IMAGES OF ONESELF
Epilogue

July 4, 1931

The wispy clouds drifted lazily along in the brilliantly blue summer sky. The apple red barn contrasted sharply with the lush green corn stalks, predictably knee high by the fourth of July, according to the old saying. The white farmhouse looked peaceful and loved, now that a complete family lived there. Piles of two by fours and roofing shingles were stacked neatly on the south side of the porch. Young Jack was spending the summer building the sunroom addition for his mother. He had hoped that the warmth of that room in winter, some wicker furniture and some plants would make her less lonesome for the ocean she loved so much. Everything was quite a bit different from last year at this time when Jack sat alone here, lazing in the shade on the same holiday. He looked around marveling at all these wonderful changes. The past nine months had been a strange and incredible journey for him.

The lonely boy who had shown up on his doorstep last October had turned out to be a son he never knew existed, born of a brief encounter with the only woman he had ever loved. Now that woman waved to him from the kitchen window, a glowing smile on her face, gesturing with her hand that she would be outside soon. The same kind of accident of fate that had torn Rose and himself apart in 1912 had brought them together last fall. And now she warmed his life everyday with her love, beauty and sense of humor.

The magic he had hoped that she would bring to their lives was obvious in so many ways. Just a glance at the open windows and the back porch indicated that a great deal of loving care had gone into each improvement. Jack had been pleasantly surprised at how thrifty and clever Rose had been. Let loose in a second hand store in Madison, she had purchased several dozen lace hankies for a few cents and then had carefully stitched them into graceful panels for their bedroom window. Brightly decorated seed packets and old calendars had been artfully framed, splashing color on the once stark walls. Jack had moved his art work out into the room adjoining the barn and now that space waited the arrival of someone special. And after so many years of frustration with his drawings, Jack’s pencil again flew across the paper, sketching Rose, their son and the interesting people of Chippewa Falls. She had brought inspiration and motivation back into his life. Nothing seemed too difficult or boring anymore. It was a pleasure now to come in from the fields in the evening, knowing that the good smells of cooked food and Rose awaited him.

Life had taken a good turn for Jack. He continued to prosper in spite of the Depression. Of course he like everyone else had to scrimp and save more than usual in order to get by. But generally things seemed to be in his favor. He had Rose at his side, their son, Jack would be off to college in the fall over at the state university in Eau Claire, fulfilling his dream of studying architecture and the weather had been most co-operative for this year’s crop.

Rose had taken Chippewa Falls by storm. Bill Taylor and Wally Bishop had done their job in telling the truth about Jack and Rose and how they had met on Titanic and then separated. In turn, the neighbors accepted her and welcomed her into the fold of community life, with relatively little ado. Rose and their neighbor, Alice Miller had become good friends, both learning from each other. Often Rose would return from their place, up to her elbows in flour, bearing the results of a baking lesson. And more often than not, Alice would sneak out the backdoor, with her hair beautifully coifed, her face anointed with just the right amount of makeup, courtesy of Rose. She had taken to the farm routine with ease and was a big help to him, even if sometimes there was more milk on the barn floor that in the milking bucket. He was confident that she would improve. Once the high school drama club had learned of Rose’s background as an actress, they had immediately offered her the job of drama coach for their twice a year plays. And she loved every minute of it.

A few recalcitrant citizens in the town spoke of their disapproval. The face of Doris, the waitress at the Welcome Inn, had turned green with envy when she’d had her first glimpse of Rose. Doris had passed the word around town that Jack Dawson was certainly not deserving of a wife like Rose. Everyone in town knew, however, that her words were born of nothing more than jealously. There were still a few old timers who lifted their eyebrows when Rose passed, not understanding the combination of her polished manners and speech and her high spirited personality. Those people were better left behind in their own world anyway and neither he or Rose gave them a second thought. He had much to be grateful for and if he lived to be one hundred, he would always be thankful for the stubborn streak in his son, that had caused him to hit the road in hard times.

His eyes glanced back at the house as he heard the screen door squeak. Rose moved slowly down the steps, carrying a tray that held a pitcher of lemonade and two glasses, careful avoiding her pet geranium plant that grew in a clay pot on the back porch. Her steps were slow and awkward now that her stomach was swollen in the last few weeks of her pregnancy. Their dream of another baby had been fulfilled and soon another member of the Dawson family would be joining them in this house. Rose had once again taken up a skill that had been taught to her in boarding school, the art of smocking. So sure was she that this baby would be a girl, that she already had already prepared a small wardrobe of daintily smocked dresses for her daughter to be. On asking her what would happen if it would be a boy, Rose had calmly dismissed him, telling that she knew what she was doing.

“Do you need any help with that?” Jack stood up and reached out to the tray that she carried.

“Thanks.” Rose blew the hair out of her face and handed Jack the tray. She reached behind her and rubbed the small of her back. Today she was experiencing a backache like she had never had before. It had started before dawn and if it kept up, she was not sure if she would be able to sleep. Deep down inside, she suspected that it had to do with her pregnancy. But she’d never experienced this particular symptom with her first baby.

Jack cast her a worried look. “You okay?”

She nodded. “I’m fine. Really thirsty though. Can you pour the lemonade?” Rose carefully arranged the skirt of her red print maternity dress, the front of which had little room left for expansion. “If I get any bigger, I swear I must be having an elephant.” Rose wiggled into the wooden lawn chair, biting her lips in an attempt to hide her discomfort. Jack sputtered and lemonade splashed everywhere, sending them both into peals of laughter. Despite her pain, Rose could not contain her mirth.

“What’s so funny?”

They both turned as they heard their son come out of the house.

“Just commenting on the size of your new brother or sister.” Rose studied her first born, taking in his carefully combed hair, his freshly pressed white short sleeved shirt and khaki colored pants. “So, who are you trying to impress today?” she teased.

“Aw Mom. I’m picking up Susie Perkins and then a bunch of us are having a picnic on Lake Wissota.”

Jack rolled his eyes behind the boy’s back and smiled at her.

“Then we are going to Eau Claire to see the fireworks. I’ll be home by midnight, if that’s what you are worried about.” He bent down to kiss his mother good bye. Then he turned to his father. “Bye Dad. See you later. And I know, I know. Take it easy with the truck.”

Jack nodded. “Right and Jack? Remember to watch yourself tonight. You know what I mean.” He winked at his son and with an incline of his head and a smile, indicated that the young man should be on his way. “Don’t want to be late!”

“No, I mean, yes.” The boy, having turned several shades of red, opened the door to the pickup truck and hopped in. He started the engine, put it in gear and waved as he bumped along up the drive. “Bye.” With a quick glance and a smile back at them, he was gone.

“Jack, you really should trust him.” Rose took a sip of the cooling liquid, still feeling no relief from her back. “He is your son after all.”

“Oh, I do. It’s just that some of these kids around here can get carried away. Now if I want to get carried away, Mrs. Dawson, that’s another thing.” He gently lifted her hand and pressed it to his mouth, kissing each of her fingers.

“Jack, how can you still be so romantic when I look like this,” she said, placing her free hand on her swollen stomach.

“Rose, you look beautiful to me no matter what. Just remember that.” He poured another glass of lemonade for each of them, then raised his in the air. “To you, mother to be. Everything is going to be fine. You’ll see.”

Suddenly Rose put her hand up. “I just remembered. I have a lemon pound cake cooling. I forgot to bring it out. I’ll go get it.”

“Want me to?” Jack offered, starting to get up.

But Rose had already wiggled out of her chair. He watched as she made her way back into the house. It was amazing how she had changed since she had come here with him. Her hair had grown longer, down to her shoulders, her face had filled out and her brilliant green eyes sparkled with each new thing she learned and discovered. She brought such enthusiasm to each thing she did. Through her eyes, he was rediscovering his surroundings and appreciating them all the more.

“Jack!”

He sat up when he heard his name called.

“Jack. Help!”

There was no mistaking the panic in Rose’s voice. Hurriedly he got up, knocking over his chair and crashing into the table with the lemonade, sending the contents flying through the yard. In less than a second he was in the kitchen and found Rose doubled over the table, gasping.

“Oh, Jack. The pains have started. Bad. It’s too soon.” She squeezed her eyes shut and bit her lips as she was convulsed by another spasm. “What if something is wrong?”

Gently he pulled her into a chair, thinking as he moved. She was right. The baby was not due yet for another two weeks. This might just be a warning of things to come, or it could be real labor. Jack looked down at her face, now white with pain. He glanced back out into the yard at his 1928 Chevrolet, the one major extravagance in life. Nodding his head, he decided what to do. They would go to the hospital. If it was a false alarm, they’d just come home. No point in taking chances.

“Alright, Rose. Do you think you can make it out to the car? I’ll help you.”

She shook her head affirmatively, an expression of worry on her face. “Jack, what it something goes wrong now, at the last minute?”

He put his arm around her waist and helped her up, coaxing her step by step to the door. “Shh. It’ll be alright. Try to relax.”

She turned her head towards him. “Ow.” Rose took a deep breath, trying to speak between the contractions. “How long will it take up to get there? To the hospital?”

Jack looked back at the kitchen clock. “Twenty, maybe thirty minutes. The roads aren’t too great you know. Come on, Rose,” he urged, wanting to get her on the way as soon as possible.

At last he got her seated in the car, glad that he had a full tank of gasoline. As he backed out of the driveway, he reflected on how thankful he was to have another vehicle besides the truck. He’d surprised Rose with the car for Christmas. Even though she had happily made do and accepted the inconveniences of farm life good-naturedly, he could not bear to see Rose riding in a truck, much less driving one. He had been lucky to get this one used for eighty dollars. Today, it was proving to be worth every penny.

“Just lean back and close your eyes. We’ll be there soon. Just hang on for a few minutes longer. It’ll be alright, Rose. And I’ll be with you, just like we talked about.” Jack turned out on the main road and headed south toward the hospital in Eau Claire. He could not let his feelings show to Rose, but however nervous she might be, he was equally afraid.

* * * * *

Jack threw the newspaper he had read for the third time down on the wooden table and got up, pacing the room. It had been an hour since they’d arrived at the hospital. The pleasant student nurse who had escorted Rose to a room promised that she would come back for him as soon as Rose was settled. But the hour and come and gone and there was no sign of any hospital employee. He felt totally alone, as there were not even any other fathers in the waiting room. The two that had been there had been sent for dinner and told that it would a long time until their babies were born. So Jack remained keeping his vigil, alone.

When Rose told him that she was pregnant, they had talked about how they would be together for this event, so that Jack would not miss a second of this child’s life. Now he wondered. Everywhere he looked there were signs on the wall, reminders that no one was allowed to accompany the mothers to the delivery room. It seemed as though all of their plans were crumbling before his very eyes.

The white swinging doors behind him swung open and a short man, with graying hair and glasses, walked out. Jack recognized him as Rose’s doctor. Dr. Peterson. “We’ll be taking your wife to the delivery room now, Mr. Dawson. I’ll have the nurse come out and tell you how things went.”

“What do you mean?” There was a touch of anxiety in Jack’s voice.

“Oh, just if it’s a boy or a girl. Things seem to be progressing normally.” The doctor answered casually seemingly unimpressed that he was about to bring Jack’s child into the world.

Jack was just about to answer when both he and the doctor turned their heads toward the doors. The sounds of raised voices came closer and closer, but as yet the words were as yet undistinguishable.

“Probably some minor disturbance. Sometimes the patients get a bit excited,” said the doctor.

Jack’s forehead creased with furrows when he recognized the sound of Rose speaking. Yelling would have been a more apt description.

“I don’t care about your stupid policy. This is a baby, not a policy. And since it is my baby, my body and my husband, I’ll decide what it right for me. Don’t tell me what is right and wrong. You don’t know anything about me.”

Jack bit his lips when he heard the state of Rose’s anger.

“But really Mrs. Dawson, this is a hospital. Having a baby is a private thing. Really it is not the place for your husband.” Someone with a crisp, formal voice was engaged in this dialogue with Rose.

“It was a lot more private when I conceived this child and he was there then. I want him here now. I will not have this child unless he is with me.”

Jack’s face was red from embarrassment as he heard Rose lashing out at the woman. And he knew that having him with her had been her greatest wish. He also had heard that women sometimes said all kinds of things when they were in the intense pain of childbirth. He put his head down, unable to face the doctor who was also listening to this tirade.

The white doors opened once more and another nurse appeared. Not the young woman who had been so kind earlier, but a dour, gaunt woman who looked as if everything about childbirth disgusted her. “Doctor Peterson, Mrs. Dawson is quite out of control. She is refusing to co-operate.” The woman looked at Jack, sizing him up from head to toe. “Are you her husband? Maybe you can talk some sense into her.” Her sarcastic voice chilled Jack to the very bone. This was not the kind of person who should be assisting at such a happy event.

Jack was about to speak, when they all heard Rose again. “Jack, please. I need you. Please?”

Dr. Peterson, scratched his head, his eyes going from Jack to the doors. “Well, it is against hospital policy, but considering there is no one else around… and it’s a holiday. Nurse Watkins, get Mr. Dawson a gown and show him where to scrub up.”

Nurse Watkins squared her shoulders. “Really doctor. This just isn’t done.”

“Nurse, I thought I told you to get Mr. Dawson a gown? That is quite enough. We will proceed with the delivery now and that is that. I need the patient to co-operate and if this is the only way, so be it. Is that understood?”

Jack watched this scene between the two medical people with his heart leaping with joy. Things were going to work out after all. He and Rose would be together for this special time.

A few minutes later, Jack found himself in the white and sterile environment of a hospital delivery room. There were no homey touches here, only the white porcelain fixtures and the bright surgical lamps. The only beauty came from Rose herself and the event was about to happen.

Jack stood behind Rose’s shoulders, urging her to relax and take deep breaths. He could feel the intensity of her pain every time she gripped his hand. The doctor had said only a few more minutes and Jack kept reminding her of that.

“Come on, Rose. You can do this. I’m with you, just like I promised. Come on.” He continued encouraging her, wiping her forehead with a damp cloth and finally propping up her shoulders so she could help more. “It’ll be fine.” He desperately tried to reassure her.

At the foot of the table stood the doctor and yet another nurse. Jack could not hear their whispered exchanges, but he saw that every once in awhile, the doctor was handed another mysterious implement. This nurse patted Rose on her leg and spoke soothingly to her. “You’re doing great. You’ll be a mom again soon.”

Rose glanced backwards, trying to smile at Jack as she heard those words. She gave a little groan and laid her head back down on the table. The nurse stepped closer to Rose, taking one of her hands. “This is it now Mrs. Dawson. Give it your all.”

Jack’s eyes temporarily misted over as he watched Rose use all the strength she had left to bring their child into the world. Her lips turned white as she struggled to maintain some control. “Jack, I can’t….”

He bent closer to her face, locking his eyes on hers. “Yes, you can.”

There seemed to be a great deal of activity at the foot of the delivery table. Jack heard Rose take one deep breath and he saw her body go limp. “That’s it, Mrs. Dawson. You have a girl.” Those words were accompanied by the loud squeal of a baby and the booming of fireworks outside. The nurse looked up at the glass block windows of the delivery room where flashes from the holiday celebration were visible. Even above her surgical mask, Jack could see her smiling eyes. “You’ve got a little firecracker on your hands.”

Jack chuckled. “That’s right. It’s still the Fourth of July. Kind of easy to lose track of time in this place. “ He looked down at Rose beaming with joy. “Did you hear that Rose? Her birthday is the Fourth of July.”

“Oh, Jack. I can’t believe it. I just can’t believe it.” She rolled her head from side to side trying to see what was happening in the room. “Where’s the baby? Is it alright?”

Jack helped Rose sit up so she could watch the nurse as she cleaned off this tiny morsel of a human being. The woman glanced up from her work to tell this remarkable couple about their newborn. “She’s just fine. Kind of kicking and fussing her. You can hold her in a minute.” It took some time before the doctor had finished up with Rose and examined the baby. Without further ado, he gave Rose and Jack his good wishes and headed out to the next delivery room.

“How much does she weigh?” asked Jack, unable to think clearly. “What time is it?” Somehow, he knew that people always wanted to know those two facts. From the corner of the room, he heard someone say “seven pounds, six ounces at 9:35.” He nodded his head, still having a sense of disbelief of what was happening.

The nurse carried the baby to Rose, wanting to place the child in her mother’s arms. But Rose put her hand up. “I want my husband to her hold first.” The woman looked from Rose to Jack and then to the baby. This was not the usual way of things. “Please,” Rose said again.

Jack nervously held out his arms, his emotions nearly undone by the soft whimpering of his new daughter. She was light as a feather, her feet wiggling and her little face was puckered and red. But to him, she represented yet another miracle in his life, another special event that fate had brought him. This small person with her golden hair and greenish blue eyes waved her fist in the air, as if already giving royal commands. To Jack, it seemed only natural. She would always be his little princess.

“Who does she look like?” Rose reached over and gently pulled the blanket away from the baby’s face. Jack held the little girl at an angle so that Rose could see. “What do you think, Jack?”

He turned his head as he examined the delicate face. In her he saw the unfinished yesterdays of his parents, the dreams of today that he and Rose would share and the future of his family with his son and daughter.

“What do you think?” she asked again.

Jack glanced at Rose. She had a smile on her face and her color was now returning to normal. “I think that she looks like the most beautiful person in the world, next to her mother. I believe she is perfect.”

“Oh, Jack.” Rose spoke softly, her energy expended from giving birth. “This has to be the most wonderful moment of my life. I love you Jack. Thank you.” She reached up and drew her hand along his cheek.

Jack handed her the baby and with a solemn expression on his face, said what was in his heart. “You’ve given all of us a gift, Rose. You, me, Jack, the baby. I should thank you.” He leaned over and kissed her, oblivious to the rest of the people in the room. This was their moment, something they had awaited to share for nine months. Jack knew that he and Rose would savor this experience for the rest of their lives.

* * * * *

The gravel crunched and popped as young Jack tried to drive up to the house without making too much racket. He stopped the truck near the machine shed and jumped out. Trying to be quiet, he pushed the door shut, managing to get by with only a squeak.

As he headed toward the house he looked around the yard, puzzled by the disarray. One of the wooden lawn chairs was lying on its side. The small table where the lemonade pitcher had stood earlier was upside down and the pitchers and glasses were on the ground. Jack walked over righting the mess, wondering what had happened. His parents were so tidy. Surely they would have not left things in such disorder.

He walked into the kitchen where the light had been left on. A single coffee cup remained on the big old table in the center of the room. He went to the stove and put his hand on the coffeepot. It was still warm. He was confused and a gnawing sense of uneasiness grew in the pit of his stomach. “Dad? Mom? Pepper?” He glanced around the first floor, hoping for someone to answer him. Even the dog had not been downstairs to greet him. He took the stairs two at a time. When he got to the top, he noticed that the door to his parents’ room was open and the small lamp on the dresser was still on. He walked to the doorway and on the bed was his father sound asleep, still in his clothes. Clothes that looked rather disheveled. Pepper was lying peacefully at the foot of the bed. Where was his mother? What was going on? The boy headed toward to bed, hoping that perhaps his father might awaken and he could find out what was happening.

“Dad?” He pressed lightly on his father’s shoulder. “Dad? What’s going on? Where’s Mom?” He whispered softly, not wanting to startle his father too much. Slowly Jack lifted his head, blinking his eyes, trying to see who was talking to him. “Where’s Mom?” he heard his son repeat.

Jack sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. “She’s at the hospital,” he said through a yawn.

“The hospital?” The boy was now clearly alarmed. His mom had looked just fine when he’d left this afternoon.

Jack put his hand up and rested it on the boy’s arm. “No. She’s fine. The baby was early.” He looked up at his son and smiled. “You have a sister.”

Young Jack sat down next to his father. He had been excited about a baby. He had hoped it would be a girl. He would have someone to tease and to protect. Even if she would be lots younger, he suspected they would still have fun. It was almost unbelievable that now it was a reality. “A sister?” He had to repeat the words, trying to digest their meaning. “Is Mom, alright? I mean, is she okay?”

Jack nodded, trying not to yawn again. “She is fine and your sister is too.”

“Gee, does she have a name? I mean my sister?” He kept saying the word over and over so that the concept of having a sibling would sink it. It all seemed so unreal.

“Yes, she had a name,” said Jack. “We decided on Margaret. That is quite a fashionable name now. It’s the name of the new little princess over in England. And for her middle name, your mother decided on Eleanor. She read about a character in a book with that name. It seems to fit nice with Margaret.”

“Margaret Eleanor.” Young Jack repeated that several times. “That seems kind of a big name for a tiny baby. Don’t you think?”

“Well, I suppose it does,” agreed Jack, thinking of the tiny little girl with blond hair and green eyes, back in the hospital. “Why don’t you come up with a nickname for her?”

The boy beamed, thrilled with this new responsibility. Of course it had to be cute and nice. Nothing that anyone would make fun of. “I’ll think about it tonight, then when I see her tomorrow, I can tell her.”

Jack chuckled, amused at the thought of his son thinking she would be aware enough tomorrow to understand. “Listen, Jack, it’s been a long day for me. I better get ready for bed. Up early tomorrow. We have two lovely ladies to go visit.”

“Sure Dad. I’ll be ready.” The boy stood up and moved toward the doorway. “You’re sure Mom is okay?”

It was touching the way the boy still worried about his mother, even at his age of eighteen. Jack knew it was because she and the boy had been through so much together alone, that he still felt this great responsibility towards her. “Oh she’s fine. I can’t guarantee that the hospital will ever be quite the same. But your mom couldn’t be better. Night son.”

Young Jack looked back at his father. On the man’s face he saw so many different things. Love, pride, fatigue. Something within him tugged at his heart. He took several steps back to where his father stood and reached out to embrace him. “We’re two pretty lucky guys, aren’t we Dad? See you in the morning.” With that he was gone, leaving Jack to see him cross the hall into his room, thinking indeed how lucky they all were.

* * * * *

Jack would never forget what he saw that morning, when he arrived to visit Rose. The view of her standing in silhouette by the window, her hair in a braid falling over her shoulder and her face buried against that of her infant daughter was so perfect, so beautiful that he never ever tried to draw it. She was the embodiment of an earth goddess. He doubted that many women could have given birth only twelve hours earlier and still look at lovely as Rose. He would keep this special image locked away in his memories forever. With the sun shining behind her she looked almost like a religious icon. Even his practiced hand could not compete with that.

“Rose?” Jack whispered from the doorway, not wanting to wake the baby. He watched breathlessly as she raised her head to look at him. Despite her ordeal last night, her face was radiant and her smiled glowing.

“Jack. I didn’t think you would be this early. Did you sleep after all the excitement?”

He came to her side and looked down at the baby who slept calmly in Rose’s arms. “Yes, I really was exhausted. Almost as if I had done the work.”

Rose fluttered her eyes and smiled bewitchingly at him. “Well, you did do some of the work a few months ago.”

“Seriously, Rose, are you alright? I can’t even begin to comprehend what you went through.” Jack rubbed his finger along her cheek, appraising her with a very intent look.

“Don’t worry. It is what we are made for. I am tired, but otherwise feel fine. It was so much easier this time, having your hand to hold.” She rested her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes, just enjoying this private moment with Jack. Rose watched as Jack took each of Margaret’s miniature hands in his and examined each perfect finger.

“It really is a miracle.” Jack kissed Rose’s forehead, careful not to disturb the baby between them. “I love you so much, Rose. And everyday I think of another reason to love you more.”

“Jack.” She bit her lip, unable to speak. Rose only hoped that her eyes conveyed the feelings in her heart.

“Morning Mom. I just stopped to get these flowers for you.”

Rose and Jack turned to greet their son who had entered the room. “ Oh, they’re lovely,” she said touched by the gallantry of her son. “I’ll have them find a vase around here.” Jack cleared his throat trying to compose himself after these few tender moments with Rose.

“How is the baby?” asked the boy, sensing that he had interrupted something.

“She’s fine,” said Rose. “Would you like to see your sister?”

The boy took a few steps closer to the baby. He knew of course, that babies were tiny, but he had never seen a newborn before. Laying the flowers on the bed, he peered at the tiny sleeping figure. “Do they sleep all the time?”

“They sleep a lot, but soon enough she will be sitting up watching you.” Rose remembered the days of her son’s infancy when she was alone. Thankfully, he had been a good baby. Somehow she sensed that this little one would be more mischievous, eager to entertain a captive audience of her father and brother.

“Would you like to hold her?” Rose held little Margaret out to her son.

“Well, gee. Sure, I guess. I never held a baby before.” Gingerly he reached out for his sister.

“Neither had your father and he did just fine. Right, Jack?” Rose leaned her head on her husband’s shoulder, suddenly feeling overcome with the emotion. This was the first time they were all together as a family. She felt Jack slide his arm around her waist, pulling her closer to him.

Young Jack stared at the tiny figure in his arms. She really was too small for that big name of Margaret Eleanor. His father had suggested that he choose a nickname. “Maybe we should call her Meg for short?” He hoped his suggestion would be approved by his parents. His mother nodded, her eyes suspiciously wet. His father beamed indicating that he agreed. He felt a wiggle and a stretch. Glancing down, he saw that Meg was awake. Her little arms and legs were moving within the confines of the pink blanket. Young Jack watched fascinated as she blinked several times and waved her fist in the air. Then much to the delight of her parents, she took a deep breath, gave a big yawn and settled back to sleep, cradled safely in the hands of her big brother.

The End.

Stories