After the Storm. Lenora Worth
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circles as the people she’d left behind. The people who couldn’t know where she was now.
“Got it,” he said, tugging out the gauzy white fabric. “Want me to drape it over…you?”
“Please,” Alisha said, clutching her stomach again. “You need to get yourself dry, too.”
“Don’t worry about me. I’ll dry out by the fire later. Let’s just take care of you right now.”
Alisha nodded her thanks, then grabbed the blanket as another wave of pain centered in her stomach.
Jared hurriedly helped her lift her hips so he could push a couple of cushiony blankets underneath her, then with his eyes on her face, he gently placed the sheer net material over her exposed legs. “I guess I can deliver this baby by touch,” he teased.
“I don’t care how you do it,” Alisha replied, her back locked in a spasm as she gritted out the words. “Just so it gets done.”
“Okay, I’m think I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.”
Alisha nodded, then took a long breath. “Good, ’cause here comes another one. We’d better get me ready—we’ve got extra sheets, the gauze over my legs and waist. What else? Did you sterilize the scissors?”
“Yes, and wrapped them in a clean ironed rag.” He shrugged. “I read that in the book. It said to iron a rag to help sterilize it. Found the iron on a corner shelf, right by the clean dish towels. Since we had no power, I heated the iron on the gas stove.”
“You’re doing good for a beginner.”
“So are you.” Then he glanced down at her. “I mean, this is your first child, right?”
She nodded, huffed, concentrated on trying not to push as painful memories tore through her with the same consistency of the pain in her center. “Yes, my first.”
“What about…where’s your husband?”
She stilled. “He’s…dead.”
His reaction was pure polite shock. “Oh, I’m sorry. That must be tough.”
She swallowed, closed her eyes to the truth. “It happened a while back, right after I found out I was pregnant.” Eight months ago, to be exact.
“Any other relatives nearby?”
“No.” She wanted to tell him she had no one but herself and the baby she had to protect, and that she didn’t need anyone either, by the way, but she didn’t say that. Instead she closed her eyes and willed her heart to stop racing.
“You don’t have to talk about it now,” he said, obviously sensing her agitation and probably mistaking it for grief. Well, she was grieving. For so many reasons.
“Thank you,” she managed through a groan. Then to distract herself from the sharp cut of clawing memories, she said, “Music. Could you put a cassette in the player? It’s over by the window.”
She watched as Jared turned and spotted the pile of old cassettes she kept in a wicker basket by a bigger basket of books. “I guess you don’t buy CDs, huh?” he asked over his shoulder. “Just lots of books and old cassettes.”
“No, can’t afford CDs.” She struggled to talk. “Bought those secondhand in the village. Player’s secondhand, too.”
He gave her another questioning stare, as if he couldn’t quite figure her out, then said, “What would you like to hear?”
“Harps.”
“Harps?”
“There’s a mountain music one in there somewhere. Harps and fiddles, guitars and mandolins. Soothing—”
Pain caused that word to come out in a scream.
“Okay,” Jared said, spinning into action. “Breathe through it while I put on those harps.”
Groaning, Alisha reached out a hand toward him. “I don’t think I can breathe through this. I…can feel the head—”
“Oh, oh, okay.” Jared turned as soft music filled the room. “Hang on, now. Everything is going to be just fine.”
Even in her fit of pain and trying not to push, Alisha had to smile. The man looked positively terrified.
But then, so was she.
It had all been over in a matter of minutes.
Jared stood at the kitchen window, looking out into the sloping woods behind the tiny cabin. The Easter dawn glistened through the trees and shrubs, the sun’s first tentative rays giving the drenched forest an ethereal, mist-filled glow. The storm had passed, but it had left a soggy, whitewashed stillness that was only interrupted by the sound now and then of ancient tree limbs hitting against the cabin walls in a gust of defiant wind.
There was a pretty garden in the backyard, complete with an aged wooden bird feeder shaped like a tiny house, and a squirrel feeder made so a corncob could be placed where the squirrels were sure to find it. A couple of cardinals dug through the soggy feed, strewing it on the ground below. A wooden picnic table and two sturdy chairs sat near an ancient oak tree. Delicate crushed blossoms from flowering plants lay about on the table and chairs and ground. Everything was covered with a fine sheen of water. It was as if the whole world was frozen in a lake of flower blossoms and trees.
The coffee he’d set to brewing earlier smelled fresh and enticing, causing Jared to turn from the window. It would probably be strong, but he really needed a cup. He wasn’t surprised to find his hands shaking as he tried to pour from the aged percolator. He’d just witnessed something he couldn’t explain.
And on Easter morning at that.
He’d witnessed the birth of a child. A tiny little baby. A boy.
“One more push,” he remembered telling Alisha after the baby’s head began to crown and it was safe for her to finally give in to the urge. “You’re doing great. And don’t worry, I’ve got the baby. I’ve got the head in my hands.”
Jared grinned, still amazed at how tiny that little head had been. So tiny and so soft, with reddish-brown tufts of wet hair.
And then after all the huffing and puffing and pushing, out came the whole baby. Jared stood there, his eyes wide as he stared up at Alisha, a grin splitting his face. “It’s a boy.”
She cried, of course. With joy. With relief. Then she instructed him on how to open the baby’s nasal passages. At first, Jared panicked. Weren’t newborns supposed to cry?
“Keep rubbing on him,” she gently ordered, the trace of concern in her voice making the words shrill. Then because he could tell she was about to panic, Jared handed the naked baby to her. Alisha cooed and cried and even blew on the baby’s little nose.
And that’s when he’d heard the first soft wail.
It was the sound of a tiny miracle.
“He’s okay, I think,” Alisha shouted, tears rolling down her face.
Quickly, Jared cut the cord and wrapped the baby in fresh clean blankets to hand up to his mother. After delivering the placenta, he helped Alisha get herself and the bedding cleaned up—she insisted he turn away while she struggled with a clean gown and underclothing. Then he let her hold the little boy for a while before she suggested he give the baby a quick bath, too.
That had been over two hours ago.
Since then, he’d had time to get to know this tiny cabin full of books and knickknacks. The books ranged from the classics to a stack of romance novels. There were also some textbooks scattered here and there, mostly to do with physiology and social work. The knickknacks ranged from antique dishes to dime-store finds.
Her home, just like the woman, was a paradox to Jared. How could she live here with no phone and no transportation, and yet seem so well-educated and worldly?