Chapter 26
From time immemorial, women have regarded the barren womb as a great calamity. All their hopes of happiness are centered around the hope of giving birth to children.
On the Feast of Saint John Chrysostom, when the worst of the summer heat had passed, Joseph and his sister called on Tessa together.
Now that she herself was provided for, the young Irishwoman eagerly joined Hélène in her charity work, and Joseph often combined his visits with theirs.
Today they would bring baskets of food to the tenements near the wharves.
Tessa had not forgotten her former neighbors.
As they approached the Stratfords’ house on Friend Street, Hélène squeezed his arm. “Joseph, look!”
The door leading onto the piazza was open; and within its frame, Mr. Stratford was kissing his wife good-bye. Far more importantly, Tessa smiled after her husband. Whistling, he sauntered down the street.
Hélène grinned up at Joseph. She too had been worried about Tessa. But clearly, something had changed. Perhaps the new wife had employed some of their father’s advice after all.
Joseph and Hélène set down their baskets on the piazza. Tessa said her cook was still finishing her contributions. While they waited, Tessa offered them tea in her garden.
Though it would not enter its full glory till spring, Joseph thought it was coming along very well, this joint project of theirs.
They sat in the shade of the magnolia tree, its red seeds beginning to burst from the pods on their tiny cords.
But Tessa herself was the brightest thing in her garden.
Joseph had not seen her so ebullient since the day they’d met.
Hélène was equally happy. “Have you seen Liam in his new uniform? Doesn’t he look handsome?
” Like many other Irishmen, Liam had joined the Phoenix Fire Brigade (partially, he admitted to Joseph, to impress his future mother- and grandmother-in-law, who remained ignorant of the betrothal).
Every few months brought an opportunity for heroism when a blaze threatened some part of the city.
Hélène leaned toward her friend and confided in a loud whisper: “Liam let me feel his arms through his shirt. They’re hard as coconuts!
” As a matter of pride, and to distinguish themselves from the slave companies, volunteer firemen eschewed mules and pulled the engines themselves.
Tessa’s cook brought out her baskets. “Would you mind very much if I carried only the bread?” Tessa inquired.
“Are you still feeling unwell?” Hélène worried.
Tessa smiled into her teacup. “Afternoons are easier.”
His sister selected another little cake from the table. “Joseph can carry the heavy things. He may not be as strong as Liam, but he’s stronger than he looks.”
“Thank you,” Joseph responded. “I think.”
“He swims a lot. That must be it.”
Tessa sat back in her chair and drew their attention again with a sigh at once resigned and contented. “I expect I shall be ill again tomorrow morning.”
Hélène frowned and said around the cake, “You should really talk to Papa.”
“I did.” Tessa lowered her eyes to the front of her pink bodice, where she placed a spread hand. When she looked up at Joseph, a blush suffused her cheeks, so that they nearly matched the silk. “Father, is there a special blessing for…a woman ‘in a delicate condition’?”
Joseph’s cup clattered in the saucer, when he’d only meant to set it down. Of course.
“You’re going to have a baby?!” Hélène squealed.
Tessa nodded and grinned. “Your father confirmed it yesterday.”
Hélène sprang up to embrace her friend, then abruptly drew back. “Did I hurt the baby? Did I hurt you?”
“Not in the slightest,” Tessa laughed. It was so good to hear her laugh again.
“Can Liam and I be the godparents?”
“Of course you can be the godparents!”
“And Joseph can perform the Baptism!”
“Certainly,” he managed, finding it difficult to look at Tessa.
How strange, to think that two souls now inhabited one body.
Joseph thought he’d accepted his own solitude the day he left for seminary, yet the truth struck him as if by surprise: he would never be part of such blessed news.
He would always be a Father, but never a father.
He could only watch the progression of others’ lives.
“Can you still come with us today?” Hélène fretted.
“You’ll have to remember that I tire more easily now, but yes,” Tessa assured her.
“Irishwomen usually remain on their feet and working till the moment their pains start. We’re a hardy race.
I certainly won’t be pulling any fire engines, but your father says moderate exercise is good for me and the baby. ”
“We have to think of names!” Joseph’s sister realized. “There are so many lovely Irish names!”
Tessa’s smile faded. “Edward says it can’t be anything too Irish.”
“What?”
“You know…like Bridget or Patrick. I don’t think he’d want anything Gaelic, either.”
Hélène pouted, then squeezed her friend’s hand. “We’ll find something, Tessa.”
“It doesn’t matter what we name her. I love her so much already.” As she gazed down at the place where new life knit together inside her, Tessa soon recovered her happiness. “Your father said she’s only the size of a kidney bean at the moment—so that’s what I’ve started calling her: Bean!”
“That small!” Hélène gasped in wonder.
Tessa nodded. “She’s about eight weeks.”
“How do you know she’s a girl?”
“I don’t, not for certain. But I…dreamt about her last night. And b-e-a-n is the Irish word for ‘woman.’”
Hélène stooped over to speak to Tessa’s abdomen. “You’d better hurry up, little Bean! We cannot wait to meet you! I’m going to love you almost as much as your mama!”
“I talk to her too,” Tessa laughed. “I told Bean I’m going to plant a tree the day she’s born, so she can watch it grow along with her.”
Hélène stood up straight again. “When you’ve just given birth! I don’t care how hardy the Irish are—you will not be planting anything! Joseph will do it for you! Won’t you, Joseph?”
“Of course.” He tugged at his choker. September was still quite warm.
His sister squinted thoughtfully at the garden beds. “What kind of tree should we plant?”
“Do you have any suggestions?”
“It can’t be anything too big: you’ll want a tree for every one of your children, or the others will envy Bean.”
“Every one of my children?” Tessa echoed with a laugh.
“We must plan ahead!” Hélène turned to him. “What kind of tree would you recommend, Joseph?”
“Dogwoods, perhaps?”
“I think I like those.” Tessa stood to assess the space herself.
“They prefer partial shade, so we could plant them against the wall.”
“Dogwoods are the showy white trees I’ve seen in the spring?”
“They can be pink, too,” his sister pointed out. “Pink for the girls and white for the boys! It’s perfect!” She grasped both her friend’s hands, gazing out at the garden. “I can see them, Tessa! Little Bean and all her brothers and sisters tending their trees, comparing their heights…”
“And your children will come and play with them.”
“Yes!” Hélène’s skirts bounced in her impatient joy.
“Oh, Ellie.” Tessa embraced her friend. Over Hélène’s shoulder, she caught Joseph’s gaze for only a moment before averting her eyes. “Everything will be all right now,” Tessa predicted softly. “I know it will.”