Chapter 34
Chapter 34
Miriam tied the baby’s umbilical cord with thread and sliced it near her belly with sewing scissors. Hagar boiled coffee and fried eggs and it wasn’t until the smell drifted in from the kitchen that Fern realized how hungry she was. She and Zinnia washed Holly with rags and warm water and draped her in the quilt while the smell of eggs made their mouths water and stomachs churn. Miriam cleaned the baby and gave her back to Holly, wrapped in an old, soft towel.
“You did it,” Fern said, grinning. “You didn’t get stitches or anything. They had to put me to sleep.”
They were delirious, they were giddy, they were stoned. They watched Holly watching her baby’s scrunched-up monkey face as she puckered her fat lips. They pulsed, sucking air.
“She’s hungry,” Miriam whispered beside them. “Put her on your tit.”
Holly pushed down the quilt and brought out one of her breasts. She maneuvered her baby’s mouth closer and with no fuss or hesitation she latched on and began to suck. Holly giggled, like it tickled, and looked up, her face wide open.
“She’s eating me!” she said, delighted.
They watched Holly feed her daughter for the first time, watery yellow liquid leaking out around her fat sucking lips. Hagar brought in plates of eggs and Holly was starving, but her baby wouldn’t stop sucking, so Fern forked eggs into Holly’s mouth. A bit dropped in the petal-pink curl of her daughter’s ear and Holly laughed too hard while Fern fished it out.
Miriam took the baby and showed Holly how to hold her tight and close and how to burp her. Zinnia got the plates and jerked her head at Fern until Fern got the picture and followed her into the big room.
“They aren’t here yet,” Zinnia said, pulling Fern over to the sink. “But they will be.”
“Who?” Fern asked.
“The Home,” Zinnia said. “It’s almost four in the morning. They know we aren’t at the hospital by now. Don’t you think Nurse Kent called the Reverend to tell him his baby was on the way? Don’t you think she called the hospital when you and I didn’t come back? Don’t you think that taxi driver has the spine of a snail? He’ll tell them where he took us the second they ask.”
Synapses fired in Fern’s sluggish brain: the Home, Reverend Jerry, Holly, Augusta. She remembered hearing about all this a long time ago.
“We’ve got to see if they’ll keep Holly,” Zinnia said. “Just for a day or two until she’s strong enough to get to Augusta. We’ll go back to the Home and tell them Holly ran away and we’ve been looking for her all night.”
Fern peered through the door into the bedroom and saw a slice of Holly, sweaty, limp, propped up in bed, swaddled in the quilt, hugging her newborn baby girl to her chest.
“You think they’re going to believe she could run away?” she asked. “They’ll know we’re lying.”
Zinnia stuck her chin out.
“We’re not doing this because it’s the best idea,” she said. “We’re doing this because I’ve got no ideas left.”
Zinnia was right. They had to try anything to keep Holly from that man with his sideburns and his smug voice and his aftershave.
“We just have to stick to our story until she can get the bus,” Zinnia said.
They went back in the room.
“Hagar?” Zinnia asked. “Do you have a car?”
“We ride to work with Mr. Jean at five thirty,” Hagar said, turning around with a basin full of bloody rags in her hands.
“Can he take us back to the Home?” Zinnia asked. “And Holly stays here?”
Miriam looked up at that, but Hagar just pushed past them carrying the rags. Zinnia and Fern followed her to the sink, where she stood, wringing out pink water.
“If y’all can take care of Holly for a few days,” Zinnia said, “just until she gets her strength back. We’ll go to the Home and make sure no one comes looking for her.”
“Don’t bark orders at me,” Hagar said. “That girl needs the hospital.”
Fern decided to try. Hagar and Miriam wouldn’t turn Holly out if they understood what was really going on.
“Hagar,” she said. “Holly’s in trouble. The man who’s taking her baby is her preacher and he’s been interfering with her, and he’s not going to stop. If Holly can rest a few days she can go to Augusta on the bus. She’s got a place to stay there. She can’t go home. She can’t go back to him.”
Hearing it out loud made it sound even more impossible. Hagar stopped wringing rags, letting the one she was holding drip in the sink. She looked up at the blank wall in front of her and didn’t move for a long time.
“That baby doesn’t belong to her,” she finally said. “That man’s come for it, so it belongs to him. You’ll be stealing and crossing state lines. Sister and I can’t be caught up in that.”
She wrung the rag out hard, and the last of its pink water splattered into the sink. Hagar draped it over the side.
“We can pay you,” Fern said.
“You think you can buy Sister and me?” Hagar snapped. “That girl has to go! We can’t have her found in this house. You think they won’t throw us in jail?”
“You don’t understand!” Fern said.
Zinnia put her hand on Fern’s shoulder.
“Fern,” she said. “She’s right. This is the first place they’ll look.”
Fern looked at Zinnia and saw defeat. They were lost. Every idea was a bad idea. Then Miriam was there, ghosting past them to the sink. Whispering in Hagar’s ear. Fern and Zinnia watched Hagar shake her head. Miriam tried again, and the two sisters had a whispered consultation. Finally, Hagar turned to face them. Miriam pinched her sister’s arm.
“It’s not my doing,” Hagar said, prompted. “But Sister says Mrs. Easterly is up soon, and her daughter lives with her. She’s baby crazy. You pay for what you eat and she’ll let the girl stay a day or two, but that’s it. You tell them Sister sent you. They know better than to ask questions.”
Fern felt the pressure inside her skull ease slightly.
“Thank you,” Zinnia said.
“But we can’t be involved,” Hagar said. “We can’t take you there, we can’t help you, you were never in this house. Do you understand? This is not a game for us.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Zinnia said. “We’ll get Holly dressed and see if she can walk.”
Fern grabbed the paper bag with Holly’s going-home clothes. Zinnia had packed it full. Miriam and Hagar stood at the sink, side by side, backs turned to them, heads together again. Fern and Zinnia took the bag into the bedroom.
Fern felt tired and full and like she needed to sleep. Zinnia was about to go on two-week warning. Holly had just had a baby. How were they going to walk anywhere? But they couldn’t sit here and wait for Nurse Kent to show up and give Holly’s baby to Reverend Jerry. They didn’t stand a chance and they didn’t have a choice.
Holly sat up in bed, cradling her baby, examining her face, and she was so small. Fern knew she couldn’t survive five minutes on her own. The baby leaned into Holly with absolute faith.
“Holly,” Zinnia said, and Holly looked up from her daughter. “We have to go. You’re going to stay with a neighbor.”
Holly stared at them, body full of hormones, brain fogged, and then something clicked into place behind her eyes. She handed her baby to Fern while Zinnia helped her out of bed. The baby burrowed into Fern, warm and alive, a solid little cannonball with a million tiny muscles shifting and squirming in every direction. She felt the way Charlie Brown had felt in her arms. In that moment, something tied a rope from her heart to this baby and Fern promised that no one would lay a hand on Holly’s little girl.
“We’re ready,” Zinnia said.
It had only taken her a few minutes to get Holly dressed, but in that time Fern had staked her life on Holly’s baby. She would do anything to keep her safe, because she would rather be dead than live in a world where Reverend Jerry took her away. Holly reached for her daughter, but Fern couldn’t move. She held her tighter against her body. Holly’s baby felt so much like Charlie Brown—the same size, the same weight, the same warmth, the same life. She hadn’t had enough time with her daughter. Couldn’t she hold Holly’s just a little longer?
Holly’s hands snaked around her baby and lifted her away, leaving Fern’s arms empty again.
“Ready?” Zinnia asked.
Holly nodded, exhausted, head loose on the end of her neck. She looked like she could sleep for two days and eat another pan of eggs. The three of them went into the other room. Miriam leaned against the sink with Hagar, facing them.
“Thank you, Hagar,” Holly said. “Thank you, Miriam.”
Miriam came over and kissed the baby on the forehead. Hagar nodded from the sink, all business.
“Mrs. Easterly’s is the second house along the way with the door painted blue,” she said. “Tell anyone that girl had her baby here and I’ll skin you alive.”
“Thank you,” Zinnia said. “Y’all saved this baby’s life.”
“Don’t tell me what I already know,” Hagar said.
Miriam hugged Zinnia, then Fern.
“Thank you,” Fern said.
She felt Miriam fumble at her hand and realized she was pressing something into her palm: three quarters.
“For the baby,” Miriam whispered.
Fern saw them from the outside, standing in this bare-floored box of a house, five women with a baby, bone-weary, on their way out the door. They were going to send Holly and her baby to Augusta with a couple of dollars and three quarters in her pocket, hoping that Rose hadn’t lied to them about her house key on the other end.
Everything Diane had said was true. They had nothing to offer this baby but love, and would love keep a baby warm at night, or put a roof over her head? Fern felt small and hopeless, and the world felt too big.
It was like Zinnia heard her.
“We can’t do nothing,” she said.
Hagar raised her voice, letting them know that her and Miriam’s part in this matter was done.
“Get out of my house before you make more trouble for us,” she said. “Please.”
Holly and Zinnia hesitated at the door, like they were scared to face the world. Holly wore a simple yellow smock. Her Mary Janes weren’t buckled and she didn’t have any socks. Zinnia looked strained, like she’d just delivered a baby. Fern figured she looked worse. But she was used to being scared and going onstage anyway. The trick was not to hesitate.
She stepped around them, opened the front door, and went out on the porch. The two of them—three if you counted Holly’s baby—followed. The dirt front yard stretched before them, and they could see the backs of the houses on the other side, the sandy road winding between them. That was where they were headed, to find Mrs. Easterly’s blue door.
They supported Holly down the front steps and slowly started across the yard. On the other side of the yard was the road, and up the road was a blue door, and behind the blue door was a place to rest, and at the end of that rest was a bus to Augusta, the door of Rose’s house, another address, another ride, and then, Fern hoped, Holly and her daughter would be free.
That was all it was. Just a series of steps. One after the other. One at a time. Fern started feeling stronger. They just might do this.
“What are you going to name her?” Zinnia asked Holly, who moved carefully, like she was walking on ice.
“What’s your name?” Holly asked. “Your real names? Maybe I’ll name her after y’all.”
Fern looked at Zinnia to see if she was going to tell, but Zinnia didn’t look like she was going to say a word, so she said, “You could name her after Hagar? Or Miriam?”
“Or both of them,” Zinnia said.
“Hiriam?” Holly tried.
“Magar?” Fern suggested.
Something moved up ahead. The three of them stopped and looked. The night sounds had shifted. Something was rushing through the dark. Fern saw yellow paint on the side of a house facing the road get brighter, then dark again.
“We should…” Fern began, then the world exploded.
Blinding light stabbed them in the eyes, noise crashed over them, roared around them, encircled them, dazzled them, drowned them in chaos and dust. Fern squinted into headlights as cars roared to a stop around them, pinning them down in the middle of the yard.
Fern stepped back to stand beside Zinnia, their arms around Holly. They pressed themselves together. Engines idled, car doors slammed. They couldn’t see anything behind the headlights. Fern tightened her grip on Holly. Holly’s baby gave a hiccup and a little gasp.
“Sh, sh, sh,” Holly said, bouncing her gently.
Headlights flickered as legs passed in front of them, then Nurse Kent burst into view, running toward the girls, Dr. Vincent struggling along behind her, his white coat flapping over his pajamas.
“What have you done?” Nurse Kent asked, reaching them, elbowing Zinnia and Fern out of the way, taking the baby from Holly’s arms.
She unwrapped the towel, and Fern could see how threadbare it looked in the headlights, and Nurse Kent laid the baby on the hood of what Fern recognized as Miss Wellwood’s station wagon. She and Dr. Vincent leaned over Holly’s daughter, counting her fingers, shining a penlight in her face, gripping her hands, pressing a stethoscope against her chest.
Nurse Kent left the baby with Dr. Vincent and came to Holly.
“Are you bleeding?” she demanded.
Holly shook her head.
“How much pain are you in?” she asked.
Holly shook her head.
Men in uniform crowded around them, all beer bellies and crew cuts and jingling belts. Fern recognized some of them from the backyard of the Home. Nurse Kent grabbed Holly by the shoulder and steered her away. Holly turned back to Zinnia and Fern, but Nurse Kent propelled her forward.
“We need to get her to the hospital,” she said. “Who knows what kind of mess they made.”
“The clinic is closer,” Miss Wellwood’s voice said. “Examine her there. If she needs the hospital we’ll go directly.”
Holly disappeared into the wall of men and headlights.
Someone walked past them, through the lights, and Fern saw Miss Wellwood’s back striding toward the front porch, where Hagar and Miriam stood. Lit harshly by headlights, they looked as ready to collapse as their house.
Miss Wellwood put her back to the cars so no one could hear what she had to say.
“What were the two of you thinking?” she asked. “If a hair is harmed on that baby’s head I’ll hold you both responsible.”
Miriam and Hagar stood on their porch, looking down at her, not speaking. Miss Wellwood didn’t like the way they towered over her, so she stepped up on the porch. It put them on a more equal footing.
“Thank goodness we got the doctor here in time,” she said.
She was scared. Nurse Kent had called her at home, waking her from a nightmare, and she’d been on her back foot ever since. That minister was shouting he’d get her license pulled if she couldn’t find his baby. He had dressed her down like a child. Nothing like this had ever happened in all the years her father had been in charge. In his day, girls had been grateful to have a refuge from the world. It was because she’d been sick. She’d shown weakness and these girls had taken advantage, made her look helpless. The Enemy was testing her resolve.
“That little girl got here with her baby on the way,” Hagar said. “We did what we could.”
Miss Wellwood was glad her father couldn’t see the mess these people had created. He would blame her. Didn’t anyone understand the burden she bore?
“Yes,” Miss Wellwood said. “I suppose some measure of gratitude is owed that you kept the child alive, although the fact that they came to you at all is completely inappropriate.”
Miriam and Hagar said nothing, but Miss Wellwood was used to Hagar’s sulks and Miriam’s silences.
“We’ll deal with the two of you in the morning,” she said, and turned into the headlights.
“Miss Wellwood,” Hagar said, and Miss Wellwood stopped, one foot on the top step. “You’re sending that little girl home? With that preacher?”
“That’s none of your affair,” Miss Wellwood said.
“How do you think she got pregnant in the first place?” Hagar asked.
Miss Wellwood turned and met Hagar’s eyes. The two women looked at each other.
“Tell me I’m wrong,” Hagar said.
Miss Wellwood looked away.
“I’ll wait for you in my office tomorrow morning,” she said.
“You can wait all you want,” Hagar said. “But you won’t see us. I reckon it’s time we went our separate ways.”
Miss Wellwood felt something break, something that couldn’t be repaired, and she almost opened her mouth to say something, then she felt a flash of anger. How dare they judge her? She turned her back on Hagar and Miriam and went down the steps and across the yard to deal with the girls. These two would be back in the morning, begging for their jobs. She would find her satisfaction then.
She stopped at Dr. Vincent.
“Well?” she asked.
“The little gal seems fine,” he said, wrapping the baby back up. “Good responses, good color. We’ll have a closer look at the clinic.”
Miss Wellwood gave a brisk nod, and Dr. Vincent put the baby against his shoulder and walked away. Now Miss Wellwood turned and regarded the two girls.
“I don’t know what you hoped to accomplish,” she said. “But you could have killed your friend. You could have killed her baby. Once we see the extent of the damage you’ve done, you may have.”
Fern opened her mouth to protest, but Miss Wellwood talked over her.
“I cannot express what disappointments the two of you are,” she said.
“These your girls?” one of the officers asked.
He looked soft and sad, and reminded Fern of her high school Latin teacher.
“Unfortunately,” Miss Wellwood said.
“We’ll have to put them one in each car,” another cop said. He was big and solid and looked like a football coach. His ears stuck out like jug handles. “We don’t mix.”
“The colored child will ride with me,” Miss Wellwood said. “I’m taking her back to the Home. I’ll deal with her there. That one will ride with you. She’s a juvenile delinquent who can spend the night in jail for all I care. I’ll let her parents know where they can pick her up. Come along.”
She didn’t even look at Fern, just grabbed Zinnia by one arm and pulled her away.
“All right, girlie,” the cop who looked like a football coach said. “Come on.”
He gripped Fern’s shoulder with one huge hand and pushed her in front of him, steering her into, then through, the wall of headlights. He opened the back of his police car and shoved her in.
The door slammed. Fern watched Hagar and Miriam through the windshield, standing on their porch, flattened by the tungsten glare. She sat in the stifling hot car, listening to a woman on the radio murmur to herself.
With sudden violence, the driver’s-side and passenger-side doors wrenched open and the two cops got in. Latin Teacher sat behind the wheel, and Coach got in the passenger side. The car rocked as they slammed their doors.
“What were you girls doing out here?” Latin Teacher asked. “Y’all’re lucky you didn’t get your throats cut.”
Coach turned to look at her over the seat.
“I don’t want to hear a peep out of you,” he said. “You’re going to get fingerprinted and locked up until your parents arrive.”
Then he gave Fern a grin, turned to Latin Teacher, and winked like it was all a big joke. Latin Teacher started the car and they began the slow, bumpy ride back to the paved road. From their front porch, Hagar and Miriam watched them go.