hardly had any the last few months. He tried real hard on the suckin’ for a while but it hurt real bad, even made the nipples bleed
,
but there was hardly any left. And then
,
he stopped suckin’ at all
,
so I tried givin’ him some porritch and he did eat just a little. But
,
then my brother told me he was too little for it and I had to keep nursin’. He didn’t want to believe me and got real mad when I said the milk was all gone.”

Just then
,
Sarah came up with
the
brew. “It needs to steep for a bit longer
,
but I want you to get cleaned up a little and change your clothes.” Sarah looked over at me and the baby. “It looks like your baby is nursing well. He’ll be fine, I’m sure. After, um, uh,” Sarah squeezed her eyes shut in thought. How could she phrase it without hurting the young mother’s feelings?

I saved her from faltering in her explanation by interrupting her
,
which was either rude or gracious
,
depending on your point of view. “After,” I continued, “you deliver this baby,” I nodded to her belly, “you’ll get more milk. As long as you get plenty of rest, food
,
and fluids
,
you’ll have enough new milk to get him back on track, er, um, rather he’ll grow to be a big, healthy boy. Now, do you have a home to go to, someone you can stay with after this is over?”

“We were on our way to a cousin’s home in New Bern. He said he’d let me and the babies stay with him if I’d do the cookin’ and cleanin’. My brother said he wasn’t too happy about there bein’ two babies
,
so maybe it’s better that this one,” she looked down at her swollen belly and said softly, “isn’t going to make it.”

“That is, was, not your decision to make,” I asserted boldly. “Maybe God just wan
ted this baby up there with Him:
did you ever think about that?”

“No,” she sighed. She sat quietly thinking about what I had just said
,
then responded, “I think you’re right though. Right now
,
God could take better care of him or her than I could.” She started twitching in discomfort,
as if the bench was covered in odd-
sized pebbles. “How much longer? I want to get this over with.” Rachel got up from the bench with the awkward difficulty of a very pregnant woman and limped back to the doorframe, leaning against it for support.

Sarah came close to speak with me. “I’d better get her set up. It’s going to be a long night and I want to get a little something together for our supper before the real action begins. It looks like it’s a good thing I didn’t cut up both of those hospital gowns,” she remarked. “She can wear the one while I get her clothes washed.”

Just then
,
Wren woke up and let me know it was time for her supper. Jenny ran out from wherever it was she had been and picked her up,
peeking
down her clout to see how wet she was. “I got her for you, Mommy,” she crowed. “Who’s that?” she exclaimed at seeing me with a different baby. She did a double take, looking back to make sure her two brothers were still in the playpen.

“Oh, he’s just visiting along with his mother and uncle. Now, Grannie is going to be very busy doctorin’ tonight so you and Grandpa Jody and Daddy are probably going to be spending the evening outside or in the barn, okay?” I saw the sad look on her face. “And
,
I’ll join you every chance I get
,
but I’m going to help Grannie. I’ll need you to help with
all
of the babies though. Maybe this little boy can stay in the playpen with the others for a while. Would that be okay?”

“Three boys!” she shouted, bouncing around with Wren in her arms. “This family just keeps getting bigger and bigger and…”

I cut her off, “No, they’re just visiting for a few days then they’re going to go stay with their own family. Here, let me have Wren. Would you go and tell your Daddy that I need to talk to him?”

I switched out babies, put Wren to my breast
,
and handed over Baby Boy to his eager, smiling mother. She really did love him even if she wasn’t the most demonstrative woman in the world. I think she had just realized that there was hope for the two of them. I interrupted her reverie with an offer. “I’d like to get you all fixed up before we get started with the labor. Have you ever had the full salon treatment?”