against a gopher that had moved into the vegetable garden. In just under an hour, they had said all they had to say for the day, and straggled off to get back to their tasks.
“Our little Sarah is ailing.” Poppa informed Momma over supper that night. “Hixson says she’s feeling pretty poorly.”
Momma went to see Sarah the next morning. Sarah was sitting at the table, sipping warm sweet tea, when Momma walked in. Momma never knocked, but she never needed to. Towzer D always informed Sarah a visitor was coming, and it was easy to tell if it would be family, friend or stranger from the dog’s reaction.
“You’re looking a little green, daughter. Are you keeping your breakfast down?” Momma pressed her cool hand to Sarah’s head and chin. No fever.
“I am, but it’s a struggle. I’ll be alright. You didn’t come all the way over here for me, did you?” Sarah still despised being fussed over.
“No, I came over because Poppa said he was talking to Hixson yesterday and smelled pudding on his breath.” Momma grinned.
“He did that. There’s more resting in the pie safe. I’ll dish you up some if you want.” Sarah knew that Momma knew about her secret ingredient. It was a little confidence between them that cemented their happy bond.
Momma had pudding and coffee and watched Sarah with a wise eye. “The first thing you need to do, honey, is loosen your apron string.”
Sarah looked at her blankly. “Why? I don’t tie it all that tight.”
“You need to tie it real loose for oh, say, the next nine months or so.”
At last, Sarah understood what Momma was saying. “You think it’s that?” Her eyes lit up. “Let me think. I haven’t... since...you could be right!” Sarah was ecstatic. “Oh! Please don’t tell anyone yet? I want to be sure, first. And then, Hixson should be the first to know. Keep my secret?”
“I always have.” Momma said, and put a bite of pudding in her mouth. The gleam in her eyes said it all. Momma had never told about what she had seen on Sarah’s first night there. She never confessed that she knew anything about any secret recipes.
Momma was one of those rare people who could be trusted with a secret. Sarah especially admired what she considered Momma’s good sense. The brandy in the pudding was a fine example.
Under ordinary circumstances, Momma would tolerate no alcohol around her. She viewed it to be one of the chief evils afflicting humanity. Any yet she understood that in moderation and used in the right way, it wasn’t such a problem.
Sarah, on the other hand, strongly believed that all things required moderation. In her eyes, excessive anything was dangerous. She could easily name a dozen people whom she thought to be excessively churchy. These she thought of as equally troublesome as the ones who drank too much corn liquor.
She liked it that Momma held herself to strict standards, and still understood about other people’s foibles. Momma, as opposed to liquor as she was, saw that the evil was not in the bottle, it was in what you did with it. The more Sarah came to know her mother-in-law, the more she found to like in her. Momma was an estimable woman.
August 15th, 1866--Dover, Pennsylvania
It was ten more days of queasiness before Sarah felt sure enough to tell Hixson. She made a special dinner of his favorites, including a shoofly pie for dessert. She planned out her announcement in a multitude of ways, deciding on nothing. In the end, she decided to let it be said however it would.
Hixson was not one to go around unawares, though. He knew Sarah hadn’t been feeling well, and that Momma had come over to check on her. Momma hadn’t stopped by since. That was strange behavior. If Sarah had been sick with an ordinary ailment, Momma would be over every day, bringing food and medicine. Whatever was wrong was no illness. More, Momma’s absence was deliberate. She wasn’t coming by because she didn’t want Hixson to ask her about it.
Hixson had also noticed that it had been a while since Sarah had what she called “her woman time”. He knew what that meant, so he suspected already. The fine dinner on the table and the quietly joyful way Sarah acted convinced him. He took a deep breath, and tried to think of how to act happy. Looking at Sarah as she beamed her joy, what could he do? He swallowed his misgivings and tried to think that everything would be alright.
Sarah filled his coffee cup to go with the pie. Then she sat down and watched him while he finished. When his plate was empty at last, she smiled into his eyes. “I have a little news. I’m hoping it will make you happy.”
“Oh?” Even the one syllable didn’t ring true.
“You know? How could you? I’m only sure myself today!” She should have been disappointed that he already knew, but she was too elated for that.
“I don’t know how I know. But I’m right, ain’t I?” Hixson tried to smile, but it was unconvincing.
“You’re not happy about this?” Sarah was hurt.
“I am! Of course I am.” Hixson put his arms around her. “I suppose I’m just worried about you. Having babies can take a lot out of a woman.” It was lame, and he knew it, but he couldn’t tell her. He just couldn’t. He didn’t know how to begin.
Sarah went outside without speaking. She stood out under the stars and listened to her heart break. When she finally went to bed, she cried herself to sleep, certain that Hixson didn’t want the baby. It made her wonder if he even wanted her.
Hixson sat at the kitchen table until very late. He just couldn’t seem to find the words. He would dearly love to have a baby with Sarah. But no baby could ever be worth the risk of losing her. He had convinced himself that she would not survive childbirth.
It was well past midnight when Hixson slipped into bed. Sarah faced away from him curled in a tight ball. He laid a hand gently on her arm, and she flinched away from him. Not knowing what to do, he turned away and tried to sleep.
August 16th, 1866--Dover, Pennsylvania
Sarah made breakfast just as she always did, but without the alacrity that usually colored her day. Every task felt like a burden. She was so heartsick that her whole life looked gray to her. She felt deeply rejected. She was emotional anyway since she was so newly pregnant, and could not make sense of the problem. Sarah knew she was not being rational, but reason eluded her. Hixson did not want a baby, she was convinced. In her mind, that meant Hixson didn’t want her, either.
Hixson came in for breakfast and was stung by the chill in his wife. She wasn’t screaming or being hateful, but the woman who put his breakfast on the table was a stranger to him. There was no warmth or joy in her that morning.
He wanted to put his arms around her and make her understand. Her distant demeanor put him off, though. Hixson didn’t know how to confront her without turning the conflict into something larger. He didn’t realize that Sarah was interpreting his lack of comment as indifference. The distance widened.
Sarah had erected a fortress wall around herself. She had needed a defense from her unkind neighbors in Virginia. Berating herself for opening up and trusting anyone, she went through her days with a broken heart. She felt foolish for investing herself so deeply in the relationship. Marrying Hixson was looking like the most colossal mistake of her life. Sarah convinced herself that he had married her out of a combination of gratitude and pity.
Working it over in her mind, her problem with Hixson grew to disproportionate dimensions. Sarah had started attributing to Hixson all the same wrongs done to her by her former neighbors.
Hixson, on the other side of the misunderstanding, was equally confused. He had no inkling that Sarah’s iciness was a defense; he thought she had fallen out of love with him.
Sarah was acting like someone he didn’t know; Hixson was angry at himself for having misjudged her so. He had never suspected there was such a brittle side to her.
She was never mean, but she was very short with him. Sarah did her chores as always, but without any cheer. She used to do her work with joy, and had many little sayings about work as a blessing. Now she just worked. Hixson didn’t know what to make of it.
&n
bsp; The afternoon was very warm. Sarah was in the kitchen breading chicken for frying. Her hands were doing the work, but she was gazing out the kitchen window with an expression of bereft sadness.
Hixson came to the house, and sat on the edge of the porch to take off his boots. The milk cow had gotten bogged down in the pond, and he was very muddy from getting her out. He set the muddy boots in the sun to dry and went to the door in his stocking feet.
Sarah did not hear him approach and was still looking sadly out the window. Hixson watched her for a moment, and saw the expression on her face. Sarah’s eyes were brimming; with one hand she absentmindedly patted her belly. It was plain to see where her thoughts were. He realized then, that he had been terribly wrong. She wasn’t angry or icy, and she hadn’t fallen out of love. She was brokenhearted and depressed.
It was only Hixson’s sense of guilt that kept him from going to her and putting his arms round her. He felt responsible, on every level. He was the reason she was pregnant. He was the reason she thought he didn’t love her or want the baby. Hixson quietly turned around and went back out onto the porch.
Hixson tried to think of a way to approach her with his concerns. He was afraid she wouldn’t believe him, or that she would hate him for being so selfish. It was a dilemma he didn’t know how to solve.
He thought about talking to his parents, but decided