Miriam suppressed a laugh and took her little sister’s hand. “I think we’ll go out and swing awhile,” she told them.
Elizabeth sat down again and fanned her hot face. “That child just blurts out whatever she’s thinking,” she said and apologized.
Angel wondered whether to tell her she couldn’t have children and decided against it.
“I came to ask for your help,” Elizabeth said. “The baby comes in December, and I’d like you to act as my midwife.”
Angel couldn’t have been more stunned or aghast. “Me? But Elizabeth, I don’t know the first thing about helping someone have a baby.”
“I know what needs to be done. Miriam wants to help, but I don’t think a young, impressionable girl like her should be attending a birthing. It might frighten her needlessly.”
Angel was silent a moment. “I can’t see that I would be any help at all.”
“I’ve been through it before. I’ll be able to tell you what to do. Back home, I had a midwife, but out here there’s only John, and John simply will not do.” She smiled slightly. “He can birth a calf or foal, but he’s perfectly useless when it comes to bringing his own children into the world. He falls to pieces the minute I show any pain, and, well, I can’t go through the whole business without some discomfort, now, can I? He fainted when Miriam was born.”
“He did?” Somehow she couldn’t imagine the stoic John passing out over anything.
“He fell right on the floor by the bed, and there I was, helpless as a turtle on its back and with my own work to handle.” She laughed softly. “He came ’round when it was all over.”
“Will it be very hard?” Angel asked, worried already. She remembered one girl who managed to conceal her pregnancy until it was too late to have an abortion. “Isn’t there a doctor in town?”
“I suppose there might be, but by the time he arrived it would be all over. Ruth only took four hours to be born. This one may come even faster.”
Angel agreed reservedly to help when the time came. “If you’re absolutely sure you want me to be the one.”
“I am,” Elizabeth said, hugging her. She looked greatly relieved.
Angel went out to Michael when the Altmans left. Leaning on the fence, she watched him shoe a horse. “Elizabeth wants me to help birth her baby.” She watched the lines deepen in his tanned cheeks as he smiled.
“Miriam told me she was going to ask you. She was a little annoyed that she wouldn’t be the one helping bring her little brother or sister into the world.”
“Elizabeth was worried that Miriam might be shocked,” she said. “I, on the other hand, shouldn’t be shocked by anything.”
Michael heard the biting edge in her tone, an edge that had been missing for weeks. He glanced at her. Was it his mention of Miriam that did it? Or was she scared of this additional responsibility?
“If there’s trouble, I’ve untangled a few colts in my time.”
“She said John fainted.”
Michael laughed as he drove the last nail in and cut off the end.
“It’s not funny, Michael. What if something goes wrong? There was a girl in the brothel back in New York who hid her pregnancy long enough so Duke couldn’t force her to have an abortion. Sally talked him into letting her stay, but when her time came, she screamed. I could hear her through the walls. It was a Sunday afternoon, and the place was busy and—” She looked at Michael’s face as he straightened, and she stopped speaking. Oh, why had she brought all that up again?
“And what?”
“Never mind,” she said and turned away.
He came to the fence. “Your past is part of you. And I love you. Remember? Now, what happened to the girl and her baby?”
Her throat closed tight, and she could hardly speak. “Sally gagged her so she wouldn’t disturb anyone. It took so long. All through the night and into the next day. She was sick for days afterwards, and the baby…”
Sally had kept the other girls away but allowed Angel to come into the room with her to tend the mother and infant. The young prostitute was as white as death and silent while beside her the baby whimpered constantly and was wrapped in a pink cloth. Angel wanted to pick the baby up, but Sally hastily shoved her away. “Don’t touch it!” she whispered. Angel didn’t understand why until Sally carefully unwrapped it.
“What about the child?” Michael asked, pushing a loose strand of golden hair back from her pale face.
“It was a little girl. She only lived a week,” she said bleakly. She didn’t tell him that the baby was covered with sores or that she died without a name. The mother disappeared shortly afterward. When she asked Sally what happened to her, Sally said, “It’s not for you to question what Duke does.” And Angel knew the girl was dead, fodder for rats in some dark, dirty alley. Just like Rab. Just like her if she didn’t obey. She shuddered.
“Elizabeth has had five children, Amanda,” Michael reminded her.
“Yes,” she said, “and all of them healthy.”
Michael watched the color slowly come back into her cheeks. He wondered what she had been thinking of, but he didn’t ask. If she wanted to talk about it, she would. If not, he would respect her silence. But she needed reassurance. He sensed that. “When a baby’s time comes, there’s nothing you can do to stop it.”
She smiled up at him. “You know all about this, too, I suppose?”
“Not from personal experience,” he said. “Tess helped deliver a baby on the wagon train. She said she didn’t have to do anything except make sure it didn’t fall on the floor of the wagon. They’re a little slippery when they arrive. When Elizabeth’s time comes, I’ll come along and hold John’s hand.”
Angel laughed, the tension leaving her. As long as Michael was with her, everything would be fine.
“Oh, by the way,” Michael said, taking a packet from his pocket. “Miriam asked me to give this to you.”
Angel had noticed Miriam leaning on the fence a long while talking with Michael. “What is it?” she asked, glancing at the neat handwriting she couldn’t read. Duke had seen no reason to teach her.
“Seeds for a summer flower garden.”
As spring warmth turned into summer heat, Angel learned she had her mother’s gift for growing things. The flower bed she laid out around the house became a grand profusion of color. She filled the pitcher daily with pink phlox, yellow yarrow, red lamb’s ear, purple delphinium and white hollyhocks. Blue flax and pristine daisies graced the mantel. But even more than the pleasure she took from the flowers was the pride she felt when she looked out at the cornfield.
She could scarcely believe that the small, shriveled kernels Michael had given her to plant had become stalks taller than he. She walked the rows, touching the towering plants and seeing the developing ears of corn. Had she really helped make this happen?
“Amanda! Where are you?” Michael called.
Laughing, she stood on tiptoe. “Over here,” she called back and then ran down the row to hide.
“All right,” he said, laughing. “Where did you go?”
She whistled at him from her hiding place. She and Ruthie had played hide-and-seek in the rows the day before, and she was in a joyous mood today, ready to tease Michael.
“What do I get if I find you?”
“What have you got in mind?”
“Oh, a little of this and that.” He reached through a row and almost caught hold of her skirt. Laughing, she escaped again. He caught up with her at the end of the row, but she eluded him again and disappeared into the greenery. She ducked into a row and put her foot out as he passed, tripping him. Laughing, she raced back the other way.
“I’m never going to get that fence repaired,” he said, coming after her. He had just caught her when someone called to them. Michael chuckled. “It’s Miriam again wanting to know if Mandy can come out and play.”
Miriam looked distraught when she reached them, her eyes red rimmed from crying.
“What’s happened?” A
ngel asked in alarm. “Is it your mother?”
“Mama’s fine. Everyone’s fine,” Miriam said, giving her a weak smile. “Michael, I need to speak with you about something. Please. It’s important.”
“Of course.”
Miriam took Angel’s hand and squeezed it. “Thanks,” she said. “I won’t keep him long.”
Angel knew she was dismissed. “Come into the house when you’re finished. I’ll fix some coffee.”
She watched from the window as Miriam and Michael talked together in the yard. Miriam was crying. Michael touched her shoulder, and Miriam went into his arms. Angel’s stomach dropped at the sight of him holding her. A dull pain spread across her chest as she watched him stroke the girl’s back and say something to her. Miriam drew back slightly and shook her head. He tipped her chin and said something more to her. She talked for a long time, and Michael stood listening. When she finished, he said something briefly. She put her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek. Then she headed for home. Michael stood watching her for a long moment. He rubbed the back of his neck and shook his head. Then he headed for the fence where he had been working earlier.
Angel waited for him to bring up what Miriam said when he came in for supper, but he didn’t. Instead he talked about how the work was going on the corral and what he would be doing in the afternoon. If Miriam had told him something in trust, Angel knew he wouldn’t break it.
When he came in at the end of the day, he was thoughtful. He watched her clear the dishes. “You’re very quiet,” he said, coming up behind her and putting his hands around her waist as she poured hot water over the dinner dishes. He brushed her braid aside and kissed her neck. “What are you worrying about? Elizabeth?”
“Miriam.” She felt his hands loosen. Turning, she looked up at him. “And you.” When he blinked and said nothing, she brushed past him. He caught her and turned her firmly around to face him.
“You have no need to be jealous, though I suppose I’d be grinding my teeth if Paul came ‘round and asked to talk with you privately.”
“That’s not likely to happen, is it?”
“No. I suppose not.” He wished he had left Paul out of it. “The point is, I love you.”
“And you’re not in the least tempted by a girl who worships the ground you walk on?”
“No,” he said, not denying Miriam’s affection. “But I’m more a big brother to her than anything else.”
Angel felt petty. She loved Miriam dearly, but seeing them together had hurt. She looked up into Michael’s eyes again and couldn’t doubt he loved her. He made her weak with it. Relaxing, she gave him a rueful smile. “Is she all right? What’s wrong?”
“She’s unhappy. She knows what she wants, a husband and children of her own, but she isn’t sure how to get it. So she wanted a man’s opinion.”
“Well, I’m glad she didn’t go to Paul,” she said before she thought better of it. She turned back to the dishes. Paul would take a sweet, innocent girl like Miriam apart with his mockery.
Michael was silent.
She glanced back at him and knew she shouldn’t have said anything against his friend. “I’m sorry. It’s just that.…” She shrugged.
“She needs a husband.”
“Yes,” she agreed, “but he’s going to have to be something very, very special.”
His mouth curved. “You love her, don’t you?”
“She’s the closest thing to a sister I’ll ever have. Maybe that’s why it hurt when I saw the two of you holding onto one another.”
“I don’t hold her the same way I hold you. Want to see the difference?”
Breathless and laughing, she pushed free. “You’re all soggy now. Go read so I can finish my work.”
He took the Bible down and sat before the fire with the book resting in his lap. He bowed his head, and Angel knew he was praying. It was a habit of his, and she no longer taunted him about it. That great black book was almost falling apart, but he looked upon it as something bound in gold and containing priceless jewels inside. He never read it without praying first. He told her once that he didn’t read until his mind was open enough to receive. She didn’t know what he was talking about. Sometimes his words, though plain English, made no sense to her at all. And then he would say something wonderful that filled her with warmth and dawning light. She was the blackest night, and he the starlight piercing it, creating an unfolding pattern in her life.
She finished her chores and sat beside him. He was still silent. She put her head back, listening to the crackling fire, and waited. When he finally read, she was drowsy and content. His rich, warm voice was like dark taffy, but what he read surprised her. It was the story of a bride and groom and their passion for one another. He read for a long time.
Michael put the Bible back on the mantel and placed another log on the fire. It would burn through the night and keep the cabin warm.
“Why would a virgin bride play the harlot for her husband?” Angel asked, perplexed.
Michael glanced back. He’d thought she was sleeping. “She wasn’t.”
“Yes, she was. She danced for him, and he was looking at her body. From the feet up. In the beginning, he was looking into her eyes.”
He was amazed she had listened so carefully. “He took joy in her body, as she wanted him to, and she danced to arouse and please him.”
“And your God says it’s all right to entice a man?”
“It’s all right to entice your husband.”
Her expression clouded. She hadn’t meant just any man, but he was well aware of how well trained she was at enticement. “What if they think it’s enticement just because of the way you look?”
Michael nudged the log further back with his boot. “Men are always going to stare at you, Amanda. You’re beautiful. There’s nothing you can do about that.” Even John Altman had stared at her in the beginning. And Paul. Sometimes Michael wondered what went through Paul’s mind when he saw her. Did it flash back to what happened between them on the way to Pair-a-Dice? He pushed the disturbing thoughts away. Dwelling on them raised doubts that tormented him.
“Does it bother you?” she asked.
“What?”
“When men stare at me.”
“Sometimes,” he admitted. “When they’re looking at you like an object and not a human being with feelings.” His mouth tipped ruefully. “Or a wife in love with her husband.”
She turned the wedding ring on her finger. “They never look at my hands, Michael.”
“Maybe we should put the ring in your nose.”
Glancing up, she saw his teasing smile and laughed. “Yes, or a large one around my neck. Maybe that would keep them away.”
A long time later, as Michael lay sleeping beside her, Angel listened to the night breeze stirring the wind chimes outside the window. The ever changing melodies were soothing.
The new hay smelled sweet beneath her, sweeter still because it was partly due to her labor that it was there. She and Michael had harvested the hay together. What grueling work! She had been so fascinated watching Michael swing the great scythe in wide, smooth strokes, dropping the golden grasses. She raked it into piles, and they pitched it into the back of the wagon to be taken and stored in the barn. The animals would have hay through the cold winter months.
Everything Michael did had purpose. She thought of her own life and how meaningless and miserable it had been before him. Her very reason to be alive now depended on him. And Michael depended on the earth, the rains, the warmth of the sun. And his God.
Especially his God.
I’d be dead by now if Michael hadn’t come back for me. I’d be rotting in a shallow, unmarked grave.
She was consumed with gratitude and filled with an aching humility that this man loved her. Why, of all the other women of the world, had he chosen her? She was so undeserving. It was inconceivable.
But I am glad, so glad he did. And I’ll never again do anything to make him sorry. Oh, God, I swear.??
?
A sweet fragrance filled the darkened cabin, a fragrance that defied definition. She filled her lungs with it, so heady and wonderful. What was it? Where did it come from? Her mind whirled with words and phrases Michael had read to her over the past weeks and even before that, words she thought she had never heard but had somehow found their way into the deepest part of her, somewhere inside, a place she’d been unable to close off.
And then a still, quiet voice filled the room.
I am.
Angel sat up abruptly, eyes wide open. She looked around the cabin, but there was no one there other than Michael, who lay sleeping deeply beside her. Who had spoken? She felt fear sweep through her, and she trembled with it. Then it was gone, washed away, and she was calm again, her skin tingling strangely.
“There is nothing,” she whispered. “Nothing.” She awaited an answer, not moving.
But no answer came. No voice filled the stillness.
Angel lay down slowly and curled as tightly against Michael as she could.
Give sorrow words;
the grief that does not speak.
SHAKESPEARE
September came swiftly, and the corn was ready for harvesting. Michael drove the wagon between the rows and left it there. He and Angel broke the ears from the stalks and tossed them against the bang board so they dropped into the wagon bed. Soon the corncrib was full.
The Altmans gladly came to help shuck corn. It was a good excuse to get together and have some fun. They all sang songs, told stories, and laughed while working. Angel’s hands blistered, and she cut them on the shucks, but she had never been happier in her life. The mound of golden ears grew about her, and she felt a sense of pride in having a part in it. There was more than enough for seed next year, and their own supply for cornmeal was replenished as well as having plenty to sell at market.
When the shucking was finished, Elizabeth sat in the shade and sipped herbal tea Angel brought to her. She was rounding nicely, her cheeks glowing with healthy color. Angel had never seen her look so well or lively.
“Do you want to feel the baby kick?” Elizabeth asked and took Angel’s hand. She placed it on her swollen belly. “There. Did you feel that, Amanda?” Angel laughed, amazed. “John wants another boy” Elizabeth said.