Finally a Bride (29 page)

Noah nodded, picked up a plate, and held it out to her. “You need to eat, too.”

“Just let me check on Ma first.” She spun around and hurried to the bedroom that she used to share with her ma—before Luke married her and moved in. Ma was still seated, wearing her day dress, but her face was creased with pain. Jack fished a cloth out of the bucket and wrung out the water then dabbed her mother’s face. “Are you all right?”

“Will be.” She rubbed her hand back and forth across her stomach. “After Oscar comes.”

“We should probably get you into your gown before Mrs. Phillips arrives.”

Ma’s pale blue eyes lifted, looking right at her. Sweat dampened her face, and fatigue lines crinkled around her eyes. “Hank’s not comin’?”

“Not for a while.” Jack offered a sympathetic smile. “But Carly’s going to go watch their children after she gets ours fed so Martha can tend you.”

Rachel nodded. “She’s a good midwife.” She slowly stood, hunched over like a hundred-year-old woman. She kept one hand on her stomach as if holding the baby in. Jack fetched a clean gown and held it out, noticing the back of her ma’s dress was sopping wet. “Do you want me to get you a chamber pot, or is it too late?”

Rachel shook the gown down around her legs and sat again. Jack picked up the dress and carried it to a peg.

“No. That’s not what you’re thinking. My water broke while y’all were at church.”

Jack dropped the calico dress as if it was covered in ticks and kicked it against the wall. She wiped her hand on her skirt. “Ma–aa! What does that mean? Are you all right? Is the baby?”

“Calm down. We’re fine.” Rachel giggled and brushed her tousled hair with her fingers. “You should have seen how fast you dropped my dress. You’ve never been squeamish.”

“I’m not. It was just … unexpected. That’s all.”

“Have no worries. The dress will wash clean.” Rachel’s smile faded. She pressed her lips together and moaned, low and long. She spent several minutes in deep concentration, never screaming like Jack had heard men say their wives had, but just maintaining that eerie keening like when the wind blew beneath a closed door in winter.

“Oh!” Ma tucked her chin to her chest. The muscles in her face tensed, and all color fled from her skin.

Jack’s heart jolted. She dropped to her knees. “What’s wrong?”

“Got … push–ing … urge.”

“Push what?”

“The baby. It’s coming.”

“Tell me what to do, Ma.” She couldn’t do this. Jack ran to the door, glanced down the empty hall, then hurried back to her ma’s side. She needed help. “You wanna lie down? Want some water?”

“Wait!” Rachel grabbed hold of Jack’s arm, nearly crushing it. Her mother’s eyes squeezed shut, and her teeth clenched, lips parted. Ma strained so hard her whole body shimmied.

What’s wrong? Help her, Lord. Show me what to do
.

Never had she felt so helpless. So powerless. She was used to fighting for what she believed in, but how could she fight this? If she did something wrong, her mother or the baby could die. She glanced around the room. There must be something she could do. Her gaze landed on the tall stack of newspapers beside the ladder-back desk chair. Hadn’t her ma mentioned needing those when the baby came?

Stretching out her free arm, she could just reach the pile without breaking her ma’s connection on her other one. She pulled an inch-high stack over to her, shook them open, and began lining them over the wooden floor at her mother’s feet. She kept stacking them until her ma breathed out a more relaxed breath and loosened her grip.

“Whew! Oscar is anxious—to be born.” Her ma panted and rubbed her stomach. She leaned back on her hands. After a few moments, she finally looked up. “Good. Stack all but a few of those on the floor.” Rachel slowly pushed up from the bed and stood. “Lay the rest so they are half on and half off the bed, then cover them with those towels.” She took a deep breath and blew it out, as if preparing for the next battle. “This quilt is old, but I’d like to protect it if we can.”

Jack snatched the faded towels from the chair seat and spread several on the bed. Her mother sat back down.

“You want a drink?” Jack patted the damp skin on her ma’s face.

“Can’t. It makes me sick to my stomach.” She rubbed her hand across the top of her stomach. “I didn’t want you to have to witness this.” She grimaced and ducked her head again, holding tight to the bed frame with one hand. “Hurry! Get hot water. Knife.”

“I don’t want to leave you.”

“Go!” One brisk swat of her ma’s hand in the air set her in motion.

Jack jumped up and ran into the kitchen, peeking through the door into the dining room. No one was at the table, although the dirty dishes remained. She prayed that Martha Phillips would hurry. Jack grabbed a bowl and ladled boiling water out of the pot on the stove. She found a clean knife and hurried back to the bedroom. What in the world was the knife for?

“It’s coming.” Her ma had slid off the bed and was squatting beside it, grunting. “Ohh…. Knife in water.”

Jack obeyed. “What else?”

Her mother glanced down.

Jack’s eyes went wide.

“Catch Oscar.”

Chapter 21

N
oah looked around Alan’s room. What would it have been like to have had such a nice room all to himself and a bed, instead of sleeping on the dirty floor?

He cradled Emma’s head against his shoulder, reluctant to put her on the bed. Sweat curled the waif’s wispy hair, and her soft breaths touched his cheek like a feather. The bed sat against one wall, but with all the noise Alan and Abby were making, he was sure Emma would awaken if he stopped rocking her.

He needed to put Emma in her own bed, but everything within him shouted that it was wrong for him to enter the girls’ bedroom. Ambling through the upstairs hall, he walked to the stair railing and glanced down. Why hadn’t the doctor’s wife arrived? Or Miss Payton returned? What could be keeping them?

He stared at the girls’ closed door—Jackie’s door. He snorted a soft laugh. When had he started calling her that? It fit her better now than Jack did. There was something softer about it, like she was soft.

Abby squealed, and Emma jerked in his arms. The poor toddler would never sleep unless he put her someplace quiet. He looked at the door again, remembering Jackie sitting in her bed. He couldn’t have told a soul what color the room was, because he’d only been able to focus on her that day. “Forgive me, Father.”

He twisted the knob and pushed on the door. A garden of beauty opened up before him. The walls had been painted a soft green, and colorful curtains covered in a multitude of flowers flapped in the afternoon breeze. His gaze landed on Jackie’s bed, which sat under the front window, covered in a vivid quilt. He yanked his gaze away, feeling guilty for even looking at it.

A smaller bed sat on the wall opposite the big one, and to his right was another small bed with rails along the side. He laid Emma down on that bed. Should he cover her up? The room was warm, even with two windows open. He glanced down at Emma’s chubby legs sticking out from under her dress, and he bent and touched the back of her calf. She felt plenty warm to him.

He backed away, watching to make sure she didn’t awaken, and then closed the door. His heart pummeled his chest, whether from being in Jackie’s room or just succeeding in getting the little girl to sleep, he wasn’t sure.

Now what? He peered downstairs again but couldn’t tell if anyone had come in. He moseyed back to the other children, unable to keep his mind from wondering how things were going downstairs. He had no doubt that Jackie could handle just about any situation, but would she know how to deliver a baby if need be?

Help them, Lord. Protect mother and child. Help Jackie to not be afraid
.

He leaned against the doorframe and watched Alan and Abby playing checkers. The girl glanced over at him and smiled. While her face was turned, her brother snatched one of her kings off the board. Alan glanced over at him, his guilt obvious. Noah lifted his brow, and the boy scowled and looked away.

“Hey! Where’d my other king go?” Abby glanced around the floor, and when she was turned away from the table, Alan set the checkers back on the board. He frowned.

Abby turned back to the table, and her mouth dropped open. She rubbed her eyes and stared again. “I must be gettin’ old, like Papa.”

“Yep.” Alan nodded his head, a sheepish grin pulling at his mouth.

Noah tucked under his upper lip in his effort not to laugh at the precocious child. The only children he’d spent any time around were those of his congregation whom he’d eaten meals with during his circuit-riding days.

The simple room called to him. Besides Alan’s bed, there was a small table with a chair and a crate the boy used for a second seat. A half-dozen pegs lined the wall about three-and-a-half feet up from the floor and held the boy’s clothing. Some mismatched pieces of wood filled another crate, and a blue and gray rag rug covered the center of the floor.

He wanted a home of his own. He was tired of traveling—of never putting down roots. All his life, until he’d moved in with Pete, he’d traveled from one shack to another.

Before he came to Lookout, he’d never thought much of marrying and starting a family. But how could he when he didn’t own a home or land? He wasn’t even sure how long he’d be in Lookout or what he’d do once Pastor Taylor and his family returned.

But the biggest issue was Jack—Jackie. He’d held a fondness for her even as a troubled youth. It made no sense to him when she caused him no end of problems. She’d lied about him, even causing him to spend two days in jail for something he hadn’t done. ‘Course, he’d settled up with her on that account the day he locked
her
in her pa’s jail.

He shook his head. Walking away with her begging and pleading to set her free had been one of the hardest things he’d ever done, but he felt she needed to learn a lesson. Whether she did or not, he never knew. They’d moved once again shortly after that.

Noah stretched. He could use a Sabbath rest himself. He hadn’t slept much at all last night, worrying over his sermon and Jackie. He yawned and toyed with the idea of scrunching up on Alan’s bed.

“I won!” Abby held up two black checkers.

“Nuh-uh, you cheated.” Alan leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms so hard he made a clapping sound.

“Why don’t you play another game. I bet you’ll win this time.” Noah hoped they would agree. He had no idea how to entertain two such strong-willed children. He eyed the bed again, then crossed the room and eased down. The metal frame creaked and groaned under his weight. Slowly testing its strength, he relaxed and leaned back against the wall. Maybe he could grab a little catnap when the children played another game. He yawned and closed his eyes.

He claimed Jackie’s hand, and together they strolled along the Addams River. Adolescents splashed in the pool where water collected in the spot where the river made a sharp turn and traveled on. A gangly youth swung out on a rope and dropped down into the pool, screaming a yell that would make a Comanche proud
.

He led Jackie down a path to a quieter spot. Overhead, birds battled in song. Sunlight played peek-a-boo, first hiding behind a tree branch and then sprinkling its rays across the water. He turned Jackie to him and ran the back of his finger down her cheek. His breath hitched. She was so lovely. His hand trailed down the unbound auburn tresses. She smiled, love for him glowing in her blue eyes
.

Contentment made every muscle, every bone in his body relax. He dug his hand into the hair behind her nape, then cupped her neck and drew her to him. Suddenly, her expression turned to horror, and she screamed his name
.

Noah jerked up. Where was he? He saw the empty table and lurched to his feet. Where were the children?

He spun around, and his heart loosened. Abby lay on the end of the bed, curled up on Alan’s pillow, fast asleep. But where was the boy?

“Noah!”

He jerked toward the door at Jack’s frantic cry. His feet pushed forward, and he charged down the stairs. His gaze searched each room as he raced by, but there was no sign of Alan. Had something happened to him?

He skidded to a halt outside Mr. and Mrs. Davis’s bedroom, his heart racing. “Jackie?”

“In here. Hurry!”

At Jack’s hysterical cry, Noah rushed through the bedroom doorway, pushing aside his reservations. She held a lifeless newborn in her arms. Tears ran down her cheeks. Her plaintive gaze begged for his help. “He’s not breathing! I don’t know what to do!”

“Give him to me.” He didn’t know what to do, either, but he had to do something. Jack gazed into his eyes, obviously reluctant to let go of her brother. “Jackie, let me have him. Hurry!”

She carefully passed the damp baby, and Noah swallowed hard when he saw the boy’s blue lips. Making sure to keep his eyes averted from where Mrs. Davis sat on the floor, he cradled the child’s face in his palm with the limp body resting on his arm.
Show me what to do, Lord
.

He held the baby so that his head was down and gently patted the soft skin on his back. Nothing happened. Visions of the young boy who’d fallen into the creek flashed in his mind. Jackie would never forgive him if he didn’t help her brother. “Noah!” Jack’s near hysterical plea touched a place deep within him. He could not fail her. He couldn’t fail this child. He whacked the baby harder.