Oh, That I Had Wings

Oh, That I Had Wings

By Sarah Pawley

SMASHWORDS EDITION

* * * * *

PUBLISHED BY:

Sarah Pawley on Smashwords

Oh, That I Had Wings

Copyright © 2009 By Sarah Pawley

All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

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Chapter 1

"The Fortune Teller"

Stones Mill, Virginia

December, 1909

Those dark eyes…how they glistened so brilliantly.

Sitting across the table from his Grandmother, Jack watched her eagerly. The lines of her face were steeped in concentration as she focused on the cup in her palms, and he was enthralled.

In his nine-year-old way of thinking, Annabelle Langdon was the epitome of strength and wisdom. Her hands were gnarled and spotted, but they could perform any task required of them. Her shoulders were wide, her figure broad and imposing, giving her an aura of power. But it was her gift of prophecy that made her so miraculous in his eyes. He tried to sit still as she prepared to make a prediction, knowing she required silence as she tried to focus. But he couldn’t help himself. Leaning forward, resting his arms on the table, he whispered.

Granny, how much longer?

He felt a vicious yank of his ear…a punishment for breaking the silence. A different kind of gaze fell on him then. Dark eyes that were not kind. Eyes that dared him to make a complaint. But Jack knew better.

His father was slight of build and only of middling height. But John Langdon was quick of hand and foot, making his punishments near impossible to escape. As Jack nursed his swollen ear, he did so in silence, uttering no objection. And though he glanced at his mother...the source of the prediction…he did not look to her for pity. All he could do was take the pain like a little man. And so he did.

Despite the scolding, he knew his folks were just as eager for the prediction as he was. His two younger brothers…who usually had an attention span of about five seconds…were calm and quiet for once, eager to hear what Annabelle would say. Even John, stoic as he was, couldn’t hide his interest. Eager as he’d been to hear the prophecy, he hadn’t even stopped to wash the coal dust from his face. As he clutched his lucky rabbit’s foot, he leaned forward, speaking in a low tone.

Mama, can you see anything in them grounds yet?

A long moment of silence followed his question, and finally, Annabelle answered. She tilted her grey head in concentration.

This child will have a bold mind. It’ll have a mighty spirit. It’ll have great strength and go far in life. But I just can’t figure clearly if it’ll be a boy or a girl. For a few moments more she continued to look, but ended with a shake of her head. She looked up and shrugged. I’m sorry John. I’m sorry Rachel.

Jack’s mother slowly rose to her feet. Her reed-like figure, wrapped in a shawl, was not yet showing a sign of pregnancy. Only a protective hand, resting on her belly, gave evidence of her condition. She gave a weary sigh.

God willing, John will add another healthy son to his name. But only time will tell, I suppose.

While she left to go out to the root cellar, Raymond and James’ attention waned, and they went outside in search of some other form of entertainment. Jack remained, turning to look at his father, and he wondered…

Will Daddy be mad?

John wasn’t the patient kind. When he wanted something, he wasn’t willing to wait, and Jack wondered if the uncertainty of the news would make him angry.

But a strange little smile came to John’s face, and he rose from his chair.

Bold mind and spirit. I don’t need to hear no more.

John went outside, where his three brothers sat waiting. Jack watched him go, finding every moment of the matter fascinating. A smile on his father’s face was rare, and it intrigued him. Turning to Granny, watching her, he wondered what she would say as she sat back in her chair, letting out a sigh.

It’ll be a girl, she said. If it weren’t a sin to bet, I’d lay money down on it.

Jack looked up at her, his brown eyes wide. How come?

A sly little smile came to her lips. God has a funny sense of humor, boy. When summertime comes, you’ll see.

He smiled when she smiled. When Granny said something, he believed it, because it wasn’t often that she was wrong. He climbed to his knees, squatting in his chair. He leaned forward across the table, resting his chin in his hands.

Granny, can you see something for me in the grounds? Glancing up at her, he saw her smile broaden. She reached across to ruffle his blond hair.

Jack Langdon, what would you be lookin’ for?

Granny was the only one who called him Jack. Most of the neighbors called him Junior, while his mother always referred to him as John Bradley. When he wasn’t in the presence of his father, who was his namesake, he was referred to as John. But Granny had always called him Jack to give him his own identity. Jack knew his father hated the change, calling it nonsense. But when Granny wanted her way, she got it. And if she wanted to call her favorite grandson by a name of her choosing, she would.

To her question, he only shrugged.

I’d like to see anything in there, I reckon. I just wondered.

He tried to get a closer look at the bottom of her cup, wondering what is was she saw when she told her fortunes. A few times, he’d tried to stare the way she did, but all he’d ever seen was the old remains from the coffee pot. Whatever magic she possessed, it rarely missed the mark. Sometimes, he imagined what it would be like to predict his own future, his young mind hoping to see riches and world adventures. Once, he’d dared to say out loud that he wanted to see the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. That remark had gotten him several sound smacks to the head, a stern reminder that love of money was the root of all evil, and a warning that the gift of prophecy wasn’t to be used for selfish gain.

But he’d always been a curious soul, and Granny nurtured that. She did it now, smiling at him as she gave the cup a shake, resettling the coffee grounds. And then she was looking again, searching for something to satisfy his eager mind. This time he was completely silent as he waited, although he chewed his lip in impatience. When at last she seemed to find something, there was a curious look on her face.

Someday, a very special lady will come into your life. You’ll be her champion and she’ll be yours.

Jack titled his head back, an odd look on his face. What’s that mean?

She chuckled, shrugging her shoulders. That’s all it tells me, boy. I suppose you’ll just have to wait and see what it means.

He sighed in disappointment, not understanding the meaning at all. But Granny just smiled in that special way of hers.

* * * * *

Late that night, as he lay in the large bed he shared with his brothers, he was quite restless…his mind full of thoughts. His brothers were fast asleep, but he was far from such a state of peace as he thought of what Granny had said.

Would the baby really be a girl? And if it was, what would it be like to have one in the house? For that matter, what would it be like to have a newborn around? He’d never seen a new baby before. He’d only been three when Raymond was born, and his memory of that birth was dim. James had been so weak and sickly as a baby that no one had been allowed near him until he was almost six months old. He’d heard of the births of neighbors, and both his mother and grandmother sometimes helped with such things. But men and boys weren’t allowed to witness it. By the time a baby was brought out for the whole world to see, the child was usually several months along. When a woman was said to be expecting, she didn’t venture beyond home except for church.

Jack remembered seeing his mother pregnant with James. In those days, he’d been curious but too afraid to ask anything. But now he was nearly ten. A little bolder, and much more curious, the questions on the tip of his tongue craved answers. He’d made the mistake of asking his folks an occasional question, but they’d both said it was wrong for a boy to be so inquisitive.

But Granny would answer his questions. He was sure of it.

When the door opened, he looked over to see her coming in. She gave him a little smile.

Still up? You could learn a thing or two from your brothers.

He watched her as she went to where James was curled up, just like a dog, at the foot of the bed. She took him by the arm, pulling him to a better position, adjusting the pillow under his head. Reaching to the center of the mattress, she adjusted Raymond’s position and his pillow as well. Then she came around to Jack’s side of the bed, leaning down to place a kiss on his forehead. As he looked up at her, the question on the tip of his tongue came free.

Is having a baby like birthing a calf?

She gave a disgusted little snort. No, not exactly. Where’d you hear that?

That’s what Daddy said.

When he’d first heard that, he’d shuddered with fear and disgust at the thought. He’d helped deliver calves in the middle of the night, and he was horrified at the thought of his mother going through such a thing. Now he looked to Granny for reassurance that it wasn’t so. She looked down at him with a serious expression.

Women don’t squat down in the hay and drop their babies like animals. Your Daddy should be ashamed of himself for filling your head with such foolishness. Her tone became calm and kind, her words soothing away his fears. The doctor is there the whole time, making sure everything is fine. When it’s done, a Mama holds her baby and forgets all about the hurt.

He smiled, comforted by her honesty and gentle wisdom. Lord knew, he didn’t get much of that from anyone else. And feeling confident enough, he asked another question.

How come Mamas having babies can’t go into town, except for church?

She gave him a curious look. Where did that question come from?

He shrugged. I dunno. I just wondered. Mama says it’s shameful to show off a woman in a delicate condition, but what’s shameful about a baby?

She shook her head in reply. "Nothing a’tall. It’s what makes a baby that’s not fittin’ to talk about."

He didn’t question why that was. He’d seen the way farm animals were bred and born, and just the thought of humans doing such things made him turn red with embarrassment. Still, he couldn’t help but wonder about human babies. There was something about it all that fascinated him.

I wonder lots of things about the baby, but Daddy says I shouldn’t ask.

Well, he’s right in a way, she replied. Birth and babies are a woman’s place, except for Doctor Smith.

His shoulders drooped a little, his eyes filling with disappointment. But then he heard her speak in her soothing way.

Tell you what. When you have questions, ask me and not your Mama and Daddy. And if I figure they ain’t fittin’ to answer, I’ll tell you so. Like askin’ what makes a baby. You’ll find that out once you get married and have youngins of your own.

She smiled and bent to place a kiss on his forehead, and he smiled back, his eyes full of love and admiration for her.

Granny had a wonderful way of saying things. She made him believe that her word was the gospel truth. And the picture she painted of the coming event was one he truly believed in.

As the months went by, he marveled at the thought that there might be a little sister growing in his mother’s belly. He hadn’t forgotten about Granny’s fortune telling. He was beginning to wonder if the lady she’d talked about meant the baby that was coming, and he could hardly wait to find out. Sometimes he rested his hand on his mother’s belly, feeling the baby kick and move. Rachel allowed it, though she hesitated in answering his questions as to what the baby’s movements felt like.

But John was quick to criticize, angrily declaring that it wasn’t decent for a boy to wonder about such things. One night his temper flared. He reached out to strike a blow, but Granny stepped in front of him, snatching his hand and throwing it back at him.

He has to learn, so let him be.

John sneered, marching out of the room in disgust. Granny looked down at Jack. Then she mumbled bitterly. Mean little cuss. Just like his father.

Jack couldn’t remember his grandfather, who had died the year after he was born. But from what Jack had heard, Gerald Langdon wasn’t just cruel to his sons. He’d been cruel to his wife as well, and the couple had fought openly in front of their children. John Langdon did not spare the rod with his sons, but Jack felt some comfort in knowing that his parents didn’t fight, at least not in front of their children. He was quite sure they didn’t fight behind closed doors either. At least, he'd never heard any real fighting, and the walls of the house were thin enough to hear such things. Rarely did they even speak in raised voices to each other. He felt fortunate to have parents who were civil to each other, although he wished their civility extended more to their children. That was one of the many reasons he clung so closely to his grandmother. Her firm but loving hand was the guiding force of his life.

*****

June came quickly. Celebrations were rare in the Langdon home. But when John announced he was planning a feast to celebrate the impending birth, it sent a wave of excitement through everyone. Jack knew his father wanted another son. He’d told everyone he knew that there would soon be a fourth male added to his clan. But Jack kept remembering what Granny had said about the baby being a girl, and several times he had whispered to her about it, as if they shared a very great secret.

Shouldn’t we tell him the truth?

But Granny would shake her head. It won’t do no good. Men don’t like to be told they’re wrong. Let’s just wait and see what happens…

Chapter 2

"Friends and Relatives"

The morning of the party arrived.

Jack could hear the murmur of female voices downstairs, and not just Mama and Granny. Other ladies were there, all talking at once, and his curiosity made him sit up fast in bed. The house was normally so quiet this time of day…and he couldn’t wait to get downstairs to watch the commotion.

Behind him in the big bed, a warm body rolled against him…a body that smelled of sweat, of bad breath…and curling his lip in disgust, he shoved his brother away.

Devilish little varmint. Get off me. Five-year old James was an awful bedmate. He kicked like a mule, flopping around all night long, and if Jack had gotten his way, the brat would have been sleeping on the floor. At least Raymond, who was seven, stayed on his side of the bed and kept still. But that didn’t make him special. So when James rolled over against him again, Jack gave the boy a good hard shove, making him land with a grunt against Raymond. Neither of them moved or made a sound. Both of them could sleep through anything, but Jack never slept so heavily, especially on a day like this. He hurried to get washed and dressed, knowing that the sooner he got his chores done, the better.

Coming down to the kitchen, he stood watching the gaggle of busy women. Under normal circumstances, he wouldn’t have been standing about. He could just hear what his mother said about dawdling.

Don’t waste time, boy. Idle hands are the Devil’s playthings.

But he couldn’t help himself at that moment. There was Mama. Her large belly was making her move a bit slower, although that didn’t keep her from working. But it was Granny who was truly in charge, directing the three other women who were rushing about. Pots were boiling. Flour dough was being rolled and cut. Fruit and vegetables were being chopped. And Jack watched it all with wide eyes. The house was hardly ever so alive, and it fascinated him. But it wasn’t long before one of them noticed him. Mrs. Smith, the doctor’s wife, hurried over with a plate of food. She thrust the saucer in his hands, her voice kind but firm as she directed him to a chair.

Eat it up fast, boy. It’s all you’ll get for now.

A biscuit and a slice of cold ham. He looked down at it, disillusioned. Saturday mornings usually meant hot biscuits and gravy. But complaining might mean he wouldn’t eat at all, so he kept quiet and did as he was told. Almost before he’d finished the last bite, the plate was snatched from his fingers and Mrs. Smith was giving him a firm push towards the door.

Outside with you, Junior. We’ve got a heap of work to do and there’s no room for you here.

His mother called to him. John Bradley, go fetch the milk. And then you and your brothers stay out for the day. We don’t need you kids under our feet.

He was happy to give no argument. A Saturday spent in leisure was a rare treat, and he intended to wring every moment he could out of it. He snatched the milk bucket from the peg on the wall, rushing out to get the chore done.

*****

While the women were in the kitchen, their men were arranging all manner of things in the yard. Two of John’s younger brothers, Frank and Hugh, were solitary men who spent most of their time up in the hills, keeping to their cabin and their whiskey making. But on this special occasion they made an appearance, helping to bring out tables from storage in the barn. Other men prepared fresh game and built fire pits…one to roast pork and chickens, one to cook hearty Irish Stew, and one to roast ears of corn. As the morning turned to afternoon, townsfolk began arriving with their own little offerings to give.

Jack and his brothers, followed by a growing number of neighborhood children, ran here and there watching all the activity. The smell of food was growing rich in the air, particularly the meat roasting on the spits. But it was the watermelon that Jack looked forward to the most. The old blacksmith had brought a wagonload of melons from his patch, and Jack watched with wide eyes as the fruit was cut open and made ready to serve. His mouth watered at the prospect of that juicy red fruit, and he couldn’t wait a moment longer. Hurrying towards the table, he wondered if he could manage to sneak a slice before anyone caught him.

As he ran to the table, he caught sight of Granny. She was sitting nearby, gathered together on the porch with other women in a quilting circle. He smiled at her, wanting to run up to her and give her a hug, but he didn’t dare. He could imagine his father’s reaction to it.

Little idgit. Only females go around huggin’ and kissin’ on people. I’m raising a son, not a pansy. Be a man.

As much as Jack cherished Granny, he knew it wasn’t manly to show his affection in public. Behind closed doors, she often blessed him with a loving kiss or a warm embrace. But they both knew what kind of behavior was expected of a growing young man, at least when others were watching. So he just waved cheerfully at her, and hurried on his way.

As he approached the table where the watermelons were placed, he crept along carefully. The women around the table were all chattering as they arranged serving dishes. He hoped they wouldn’t notice when he reached to take a slice of melon, but just as his fingers neared the fruit, one of the church ladies reached out to slap his hand. She scolded him firmly.

Away from the table, boy. Patience is a virtue.

The slap didn’t hurt so much as it stung his pride. He shook his hand, looking to his mother who was standing across the table from him. But even as he looked at her, he knew he would find no sympathy. She was the polar opposite of Granny. Soft blue-grey eyes, blond hair, and a thin figure…her entire being evoked not the slightest hint of force, especially in the way she spoke. Her voice was a long soft drawl, always timid, even as she chastised him.

When your Uncle Nathan gets here and we say the blessing, then you can eat.

Jack curled his lip in a pout. He had the urge to stomp his foot, childish an impulse as it was. Besides, tantrums were cause for punishment, so he swallowed the impulse to whine. Frustrated and hungry, he sulked his way to the front porch, plopping down at Granny’s feet. She looked down at him, studying his sulky expression.

Jack Langdon, what’s that ugly look for?

He whimpered slightly in frustration. I’m hungry. And we have to wait for Uncle Nathan and Aunt Emily to get here before we can eat anything. He turned his face up to look at her, hoping for some understanding, which he rarely got from anyone else.

Granny, why are they always the last ones to show?

She only smiled as she made another stitch in her quilt.

If you had ten kids, you’d have trouble being on time too. A few moments passed…and she looked up from her stitching, casting her gaze towards the drive. Here they come now.

Jack turned his head to look, smiling as he saw them coming, just as he’d pictured it. The four oldest boys, aged fourteen to nineteen, rode on their horses. Nathan Langdon…the youngest of John’s brothers… drove the buggy with Emily at his side, while their three oldest girls sat behind them, watching two smaller girls and a baby boy. They were his only cousins, and lined up all in a row, they reminded him of a set of stair steps. For a minute he forgot about being hungry and ran over to greet his favorite members of the family. Like ants coming out of a hill, they all descended from the wagon and their horses to head directly for the food table. Jack saw the cake tin Emily was holding, and he eyed it eagerly.

Aunt Em, what did you bring?

She smiled at him sweetly, her soft brown eyes sparkling.

I brung red velvet cake. But don’t think you’ll get your grubby paws on it before it’s time, John Bradley. I done fought off a whole pack of yard apes… She glanced up at Nathan. One big ape in particular.

Nathan looked at her with a little smirk, all innocence. Who, me?

Yes, you. I had to spend an extra ten minutes fixing the icing you wrecked.

With a scoff, Nathan shook his head. You must have got me mixed up with one of the kids.

Jack smiled at their playful banter, wishing his own parents were as light-hearted. Nathan and Emily’s relationship was such a refreshing change from the constant seriousness of his own family. He hoped that if he ever got married some day, he could have as much fun as they did.

The prayer that Nathan gave was the calm before the storm. When the last word was spoken, a noise of excited voices, clattering silverware, and clinking plates commenced as everyone spread out to their own little spaces to enjoy the feast.

Jack piled his plate high. He filled a mason jar with lemonade, taking his meal to a spot under a huge oak tree where he joined all the other kids. They were all gathered around in a group, a comfortable distance away from all the adults…except for Uncle Nathan. Just as he always did at family functions, Nathan ambled over in his easy-going way. Wedging a place for himself between Jack and Raymond, he stretched out his long, skinny legs. He was perfectly comfortable among the kids, who welcomed him gladly. With his careless manner, gentle blue eyes and mischievous sense of humor, he fit in quite well with the younger set, and with a smile, he looked around at them.

You all gonna play ball after you eat?

All their mouths were full, but they mumbled and nodded. Nathan looked at Jack.

What about you, John Bradley?

Jack looked back with eyes that were a little sad. Daddy says playing ball ain’t nothin' but foolishness. I asked for a ball and glove for Christmas, but all I got was socks and underwear.

Yeah, me too, said James and Raymond, both speaking at once.

Nathan snorted in disbelief. Why didn’t you all say something to me or your Aunt Em? We would have figured out a way to get it for you.

But Jack lowered his head, giving a sad shrug. Daddy would have called it begging. And anyhow, he’d have probably took it away.

Nathan leaned forward a little, his eyes wide and shining impishly. Your daddy is a crotchety old fart.

Everyone laughed out loud. Nathan’s habit of speaking his mind, usually involving some sort of bad language, was a bold delight they rarely heard from other adults. But it wasn’t just the bad language that entertained them. They all knew Nathan and John, in the typical fashion of oldest and youngest brother, didn’t get along. Seeing them spar was entertaining in its way, especially for Jack. He’d heard their arguments for as long as he could remember, but he never tired of hearing Nathan’s side of a story, which was always punctuated with swearing and threats.

He’s been an ornery varmint ever since we was kids. He made me kick his little ass a time or two, and I’ll do it again if I get the notion.

Jack smiled at the thought. Their family was so different from his own. Nathan was a dairy farmer who worked alongside his sons and daughters. Everyone had their place, their duty to perform, and they all knew it well…but his family wasn’t ruled by an iron fist. He and Emily were stern when they needed to be, but it was more common to see them playing with their children or being affectionate in some way. Hugs and kisses were part of their parenting…and so unlike the coldness that Jack was accustomed to. If he’d had his choice, he would have gone to live with them. But like so many other things in life, the decision was not his to make…and so he had to settle for these small precious moments, rare as they were.

After they stuffed themselves with food and drink, they all went to a field behind the house to play. Nathan and Emily, Granny, Frank and Hugh all came to watch. But most of the adults stayed away, thinking all the noise wasn’t decent. John was particularly vocal in his disdain.

Hush all that wild screaming over there, you bunch of heathens!

Nathan was quick to shout back. Shut up, you grouchy old badger! Go off somewhere and pat your tail.

Jack heard it and smiled, but he didn’t let his father see. He didn’t want a confrontation now. Not when they were having such a good time.

After dark, the men and boys gathered around a bonfire to sip moonshine and talk. When the women and girls had cleaned up they came out to join the group, to hear music and singing. No one wanted the night to end, but like all good things, it had to have its conclusion. When everyone started packing up to go, Jack leaned mournfully against the porch post, watching Emily and Nathan as they gathered their family to depart.

I wish I could go with you, he said.

A voice, deep and angry, came from behind him.

You ain’t going nowhere, boy. Get on in the house and get to bed.

Jack felt his ear being pulled viciously. Despite his own attempts against it, he cried out in pain…and certain that a slap was coming next, he closed his eyes and shrank away. But then he heard Nathan’s voice raised in anger.

John, you’re a horse’s ass if I ever saw one. Why don’t you let the boy alone? As if to emphasize his displeasure, he gave John a forceful shove to the shoulder. John shoved him back with equal force and fury.

Don’t tell me how to raise my kids! I’ll do what I have to and you ain’t gonna tell me no different!

Jack looked between the two of them, waiting for the fists to fly. But before they could battle, Granny came out and stepped between the two of them.

You two hush that ugly talk. Two grown men acting like children. You ought to be ashamed.

Well Mama, he started it. Nathan punched a finger at John. He’s lucky I still come over and visit. And he’s even luckier I don’t stomp his fool head in right now.

She slapped his hand down. You two do this every Sunday and nothing ever comes of it. You make me lose my mind, the both of you.

Jack watched his father storm away into the house. He turned to his Uncle, who shook his head and muttered something foul under his breath. Then he turned to Granny and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

Good night, Mama. He reached out to pat Jack on the head. Good night, kid. Keep one eye open for the old badger tonight. He’s libel to sneak up on you while you’re asleep.

Jack nodded, knowing Nathan was probably right.

Later that night he lay awake, troubled. His father rarely forgot a punishment, so it was possible he’d come in the middle of the night with a switch. And if he did, who was to stop him? Granny didn’t interfere in every beating, although she tried when she could to keep them at bay. And Mama certainly wasn’t going to come to his rescue. Born and raised as a devout minister’s daughter, she lived and breathed the bible, especially Ephesians, 5:23. He knew it by heart, because she quoted it all the time…

For a husband is the head of his wife as Christ is the head of his body, the church; he gave his life to be her Savior. As the church submits to Christ, so you wives must submit to your husbands in everything.

Despite his worries, it was hard to fight off sleep. A long day and a full belly made sure of it, causing his eyelids to grow heavy. And later that night he was indeed woken up…but not for a whipping.

Footsteps scuffled on the floor below his room. His brothers were still out cold, but he’d always been a light sleeper, and the sounds below the floor roused him. He got out of bed, creeping to the doorway to listen. Muffled voices were talking in urgent tones. When he heard the front door closing he ran to the window, where he saw his father crossing the yard with a lantern in his hand. A minute later John was hurrying away on horseback, and Jack knew that something urgent was going on.

The bedroom door opened, sending a soft beam of light across the floor, and he turned quickly to look. It was Granny holding up a coal-oil lamp, and she looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

I thought I heard the sound of feet creaking on the ceiling. What are you doing up?

As she quietly came into the room, he went over to meet her. In a whisper he asked, Is the baby being born?

She smiled as she led him back to his bed.

Yes, the baby is coming. But it most likely won’t be here until morning. So you get yourself in this bed now and go to sleep.

He reluctantly did as she said, but he didn’t know how he would sleep now. Usually when she came to put him to bed, there was a strange magic in her soft withered hands that put him right at ease. She would brush his blond locks back from his forehead, kissing his cheek, and in moments he would be asleep. She performed that ritual now, and as she left him, he closed his eyes, trying to rest. Sleep didn’t come easy, but he managed a slight slumber before daylight broke.

He washed and dressed in a hurry, and on his way out to milk the cow, he saw Granny alone in the kitchen, taking a pan of bread out of the oven. It seemed so strange not to see Mama there with her. He saw there was no frying pan on the fire, as there usually was…no commencing with the usual hearty meal of a morning. There was a kettle of water on the boil, but nothing else, so he had to assume that it would be bread and milk for breakfast. Granny turned to see him there, watching her.

Hurry with the milk now, she said as she took bowls and glasses from the cupboard and put them on the table. I have to go in and check on your Mama.

Jack watched as she disappeared into the back bedroom and closed the door. A cold fear came over him, and that same feeling of anxiety seemed to have taken over the house. He looked out the window of the living room and saw his father there, smoking his pipe. Frank and Hugh were there with him. With the tense atmosphere all around him, Jack was looking for any kind of comfort, even if it was only in a word or two. He hurried out to say hello, and was immediately scolded.

What are you doing out here, boy? Did you get the milking done?

Jack shook his head, worrying for a moment that his father might reach out and smack him. Instead, John just sighed bitterly and impatiently, his reply snappish.

Well what are you waiting for, boy? Get on with it, and right quick.

Knowing this wasn’t the time for dawdling, Jack hurried to get the bucket from the peg and rushed out the door.

He milked the cow as quickly as he could. When he was done, he sprinted down to the spring behind the house, where the cold shed held both empty bottles and the ones from last night’s milking. He filled the empty ones with the contents of his bucket, took two full ones, and hurried back to the house. When he came in, Raymond and James were waiting at the table, and Granny was crumbling bread into their bowls. She did the same with a bowl for Jack, and then she took the milk and poured a little into each one. As she sliced slabs of bread and buttered them, James looked at his bowl and whined, I wanted sausage and eggs.

Granny snapped at them. I don’t got time for all that! So just hush up and eat.

Jack was stunned by the tone of her voice, usually so calm, and now sharp with impatience. He watched as she turned and went back to the bedroom, and then he turned and looked at his brothers. They were gobbling up their breakfast now, as if they hadn’t been complaining about it just a minute ago. As for himself, he didn’t have much of an appetite. He was too worried to eat, but he did it anyway, knowing that wasting food was one of the many household sins.

It was just after they finished eating when a baby’s cry came from the back bedroom. A few minutes later Granny came out. Jack stood up to go to her, but she hurried past him and out the front door to where John and his brothers were standing. In a few moments they all came into the house, and while Granny took John into the room, Frank and Hugh stood by the table and waited, giving each of the boys a pat on the head. They all waited for several moments in tense silence, and then John came out of the room. His face was grim with disappointment as he came to his brothers.

A girl? asked Frank…and John nodded.

Then he sighed. Oh well. Maybe we’ll get it right next time.

A girl. Just like Granny had said. Jack watched as his father and Uncles walked out of the house. Then he heard the bedroom door open. Granny came out, walking over to him and his brothers. She took him by the shoulders and gave him a little push towards the door, leading the other boys in behind him.

Walking into the room, Jack saw Doctor and Mrs. Smith preparing to depart, but it was his mother he slowly drew close to as he looked for his first curious glimpse of his newborn sister. She was crying as her mother held her. Jack looked at his mother’s thin and weary face, expecting to see the delight that Granny had told him about. To his confusion, his mother seemed quite under-whelmed by the child she was holding. But he didn’t dwell on her expression for long. He was more interested in satisfying his curiosity, and since Mama didn’t seem eager to show her daughter to the world, Granny came and gently took the baby from her.

Jack, sit down in the chair, she told him.

As he did what she said, she drew close and bent down near him. She placed the baby in his arms, showing him how to support her fragile head. Then she pulled the blanket back so he could get a better look at her face. Raymond and James came in for a better look…and all three boys wrinkled their noses in disappointment.

James curled his lip. She’s red as a turkey’s hind end.

Why is her head so funny looking? asked Raymond.

At their childish observations, Granny only smiled. All babies look like that at first. But she’ll look better directly.

James looked skeptical, shaking his head. That don’t seem right to me. Then he shrugged, looking at Granny. When are we leaving for church?

She shook her head. We’re not going today. Your Mama needs her rest. Later tonight I’ll read scripture to you all. Now go on and play if you want.

James and Raymond beamed with delight, rushing away quickly. But Jack just sat in the chair, holding his sister and studying her. Granny stood close, watching them both. She smiled at Jack.

Looks like the grounds told it right, boy. They said a special lady would come into your life.

Jack sighed, thinking of the long-ago fortune he’d been told.

Someday, a very special lady will come into your life. You’ll be her champion and she’ll be yours.

He looked at the red-faced little mite in his arms, wondering if Granny had played some sort of joke on him. This? This was the special lady? It just couldn’t be. But he didn’t give voice to his disappointment. He just continued looking at his sister, letting out another little sigh. At least she’d stopped crying.

Well, he said, She ain’t very pretty. But she’s kind of nice when she’s quiet. Then he turned to his mother, who was lying quietly against her pillows, looking out across the room with a distant stare. Mama, what are we gonna call her?

To that, Rachel shrugged. I don’t know. She was supposed to be a boy, and we were supposed to call her Jacob. But now I don’t know what name to give her. Why don’t you think of one, John Bradley?

His eyes grew a little wide with surprise. How was he supposed to think of a name? He didn’t know anything about girls, especially what to call