and smile, he was glad now that he'd done it. It seemed like another barrier safely crossed. 'All right, enough now, Mary.' He stopped her and pointed to Aaron's carton. 'Maybe Aaron will let you look inside that thing now.'
Aaron rose from the sofa, hiding his morose reflections behind a smile, and pulled the carton into the middle of the floor. 'Who wants to do the honors?'
Mary was kneeling beside him in a minute, all grinning and eager. Aaron gave her the go-ahead with a wave of his open hand, indicating the carton. He winked at Jonathan as they watched her pull it open, voice high with excitement as she asked, 'Oh, Aaron, what did you get?'
When she got to the last layer of enveloping cardboard and pulled it back, she sucked in a breath and covered her mouth with her hands in surprise as she exclaimed, 'A gramophone! Aaron brought a gramophone!'
'Not quite,' Aaron corrected. 'I was told it was an Edison grrraphophone!' And he rolled the words off his tongue, imitating the salesman. 'I bought it from a chipmunk! And he made it very clear that only an idiot would call it anything else.'
He described the fussy, brown-striped gent and his haughty treatment. They all laughed and repeated the word 'grrraa- pho-phone' over and over while they examined the records, the knobs, and the crank on the machine. They played all the records. There were two Strauss waltzes, the Christmas carol Aaron had first heard playing, and a Sousa march. They took turns cranking the machine as it needed it, laughing when it slowed to a distorted growl. The music wound down, then back up. Mary wanted to dance. 'Aw, you dance with Aaron,' Jonathan dissented. 'You know I'm not much for it.'
So she and Aaron spun a few slow circles around the room, leaning and swooping exaggeratedly as if they were in a Vi- enna ballroom while Jonathan shook his head, enjoying their antics. Aaron bowed at the end of the dance, and Mary curtsied, holding her dress away from her bulging sides. 'Thank you Mrs. Gray,' Aaron said. 'Likewise, Mr. Gray,' she laughed. 'Ahhh,' she sighed as she sunk down tiredly into a chair, 'what a gift you brought, Aaron. But it wore me right out.' 'I guess we all need some rest. Tomorrow we can celebrate some more,' Jonathan said. 'Why don't you two go up and I'll bank the coals and fill the woodbox?' Aaron said, then watched Jonathan lead Mary toward the stairway.
When they got there, Mary turned toward Aaron again. 'Merry Christmas, Aaron,' she said. 'You, too,' he answered.
On their way up the steps, she said to Jonathan, 'It was the best Christmas ever, I think.' 'Are you glad to have Aaron home?' Jonathan asked. 'Oh, yes,' she answered, and she reached behind her to take Jonathan's hand.
Downstairs, the door closed as Aaron went out to the woodpile.
18
There were many small preparations to fill Mary's last weeks before the baby was due. She hemmed flannel for diapers, made small blankets and buntings, prepared the necessary rigging for the cradle, and completed the baby's layette with the clothing she thought it would need.
In the evenings during these longest nights of the year, they all sat around the kitchen table with bags of washed goosefeathers beside their chairs. Feather-stripping was a te- dious job, but it brought in good money when they sent the feathers off to a buyer in Chicago. Perfect goose-down brought a tidy price with little work, but the larger, coarser feathers had to be stripped, drawn between thumb and forefinger to take off the fine, soft fuzz, leaving the bare quill to be discarded. As the nights wore on, Mary would rise from her chair more and more often, bracing a hand against her back, arching it to remove the cramps of discomfort be- fore returning to the feather- stripping. She seemed to grow extra inches daily, and the men never left her alone for long now. When it was necessary to go to town, Aaron went alone, leaving Jonathan home with Mary.
The only hint of discord among them came when Aaron returned from town one day in late January. He'd had time to ponder during his ride. Lately there'd been times when they all sat around the table and his eyes would wander to Mary's girth, seeing for himself the commotion of the baby within her. Her belly at times heaved in ballooning fashion under her dress as the child shifted and rolled. She would hitch herself up on the chair then, tightening her stomach muscles to still the action within. He'd catch himself wonder- ing if it must not hurt her, but she never complained.
He had never heard her ask for anything regarding the baby or the birth and wondered what plans she and Jonathan had made. He was sure Aunt Mabel couldn't leave her large brood to come to Mary for the length of time she'd be con- fined. Most wives had mothers or sisters to help out, but Mary had neither. He'd hesitated to ask questions, not wanting to ruffle the smooth relationship among them. But the questions nevertheless lay heavy on his mind, and when he returned home that day, he cornered Jonathan in the granary to ask him. 'Who's going to help Mary with the delivery?' Aaron kept his eyes on the grain Jonathan was shoveling into a pail. 'We'll get the midwife,' Jonathan answered, and Aaron felt his ire rise. 'No, Jonathan,' he said with quiet insistence, 'no midwife. She'll have Doc Haymes.'
Jonathan stopped shoveling, and their eyes met. 'Haymes is an old fool,' he said. 'Mary doesn't think so,' Aaron argued. 'You know she'd feel easier with Doc Haymes. With two of us here, I can go to town easily when the time comes and get him.'
Jonathan's eyes seemed to level, but not relent, as Aaron, too, stood fast.
Aaron spoke. 'I haven't staked any claims. I haven't asked anything-but now I'm not asking, I'm telling you, Jonathan. That's how it'll be. She'll have Haymes, and nobody else.'
The shovel bit into the grain again, and Aaron knew he'd won his way. He softened then as he offered, 'If it's the money, I've got it to pay him.'
Jonathan felt the barb and couldn't let it pass. 'You know it's not the money, Aaron,' he defended himself.
Aaron knew it was true. He knew Jonathan resisted because he'd never liked Doc Haymes much. 'Yes, I know that,' he admitted. 'But I'd pay if you'd let me. I'd like to,' he finished. 'That's for me to do,' Jonathan said in finality, and Aaron had to accept that.
They'd each taken a little and given a little. While the conversation had caused the first rift between them since Aaron's return, they knew they would overlook it, for Mary would need them both in days to come.
There was nothing extraordinary about the day it started. The feared snowstorm of Aaron's dreams was nowhere in the offing. The sky was true blue, the roads rough but dry. As he drove to town, he wished they had a telephone, but nobody out their way had a phone yet because the line hadn't come out that far. The closest phone was nearly in town, so he might as well go clear in to Doc's office to fetch him. Suppose Doc was out in the country on a call? I'll just go track him down, Aaron thought, while his mind raced. But Doc Haymes was in his office and acted almost casual in light of Aaron's anx- iety. 'First one takes some time a-comin',' he reminded Aaron, collecting his bag, stuffing some strange-looking things into it while Aaron chafed at his slowness. Finally he donned his coat, clapping Aaron on the shoulder to push him ahead out the door. 'It's usually the father gets the jitters. Now calm down, Uncle Aaron,' he chuckled good-naturedly as they headed for the rig.
It seemed forever that the tensing pains had been flowing and ebbing through her. Mary had walked the floor until an especially severe spasm caught her, made her grab her belly, and give in to the bed at last. Jonathan hovered near her, then left the room again to check the road for signs of the rig.
Aaron arrived with the doc and dropped him off, saying, 'You might need help. I'm going to fetch Agnes Volence.' A woman's presence might be comforting to Mary, whether the doc needed her or not. He hadn't consulted Jonathan, hadn't really thought about what he was doing-just acted on instinct.
There was no dallying when Agnes came to the door and heard what he'd come for. She didn't stop to question or give orders to the fam ily she left behind. She just said, 'You see to everything here, Pris,' and Aaron was following her stubby shape toward the buggy.
When Mary saw the reassuring, familiar face at the foot of the bed, she sighed, 'Agnes,' before another pain took her breath away.
The two visitors took over, Doc Haymes issuing orders, Agnes carrying them out. They prepared the bed,
