Morning Glory

'What’re you doing?'

'Getting the bed ready.'

'Well, I can do that!' he reprimanded sharply, clumping inside.

'So can I. Will, please… listen.' She dropped the corner of the quilt and clasped his wrist. 'It’s best if I move around, all right? It could be hours yet.'

He elbowed her aside and began jerking the soiled bedclothes off the mattress. 'I don’t see how you could’ve just sat there on the bathroom floor letting me make jokes while it was already started.'

'So what else should I do?'

'Well, I don’t know, but Jesus, Elly, there I was, pulling at your ankles, making you sit on me.' She moved as if to resume her chore, and he erupted. 'I said I’ll fix the bed! Just tell me what you want on it.'

She told him: old newspapers against the mattress, covered by absorbent cotton flannel sheets folded into thick pads, and finally the muslin sheet. No blankets at all. It looked so stark and foreboding, the sight of it scared him worse than ever. But while he stood staring she had a new surprise in store for him.

'I want you to go down to the barn and get a pair of tugs.'

'Tugs?' His unblinking eyes grew round.

'Tug straps. From Madam’s harness.'

'What for?'

'And you might as well start carrying water. Fill the boiler and the reservoir and the teakettle. We need to have both warm and cold on hand. Now go.'

'What for? What d’you need those tug straps for?'

'Will… please,' she said with forced patience.

He raced down to the barn, cursing himself for not getting the running water in before this, for not hooking the water heater up to the wind generator, for not realizing babies sometimes come early. He tore the spare harness from the wall and fumbled with the leather, removing the tugs. Less than three minutes later he panted to a halt at the bedroom door to find her poised on the edge of a hard wooden chair, back arched, eyes closed, her hands gripping the edge of the seat.

'Elly!' He dropped the tugs and fell to one knee before her.

'It’s all right,' she managed, breathless, her eyelids still closed. 'It’s going away now.'

He touched her kneecaps, quaking with fear. 'Elly, I’m sorry I shouted before. I didn’t mean to. I was just scared.'

'It’s all right, Will.' The pain eased as she opened her eyes and slowly sank back in the chair. 'Now listen to me. I want you to take that harness and lay it out flat on the porch floor and scrub it hard with a brush and that yellow soap. On both sides. Scrub good around the buckles and even in the buckle holes. And scrub your hands and fingernails at the same time. Then bring the tugs inside and boil them in the dishpan. While they’re boiling in one pan, I want you to boil the scissors and two lengths of hard string in a separate one. You’ll find them in the kitchen in a cup next to the sugar bowl. Then as soon as the water is hot, bring some in here, and the yellow soap so I can take a bath.'

'All right, Elly,' he answered meekly, rising, backing away doubtfully.

'And put the boys down for a nap as soon as they’re finished eating.'

He followed her instructions minutely, rushing from task to task, afraid something would happen while he wasn’t at her side. When he brought the empty washtub into the bedroom he found her drawing fresh white baby clothing from the bureau drawer-a tiny flannel kimono, a receiving blanket, an undershirt, a diaper. He stood and watched as she lovingly catalogued each item and placed it on a stack. Next came the pink shawl she’d crocheted herself, and a pair of incredibly small booties to match. She turned and found him watching.

Her smile was so peaceful, so unafraid, it brought a measure of ease to him. 'I just know it’s going to be a girl,' she said.

'I’d like that, too.'

He watched as Elly got the laundry basket from behind the bedroom door, emptied it of dirty clothes and prepared it with a white pad, followed by rubber and cotton sheets. Then came the pink shell-designed shawl and lastly a white flannel receiving blanket. 'There.' She smiled down at the basket with the same pride a queen might have exhibited over a golden cradle lined with swansdown.

He set the washtub down without dropping his eyes from her, stepped around it and touched her tenderly, below one jaw. 'Rest now while I bring the water.'

She looked into his eyes and told him, 'I’m awful glad you’re here, Will.'

'So am I.'

It wasn’t strictly true. He’d rather be in the car on his way to fetch the doctor, but it was too late for discussing that. He filled her washtub and went to the kitchen to clean up the lunch dishes. Returning to the bedroom minutes later, he found Elly standing in the washtub, covered with soap. She stood at half-profile to him, presenting a view of her back and the side of one breast. He’d never seen her naked before. Not out of bed. The sight stirred him deeply. She was misproportioned, bulky, but the reason for it lent her a different feminine beauty from any he’d ever witnessed. She passed the cloth down her stomach, between her thighs, cleansing the route for the awaited one, and he stood watch, unabashed, without a thought of turning away. Suddenly she was seized by a new pain and dropped into a half-crouch. Her fist closed around the washcloth, sending lather plopping into the water. Will moved as if propelled by black powder, across the room to slide an arm around her slick body, supporting her through the brunt of it. When it began ebbing, he eased her lower until she rested on the edge of the tub, panting.

He felt helpless and distraught, wanting to do more, needing to do more than simply comfort. He wished he could bear the next pain himself.

When it was over, she wilted. 'That was a strong one. They’re comin’ faster this time than when Thomas was born.'

'Here. Kneel down.'

She knelt and he rinsed her back, arms, breasts, relieved to be doing something concrete. He held her hand as she stepped over the rim of the tub, then dried her back.

'Thank you, Will. I can finish.' While he carried the tub away she dressed in a clean white nightgown and beneath the bed found a white cloth sack from which she drew several large folded dried leaves. Taking them, she followed Will to the kitchen. She stood a moment, watching him spill her bathwater at the sink. With the dipper he rinsed the tub, then mopped it with a rag. Only then did he turn and find her standing behind him, watching.

'Should you be out here?'

'You mustn’t worry so, Will. Please. For me?'

'That’s not an easy order.'

'I know.' She could see on his face how difficult it was for him to remain stalwart, and loved him for his valiant effort. 'But now I need to talk to you about what to expect, what to do.'

'I know it all.' He set the tub down. 'I read it in the book so many times that it might as well be branded on my arm. But reading it and doing it are two different things.'

She moved close to him and touched his hand. 'You’ll do fine, Will.' Calmly she found a kettle into which she put the leaves, covering them with water from the teakettle. She set them to simmer on the rear of the range.

Will watched, feeling his stomach tensing more each minute. 'What’s that?'

'Comfrey.'

He was almost afraid to ask. It took two tries before his throat released the sound. 'What for?'

'Afterwards, if I tear, you got to make a poultice of it and put it on me. It’ll draw the skin back together and help it heal. But you got to remember-don’t waste no time on me till you seen to the baby, understand?'

If she tears. The words shook him afresh. It took an effort for Will to concentrate on the remainder of her instructions.

'Only use the sterilized rags I laid on the dresser. Everything else you need is there too. Scissors, strings, pledgets, alcohol and gauze for the baby’s cord, and Vaseline for under the cotton when you bandage her. You’ll do that after you give her a bath. Make sure you keep enough warm water for that, and a tubful of cold for the sheets, ’cause you’ll have to change them when it’s over. When you give her a bath don’t use the yellow soap, but the glycerine. Make sure you hold her head all the time-soon as it comes out of me, and while you’re waiting for the rest of her body to be born, and when you give her a bath, too. But, Will, you got to remember, through it all, the baby comes first. The most important thing is to get her breathing, then bathed and dressed and warm so she