someone else's wife. The wine had done its work.
Jonathan found him there in the morning. Aaron's sheep- skin jacket was pulled up around his ears, his knees drawn up for warmth. In the hay beside him the second bottle of wine stood, nearly full, straight up. Not a drop had spilled.
Jonathan took the bottle and dumped it in the gutter. He went back to shake Aaron awake and smelled his fetid breath as his brother snored, unaware. He felt a sort of pity for him, but realized that this kind of self- indulgence would gain them all nothing. The deed was done. They had to proceed.
He leaned down and shook Aaron's shoulder, resolution in his voice as he ordered, 'Wake up, brother, I need you. C'mon, let's do chores!'
Aaron opened his bleary eyes and did a most surprising thing. He got straight up, as if he'd been caught napping during a sermon. But when he was upright he wavered a minute, then slammed back down. 'Gotta get started with the chores,' Jonathan said, and turned away, leaving Aaron to locate his equilibrium.
Aaron pulled it off with wretched aplomb. He got up, straightened his jacket, joined Jonathan with not so much as a whine. But he felt as if he'd been horse-kicked.
They couldn't work in the close barn without words between them. After all, Aaron had left the house with little news of Mary or the baby. 'How's everything up there?' he asked, with a nod in the general direction of the house. 'They're doin' okay,' Jonathan replied. 'Must be some things that need doing in the house…' But before he could finish the thought, Jonathan was nodding, 'Yup. Agnes says the women from around here will be comin' up each day to lend a hand.' 'Good,' Aaron answered. But he felt a ripple of regret that events were already flowing on, out of his hands. The women were coming to help out, and there wouldn't be much need for him to. He'd gladly have helped at any unaccustomed job. It would've made him feel closer to Mary and the baby. 'I'll tend to the chickens and geese,' he obliged. That, at least, was Mary's job. But even that wasn't much now in the winter with the dwindled flocks.
The first day was oblivion for Mary. She never remembered a sleepiness as heavy as she felt that day. She slept for long hours at a time and was awakened when the baby was brought to suckle. But Mary fell asleep with the warm, wet tugging at her breast, in a deep, delirious contentment. She ate something once when the sun had circled past the south side of the house, drank huge glasses of milk when she was told to do so. It wasn't until the second day that she awoke, refreshed, at first light, to the tiny sounds from the cradle beside the bed.
The house was silent. Jonathan must have slept on the couch or in Aaron's room, she thought.
She reached an arm out and, without leaving the bed, pulled the cradle up close. The baby was lying on her stom- ach, and all Mary could see of her was a silken cap of brown curls on the back of her head. Tiny, disgruntled complaints came from the wriggling bundle, and Mary recalled how that same wriggling had felt inside her own body. A surge of feeling coursed through her at the moment as she reached to pick up her daughter. She thought, How can I contain all this joy when it grows into love? A giddy sensation of com- pleteness aroused everything maternal in her as she cooed to the babe, examined her perfection. 'Hello, precious girl. Look at you, all wet and complaining. Mama has to learn everything, so be still while I get this off you.' Inside, she found the skinny, bowed legs, the perfectly formed toes. 'Princess, you're beautiful. Yes, I'm hurry ing,' she said, reaching for a diaper from the foot of the cradle, 'I'll get faster when I learn.' She continued the flow of soothing talk until she'd changed the baby and settled her at her breast. Then she ran her forefinger over the delicate earlobes, the eyebrows that looked no more than a fine mist. The baby's perfection seemed a miracle.
Oh, Aaron, she thought, how can I ever repay you for giving her to me? And how will you bear it not to share her? Her newfound feelings still imbued her with this sense of fulfillment, making her sharply aware of what Aaron would suffer. With the living reality of their baby in her arms, she admitted the magnitude of the sacrifice he was making. But she was helpless to change it.
Jonathan came to the door at midmorning, as spit-shined as a boy in a school play. She couldn't help chuckling. 'Jonathan, I've been waiting for you,' she said, reaching a hand out toward the door.
He came in and took it, but she thought if he'd had a hat in his hand he'd be turning it nervously by its brim. 'How you feeling?' he whispered, dropping her hand. 'Fine. Sit down,' she said, moving her legs over. 'Oh, no,' he said as if she'd accused him of something. 'Did you see her yet?'
He shook his head, and she couldn't tell if he meant yes or no, he was so nervous. 'Don't be scared, Jonathan. She's only a baby.'
'Yeah, I guess so,' he said, peering into the cradle. 'Sorry it couldn't have been a boy for you.' 'Oh, no, it don't matter. She's…she'll do just fine.' 'I reckon she'll have to.'
He stood above the cradle, nodding repeatedly as his arms dangled uselessly at his sides. Then one hand reached out tentatively, jerked back again in doubt. 'It's okay to touch her,' Mary said. 'She'll be waking up pretty soon, anyway.'
He touched some of the brown curls with his large knuckles. 'She's sure small,' he said. When he turned, he caught Mary wiping quickly at a tear, trying to get it gone before he looked at her. All he could do was clear his throat, but it sounded like thunder in the quiet room. 'Could I get you something?' he asked. 'I reckon I've got all I need,' she said.
He cleared his throat again. 'Mrs. Orek is cooking up some dinner down there,' he said, not able to think of anything else. 'Why don't you sleep awhile till it's ready?' But when he'd left she couldn't sleep at all. She couldn't forget Jonathan's big brown knuckles on the baby's hair.
That first week brought a steady parade of neighbor wo- men each day. The house seemed invaded, overrun. No matter that they came one at a time. You never knew who you'd run into next, Aaron thought, and stayed away most of the time. Priscilla came one day, and he made a special effort to remain outdoors so their paths wouldn't cross any more than necessary. They were civil to each other at mealtimes, but each felt distant from the other.
Aaron had pulled himself together after that first night, but it took a full day for his body to return to normal after the abuse he'd done it. He put off seeing the baby for the first time, not wanting to disturb Mary during her first un- comfortable days. He chose the time carefully, waiting until he was armed by the presence of others in the room.
Mrs. Hawkins was there that day, with her perpetually flapping jaw. He knew she would run plenty of interference for him during his visit. Jonathan was in the bedroom, too, when Aaron stepped to the door.
Mrs. Hawkins was changing the baby's diapers, and for once Aaron was grateful for the woman's chatter. 'Well, lookit here! And if it isn't the proud uncle. Now don't you be rude and put up a fuss when your uncle comes to see you. Yeees'-she drew the word out in the pouting way some adults talk to babies-'yes, yes, we're nearly through here, little one.'
Mary was sitting up, wearing a silk bed jacket. Her hair was tied back but unbraided. He remembered the night she'd taken her braids out because he'd asked her to. She turned a radiant smile to him as he stood in the doorway and Mrs. Hawkins jabbered to the babe. But Mary's face gave away no secrets, and neither did his. Except maybe that he couldn't keep his eyes from the metal rods of the bedstead, and sure enough, it was easy to see the two that were bent a bit out of line.
'Aaron, you've come at last,' she chimed. 'Jonathan and I couldn't guess why you waited so long.'
Aaron stepped inside the room, throwing a wink at Jonathan as he declared, 'The wee ones are a bit overpower- ing to us bachelors.'
Mrs. Hawkins guffawed as she brought the wrapped bundle and thrust it toward him. 'This little thing ain't but a mite. You hold her, Aaron, you'll find out.'
But Aaron staved her off with open palms. 'You can hold her, Mrs. Hawkins. I'll just look over your shoulder.' That brought their laughter on him as he peeked inside the con- cealing blankets. He could see dark eyes that didn't seem to focus on much, a tiny mouth that sucked at nothing. He kept his hands folded behind his back and rocked forward on his feet as if cowed. Actually, he knew it'd be folly to touch her, especially that curly brown hair. 'What'll you call her?' he asked. 'Sarah,' Mary answered. 'It means princess. That was the first thing I called her, so it seemed right for her name.' 'It's a pretty name.' He nearly said it aloud to hear it-Sarah Gray. But he bit off the words, saying instead, 'She's mighty pretty, Mary,' then added tardily, 'Jonathan.'
Jonathan cleared his throat. 'Mrs. Hawkins cooked a fine- smelling meal. Reckon I'll go have a bite.'
