Chapter XIX
By Joanna Phillips
The baby slept soundly, but his father did not. His vigil remained uninterrupted by sleep, food, or conscious thought, other than that for the woman he watched.
He now sat on the edge of her bed, the warm bundle in his arms giving him endless comfort, as he gazed down at her ashen face; the ashen face that had not changed in two days.
"He's beautiful Lou. He's got your nose, I think. His eyes are blue, like mine, but Catherine told me almost all babies have blue eyes. He has tons of hair. It's darker than mine, but lighter than yours. Got your temperament too. Stubborn."
He paused for a minute, his throat too tight to go on, then continued hoarsely, "Lou, please be stubborn right now. Don't give up. Your son, he needs you. So do I."
Kid bowed his head and sobbed again, the heaving of his body upsetting James. In moments, father and son wailed together.
It seemed a long way upward, was her only conscious thought. It was as if she'd dived into a lake, and swam too deep before turning back to the surface for air. She was sure she would never make it through the surface. From below the water she could see the outline of the sun clearly, and remembered thinking it odd that she was staring at it, but that it didn't hurt her eyes. She stopped struggling for a moment, and instantly felt herself sink slightly, saw the sun above her become more obscure, more unattainable, felt the weightless, soundless water wrap around her and tug her gently below.
She fought for a moment, but closed her eyes, blocking out the sun altogether and sank again.
Jonathan sighed and shook his head, putting his elbows on the bed and bringing both hands up to massage the bones above his eyes. Dropping his entire face into his hands, he sighed again. There had been other doctors in the past two days, but they'd merely shaken their heads and told him there was nothing to be done.
It wasn't an answer he could accept. Damn her, he thought viciously, Damn her for breaking me out of my shell and making me care. Damn her for being so much like Melanie. Damn her for not waking up. He'd been perfectly content to withdraw further into the shell he'd grown when Melanie died, and that had been completed after his brother's death. It was so easy to sip whiskey until their faces became a blur and he fell onto his pillow without a care or nightmare. But he couldn't erase Lou's face, not now when her survival depended on him.
"What's the trouble there girl?" He finally said, resolving himself once again to discover how to help her, "Why not just wake up and face the world, eh?"
As usual, there was no response.
With a sigh, he gently picked up James from his cradle and inspected him. James watched him with equal curiosity. Perfectly healthy, for all his trouble coming into the world. How, Jonathan wondered, can something so small steal the life so quickly from a woman?
"Your mother's a bit under the weather," He heard himself tell the infant softly, with a careful glance at Kid, who was staring absently out the window, "But she'll be awake to give you a proper welcome soon enough."
Putting the drowsy baby down, he turned back to Louise.
"My dear, you have two anxious men here waiting for you to wake up. More than that really. They are all crazy with worry. I'm worried. Please wake up."
He sighed, and turned to leave Kid with her. So, this was the result of all his medical training. He had to resort to pleading with his patients to wake up again.
Kid's bloodshot eyes turned to Jonathan in question.
Jonathan shook his head to indicate there was still no change. "You should get some sleep Kid. I'll watch her for a bit."
"I'm not going to sleep until she wakes up."
"Kid, you know, there still is the chance she won't wake up. What then?"
Kid looked at him with eyes that brought a wave of gooseflesh over his skin.
"Then I'll sleep soon enough as well."
Again, there was the surface, so impossibly far, yet seemingly inches from her fingertips. There was no real thought, only a feeling of rising, of struggle. And there was pain, and weariness. Things she didn't feel at the bottom of the abyss.
She allowed the restful darkness to pull on her for a minute, so tired of fighting, but then bravely kicked upward, wanting desperately to break the surface, to have air in her lungs again.
It became almost a flight from the deep, a struggle to escape dark tendrils of comfort that laced about her legs and welcomed her back, away from the uncertain surface.
Lou was aware, quite suddenly, that it wasn't water she was escaping, but unconsciousness, but that the surface of reality was as frightening as the surface of the water had been.
The baby she thought with devastation. It had been too soon, she was sure, and could briefly recall hellish moments of consciousness with the pain in her body great enough for her to wish for death. Had it all been for nothing?
The desperate need to know balanced the reluctance to find out, and for another moment she lay there, eyes closed tightly, at war with herself.
Finally, she took a deep breath and allowed the sun to shine into her eyes.
The ceiling was even fancy in the Monroe's mansion, she thought idly, as she stared at the looping patterns in the plaster. Already, she was exhausted, but the need to know something of what had happened kept her eyes peeled wide.
She fought to turn her head to the side.
Tears formed in her eyes and rolled down her cheeks as she spotted him by the window. Kid she cried out the name in her mind, but she was too weak yet to speak. Nor did she wish to interrupt the beautiful scene. For in her husband's arms was a bundle of blue. She could just see a tiny hand waving, free from the blanket, and reaching out to secure a hold of Kid's nose. He bent his head obligingly, while the baby gurgled with glee and explored his face, patting the eyes with those too-perfect hands, moving over the contours Lou herself knew so well.
Suddenly the baby lifted his hand and made a motion that resembled a wave in the direction of the bed. Lou felt the weariness start to pull her in, and her eyes start to flutter, but saw Kid fling himself around, as if the child had plainly told him, "Mama's awake."
"Lou!" His voice was a shriek, and the baby emitted a similar sound, gurgling again, obviously proud of himself.
She was very tired, but she forced her sleepy eyes to remain open a bit longer. Tears spilled down Kid's face, a face that had gone almost clear it was so pale.
"Lou, thank God! Lou, can you hear me?"
A slight nod on her part assured him that she could.
"Very tired," She said, as her eyes focused on the baby, who Kid gently lay down on the bed next to her, as he had done many times in the past two days, hoping to rouse her with his presence.
Tears overflowed her own eyes as she looked at her son, now squirming at her side, unhappy not to be in his father's arms any longer. He looked at her, wrinkled his nose and said something in his own baby language.
"Meet your son. James Noah McCloud."
Lou's smile was as radiant as a smile could be coming from what had been seconds ago, a death bed.
"So beautiful," She murmured, with great effort moving a hand to touch the downy crown of brown hair on James' head. "I love you."
Her eyes were boring into Kid's now, and he leaned down to kiss her thoroughly but gently.
"Thank you for my son," He said, and choked on the words as he placed his hand over the one that rested on the tiny skull.
"Son," Lou murmured with satisfaction, "told you it would be a boy. A mother knows…"
"A mother knows," Kid agreed, "My God, how I love you, Lou!"
Lou smiled, blinded by tears, unable to fight the lump in her throat to find any words.
"Rest," Kid told her softly, "We'll be here when you wake up again."
"I don't want to, I want to hold the bab-…"
Kid laughed slightly as she drifted back to sleep with a smile on her face before she could finish her sentence.
"See," He told James, picking the child up, and for the first time feeling no twinge of resentment at all towards the boy, "I told you your mother was stubborn. Let's go tell the others that she is going to be all right."
And Lou was all right. For weeks she was bedridden, and Kid realized when she didn't even protest Jonathan's orders to stay practically immobile how very ill she'd been, and how close he'd come to losing her.
She slowly regained her color and her strength, although Jonathan warned her it could be months to a year before she was restored completely. The news that she would never have another child came as only a mild shock, and she was too thankful for James, and aware of her good fortune to have him, to be horribly upset.
Kid was outright relieved at this knowledge. He never wanted that helpless dread to settle over him again, never wanted to watch Lou go through the pain of childbirth again. It was a relief that she had no say in the matter.
James too, grew rapidly. He was a funny little child, with a distinct personality. Surrounded by people who doted on him, he was a happy child. Lou took infinite comfort in holding the small body close while he slept, in nursing him, in playing with him. He was his father's child, and imagined that he'd look startlingly like Kid when he was grown. Even now, with the baby fat and the incomplete bone structure, he bore a striking resemblance to Kid that everyone commented on.
His personality, however, Lou thought, might be more like her own. While pleasant most of the time, James did have a certain quicksilver temper and could scream himself hoarse if he so chose. Lou resorted to calling him "the beet" at times like these, and wondered if she herself looked like this when she screamed at Kid.
Letters finally came from Jimmy and Cody, both of whom were scouting on the Western Front. The fighting was moving back to Virginia, and Lou felt slight dread at this, remembering all too painfully the sight of her old farmhouse burning to the ground and the Yankee soldiers hauling Kid away from her.
As the winter months rolled by, though, they had no trouble. Christmas was a merry affair, with Lou and Catherine fixing a truly remarkable feast, given the scarce food, and tiny trinkets passed from one to the other.
Late Christmas night, Lou and Kid lay curled together in front of the fireplace in their room, with James gleefully playing with a Christmas bow.
"I think this is happiness," Lou murmured finally, raising her head to kiss Kid's chin softly.
"Think so?" He smiled, and she felt him stifle a laugh as she playfully nibbled at his earlobe.
"Mmm-hmm," She sighed, low in her throat, and moved slowly up to his mouth, kissing him firmly.
Kid was glad to return the favor, bringing strong hands up to stroke her cheek and thread into her hair.
"Are you sure? This is the first time since the baby...Are you okay?" He finally asked, breathlessly tearing his lips from the kiss, and turning as red as Jamie during one of his beet fits when he met her sparkling eyes.
Lou laughed quietly, "Am I not making myself clear here? Should I try harder?"
A soft smile curled Kid's lips, and his eyes sparkled with love and desire, "Yes," he said playfully, "I don't think I've gotten the message just yet."
"All right," Lou agreed huskily, and kissed him again, lightly, teasingly, drawing back when he demanded more of her kiss.
Suddenly a soft snore from below them caused both of them to quickly put hands over their mouths, turning purple from holding in a bout of laughter. They couldn't meet eyes, so both of them watched the sleeping baby, curled up with his bow, and his bottom stuck straight in the air.
"Like his father, he can sleep through anything," Lou grinned, and carefully got up to put the baby in his crib, returning to Kid's side by the fire in moments.
"Now, where were we?" She whispered, looking lovingly into her husband's eyes.
The winter was a long one, and food was not abundant, but the residents of Monroe Hall fared well, and the late spring brought promises of fresh food soon.
Lou leaned against the door and panted for a minute, and the effort of walking up from the garden had tired her considerably. She glanced out the window and down the hill at scene she'd just returned from, where Buck, Kid, Jonathan, Teaspoon, and Catherine all worked on planting the food that would see them through next winter.
With a start, Lou caught herself. Next winter. Was it even possible that by next winter the war would be over, and they could go home? They'd been at Monroe Hall for nearly a year now. Would the war ever be over? Lou wondered. Teaspoon's prediction that the South wouldn't win the war seemed valid enough, but no one had counted on the fact that the people and army of the South would starve before giving up.
There had been war so long, she wondered if it would ever stop. Peace seemed a distant memory, even given the haven they'd found in Tidewater Virginia. It was so easy to feel safe, but also, so possible that any second it could be ripped away.
What kind of a world had she brought a child into? She thought with a grim face.
She sighed, stifling a yawn. James was nocturnal apparently, which consequently meant that she must be as well. Lou never ceased to be amazed at Kid's ability to sleep right through the screaming and often resisted the urge to bring the screaming James to his father's ear and prop him there. She had a feeling it wasn't so much that Kid didn't hear James as it was he didn't wish to hear him and therefore pretended not to. If he didn't work so hard on the land during the day, Lou would have had a hard time allowing this to go on.
However, given the fact she was still a bit too weak for yard labor, she gladly went to her son at night. Despite her bloodshot glares at Kid's cheerful rising at dawn, she even secretly enjoyed their midnight strolls down the hall of the huge mansion; as she made up stories about the green eyed Monroes peering curiously at them from within their frames.
Today, however, she was looking forward to a nap, much as James was enjoying at the moment. Catherine had insisted that James have his own nursery, and the two women had a grand time decorating it during the short days of winter when cabin fever had seeped into everyone's bones. James was now napping in his own crib, and there was nothing to stop her from doing the same.
A loud wail from the nursery was the death of that thought, and with a sigh, Lou slowly climbed the stairs to tend to her son. Tiredly, she pushed the door open, feeling her heavy lidded eyes turn in resignation toward the crib.
Suddenly, she stopped in her tracks, and her eyes were dull no longer. For directly in her line of vision was a pair of muddy boots, far too large to belong to her infant son. The cradle was also empty.
Her gaze snapped up the body of a thickly bearded and unkempt Confederate soldier, who was now looking at her with equal surprise, and who held the sniffling James under his arms. James let out another soft cry and reached for his mama.
Kid was bent over tugging at a particularly stubborn weed when he heard the sound he'd never forget.
He'd heard Lou scream before, in pain, in rage, in grief, in surprise, but never had a sound like this escaped her. It was more of a combination between a guttural growl and a scream, and clearly a warning to whoever it was directed. The sound of it pierced the open window of the nursery and everyone in the garden straightened dumbly, looking toward the house.
Suddenly, Kid heard his son scream hoarsely, a sound much different than the bawling he pretended not to hear at night, and like a streak of lightning, he was off toward the house.
To be continued…Chapter XX
Copyright 1998-This work is not to be reproduced without the permission of the author
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