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Authors: Jean Ann Williams

Just Claire

BOOK: Just Claire
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Just Claire
Jean Ann Williams
Contents

by Jean Ann Williams

Published by Clean Reads

www.cleanreads.com

This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and events are fictitious in every regard. Any similarities to actual events and persons, living or dead, are purely coincidental. Any trademarks, service marks, product names, or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if any of these terms are used. Except for review purposes, the reproduction of this book in whole or part, electronically or mechanically, constitutes a copyright violation.

JUST CLAIRE

Copyright © 2016 JEAN ANN WILLIAMS

ISBN
978-1-62135-488-8

Cover Art Designed by AM DESIGN STUDIO

I dedicate this book to my son, Joshua Williams, who has gone on to the Great Beyond. He read this book manuscript and gave me necessary feedback. Therefore his ideas are embedded within the pages of Just Claire. November 27, 1978—March 16, 2004.

Acknowledgement

M
any people contributed
to helping me with this story. My first critique group helped me through the first drafts, as I tried to figure out what this story would be about. Thank you, Jennifer Abbott, Jay Asher, Roz Phillips, Sidonie Weidenkeller, Charlie Perryess, Cynthia Bates, Sue McGinty.

M
y second critique
group read a more solid manuscript, and they helped me hone my skills over the ten years we gathered together Online. Thank you, Siri Weber Feeney, Lynn Becker, Terry Pierce, Dawn Baertlein, and Rebecca Langston-George.

T
here are
others who have read the manuscript and made valid suggestions. Thank you, Jerri Akins, Darcy Hawks, Sarah Hawks, Cynthia Scott, Cathe Fein Olson, Becky White, Lisa Turner, Emily Turner, Dorothy Van Norman, Erlyn Marsh, Rachel Wilcoxson, Anna Labno, Cass Wessel, and my granddaughters, Carley and Lynsey. And I can't forget my eldest grandchild, Morgan Ann, who early on kept asking me if the book was done yet.

A
lso
, I want to thank the kind people along the way that taught me much about writing and publication. Especially, I thank the folks within the Society of Children's Book Writers & Illustrators. Thank you to my editor, S.C. Lakin, for your expertise and hard work in making Just Claire a more clear and enjoyable story. In the process Ms. Lakin taught me more about edits.

T
o my wonderful
and smart daughter Jami who suggested that I begin the craft of writing over twenty years ago. I'm especially grateful to my husband Jim who has supported me emotionally in the highs and lows of the editorial querying process as I strived to become published.

F
inally
, and above all, thank You Lord for caring about the little things that happen in life on Earth. You are my Rock.

1

WHISPERING HOPE

A
Remote Area of Northern California
in 1960

T
hirteen-year
-old ClaireLee shivered in the snowy night, regretting she had only a cotton gown and thin robe between her and the cold. She leaned against the porch rail near the cabin's open front door. Daddy had forbid her to stay any longer at Mama's side. “Not enough room,” he'd said.

She didn't believe his excuse.

Yelling louder, Mama had twisted about in more pain than with sister Lolly's birth.
Why is the baby taking too long?

ClaireLee stuck a fingernail in her mouth. She bit and pulled. It ripped with her skin and stung.
I should be holding Mama's hand.

In the back-drop of the wilderness, the Rushing River rumbled and at first muffled Mama's groans. Her cries intensified again, and ClaireLee's neck prickled.
Mama's not doing good
. At three-year-old Lolly's birth, ClaireLee had witnessed Mama's short labor and delivery. ClaireLee now peeked inside the cabin to see if Lolly was okay under all the excitement. She and their two brothers huddled together in a corner of the bed in the small living room.

Sucking on the tender fingernail, she no longer cared whether or not the baby would be a sister rather than a brother. She clasped her hands under her chin.
Please, God, help my mother. Keep her and the baby safe.

At the end of her prayer, the wind blew softly. ClaireLee rewrapped her bathrobe closer and tightened the ties. Socks and boots would have been nice, but to find them among the open and unpacked boxes would require effort.

It seemed like days ago when ClaireLee and her family left their home in Oregon earlier in the morning. Daddy's new job took them to the wilderness of Gallagher Springs in Northern California. A place with a few rustic buildings built many decades ago along the Rushing River. If only Daddy would have asked her opinion about the move. She would have told him, “Not during the winter, and not when Mama was about to give birth.”

A baby wailed, breaking into ClaireLee's rememberings.

Shaking, ClaireLee's hands lingered on her bathrobe tie which she made into a bow. With an intake of air, she whooped her excitement. “Thank you, God.” Soon, she'd hold the brand-new baby.
Who would it favor? Daddy? Mama?
Mama promised to teach ClaireLee how to bathe it. She giggled. What a delicate job it was, baby washing.

Long, forever moments passed. Then, ClaireLee's across-the-street neighbor, a bachelor named Big Red, came out of her parents' bedroom, where Daddy stayed behind with Mama. Stopping at the entry of the front door, Big Red's firm squeeze to her arm said more than his words. “Gotta get the car warmed.”

Her throat tightened; she gulped down her initial fear as it rose in her throat.

She stepped into the snow and followed him. “But why?” Hesitating for a moment, her bare feet sank deeper and burned, and she hurried onto the porch.

The car engine started.

ClaireLee cupped a hand around her mouth and hollered, “Big Red, what's going on?” He didn't answer and fiddled with the heater switch.

Is Mama going to the hospital?
She nibbled on another nail but stopped, not wanting a repeat of pain. “I've got to see my mama.”

Before she lifted her foot on the threshold, Daddy staggered at his open bedroom door. He was carrying Mama; her neck and arms were limp.

Now Mama groaned and ClaireLee stiffened, pressing herself to the porch railing.

Gulping, she blinked to clear her tears. “What's wrong?” She pressed her trembling fingers to her mouth. “Is something happening to Mama?”

Daddy continued on by ClaireLee to the steps, wobbling from the extra weight. Strands of Mama's hair touched ClaireLee's cheek, light as a feather. Daddy mumbled. “Slippery.” His boots sloshed on the snow-covered planks.

ClaireLee moved to the first step, also. “Do you need help, Daddy?”

Another groan, much deeper, came from poor Mama.

Finally, his boots touching solid ground, Daddy swayed with his burden.

Several inches of what ClaireLee believed was a rope slipped from Mama's body. ClaireLee gasped. Shutting her eyes, she squished them tight.
No, no, doesn't seem right.

Over the Rushing River's fury, she hollered, “Daddy, what can I do?”

With a gust of wind, the tree branches rattled like snakes. Goose bumps slithered over ClaireLee's flesh. She curled inward and whimpered,
Oh, Mama, Mama, don't die.

Big Red opened the side-swing tailgate of ClaireLee's family station wagon and waited. Mama and Daddy descended into the shadows, where their images combined to form a cross. Finally, Daddy reached the end of the car, tucked Mama inside, and climbed in after. Big Red slammed the tailgate shut and hurried toward the cabin.

“You're taking my mama to the hospital, aren't you?” ClaireLee stood on the porch, blocking his path.

He stared up at her. “Yes.”

All three of ClaireLee's siblings called to her, concern etched in their voices. She leaned near the door. “I'm finding out about Mama, so you kids stay put.”

Big Red reached her and she said, “Is Mama going to die?”

Lashes shimmering with moisture, he patted her head on his way inside. “I'll get your mother there as fast as I can.” Big Red disappeared into her parents' bedroom, where the baby still cried.

More out of fear than from the cold, ClaireLee's teeth chattered. Daddy was hovering above Mama inside the station wagon. Did he cover Mama with a blanket? ClaireLee hoped so.

Appearing before ClaireLee, Big Red brought a kicking and screaming newborn. ClaireLee's heart leaped in her chest. Its skin color was more like a shade of purple than the healthy pink she noted at Lolly's birth. The baby kicked its feet right out of the blanket, toes spread wide. Big Red tucked the baby between his own chest and his Mackinaw jacket.

“You've got a brother,” Big Red said. ClaireLee peered at the baby.

Her breath caught at such a perfect round nose and his full lips. She touched the baby's dark, damp locks.
This one's a fighter.
Heart swelling, fresh tears surfaced.

With careful steps, Big Red walked on. At the station wagon, he passed the newborn to Daddy through an open window.

Daddy rolled up the glass, and ClaireLee ran to the car, forgetting about cold feet. She banged on the windowpane. “The guardian angel is watching Mama, right, Daddy?”

“We'll be back as soon as possible, Claire Bear.” He was opening the window a crack. “Take care of the kids.” From where Mama lay inside the car, she lifted her head. Face still pale, the color of snow, her eyes squinted with pain. One of her palms flattened against the glass.

Sorrowing for her mama, ClaireLee whimpered. She dismissed the baby nickname Daddy had given her.
Claire Bear.
Recently, she asked Daddy several times to call her just
Claire
. But none of this mattered as she kissed her own fingers and blew. With a quaking voice, she whispered, “Catch my love, Mama.”

At this moment, Big Red gunned the gas pedal, and the tires pelted snow and gravel.

“Please be okay, Mama.” ClaireLee ran to the porch, shaking with her cries. Laddie, her German shepherd, crawled out from under the cabin. He hurried to her side and licked her elbow, and she smothered her sobs in the comfort of his fur.

From indoors, her three siblings fussed and whined, again.

Intent on doing as Daddy instructed, she straightened and wiped her tears on a sleeve. “Come, boy.” Up the steps and through the doorway, Laddie's toenails clicked, and she followed close behind.

ClaireLee thrust her weight against the front door and shut it with a clunk
.
From the bed in the living room, meant to sleep all four children, nine-year-old Liam said, “Where's Daddy going with Mama?”

Pushing her shoulder into the door, ClaireLee's chest heaved. No words formed on her tongue to reassure her siblings. At their places on the bed, Liam and Grayson sat at the foot and Lolly at the head. ClaireLee longed to snuggle next to Lolly and sleep, to forget she, alone, was responsible for their care. The kitchen counter was piled with dirty dishes, displaying the process of baking chocolate chip cookies for tomorrow's lunches and first day at the new school. All of it was forgotten in the chaos.

On a second glance, though.
Oh no
. Her siblings had eaten the dough, every gooey drop. Except at Lolly's place on the table, where she left a spoonful for Mama.
Good, it is still there.

“Why aren't you talking?” Liam said. “Is Daddy taking Mama to the hospital, or not?”

Lips quivering, ClaireLee grew more aware of their isolation from their own home, family, and friends. People they had left back home in Oregon.
What will happen to us?
The children's faces had grown pasty, and their eyes drooped from lack of sleep.

Once again, Liam broke into her thoughts. “The blood on Mama—”

An icy draft swooshed from under the door, traveling up the length of ClaireLee's nightgown.

Shivering, she moved to the middle of the room, closer to the wood stove. Her feet warmed and then stung.

“Well?” Liam pulled a face.

“This happens, Liam, when babies are born. I saw blood at Lolly's birthing.” The truth? There hadn't been as much blood then, but ClaireLee had seen some; she knew how it went.

“Come on.” ClaireLee wiggled her finger at her brothers. “Let's clean the kitchen. We don't want Mama to see such a mess after she comes back.”

“I'll wash. Lolly, you dry.” She twisted on the faucet. “Liam, you clean off the table, and Grayson will put away the dried dishes.” Quietly, the boys and Lolly scooted off the bed and followed ClaireLee.

Standing next to ClaireLee at the sink, Liam narrowed his sleep-deprived eyes. “It was a lot of blood.” His expression collapsed to what ClaireLee thought of as a sorrowful hound. “Is Mama dying?”

Acting bigger than his seven years, Grayson said, “Nope. Hospitals save people—huh, ClaireLee?”

“I”— she paused—“believe Mama will get there in time.” More sobs heaved in her chest.

Her brothers said nothing, their brown eyes as wide as a hoot owl's.
I've got to think of how to comfort the kids.
But, no words came, and everyone did their work in silence.

After they had the kitchen cleaned, ClaireLee ushered them to bed. She sat on the edge of the mattress and, with her nerves at their peak, hid her trembling fingers between her knees. “Okay, you guys.” Clearing the shakes from her throat, ClaireLee said, “Mama's guardian angel will protect her, and the hospital does the rest.” Willing them to agree, she nodded and glanced at the clock. “Now let's get some sleep. It's three in the morning.”

Sliding down, Grayson squirmed underneath the covers. He laid his arms on top and pressed them at his sides.

“This is dumb.” Liam crawled back off the bed. “We can't go to a new school without Mama here.” Entering the kitchen, his hands moved as he spoke. “Shoulda never moved with the new baby and all.”

Was Liam right? Did moving into the cabin earlier this morning cause Mama to begin labor?

Her bottom lip disappearing between her teeth, she shook her head. The fleshly cord she had mistaken for a rope was attached to the afterbirth.
This means it's stuck in Mama
. The children did not need to know such things.

Grayson's eyes searched hers for answers she couldn't give.

Eyeballing the spoonful of cookie dough, Liam grabbed for it. “What's this for?”

From where she sat in her spot on the bed, Lolly reached out her arms. “You don't touch. It's Mama's.”

“Stop, Liam,” ClaireLee said.

“Mama's not here. Why don't you eat it?” He set it down.

“It's for when she comes back.” Lolly crossed her arms. “So there.”

“So there, yourself.” Liam took the spoon and stuck the dough near his mouth. “Watch it disappear.”

“You.” Pushing herself off the bed, ClaireLee rushed to him. She jerked it from his hand and pointed the spoon at him. “Go to bed.”

The dough hit the floor with a plop.

“No. No.” Wiggling her fingers, Lolly screamed. Wailing, she raised her nose to the ceiling. “Now. It's. Dirty.”

“I'll fix it.” ClaireLee blew on the dough, wrapped it in wax paper, and stored it in the refrigerator. “See? It's okay.”

When Liam climbed into bed a second time, Lolly kicked him. “You bad boy.” Her disheveled hair and gritting teeth made her appear more like a wild cat. “Bad, bad boy.”

“This is enough, Lolly.” ClaireLee stood before her sister and pushed away her legs. “I want you both to hush. I can't think with this racket.” Grabbing his part of the blankets, Liam covered up to his chin. He stroked the patchwork quilt of old clothes made to keep them warm. “These squares were cut by you, ClaireLee—sewn by Mama.”

Wind forced its way through the cracked chinks between the rough-hewn logs. After unrolling wads of toilet paper, ClaireLee tore it into pieces, and stuffed it in the gaps.

Sniffing from her side of the bed, Lolly said, “This place is horibibel. I need to go home, Sissy Pie.”

Satisfied the holes were sealed, ClaireLee sat down next to her sister and opened her arms for a hug. Lolly scrambled onto ClaireLee's lap and laid her head on her shoulder.

“I need Mama.” Grayson's lip was quivering.

Those words wrenched at her heart, and ClaireLee clung tighter to Lolly. “Mama'll be here before we go to school in the morning. I just know it.” Rocking Lolly in a gentle sway, soon her baby sister's lashes fluttered and rested. ClaireLee tucked her in bed and kissed her cheeks.

Easing into the rocker, she slipped her feet beneath her. The boys followed Lolly into what ClaireLee hoped were good dreams for them all. A melody flowed through her mind, as it often did when she was happy, sad, or scared. She conjured the words.
Do not fear, little ones, guardian angels float above.

BOOK: Just Claire
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