22
Late summer eased its bountiful self upon the land, bringing harvest. For Mary and Aaron this was a healing season. The busy summer had worked to diminish the horror of Jonath- an's death. They still felt his absence, but time and activity began diminishing grief.
Jonathan had requested Mary and Aaron's first liaison, and had gone away to permit it. He was gone again, but this time his absence held them apart. The proprieties that they observed so strictly served to heighten their awareness of each other. Their relationship was all new.
Sarah's presence was an added dimension for them both. Mary became aware of Aaron's wish to play a father's part the night he asked to take Sarah to her bed. She realized the depth of feeling he had for his daughter and felt he had purposely hidden it. Propriety again!
But after that night a subtle change was effected. It began one noon when Aaron came to the house for dinner to find Mary in the midst of making currant jelly. Dinner wasn't ready. The table was lined with scalded jelly glasses waiting to be filled. A dish towel filled with boiled cur rants still hung suspended, like a punching bag, where she'd drained the juice. A large kettle of simmering juice sent fruit- scented steam billowing over the range. The baby was on the floor in the middle of the confusion.
Mary threw him a harried look, apologizing, 'I'm sorry, Aaron. This took longer than I thought, and I couldn't let it overboil or it would be ruined. Your dinner's not ready.'
He didn't seem to mind. He stood inside the door watch- ing the steamy confusion, smiling at the mess. Actually, he was enjoying the scene before him. Mary's hair had slipped its coil, so bits of it clung to her temples and neck in inviting tendrils. The heat from the stove had heightened her color, giving her a rosy hue. The fruity aroma filled the room like ambrosia.
Sarah wasn't pleased by it at all. She'd had enough of be- ing ignored on the floor, and squalled in protest. 'Aaron, will you pick her up so she'll stop crying? My hands are full.' 'So I see,' he chuckled and lifted the complaining Sarah saying, 'C'mon, Corncob. Your mother wants me to spoil you a little bit.' He rested her on his suntanned arm, where the contrast of her whiteness captivated Mary. She watched him while she stirred the jelly. He took Sarah's hand in his free one, smiling into her eyes. Sarah looked into his face in a steady, unblinking way, as if she were deciding something for herself. Then she made a spitty sound that came out, 'A- bah,' and smiled up at the man who was her father in an enchanting, two-toothed grin. He gently pumped the delicate hand he held and said, 'Hi, Sarah.' Then he realized Mary was watching him, and he turned to catch her gaze. She smiled at Aaron, and her heart seemed full enough to burst as he smiled back at her with the same wide smile Sarah had just used on him. 'She's beautiful, Mary. Isn't she?' he asked. 'Yes, Aaron. She is,' Mary answered, and the music in her heart could be heard in her voice. Wanting to give him more of what he'd missed, she suggested, 'Why don't you take her outside where it's cooler? I'll be done here in a minute, and we can have lunch out there.'
When the jelly glasses were filled, Mary sliced ripe toma- toes, brought vinegared cucumbers from the buttery, added cheese, cold meat, and bread, and carried it out to the shaded yard on a wide breadboard.
Aaron was lying on his side in the cool grass while Sarah braced against his chest to stand up. She was babbling and drooling and bobbing up and down on wobbly legs. He caught her when she lost her balance, stood her upright again with a 'Whoa there, Princess!' 'You talk as if she were a horse,' Mary teased him. 'Well, I don't know much about talking to babies.' 'You'll have to learn,' she said. His face was lit up with pleasure, and when Mary came, it made the circle complete. 'Here comes your mother to take you,' he said to Sarah. 'She's happy where she is, if you don't mind.' 'I don't mind.' It was the first time she'd charged Sarah to him, and there was a feeling about it of sharing her at last. They didn't talk much but watched Sarah and laughed at her cub clumsiness, growing used to the to- getherness it evoked.
After that, he held her every chance he got. She was always awake at noon, growing out of one schedule and into anoth- er, in which she napped following dinnertime. Aaron would pick her up from the floor, out of Mary's way, as soon as he came into the kitchen. Mary purposely delayed the meals, giving him time to play with Sarah while she set dinner.
One day Aaron suggested, 'There's a high chair up in the granary rafters. Shouldn't I bring it down for her?' 'Oh, yes, it'd be a blessing. She's always underfoot now that she's outgrown her basket.'
He took down the old piece of furniture and scrubbed it to get the years of dust from it, then set it in the sun to dry. The following evening after the day's work was done, he painted it on the back porch while Mary and Sarah sat on the steps and kept him company. Mary waited until Aaron was at the house before she put Sarah into it for the first time. They made a little ceremony out of it, and Aaron was alight with pleasure. He brought the baby a piece of toast to initiate her into her new spot. After that, the high chair became a permanent fixture at the table.
The day came when Mary knew she had delayed the weaning long enough. Doc Haymes's orders were long overdue, and Sarah could hold her own at the dinner table now.
She stopped nursing Sarah one morning and bound her breasts as tightly as she could. When Aaron arrived that morning, he noted her new, flat shape but said nothing. At noon Mary seemed quiet and moved more slowly than usual. By evening she was listless and said she was tired and wanted to go to bed early, so he left right after supper, worrying vaguely, unsure of what he could do for her.
The night was endless for Mary, a fitful string of hours during which she dozed and woke repeatedly to the throb- bing that increased as the hours wore on. She changed her bindings, and the new one added some comfort, but soon the aching beat through her breasts again. She felt fevered and hot and dreamed of great drafts of water. She awoke knowing she could drink nothing. She tried Lydia Pinkham's medicine, but it did no good. The hours of the night crept on to dawn as her discomfort became gnawing pain. She dozed again, but even Sarah's light stirrings awakened her. She lay listening to the sounds from the crib, thinking it was worth all this just to have Sarah, but distressed tears sneaked from behind her eyelids.
When she heard Aaron come, she rolled to the side of the bed, but found herself completely milk-soaked again. She sat on the edge of the bed, clutching the heavy, wet bindings through her drenched gown, biting her lip to hold back the tears.
Aaron saw the closed back door and ran the rest of the way to the house, leaping the porch steps in one bound. When he tried the back door and found it still locked, panic gripped him. He reached above the doorsill for the key they always kept there. He dropped the key in his haste and cursed at his inept fumblings before he finally worked the key and swung the door wide.
The kitchen wore a morning chill that permeated his heart. Why wasn't a fire lit? Where was Mary? He paused only a moment to scan the quiet, empty room, and then he was bounding up the stairs, fear pushing his legs in giant strides as he hollered her name in the stillness.
Her bedroom door was open, so there was nothing to hinder his entrance, yet he stormed the doorway as if he'd smashed through a barricade to reach her.
She was sitting on the side of the bed, clutching her wet, sticky chest, and he read the misery in her eyes immediately. 'Oh, Aaron, it hurts so much,' she whimpered. He was at once relieved at her safety and distressed by her pain. 'What can I do?' he questioned, coming to her side imme- diately.
She shook her head, still holding herself, and his heart hurt at the sight of her. 'Tell me, darling.' He knelt down on one knee in front of her. 'Tell me what to do,' he entreated. 'Here, you're all wet. We have to get you a dry gown and some dry bindings. Where are they?' 'I use dish towels,' she confided, 'but I can't get them tight enough by myself.' It was so good to have Aaron here that she gave in gladly, letting him insist that she wash while he gathered fresh towels for her.
Sarah had awakened when Aaron made his noisy entrance, but she sat contentedly, watching this strange new scene in the bedroom.
Aaron helped Mary, doing as she instructed, cinching the towels until they bit into the soft flesh of her armpits. It pained him to bind her so tightly, but she insisted, saying it felt better already.
When she had her fresh gown on again, he pulled her hair from inside its neck, and as it fell free outside, he put an arm around her shoulders, guiding her toward the bed. 'You had a wicked night, my love. Now maybe you'll sleep better.'
