In the Fields

  He looks up at me and beams. “I guess that means I’ll be seein’ ya before nine? I’ll let you make the coffee, and if you stay long enough, we’ll get to that iced tea!”

  That afternoon I ask Shelby if I can make a pie after the restaurant closes. She’s fine with me using whatever I want, so I make Dr. Harrison’s two favorite things—coconut cream pie and blackberry cobbler. As I’m rolling out the dough into strips for the cobbler, I think about Ruby and all the times I spent in that kitchen with her at Harriet’s. I miss her so much, my heart physically aches. The tears roll down my nose and I try to catch them before they drip into the blackberry mixture. I finally lean back on the counter and have a good cry.

  All of a sudden, the baby gives me a walloping kick. I’ve felt little taps here and there and it never ceases to fill me with wonder—that there really is something alive in me, growing in there. This was no tap, though, this one means business. I press on my stomach where I felt the kick and get another jab. I start laughing, along with the tears.

  “Hey, little one. I love you. Everything’s okay. Mama’s gonna be okay. Don’t you worry.” I cover my stomach with both hands and she shifts. “I’m gonna worry about you, not the other way around, so you just settle on down in there, baby girl.” And she does.

  THE NEXT MORNING I wake up with new purpose. I put on one of the few things that still fits me—it’s time to go get some new things, I’m definitely growing steadily now. I have the desserts set in a box and place it on the front seat next to me, as I head over to Dr. H’s house. I haven’t been much of anywhere besides across the street, so venturing off the only road I know in Bardstown is already an adventure. I look at the little map he drew for me on a napkin and remember he said it would take about twelve minutes to drive to his house. That’s quite a trek around here, where everything is within a couple of minutes, at most. I guess I’d expected it to be closer, since he comes to Shelby’s just about every day in his truck. I take a turn here and there, loving the pretty scenery, when I finally see his house down a long road lined with trees on either side.

  Spring has already arrived, far earlier than usual, and it’s fully apparent on Dr. Harrison’s property. He didn’t tell me he lived on a plantation. I clamp my gaping mouth shut and slowly creep down the driveway, taking in the beauty. The brick estate is something out of a storybook. I’ve certainly never been inside such a place. Nellie has told me stories of going through plantations in Louisiana on one of their vacations, but I’ve never seen one up close myself.

  Land sakes.

  Seeing a place like this I would have expected roses, rather than daisies, and sure enough, they’re blooming in abundance. Peonies, daffodils, tulips, and forsythia are sprinkled throughout, too. Clematis winds over two iron arches on either side of the house. Hydrangeas and roses and even magnolias are everywhere I look.

  Once I’ve gathered my senses, I pick up the box and walk toward the front door. Dr. H opens the door before I’ve even knocked.

  “Caroline girl! Right on time. I couldn’t wait—I made some coffee without ya!” He hurriedly takes the box out of my arms and peeks in. “Heavens, girl, what have we got here? Did you do all this?”

  I bashfully nod and go inside. Oh my goodness, it would take me all day and then some to see all the pretty things in this house.

  “Come on, let’s get you inside. I think it’s gonna rain out here pretty soon.” He shuts the door and looks out the window at the clouds. “Have a seat. Well, first, come, let’s get started on these things you made. They look good enough for Jesus.”

  And just like that, my nerves disappear.

  AFTER THAT FIRST visit with Dr. H, I go all the time. Every day off and some afternoons when I get off early, I head over and help him in the garden. Or make supper for him. Or read a book while he reads his. Sometimes when his eyes get tired, I’ll read the paper to him. He seems to love me being there just as much as I do, and I feel so much better when I’m around him.

  I take Brenda over there once in a while, and she loves it there too. He’s never grouchy with her either. I’m starting to think he just didn’t care for Shelby. He’s taken me through all the rooms now. There are eight large bedrooms, one large kitchen and a smaller one off of the servants’ quarters. Dr. H lives in the servants’ quarters, which still shocks me to no end. I think about it for days after he tells me that. I just can’t believe he’d have all those rooms and stay in the tiny stark room off the kitchen.

  “Once the children grew up and moved away, there was no use for all this room. And then when Eileen died…I just didn’t even want to try to stay in the same bedroom any longer. But this home meant everything to my daddy. I don’t want to leave it.”

  All three of his children died long ago, even most of his grandchildren. I get the impression he regrets not having a close relationship with his boys or with the rest of his grandchildren. It sounds like he was always working so hard to keep the plantation afloat after his father died, that he missed out on a lot of years with his children. When we talk about his family, he gets sad, so we rarely talk about any of them but Eileen.

  I still haven’t gotten the nerve to ask just how old he is, but I’m thinking he has to be over 90.

  One night in early April, I’m visiting Dr. H and feeling particularly tired and huge. He asks me to come sit with him. I set the drying towel over the sink ledge and go sit on the couch by his chair. I feel the beginnings of a waddle coming on and I’m trying to avoid it with every step. My back hurts. I worked a long shift at Shelby’s and had already said I’d come see Dr. H before I knew I’d have to work such a grueling day. He hasn’t been in the diner for a few days, feeling a little under the weather. It feels good to sit down. I must let out a huge sigh or something because Dr. H turns to me and chuckles.

  “You work too hard, Caroline girl. You’re in the last stretch, aren’t ya? Needin’ to take it more easy now, hear me?”

  “I hear ya. I just have to keep workin’ as long as I possibly can.”

  Dr. H looks at me with his watery eyes and studies my face and my stomach. “I don’t know why you don’t just come stay here. You know there’s more than enough room.”

  He brings this up now at least once every visit. I would love nothing more than to stay here with him, but as long as I’m working, it’s handy to be across the street from the diner. And I don’t know how he’d really feel about having a baby in the house later on. It’s one thing to say that I’m welcome now, and another when there’s a baby crying in the middle of the night. Although as big as this house is, he probably wouldn’t hear a thing.

  “You drinkin’ enough water?” he asks.

  “Yes, sir, I think so.”

  “Taking vitamins?”

  “I started once you told me to.”

  “What has your doctor said lately about everything? You on schedule and all? You never do tell me what the doctor’s sayin’.” The way he looks at my stomach, I can tell he’s assessing it with his medical eye.

  I usually avoid the topic of the doctor and specifics with my due date like it’s the plague, but for some reason, tonight the evasions don’t come quickly for me. I stare back at him and my face crumbles. Shoot, fire, save the matches.

  “What is it, dear?” He leans forward in his chair and lays his leathery hand on my arm. His eyes look so concerned, it makes the tears start flowing.

  “I never went to the doctor, Dr. H,” I confess.

  I put my face in my hands and try to wipe the tears as fast as they’re coming, but there’s no catching them all.

  “Child, why ever not?” he asks in alarm. “You’re saying you haven’t been at all? Is it money? I don’t know why you’re fighting me on that.”

  I know without looking that his eyebrows are doing that thing I love where they’re all bunched up in one big fluffy white mess.

  “Well, we’re going tomorrow and that’s that. I can call Dr. Mansfield first thing in the morning and he’ll fit you i
n.” His voice softens. “You’ve already proven you are quite independent, my dear. Let me help you. I don’t know what you’re trying to pr-”

  “You know I can’t take it, Dr. H,” I interrupt. “I’m doing fine. I’m saving money even, it’s just-”

  The sob gets stuck in my throat and I can’t gulp it away. It comes gushing out.

  He gets up and sits next to me on the couch, leaning my head over onto his shoulder. I sit there and cry for I don’t know how long. He pats my head gently and makes soothing sounds until I catch my breath and stop wailing.

  “I haven’t been honest with you, Dr. H,” I whisper.

  “Oh? Well, I reckon we all have secrets we want to keep,” he says. “But you ought to know, I have a few of my own. Maybe we have some surprises left in us after all?” He laughs. “I’ve lived long enough that I don’t think I have a judgin’ bone in my body. That left, along with my pride, a long, long time ago. Whatever you say here won’t go past these walls.”

  I look over at him and pat his hand that rests on my arm. Distractedly, I push along the old man veins on his hand and arm. When I push down, with barely any resistance, the skin indents and stays that way for a few minutes. Slowly, with lots of starts and stops, I tell him my story. Just as when I told Brenda, he doesn’t react like he wants to hang me by the toes when I tell him about loving Isaiah. I have a feeling he knew the story about my husband wasn’t true. Tears slowly roll down his cheeks when I tell him about Les and Leroy.

  “I’m scared to know,” I whisper. “I want this baby to be Isaiah’s more than anything, but…I’d rather just not even know. I’m gonna love this baby whether it’s his or not.” I blow my nose in the hankie Dr. H hands me. “Oh, and I’m not quite sixteen, but I will be next month,” I finish. “And that really is everything—pretty much all the secrets I’ve got.”

  “Fifteen?” He shakes his head. “Mercy me.”

  He pulls another handkerchief out of the end table drawer and gives his nose a good honk.

  “Caroline, listen to me.” He turns my head to face him and makes sure I’m looking in his eyes before he continues. “Even though you’ve only been in my life a short time, we’ve covered more ground in one day than I ever have with any of my family, besides Eileen, of course. And it’s that way every time we’re together—was right from the start.” He grins at me. “You feel more like family than any of my grandchildren or even my own children ever did, and that’s worth more to me than I can even tell you.”

  He leans his forehead over on mine for a second and I sniffle.

  “Now,” he says in his gruff voice that I know isn’t really gruff, “here’s what we’re gonna do. I want you to move into this house…the sooner, the better. I’m not gonna take any more arguments about it. You don’t need to raise a baby in a tiny motel room, I won’t stand for it. And I might be old, but maybe now I can finally learn how to be a proper grandfather.” He chuckles and gives me a wink. “Or Papa—do I look like a Papa?”

  I wrap my arms around him and squeeze him until he squeaks out a cough. “Oh, sorry!” I half-laugh and half-hiccup. “Yes, you do look like a Papa. And I like you far better than my own,” I admit.

  He pats my leg before getting up and walking to his desk across the room.

  “Well, we can just keep that to ourselves, in case I ever run into him,” he says. “Although, I do have some things I’d like to say to all of your family!”

  He shakes his head sadly. He rolls back the top of his desk and pulls out a little key to unlock one of the compartments. I see his mouth shift when he finds what he’s looking for. He brings it back to me, opening my hand to give me a key.

  “This is a key to the house. It’s yours now.”

  I stutter and don’t know whether to laugh or start crying again.

  “Thank you, Dr. H.” I hug his neck. “It’ll take a little while before I get used to calling you Papa, but know that’s what you already are to me.”

  He smiles so big, his cheeks nearly reach his eyebrows. “You can call me whatever you want to, child. Now, how about you get going to that room of yours tonight, rest, get packed up and tomorrow after your appointment with Dr. Mansfield, we’ll bring your things back here to stay.”

  I nod, too overwhelmed to do anything else.

  He gives my hand another pat. “I’ve been wishing you’d say yes for a long time. It’s gonna be real good to have laughter in this house again, Caroline, real good.”

  THE NEXT MORNING, Dr. H calls with the time for my appointment and fifteen minutes before we’re supposed to arrive, he pulls up in his pickup truck to take me to the doctor. I barely have anything to put in the back. A suitcase and a couple bags of food are pretty much all I own.

  It’s handy to not have to crouch down to get in a car. I can just lean sideways and sort of fall right into the truck. I feel like I’ve grown overnight, so any little bit of help is appreciated. Spring has already jumped on ahead to summer, even though it’s not technically due for another couple of months. Apparently you can’t tell that to Kentucky, just like you can’t in Tennessee. Sweat rolls down my back and my dress sticks to my skin. My hair is pulled up in a high ponytail. If my mama could see me now. She’d be throwing out a comment about me looking like something the cat dragged in. I’m too pregnant to care.

  “Let me get this air working for ya, Caroline girl. You look downright miserable.”

  “I don’t know what I’d do if I were short. A lady came in the diner last week and she was a petite little thing and her pregnant belly looked like it went right up to her neck, like she was choking with baby.”

  I shudder just thinking about it. I don’t think I’ve ever been so grateful to be tall as I was when I saw her trying to catch a breath.

  Dr. H lets out a laugh so loud the windows of the truck give a tiny rattle. “You do say the funniest things, child.”

  I grin at him lovingly. In such a short amount of time, he has become the happiest part of my day. When he calls me child, my gut aches for Ruby, I miss her every single day. I don’t know how I would have survived without Dr. H. When I’m away from him, all I can do is pine for Isaiah. I’m still angry with him and so heartbroken, but I miss him so much, it hurts. Every night, I go through a grieving process that I know needs to end soon. I can’t keep mourning the loss of Isaiah or I will be no good to this baby.

  I sure wish Isaiah could meet Dr. H, though. He’d love him too. Thinking of Isaiah sobers me up quick. I look out the window and wish for the day that Isaiah isn’t always the one my thoughts lead to…

  The first thing Dr. H says to Dr. Mansfield when we get inside the small office is: “I’d like you to meet my granddaughter, Caroline. She’s had a hard way to go—husband di—” he keeps talking, but it’s all mumbled and then comes back strong with, “—carrying this baby by herself. She’s a young little thing, but tough as my Aunt Euler. I want you to take good care of her, Joseph, ya hear me?”

  Dr. Mansfield nods his head gravely and looks at me with sympathy. I blush from head to toe. When Dr. H leaves the room and throws a wink over his shoulder, I get a mad case of the giggles. I try to get a serious face back, to at least match Dr. Mansfield’s sorrowful expression.

  After answering a million questions, Dr. Mansfield does an examination and takes measurements. It’s appalling enough to convince me to never have another baby ever again. He pulls his hand out of me and I look everywhere in the room but at him. He clears his throat.

  “Everything feels good. You have the perfect birth canal for having a baby.”

  I confess to tuning out to whatever he said after perfect birth canal, but my ears perk up at this:

  “Given that you don’t know the date of your last cycle, I can’t give an exact due date, but I’d say you’re measuring about right for late May to early June.”

  I want to ask if he can tell me when that would mean I conceived, but I don’t have the nerve. His answer doesn’t tell me anything. I still don’t know
. But I’m not as upset as I thought I would be.

  Brenda would say it’s a blessing because she knows my mind has been all-consumed by knowing who the daddy is. But today, it’s enough to know that my baby is okay. I have a place to call home now. And as odd as it may be, I can be happy that even though it’s small, I even have some semblance of a family.

  ONCE AGAIN I have another new routine that I’ve fallen into, except this is one I love. Dr. H—my beloved papa—and I get up every morning, have a cup of coffee together, and then he drives me over to Shelby’s. He stays there for a little while, chats with some of his friends, and then comes back to pick me up in the afternoon. In the evenings, Brenda will come visit and we listen, enraptured, to Dr. H’s stories about the love of his life and their romance.

  Not long after I move in, Dr. H comes and finds me outside, working in his garden. I can’t really get to anything too low or I’ll never get back up again, but everything higher is properly deadheaded and pruned. He comes along behind me and does what I can’t reach.

  “Come here, love, I want to show you somethin’,” he says, standing at the end of the roses.

  I wipe my head and pull off the gardening gloves. He holds out his arm and I hook mine through it. We walk past the gardens, past the grapes that have kept the plantation going for years, and around the curve of an outbuilding. Taking my hand, he helps me inside the barn and leads me to a spot in the floor that looks like any other. He bends down with a grunt and lifts the slabs of wood one at a time. Underneath the wood, I see steps leading down into a dark room.

  “Now when you’ve had this baby and are feeling spry again, I’ll bring you back here. But I wanted you to know about this place, Caroline. And you’ll see why, even though I jest about not settin’ foot in a church and all, you’ll know I believe God brought you to me for a reason.”

  He has my curiosity fully wrapped by now. I look at him, waiting to hear everything.