He didn’t hold the Messiah in his arms, but she was something else.
“How does she stretch?” he asked. He had so much to learn about babies. He reined in that thought quick. He would have Emmy and Tillie here for another day or two and that would be it. Maybe one day Mims would get married and he could play with her baby. But for now, this was his chance. No. Not his chance; just another small bump in his life.
“Lay her back on the bed and unwrap her blanket,” Tillie told him. “Now lift her back so she has room.”
He did as she instructed and Emmy stretched and yawned. Her little arms shook with the motion, and she relaxed back into her previous position. A miracle.
“Now wrap her back up and pick her up like I told you earlier.”
He did as she bade him once again and held the baby close to his chest. Her warmth and slight weight filled him with joy. A joy he hadn’t felt in a long, long while.
“You first,” she started. “That way if I need to rest you won’t be stuck behind me.”
He nodded and started out of the room. He took the stairs one at a time, a little unnerved to carry such a precious bundle. He had loped down the stairs more times than he cared to admit, but today was different. All those trips up and down the stairs and he never once remembered touching the banister. Now he wanted to hang on to it for dear life, and yet both hands were cupped around the child. So he took it slow.
It seemed to take forever, but finally they made it to the bottom of the staircase, Tillie just one step behind him.
“I put the tray on the table,” he said. “Can you get the chair from the baby’s room?” He nodded toward the door that Mary had deemed to be the nursery.
Tillie nodded.
A small sense of unease filled him as he watched her make her way to the door and open it. She disappeared inside that sacred room, returning a couple of moments later with the chair he had been talking about. It wasn’t really a chair—more a hammock made of quilted fabric with a strap to keep the child safely inside. It was small enough to go on the table, or even on the floor if need be. But for now the table seemed better. He couldn’t just put the baby on the floor.
Once they had the baby securely strapped in place on the table, he went to fetch some more stew for the both of them.
“I don’t have any bread.” He chuckled. “Well, the truth of the matter is that when Mims comes and makes corn bread, I tend to eat all of it. Then I don’t have any left for the stew. But I’ve got crackers.”
She laughed, and for some reason sound of that laughter made his heart feel light. For just a moment the worry was gone from her eyes, as if she hadn’t a care in the world other than crackers and corn bread.
“Crackers are fine,” she said. “Maybe tonight I’ll make corn bread for you.”
He shook his head. “Only if you’re up to it. But you don’t have to for sure.”
“You helped me deliver my baby,” she said. “A pan of corn bread is the least I can do.”
* * *
“Mims is a good cook,” Tillie said. And she wondered why no man had snapped her up yet. Mims was a striking woman, with her dark hair and crystal blue eyes like her brother’s. And Tillie seemed to remember there having been a time when she had run around with David. But Tillie had been younger then and hadn’t paid it much attention.
“That she is,” Levi said. “And for that I’m grateful. Can you imagine if she came over every day and cooked and it was terrible?”
Tillie laughed, then winced.
“Are you okay?” His eyes were filled with concern.
“I’m fine. Really.” She gave him a reassuring smile.
Together they stood and carried their bowls and spoons to the sink. Levi went outside to fetch some water, and Tillie set a pan on the stove top to heat it so they could wash up. They performed the chores without speaking. Like an old married couple would do.
They had just gotten water in the pan when a piercing cry came from the direction of the table.
Emmy was awake, and apparently very hungry.
“You should go feed her,” Levi said. “I can do this.”
Tillie hesitated for just a moment before nodding and unstrapping Emmy from the fabric chair. She carried her into the living room for a little more privacy and wondered at the intimacy of it all.
She sat in the chair close to the window and looked out at the crystalline ice that covered everything. A few drops melted from the roof and fell in front of her. And the trees creaked when the wind blew. Maybe tomorrow she would be able to go home. But the strange thing was that, there with Levi, she felt wholly content.
That’s because it’s safe here.
There was no judging, no consternation, no bishop to talk to, no congregation of the church to satisfy; the rules had been somewhat suspended. She supposed that was to be expected when a person gave birth in an ice storm.
She switched Emmy’s side and looked around the living room at the Christmas decorations she and her mamm had left. She knew that Levi had been hesitant for the additions, but she was glad he had accepted them. Even the stinky cedar boughs. She wasn’t sure why everyone thought cedar was so wonderful. If you used the wood, trimmed
