brave men who came home. Keep at Thy side all the brave men who did not come home. Amen.”
A somewhat muted “Amen” echoed Pastor Baker’s. Closing the prayer the way he did brought to each mind familiar examples of the kind of tragedies he mentioned. Every person at table that day, save little Overby, could think of many by name.
There was too much to be thankful for in the Morris family that year; the melancholy did not last. Poppa carved the turkey and Momma circled the table heaping food on everyone’s plates.
The clinking of forks and the sounds of laughter filled the house. Annie had funny stories to share, and surprisingly, so did Mr. Haught. He told one about his mother leaving the front door open to get a stick of wood, and accidentally letting a skunk in the house. Mr. Haught told stories on himself, and what a rascal he was as a boy. His animated accounts of what he did, and how his daddy whupped him for it, had everyone laughing until they cried.
Quiet conversations between different pairs faded away and gradually, Mr. Haught had everyone’s attention. Momma and Poppa exchanged looks of muffled astonishment. Here was a Mr. Haught who was new to them. And they had known him all of their lives. Sarah listened to his stories and thought of the Grandparents whom she missed so acutely. She was very small when her Grandpa died, but she remembered well the love of a grandfather. Her own Grandpa told wonderful stories, too, although she was still in the fairytale years when he lived.
Sarah thought about the dear ones gathered near her that day, and the grandparents her child would enjoy. Emma would treat the coming child as if it were her own grandchild, too. Her hands resting upon her belly, she thought of the childhood this child would have. It would be vastly different from her own. Even if something happened to her or Hixson, this child would never be an orphan. This child would know an extended family, filled with love and security. Where Sarah had nowhere to go and no one to visit, this child would one day be able to walk over and visit Grandma and Grandpa or go to an Auntie and Uncle’s house.
There would be cousins to play with and tussle with. This child would have a bigger world. Going to town would be an adventure, not a trial. More than anything else, this child would get to grow up without a cloud of fear.
As Sarah wandered in her mind, thinking of the child within her and the people around her, she was almost in tears for her happiness. All of her life, she had been wishing for what she had right then. Her longings had finally become reality.
Poppa listened to Mr. Haught’s stories, but he was watching Sarah. He could almost see her thoughts. Her gaze traveled from one dear face to the next, and her eyes shone. He had lived his life in the comfort of a caring family. She had not. The degree to which it touched her was easy to see.
The conclusion Momma had reached about Poppa’s feeling for Sarah was very nearly right. It wasn’t only her beauty or sweetness, or her healing him that tugged at him. She had been very hurt, he knew, and did not deserve it. He imagined Sarah as a little girl, orphaned and isolated. It broke his heart to think of the sadness her life must have been. He loved her for overcoming it and staying cheerful and sweet. There was no bitterness in her that he could see.
Poppa could name a dozen people who were bitter about the hardships in their lives, and yet not one of those people had suffered the way Sarah had. That she had come through such a storm, sweet and smiling, was damn near a miracle. He had no choice: Poppa simply had to love her.
December 22, 1866--Dover, Pennsylvania
Sarah was sitting at the kitchen table, letting out the waist of her second-best skirt. Hixson walked in, Towzer D on his heels, to get a cup of coffee. “What are you doing this morning?” He asked in a conversational tone. He stopped behind her, hands on her shoulders, and looked at her project.
“I’m letting out the waist on this skirt. There isn’t room for Baby Morris here and me, both, anymore.” Sarah smiled at his tender ways.
Hixson kissed her cheek and went to get the coffee he was after. “Let out a lot, then. You know twins run in my family.”
“Don’t even say it!” She laughed. “Two babies at once, for a first-time mother? What are you trying to wish on me?”
“You think I’m kidding? Poppa was a twin, you know. His twin brother died as a baby, but it still counts. I think maybe Grandpa was a twin, too.” Hixson had an evil grin on his face, but his eyes said he was telling the truth.
“Well, thanks for giving me something else to worry about. What’d you come in here for, just to torment me?” Sarah tried to sound mad, but it wasn’t working.
“I come in for some of this good coffee. And to kiss your face.” Hixson kissed her again and went out, laughing.
A moment later, a dreadful smell filled the room. Sarah looked down at Towzer D. “What did you do??” She accused. She stood up, opened the door and shooed the dog out.
“What have you been feeding this dog, Hixson Morris?” She shouted across the yard. “Have you been giving her eggs and cheese or something? Or did you just put her inside as a weapon? You learn how to do that in the army?”
Hixson stood at the barn door, laughing. Towzer D sat on the ground by the steps and looked offended. It was cold outside, but Sarah left the front door open a spell to let the stink out. She walked over to kiss Hixson and punched him on the arm.
“Don’t you know that smells are especially strong to a woman who is expecting?” Sarah scolded.
“So that’s why you haven’t been making cup cheese or cabbage or any of the other good smelly stuff. I’ll have to keep that in mind. Of course, you better be extra nice to me...now that I know how to get you.”
“Ahh, I can’t believe I gave you so much ammunition. What was I thinking?” She laughed, kissed Hixson again, and returned to her chores in the house. Towzer D stayed in the barn with Hixson, still offended at having been kicked out of the house.
Sarah was in the habit of humming or singing while she went about her chores. She often sang “Shenandoah” while she worked, but she seldom sang if she thought anyone might hear. She was not proud of her singing voice, although she could carry a tune well.
Farm women everywhere had similar workloads, and few ever complained. It was simply what needed to be done. They were up well before daybreak, preparing a hot and huge breakfast for their families. There were gardens, fields, poultry and children to tend. Sick livestock would need attention, as well as ailing friends and family. There was mending, sewing, and usually plenty of garden truck to deal with.
Laundry was always a big job, and there would be floors to scrub, meals to be cooked and dishes to be washed. Many families lived so far from town that the children went to school at home, adding one more task to the day’s list.
Sarah didn’t have children, yet, so her load was somewhat lighter in that regard. Instead, she had ailing neighbors stopping by to seek her special help.
As word got around that Sarah was expecting a child, fewer people stopped by for healing. They wondered if the gathering of light might be harmful to her, or if maybe it would just take too much out of her. Sarah’s neighbors were protective of her, as well as fond of her.
Neighbor women were planning a surprise. They were making a layette for the coming baby, including a quilt, a bunting, several receiving blankets and a bib for every day of the week. One lady made two sweater sets, complete with bonnet and booties, one for every day and one for Sundays. Sarah was preparing, too. She had flannel undershirts ready, and several nightgowns made. She was working on diapers, and wanted to make sure she had plenty of those ready.
Momma and Poppa had a special surprise planned, with Hixson’s help. Poppa was making a cradle, and Momma was tatting a lace coverlet for it. Hixson was making a crib for when the baby got bigger, and Sarah knew about it. She had no idea that anyone was making a cradle for when the baby was new.
Eliza was writing a book of poems for the baby. Each poem was about something the baby would see every day, or about someone the baby would know. Eliza couldn’t draw v
ery well, so she contented herself with painting pictures with her words.
Charlton had the idea to build the new baby a piece of furniture, and decided a cedar chest would be just the thing: useful now to keep the baby’s clothes and bedding, and useful later, too. If the baby was a girl, it could be her hope chest. If a boy, he might even use it for special tools someday.
Annie’s gift was to be a little different. She was working on sewing two new nightgowns for Sarah. Annie had a clever idea for making a gown that would allow Sarah to feed the baby more conveniently that the usual nightgown would allow, and yet remain modest and warm. As a new mother herself, Annie noticed such things.
Hixson was mildly concerned about all the attention about to be lavished on shy Sarah. Any little kindness moved her greatly. He expected her to be overwhelmed by what was coming. Hixson searched a way to prepare her without spoiling the surprises. At last, unable to think of anything to say, he recruited Momma’s help.
“You know, Ma, I don’t believe I ever met anyone who is more grateful for any little thing than my wife is. If I so much as open a sticky jar for her, you’d think it was a grand favor.”
“Yes, she is very sweet that way. She’s no taker.” Momma answered, waiting for Hixson to tell what was really on his mind.
“I’ve been thinking