Fleetie's Crossing Read online

“Bad thoughts about losing her. She seems more like my girl than a sister-in-law. I can’t stand the thought of those twins and this one too not having her. Ain’t nobody in the whole valley that’s not just crazy about her and them twins. I feel plumb useless.”

  “We’re just tired and scared, Fleetie. They’re bound to come soon. We can hold on. She’s depending on you. I’m stubborn as a mule, but I’ve never known a woman as strong as you.”

  “Strong is just doing, Kathleen, and mostly, that’s all the choice there is. Stubborn is probably a heap better.”

  It must have struck them funny because both women laughed. I rolled my eyes and shrugged my shoulders at the Willis kids. We didn’t see anything funny in that dingy kitchen with steam thick enough to pull the curl out of a sheep pelt and the rain pounding the roof like a band of imps from perdition.

  Chapter 7

  BARN LOST

  Burl threw open the front door. “Goddamn it, Fleet. Hit’s our barn coming right down the goddamned river. Fleet, look!”

  I stepped out of the kitchen and walked behind Fleetie as she hurried to the front porch. Burl’s night vision, honed through years of hunting and trapping, could make out the outline of a building moving down the swollen river. His voice dropped as the black outline of a building bobbing up and down in the racing water moved past us. “Hit’s our barn, our barn.”

  Because of the shock at losing his barn, Burl had not spotted a small light moving down the tracks toward them. It was just a pinpoint, but I could tell by the way it moved that it was a flashlight or lantern. The light jumped from right to left, seeking a path along the tracks.

  Ignoring Burl, Fleetie and I raced down the steps to the crossing. We stepped over the rail to the crossties. No one else would be crazy enough to be out walking in this storm. It had to be Daddy.

  “Oh, Lord, please let the doctor be with him,” I prayed as I walked toward the light and shuffled my feet to feel for ties. Crossties were always too close for one step, too long for two. Daddy said railroad tracks were designed to keep people away, not provide a path for hikers and hobos.

  I yelled toward the light, “Daddy, is that you?”

  “It’s me and Dr. Parks.”

  Burl had followed close behind us, and he shouted, “Ed, my barn is going down the river! I ain’t never seed it this bad. What put you on the tracks?”

  I ignored the awkward railroad ties and ran toward Daddy’s light as the two men moved close enough for us to see them.

  Fleetie called, “Ed, oh, Ed, hurry! Geneva’s really bad. Don’t pay Burl no mind. Gen is lying up there, tryin’ to have this baby, and all’s on his mind is the barn’s gone floatin’ down the Cumberland.”

  Soaked through and looking cold enough to freeze a fire, Daddy still couldn’t keep from laughing. A pouring-down rain, a baby on the way, Geneva suffering, and now a flash flood that threatened to sweep half the valley away, and these two were standing in the middle of it, yammering at each other.

  Dr. Park’s stern voice stopped all of us. “Where is Geneva? Let’s get in out of this damned rain.”

  “When the river come up, we brought her up here to Helen’s,” said Fleetie. “We left the tracks and moved up the path to the front steps. Doctor, watch them front steps. They might be awful slick.”

  Because of the dark, Fleetie had not realized that the rain sluicing down from the leaky gutters had washed off the steps and swept away the accumulated dirt that Helen never bothered to sweep. The two men hurried up the steps with the three of us trailing. Daddy pushed open the front door, and he and Dr. Parks stepped across the living room and swung open the kitchen door, where Mother was kneeling beside Geneva.

  The men, with their soaking wet clothes and standing in the heat of the kitchen, were enveloped in angelic halos by the dim back light of the parlor. Mother caught her breath. No one was expecting angels, but for just a second, that’s who it looked like were standing there, crowding the room with their presence.

  Mother caught her breath and ran to grab Daddy, wet as he was. “We have been worried to death about you,” she whispered.

  Through the fog of her pain and misery, Geneva must have noticed the same blurred images. “Oh my god, I have died. My babies, my babies . . .”

  We all broke into a nervous laughter and tried to hide it except for Dr. Parks. He laughed and slapped his knee like it was the funniest thing he had heard all day.

  Fleetie, sitting on the floor beside the tub, put her arms around Geneva and held her tight. “Geneva, honey, you aren’t dead. Shush now. Listen to me. It’s Ed and Dr. Parks. Dr. Parks is here. Everything is going to be fine. Shhh, hush now, it’s all right. It won’t be much longer now.” She soothed and rocked Geneva as gently as if she was the new baby.

  “What the hell, Kathleen? Are you trying to cook the poor girl?” said Dr. Parks. I flinched at his gruff quarreling at my mother. “Let’s get her out of that water so I can examine her, for god’s sake. I’ve seen it all now.”

  She ignored him and moved quickly to help Fleetie lift Geneva out of the water. Daddy took off for the front room. Since I was trying to be invisible, I kept my mouth shut. I wanted to tell Dr. Parks how the warm water had eased Geneva during the worst of the labor, but I knew better. Dr. Parks was almost godlike to all of us in the valley. No one told Dr. Parks anything. We only listened, grateful that he was helping us.

  Mother also kept silent. While she was not as much in awe of him as most were, she had been telling us about the effort it had taken for him to travel through the flood. She was right. Who knew what it took for those two to get here? At the very least, they had walked two miles from the bend in the road at the point. They had probably been forced to wade through the flood waters more than once to reach us.

  The women helped settle Geneva on the army cot that George and Fred had resurrected from the attic. When they brought it down, Fleetie had been careful to use her quilts to cover it with several layers. Dr. Parks scrubbed his hands as Geneva began to moan from another wave of pain. Her clenched fists pushed against the sides of the small cot with enough pressure to bend the rails. Her back curved with the pain of the contraction, and with her head thrown back you could see her neck threaded with roping veins and sinew.

  Mother took Geneva’s hands off the side rails and held them fast. “Rachel, rub her feet. Look how they have cramped.”

  My head was spinning, and every part of me hurt for her. Her feet were as hard as stone—the cramping had a big head start on me. If my feet were cramped up like that, I would have panicked and screamed, but maybe everything hurt her so much, she didn’t know one pain from the other.

  Mother whispered, “You never forget, do you, Fleetie? She has to feel like her whole world has her trapped under a rock as big as the Pine Mountain overhang.”

  “I remember with Dorotha, I was sure the pain would never stop again. She was the worst, but none of them was easy.”

  Listening to them made me shiver as I made a silent vow to leave baby-having to other people. Why go through all that? There were lots of babies around that no one wanted. Better to love the little orphans instead of going through all this grief and misery.

  As Geneva’s wave of pain began to subside, Dr. Parks listened and poked and listened some more.

  Mother checked Gen’s feet and patted my arm. “You’ve made her feel better, Rach. Let’s slip out a minute and talk to Daddy. Fleetie will be here to help Dr. Parks.”

  We stepped out of the kitchen into the living room. I put my arms around Daddy and closed my eyes. He was an island of comfort in this flooded world full of pain and danger.

  He gave me a long hug and talked over my head to Mother. “Katie Bell, the water came up so fast, I was afraid you all wouldn’t hear it until it was running in the back door,” Daddy whispered. “What about Jane and Logan? Are they alone?”

  “No, Nessa
and the other children are up there with them. When we saw how fast the water was coming, I just knew the car had been swept off the road. You went the short way. I saw you. It is a wonder you haven’t left me a widow and your children orphans.”

  Daddy frowned and clenched his teeth, rippling his jaw muscles. “Don’t start on me, Kathleen. Dr. Parks was in Evarts. There was a slate fall, and two scabs were killed, and three other men were crushed bad. Parks didn’t wait for the ambulance. He brought them to town in the company dead wagon, and we left Doc Begley working on them. We’re lucky Parks would come at all. Neither doctor has been home in two days. How bad is Geneva?”

  “As far as I can tell, she is no nearer delivering now than when you left. I hope Dr. Parks brought a miracle with him. She has relaxed some, and she is determined to get this job done, but her strength is gone. There is so little she can do to help herself now.”

  Fleetie pushed open the kitchen door. “Kathleen, can you come back? He is goin’ to have to take the baby.” Fleetie disappeared back into the kitchen, and Mother almost staggered. She looked like her knees had turned to rubber.

  Daddy grabbed her and wrapped his arm around her shoulders to steady her. He pulled her near. “Hold on, Katie-girl. You are hard as flint. Don’t give in now.”

  She squeezed his hand, pulled away, and slipped through the door.

  Daddy looked me straight in the eye. “Watch out for her. She’s not really very tough, but you are tough enough for both of you. Hear me?”

  Tears jumped into my eyes, but all I could do was nod at him and stand as tall as my five feet and one inch would stretch. Daddy didn’t ask much of me, but when he did, I knew it was something so important that I would do anything he asked. His lessons went deep and stayed as long as there was a me to give them a home. I didn’t know I was tough, and right then, I didn’t feel much like it either. But he said it, and there was nothing left for me to do but put it on and push forward—scared or not, and I was, but in fact, I was not as shaky as before. His words must have worked.

  Daddy turned to the three men sitting helpless around the living room. “Boys, we need to find two sawhorses. That cot is way too low. We’ve got to set her higher so Dr. Parks can see what he is doing.”

  The men flew out the front door and returned with the water-soaked sawhorses, Daddy and George carried them to the kitchen. Under the cover of the commotion, I slipped back in the kitchen and slid down beside the box of firewood. The men positioned the sawhorses directly under the light in the middle of the room. Daddy, Fred, and Burl lifted the cot with Geneva on it and lowered it on the supports.

  Dr. Parks scrubbed and gloved his hands. He gave Mother and Fleetie gloves and gave them the rundown on what he expected them to do.

  “No doctor in his right mind would perform a section here in this kitchen, but I’ve no choice. We’ll just have to use what we’ve got. You two are strong and young. You can help me do this. The dangerous part of all this is keeping Geneva sedated enough so I can operate and get that baby out without letting her respiration and heart rate get out of control.”

  “What can we do if there are more problems than we know?” said Mother.

  “Don’t dwell on it. Just do what I say. I’m just guessing here, girls, but we’ve got no choice. I’ve measured her and guessed her weight and mixed the sedation.” He picked up a short brown bottle and leaned toward Mother. “Kathleen, I want you to pour this drop by drop onto the cone. Hold it steady over her mouth and nose.” He pulled his stethoscope off his neck. “Use my stethoscope, and keep your ear out for sudden changes in her heart rate. It will increase some as we go, but unless it races away on us, we’ll be okay.”

  Fleetie’s job was to take care of the baby while he did the suturing. The room was as hot as a brooder house. Fleetie had been throwing coal on the fire since we walked in the door. She was convinced that Geneva had relaxed because of the heat. Preparing to sponge off the baby, she lined Helen’s battered dishpan with a scalded towel and filled it with warm water. A small stack of tiny undershirts, diapers, cord wrappers, and gowns appeared from the middle of Fleetie’s almost endless stack of quilts. She laid two receiving blankets, Dovie’s shower present, over her shoulder, one for cleanliness, the other for swaddling.

  While the women were busy, Dr. Parks stepped out of the room to see Fred. Since he left the door ajar, I could see the three men squatted around the wall of the tiny living room. They jumped to their feet.

  “Fred, I’ve got to take the baby, and it won’t be the easiest delivery I ever done. Hold on the best you can. Ed, see if you can’t find some kind of rotgut around here. He needs to swill about half a pint.”

  Fred’s voice broke, and you could see fear in his eyes and on his flushed face. “Doc, is she going to die?”

  “Hell, Fred. If I thought she was going to die, I wouldn’t have taken out in all this water and black night. Of course, she is not going to die, and neither is your baby.” That was probably as long a speech as he would make all night, and it was hard to tell if it was as much for Fred than it was for all of us, him included.

  As Dr. Parks stepped back into his makeshift surgery, Daddy reached out to grab Fred by the shoulder. But just at that moment, Fred exploded. He took a wild swing and slammed Daddy’s chin with a ripping uppercut.

  Burl jumped up and grabbed Fred with a vise grip out of proportion with his skinny, wiry frame. “Boy, hang on there. Ain’t no use fightin’ us. We can’t do nothin’.”

  Fred was the easygoing member of the family without a mean bone in his body, but just for that moment, the fear took over, and it looked like it delivered Fred a white-hot anger that left him ready to take on the lot of us.

  “Nobody can do nothing to get us back to work. Nobody can do nuthin’ to stop this goddamn rain. Gen is about to die, and nobody can do nothin’ to help her. Don’t be patting me on the back like some child. I am damn sick and tired of nothing.”

  Blood trickled down Daddy’s chin and on his neck, growing a stain on the front of his white shirt.

  Burl pushed Fred toward the door. “Let’s me and you get out of here. George has got some ’shine laid back up on the flat. We’ll git. George can help if they’s need.”

  “Shore, boys. It’s right there. You can’t miss it,” George said. He grinned to himself, and I figured he liked the idea of Fred and Burl floundering around in the stubbled cornfield, looking for his stash. Old George might be grinning, but I knew Burl was too smart not to know they were on a fool’s journey. Fred was in bad shape, and a good soaking in the driving rain might clear his brain. Fred tore out the door, running for some relief from the misery inside the house.

  With the excitement dying down in the front room, I stepped to close the kitchen door. “Daddy, your chin is all bloody. I’ll get you a wet rag from the kitchen.”

  “Thanks, Rach, but we better stay out of there. They’ve got their hands full. I’m going outside and checking on the river anyway. It’ll wash off soon enough.”

  As soon as he stepped on the porch, I slipped back in the kitchen and pulled the door shut and slid back down beside the wood bin.

  Chapter 8

  SNATCHED BACK

  I was sitting behind Dr. Parks when he picked up the scalpel. I was afraid for Geneva, but I couldn’t help watching. It took almost no time. I could see his hands work the shiny little body out of the incision. He moved fast, and there it was, a baby boy, but he was so still, I was sure he had been stillborn. His slick little arms and legs weren’t moving, and when Dr. Parks put his finger into the tiny mouth to clear out the gunk and gave him a little shake, there was no response. He shook his head and placed the baby in Fleetie’s draped arms.

  “I was afraid we’d lose him. Do what you can. I’ve got to suture and get her off sedation. Kathleen, no more drops. Just hold the cone on her face for another five minutes while I finish up.”

 
; Fleetie checked the baby’s mouth and throat and slipped him into the small tub. The cooling water sent a shock through him, and his body reacted in a jerk. Seeing his reaction, Fleetie got a firm grip on his tiny ankles and, placing her hand on his back, began to swing him in a wide, high arc three times, and then she returned him to the cold water. She dug her thumbnails into both his heels and pulled him out of the water again.

  “Rachel, come over here and help me dry him off. I have to get him warmed up right now.”

  Dr. Parks stepped away from Geneva’s cot and took him so he could listen for heart sounds. “Goddammit, Fleetie, we have a heartbeat. Whatever magic you’re conjuring, keep it up. While you’re at it, rub his arms and legs, back and neck. Let’s get that blood pumping. Lucky night. We might save both of them if Kathleen doesn’t drown Geneva with chloroform.”

  “More likely, she’d be bent double from all those crooked stitches.” She grinned at him and handed him a large neatly folded dressing for the incision.

  He placed the bandage on the incision and then used more gauze to wrap around her back and across the black stitches to secure the dressing. When the bandage was secure, he checked her heart rate and then lifted the cone from her face as he moved away from the table.

  “Kathleen, try to get her to talk. We need to make sure she is coming back to us.” He walked four steps across the room where Fleetie was working with the baby. He checked the baby’s heart and reflexes before he said, “Keep rubbing, Fleetie. We need to hear that baby give us some good loud cries.”

  Fleetie kept massaging and turning the tiny body. The deep purple of his skin was beginning to fade. He wasn’t showing a healthy red yet, but his arms and legs were squirming under her strong hands.

  All at once, there was a soft whimper followed by a hiccup and a bit louder cooing. Each sound built on the other until there was sustained, audible cry. Not a strong one, but a cry. Instinct driving her, Fleetie picked up a blanket and began fanning him. The cold air stimulated him to a more regular fit of crying.