CHAPTER 6

C HAPTE R 6

"You came in late, Ava," Gracie said. "We retired early. I hope you didn't mind that we were not up when you finally returned home."

"Not at all. I don't want to disrupt your life here, cousin, and the only reason I don't get a job and find accommodations of my own is that I might be of service to you with the baby coming."

"I don't expect you to move out until you've found a man to support you, but I also don't want you to feel the need to babysit the expectant mother."

"You look tired, and I want to help," Ava said, leading Gracie to a chair at the table. "Let me cook breakfast. You can oversee it from here."

Ava headed for the stove, covered her dress with an apron, and turned to bow in fun. "You will never guess what happened last night." Ava did not wait for a response. "I was offered a job to help in the dining room kitchen by the cook at Ace's Hotel—can you believe that? I was afraid to tell him that my culinary skills were rusty, to say the least."

"A job at the hotel is a great opportunity for you," Gracie said, excited about the prospect. "I wish we'd had more time to brush up on skills before the offer came."

"Perhaps when you are settled as a household of four, I will approach the chef again. By that time, I will be a pro in the kitchen. Taking care of you and your family will be great practice, and you won't fire me if I burn something."

Gracie laughed. "That is a great plan, Ava. I will forever be in your debt."

"That's my line," Ava said. "You taking me in and giving me a second chance is more than I could have hoped for."

"We are a great pair, aren't we? Both victims of a lousy upbringing and bad choices in the name of survival. God never left us. Even when we didn't know Him, He beckoned for us to come home."

"I am looking forward to church on Sunday," Ava said, lifting a cast iron pan onto the cookstove. "Do you realize I have only attended worship services once in my entire life? Father did not have a good experience, and he forbade it afterward."

"He knows your name, Ava Gardner, and if your heart is open, He'll meet you there. You be sure to listen for that still small voice."

"I shall." She began to speak her meal preparations aloud and watched for Gracie's nod of approval. When done and placed on the table for the family that had started to gather, she smiled at her accomplishment. It looked good enough to eat.

"Smells good in here, wife," Slate said as he took his place at the head of the table.

"All the credit goes to Ava, who mastered the menu alone and unassisted."

Slate whistled as he took in the meal. "Fried potatoes, eggs, and bacon as your first attempt? You did good, Ava."

"Thank you. I packed some lunch for you to bring to work, a mixture of any leftovers I could find in the pantry. Wasn't sure what you generally took, but I'll get the hang of it."

Slate looked at Gracie, who shrugged her shoulders. "She volunteered to help me out because I can barely see my feet anymore, but it sounds more like a takeover."

"Sounds just fine to me. You need to rest up. The baby's coming soon, and you'll need to be strong."

"You think I'm so old I can't deliver a child like every other woman?" Gracie's voice edged on irritation.

"Now, that's not what I said. It's your first, and a man has a right to be concerned. Heard tell women get a might touchy just before a birthing," Slate said. He motioned to Ava and the sleepy, new arrival Blanche, to join them at the table. "Come on, ladies. We can't let this grub get cold on account of our staring at it."

For five days, Ava took over all the kitchen duties, rarely putting her foot outside the door. Gracie shared tricks of the trade and recipes, encouraging her efforts the entire time as she sat in the rocker and finished mending the clothes in her sewing basket. The women also worked on some knitted garments for the baby and crocheted a warm blanket for the bassinet.

When Gracie squealed, Ava looked up from her work, and gasped at the sight of her cousin. Her face was drained of color, and she wore a look of horror on her face.

"What is it?" Ava said, rushing to her side.

"Something happened."

"You mean with the baby—is he kicking?"

"Maybe kicking his way out, but…, oh, Ava, I am so ignorant about this entire birthing business."

"Didn't the doctor tell you what to expect?"

She groaned and doubled over. Ava ran to the door and yelled, "Blanche, come quickly."

The girl arrived from her bedroom, rubbing her eyes, her sleep having been disturbed.

"Blanche, run and get your father from the barn, and then go for the doctor. Your mama is going to have a baby."

"A baby!"

"Yes, and the little one is suddenly impatient, so hurry."

Ava snatched the napkin from the accent table where it was lying over the plate of pastry crumbs the ladies left behind from their earlier treat, and used it to pat dry the perspiration beading on Gracie's face.

"When Slate comes, we'll get you up to bed—"

"Oh, Ava, I'm so embarrassed. I've ruined this chair, and my dress… everything is so wet."

"Your water has burst. That's nothing to be ashamed of," Ava reassured her. "It's part of the process."

Gracie grasped Ava's wrist, her fingernails digging into her skin. "What do you know about birthing?"

"One of the girls at the saloon had a baby," Ava said, biting her lip, not wanting to expand on that horror story.

"Why do you look like that? What happened?" Gracie said, panicking.

"One of her past clients came and beat her up for not coming down anymore. He started the labor coming, and she was so fragile…it did not go well."

"The baby died?" Gracie clutched a hand to her bulging stomach.

"Yes. And the mother."

"Did you see it happen?"

"Some, but your situation is totally different. This birthing came on natural-like. It's just your baby wanting to make a house call, is all."

Slate appeared on the scene, looking as ashen as his wife, his white knuckles gripping the casing of the doorway.

Ava called to him. "Slate, we need to get your wife upstairs." When he didn't move, she said in a firmer voice, "Slate—now, before the doctor comes."

He rushed in. "Yeah, Blanche is running for him now." He seemed to have second thoughts. "I shouldn't have let her go out this late. It's dusk, and I think she only had a housecoat on."

"Help me with Gracie, then you can run after her. Hurry, now, Slate. This baby appears to be in a hurry to make an entrance."

Slate bent down, wrapped his arms around his wife, and scooped her into his arms. Fear must have fed his strength, for the woman's size was a load to carry. Up the stairs and into their room, he took her without a missed step.

Ava was there ahead of him, pulling down the blankets and throwing the heavy birthing sheet on the mattress to save it. He laid her down and ran his fingers through his hair while she wailed from another cramp.

"Go—find Blanche and the doctor," Ava ordered. "And be quick about it. I know almost as little as your wife about bringing a baby into the world."

Slate disappeared, and when the pain let up, Ava helped Gracie out of her cumbersome dress and into a flannel nightgown. It took two attempts, and Ava feared the baby would arrive without the doctor. She ran for the crate the couple had previously packed with the items the doctor had suggested. The physician had no idea he was dealing with a houseful of uninformed people whose age should have left them better educated for such an event.

Dr. Breacher arrived upstairs, out of breath from rushing, and with Blanche and Slate on his heels. Husband and daughter stood gaping at the scene unfolding from the door, and when the doctor reached the bedside, Ava went to shoo the spectators away. "Put water on to boil, and make strong coffee. Everyone will need a cup when this is over."

She went back to the bed. The doctor removed his stethoscope from his ears and looked up. "You're Ava Gardner, right?" She nodded, and he continued, "I haven't had the privilege of meeting Gracie's cousin yet, but I heard you were helping out. I appreciate that you gave her an opportunity to rest up. That woman is hard to keep up with. Doctor Breacher is the name."

"Is there anything I can do for you, Doctor Breacher?" she said, marveling at his casual chitchat while his patient writhed in agony in response to yet another bout of pain.

"You've done just fine so far. Our patient is as comfortable as can be expected at this point. The baby has dropped, but I suspect it will be a couple of hours before the tike makes an appearance."

"Can I bring you coffee, sir?"

"That would be right nice of you. I missed supper and almost missed young Blanche, having just come in from an emergency out of town."

"I am grateful that you were available. I'd be lost without you here to handle this."

The doctor laughed. "You sound near as frantic as those two downstairs. Nothing to fear here. Birthing comes naturally to a woman, and Gracie is healthy and strong. It'll all come to pass in the Lord's good time."

Ava exhaled and smiled. "I'll get you some coffee and maybe a bite to nibble on while you work."

"That would be much appreciated, Miss Gardner."

When Ava went downstairs, she was surprised to see Orson Shilling sitting with Slate at the kitchen table. He looked as out of sorts as the father.

He stood when she walked into the kitchen. "Mr. Shilling—"

Blanche intervened. "Oh, thank heavens for Mr. Shilling, my new best friend," the girl over-emphasized. "He found me running down the road in my nightclothes, not wanting to take the time to dress and brought me to the infirmary in his carriage. When Doc wasn't there at first, I panicked, but then his wife pointed to his buggy coming down the road, and Mr. Shilling raced to intercept it and tell him Mama was in labor. About that time, Papa came racing up on his horse, and all three of us followed the doc home."

"That's quite the tale, Blanche. It seems Mr. Shilling is in the habit of being in the right place at the right time." She smiled at the man, and he sat down again. "Coffee, gentlemen?"

"I made some fresh. Strong like you said, Ava," Slate said. "How is Gracie?"

"Fine, now that the doctor is here. Don't you worry none. He says it might take a couple more hours, so I am bringing him up some coffee and a plate of food. With all his doctoring tonight, the man has missed supper."

She went to the pantry and icebox to find food for his plate—some crackers, a pickled egg, cheese, a ham slice, and some leftover potato salad—and placed it on a tray. She poured some black coffee in the biggest cup she could find, hoping to keep the physician alert.

As she headed for the door, Orson jumped to his feet, "Let me help you up with the tray," he offered, taking it from her hands.

"Thank you, kind sir."

On the way up, he casually remarked, "I wondered where you were hiding out lately. Thought for sure I'd made a bad impression and had to stop myself a dozen times from coming and knocking on your door uninvited."

"I harbor no ill will against you. We enjoyed a pleasant evening together. You need not feel it necessary to invite me out a second time."

"Oh, but I've wanted to," he said. "I suppose now is not a good time to talk about such things. I am sorry, Miss Gardner."

"Ava, please," she said. "The doctor has managed to calm my nerves considerably. He might do the same for you—the tray is rattling under your shaky grip."

"I don't plan on going inside. Not a fan of birthing rooms," he said, the same ashen face clouding his usual rosy cheeks.

"You will not be much help calming the father downstairs with a reaction like that, Orson Shilling."

"Glad I was called to construction and not doctoring. I have a weak stomach," he said.

"Well, tonight, I was reminded that this is a natural event in a woman's life, and we need not panic. Nevertheless, we are required to wait patiently while nature takes its course."

At the top of the stairs, he passed the tray off to Ava. "I hope the best for Gracie and her child."

"So far, so good. There is no need for that long face." She felt his eyes on her as she walked the short distance to Gracie's room. Ava glanced to the staircase, smiled, pushed open the door with her hip, and stepped over the threshold, clear of his penetrating observation.