Chapter 2 #3
The befuddled man frowns. “But you...”
“It’s all right, Judge,” Warren says easily. “Go on.”
Just like that, I gain a husband while sitting on my childbirth bed. Down on bended knee, Warren promises to give me and my baby love and protection, and over the pangs in my back and stomach, I blatantly skip over the part about promising to obey him.
“I now pronounce you man and wife,” Judge Ballard finishes with a flourish. “You may kiss the bride.”
No. Not a kiss. I clench the sheets, my no turning into a moan as a more intense contraction seizes my body. Mrs. Smith notices and swiftly takes charge. “That’s it, all of the men out of the room now. Goes for the groom, too.”
“Now hold on just a minute,” Warren protests over his shoulder, stumbling to his feet only to be shooed toward the door. “She’s my wife now. I need to be in here in case she needs me.”
“You’re right,” the little woman agrees. “She does need you.”
He does an about-face and grins, catching Mrs. Smith before she trips into his chest. “Then why are you pushing me out the door?”
She lowers her voice but it still carries. “Because she needs you to leave. The poor girl is overdue for some privacy, Warren. And as much of a Shay as you are, surely even you can understand that.”
Warren’s heavy glance lands on me as his grin falters. “Right outside the door. That’s as far as I’m going.”
It’ll do for now.
Once the men leave the room, Mrs. Smith rolls her sleeves up.
“Let’s have another look at you, dear.” I don’t have time to dwell on how quickly my circumstances have changed or the way I narrowly escaped his kiss as my borrowed nightdress is lifted again for another inspection.
“Time to walk it out and get your hips ready. Up we go.”
Ten paces from the bed bring me to a wall filled with framed pictures of painted landscapes.
Twenty more in the opposite direction have me meeting the window overlooking the empty street.
I waddle from one side to the other, pausing at the cracked bedroom door.
My new husband’s back is to me, but he’s there, standing guard to either protect me or to keep me prisoner.
Likely the latter, given my luck in life.
A soft hand cups my shoulder as I stare at my prison guard. “You did the right thing, Mara. He’s going to be so good to you and your child.”
My hands cradle my aching belly. I can only hope, but time will bring out the truth. Dragging my eyes from that infernal opening, I resume my lumbering walk, but the unsettling presence of my new husband follows me even with a wall between us.
On the third pass, I avert my eyes from the door.
On the fifth pass, my muscles seize in a cramp.
On the ninth, the clock downstairs chimes again. How many does that make now? I don’t even know the hour. I lean my forearms onto the wall and close my heavy eyes. “Just want to sleep. So tired.”
“Sleep will come, but later,” Mrs. Smith says sympathetically as she urges me to walk again.
Back and forth, back and forth. Back to the bed to rest and then back up to walk again.
Over and over until my low groans sound suspiciously like the bellows Abner accused me of.
Until the pains are longer now with hardly a pause between them.
Until I feel the urge to push. “I think...I think this is it.”
And once I make it to the bed, everything happens in a flurry, my mind slipping into a state of blankness as I lean back on a mountain of pillows.
Someone holds my legs apart and presses warm cloths to my center.
My eyes fall closed as sudden vulnerability and loneliness swallow me whole.
Voices speak around me, but I only hear bits and pieces.
“Push.”
“Legs open.”
“See the head?”
“Hold her leg, Jolene.”
Heat.
Burning.
Fire.
Fire that must be straight from the pits of Hell the missionaries warned me about. That’s what I feel between my legs and in my asshole right now. Punishment for how this child was conceived, even though it happened against my will.
I can almost hear Mrs. Overstreet now. The lust of men’s flesh, Mara, wouldn’t exist if not for the wiles of women. Mind yourself in all ways so as not to tempt them.
But…
But it wasn’t my fault! I scream back to her in my head. It wasn’t my damn fault! All my bottled emotions erupt in a wail of anguish, one that has the bedroom door banging open again as Warren almost runs to my side. “What happened? Is she okay?”
“Warren...” Mrs. Smith fusses, but he refuses to be shooed away again.
He locks eyes with me as he grabs my hand, not even wincing when I grip it too tightly. “I’m not leaving. Not again. No wife of mine is going to go through this alone.”
Those words…
Damn those words for the way they wrap around my heart and soothe the pain for a few brief seconds.
“You Shay boys,” the doctor’s wife tsks in exasperation. “But the babe is crowning now. I can see the head.”
The curse of Eve, Mara, the voice whispers again. Punishment for seducing men and driving them to lust.
It wasn’t my fault.
It hurts so bad, but that’s the price all women must pay.
Tears streaming down my cheeks, I roughly quote scripture to the ceiling by force of habit.
“Unto the woman he said, I will greatly multiply thy...thy sorrow and thy conception.” Breathe.
“In sorrow thou shalt bring forth children,” I sob, leaving off the rest of it as Jolene urges me to keep my legs back.
Thy desire shall be to thy husband. He shall rule over thee.
I have a husband even though I don’t want one, but there’s no desire within me to give to him even if I were able to.
Through clenched teeth, I quote another verse with panting breaths.
“For I the Lord thy God am a...a jealous God. Visiting the iniquity of the fathers upon the children unto the third...and fourth...generation.” Ready or not, this child is about to be born into this ugly world of mine.
But is its little soul already damned because of me?
Another sharp cry leaves me at the unfairness of it all.
Would we not have found peace even in death?
“No, Mara. No.” Warren’s rough voice breaks through the pain as he wipes my sweaty hair back with his free hand.
“This baby is innocent, and so are you. I know the Bible, too, and you forgot about this one—the soul that sinneth, it shall die. The son shall not bear the iniquity of the father. Not you, Mara, and not this child. That’s not how it works. ”
“Do you promise?” My voice wobbles as I search his gaze in desperation and let him thumb away the mix of sweat and tears on my cheeks. I want so badly to believe him, but I don’t trust him.
Before he can answer, cold hands reach between my legs again to change out the hot cloths.
“Oh, dear...Beatrice isn’t back yet and these pillows aren’t keeping you high enough.
Warren, I need you to sit behind her. Don’t push on her, just let her lean on you for support. Jolene, hold her leg higher.”
I’m lifted up and then come back to rest on a firm chest. His chest. My…my husband’s. If I weren’t so exhausted, I’d stiffen at the contact, but at this very moment, it’s a reluctant comfort. “I swear to you,” he murmurs in answer as he holds my hair back. “I swear.”
And with my body and Mrs. Smith demanding I push, I dig my nails into his legs and obey. I push until dark spots float across my eyes as the burning grows more intense. I push until I suddenly feel the slightest bit of relief when someone cries, “The head’s out!”
Pain and joy taint my sob as I throw my head to the side of Warren’s chest for a short breath. “Almost, Mara. You’re doing so good,” he soothes. “Keep breathing.”
Dragging the energy from the depths of my depleted reserve, I keep pushing until I feel my baby slip out of me in a rush of fluids.
“It’s a girl!” Jolene exclaims.
“You did it, Mara.” Warren gently dabs at my tears and sweat with a cloth. “You did it.” His gaze holds me captive as the sweet cry of a newborn babe fills the air, but when a bundle is placed against my chest, I only care about one thing.
“My little girl,” I sob. My little angel whose soul is too innocent to bear the sins of her father and mother. Unable to stop myself, I open the blanket to count her fingers and toes. Ten red toes on two wrinkly feet. And her fingers? Five chubby ones on her right, and five on her—
Oh, no.
I bite my lip to silence my cry of anguish.
There’s a birthmark on her left hand.
Just like...just like his.