Julia's Last Hope (23 page)

“We’ll find something,” she assured the girl.

Baby boy Blakeney was eventually dressed in a white gown with pink ribbons, bundled in used pink blankets, and laid in an emptied, towel-padded dresser drawer. Julia could have wept as she looked down on him.

“You poor little soul,” she whispered. “You didn’t ask to come into the world. And you certainly didn’t get much of a welcome. What will happen to you? Whatever will happen to you? If only I could have had you to love—” Julia brushed away tears and went back to the kitchen to prepare hot tea for Miss Priscilla.

They had nothing for the new baby. Tom fashioned a nipple of sorts from the finger of a new glove. It was all Mr. Perry had in his store that would make any kind of feeding arrangement. Julia fixed a bottle of milk and fed the hungry baby.

Constance took over the care of the infant as Julia instructed her. There were no diapers, so Julia told Hettie to tear up an old flannel sheet. There wasn’t even time to put in a proper hem.

Julia had never before felt so disturbed over the birth of a baby. Her heart cried,
It’s not right. It’s not fair. He wasn’t at fault.
It seemed so totally wrong that a child should be born unwanted—unwelcomed—unloved.

But when Julia looked at Constance’s face as she held the baby and coaxed him to drink from the makeshift bottle, she was forced to change her opinion.

I’ve been wrong,
Julia concluded.
He may have been unwanted—but he is not unloved. Constance has already fallen in love with him.

And it was true. Never did a baby get more tender care than Constance gave her new nephew.

“What do you call him?” Julia asked Constance one evening.

“Mother said he is not to be named,” responded Constance with a sigh.

Julia could not disguise her surprise.

“But—secretly—I call him Peter,” the young woman confided.

“Peter. I like it.” Julia waited for Constance to finish feeding Peter and give him to her to hold.

“He seems to be doing well, doesn’t he?” Julia said on one of her daily visits to see the baby. She lowered the small garment she was stitching for Peter and watched him sucking hungrily.

“He’s a little piggy,” laughed Constance in a way Julia had never heard her laugh before.

Constance kissed the top of the downy head. “I think he has grown already,” she said. “Eight days old—and already bigger.”

Julia smiled. “I can see it too. The way he eats, I guess he should.” Then Julia added with a chuckle, “We are going to have to buy more gloves. I do hope Mr. Perry has another pair or two. We have already cut all the fingertips off the pair we bought.”

Constance looked up. “Oh, it shouldn’t be much longer,” she said. “The doctor says Priscilla will be ready to travel soon.”

Julia lifted her eyebrows in surprise.

“Will the doctor be traveling with you?” she asked.

“Oh no. He plans to go straight back to—wherever. He says his contract does not include escorting us home.”

“I see,” said Julia, but she still had many questions.

“I will be leaving tomorrow,” the doctor announced at dinner the next evening.

Even Priscilla had joined them at the table. She still looked pale, but Julia believed that it was as much from shutting herself in her room, away from fresh air and sunshine, as from her recent delivery.

“I shall need clean garments and blankets for the baby and enough feedings to last for a twelve-hour trip.”

Three heads lifted and three pairs of eyes studied the man’s face.

“What do you mean?” asked Constance.

The doctor looked blank at her question. “I need clothes and food for the infant,” he repeated. “Enough for a twelve-hour trip. Why is that confusing?”

“But you won’t be taking the baby.”

“Indeed, I will. I have instructions from your mother—”

“My mother doesn’t understand the situation,” Constance interrupted. “She made those plans long before—”

“I have my orders—and I plan to fulfill them,” the doctor said adamantly.

“But you
can’t
take the baby.”

“I
must
take the baby—according to contract,” the man declared.

“But—”

“Oh, Constance. For goodness’ sake don’t fuss,” broke in Priscilla, tossing her napkin on the table and standing up. “You know the plan—the arrangement. Mother has it all cared for.”

“But Mother doesn’t know Peter!” cried Constance, also rising.

“Peter? Peter?” screamed Priscilla. “Who called him Peter? You know Mother said he wasn’t to be named. What right do you have—?”

“I
love
him!” Constance shouted back at her screaming sister. “I
love
him.”

Priscilla looked at Constance. Surprise and anger flashed across her face. Then she began to cry. Hot tears washed down her cheeks and made trails in her face powder.

“That’s—that’s—just like you!” she shouted at Constance. “You can’t even be trusted to—to care for a baby. You know that Mother said he—”

“I
will
care for him. I will!”

“You will not bring that—that baby home. Do you hear? You will not!” Priscilla shouted.

Julia trembled. She had never witnessed such a quarrel. She wanted to cover her ears and flee, but she was rooted to the spot.

“Of course I won’t take him home!” Constance shouted back at her sister. “I wouldn’t dream of taking him to where—to that place. I will keep him here—for a while. I have money. I can find us a place.”

“You’re a fool!” yelled Priscilla. “You’re a—a pigheaded, selfish fool.” With that final burst of anger she fled the room, sobbing loudly.

Constance dropped back to her chair and reached for a napkin to press to her cheek. Her shoulders trembled, but Julia knew she felt that she had won the battle.

At length she lifted her head and looked at Julia.

“Is it—can I stay—for just a while? Just until I am able to make arrangements for me and—and Peter?”

“Of—of course,” whispered Julia.

A stirring at the table reminded Julia they were not alone. She had forgotten the doctor.

“I’m afraid it’s out of the question. I already have all of the papers in order for the adoption.”

“But you can’t.”

“I can—and I will,” the man said. “I have a legal document. Signed and binding. You will not interfere.” He pushed back his chair and stood up.

“I want the child ready by nine o’clock,” he said with authority. Then he looked directly at Julia. “Mrs. Harrigan—I expect you to see to it.”

He stalked from the room, and Constance buried her face in her hands and sobbed.

The next morning when Julia went to check on Constance and Peter, she found a note.

Peter had his morning feeding, and all his things are packed and ready to go. Give him one last kiss for me. I have gone for a walk. C.L.B.

Julia opened the door softly, brushing away tears. Peter lay sleeping in his makeshift bed. Beside him was a suitcase that belonged to Constance. In it, neatly folded, were all of the garments Constance and Julia had made over the past several days. The borrowed clothing that had belonged to Julia’s two baby girls lay in an orderly stack on the bed.

Julia lifted the small baby from his bed to prepare him for his journey.

“She loves you—so much,” she whispered to the sleeping child, her tears falling onto his blanket. “I only hope—only pray that your new mother—whoever she might be—will love you half as much.”

Julia lifted the small bundle and kissed the soft cheek. The baby squirmed but did not waken.

“One from me—and one from Aunt Constance,” whispered Julia as she kissed him again. She paused a minute to gain a measure of control before she took the baby to the waiting doctor.

Julia was pacing the kitchen floor, her brow furrowed, her lips moving in silent prayer when the door opened and Constance stepped in. Julia took one look at the young woman’s face and moved to embrace her. They clung to one another for several minutes, neither one speaking. Shared tears were their only communication.

“You must be starved,” Julia whispered. “You have been gone all day. Sit down. Hettie saved you a plate.”

Julia pushed the teakettle forward on the stove and checked the warming oven that held the waiting food.

“Draw your chair closer to the fire,” Julia urged. “It’s cold out. You must be chilled through and through.”

Constance wiped her eyes, blew her nose, and then did as Julia suggested.

“I walked with them to the train,” Julia said hesitantly. “He was—fine. He never even awakened when the whistle blew.”

Constance turned her face.

“The—the twelve hours will soon be up,” Julia went on. “Just think of it. Somewhere—right now—there is a very excited woman—and man—waiting for that little one. Can you just imagine how they feel?”

Julia saw the sagging shoulders tremble.

“There was a time when we thought of adopting a baby boy. But we were told there weren’t many children available for adoption. And because we already had two healthy girls it might be a long wait.”

The young woman made no effort to respond. Julia stepped closer and placed her hand on the trembling shoulder.

“Constance, I am not trying to make it harder for you. I just want you to think about the other couple. How they might have prayed—longed for a baby. Little Peter could—will—make them very happy. He is such a sweet little thing. He will be loved. We’ll pray for that. We’ll pray that he has wise and kind and loving parents.”

Constance wept again, but soon she looked at Julia and whispered, “You are right. He is better off with—with both a mother and a father. I loved him—will always love him—but I couldn’t have given him the home he deserved. Oh, Julia, I need to learn how to pray so that I might pray for him. I know you know how. I have watched you—with me—with Priscilla. No one could have been as kind or as patient without—without a deep faith in God. Please—please tell me what I must do to find God in that way.”

Through tears that blurred her vision, Julia led Constance in reading Scripture portions that explained how to believe in the Son of God.