A Tendering in the Storm (Change and Cherish Historical)

  On weekends, Andy helped with the laundry and stayed out of Jack’s way. During the week, Kate followed my directions carefully to make sure she served the bacon crisp as Jack insisted, the coffee sweet, and the whipped cream stiff enough to support a cinnamon stick. Christian, with his stutter ever increasing, huddled close to me whenever Big Jack stomped around.

  I counted the days until the end of June when the baby was due and my life would return to some semblance of normalcy. Ach! My life had never been normal, not since I’d headed west with Christian. And I didn’t want to return to the norm that was Jack. But I did need to stand, to hold my child, make a new plan and pray I had the power to complete it.

  On the twenty-third of June, the baby made motions as though to arrive. Andy worked outside with Jack, cutting branches off the big cedar that had fallen in the March storm. At the first sharp pain in my back, I sent Kate out to tell Jack to send for Mary. I heard her shout as she headed out the door, “Andy, Mama’s having that baby. She says to go get Aunt Mary.” Tell Jack, I thought, but it was too late.

  Andy ran inside. Jack followed him. “You women. You can wait until we’re done here.”

  “I’ll go,” Andy said.

  “You’re always looking for a reason to run off. You stay and help.”

  “This isn’t exactly running off, Jack,” I said. A pain rose up and through me and I panted until it eased. “It might be sooner than you think. Please, just go get Mary.”

  “Please. Just go get Mary,” Jack mocked.

  I fell back onto the bed and closed my eyes. “Not now, Jack.”

  “Ach,” he said. “I’ll go then. Get this over with.”

  “Go finish up your work, Andy,” I said. “Kate’s here. Mary will be soon.”

  My oldest son moved at a snail’s pace toward the door.

  “Get out there!” Jack shouted at him. Andy slipped past him so the foot Jack kicked at him struck only air.

  I felt the sweat on my brow, the rising of another pain. I pulled myself up onto my elbows. “Don’t you hurt my son!”

  Jack cursed me then, used words I’ve never heard a man say to any human being, only to mules or cows or hogs that didn’t do what they wished. Kate’s eyes were big as eggs and she put her hands to her ears. Jack hit the back of her head with his palm as she sucked her head into her narrow shoulders, moving out of his way as he pushed on by. Christian began to cry now next to me, and I shushed him, hoping to defend what I could.

  Jack stomped outside. The goat bleated as she always did at a human’s presence whether friend or foe. I heard him shout something to Andy that I couldn’t understand. I hoped Andy didn’t talk back. Jack’s retort came from the direction of the trail to Mary’s. Mary would come back with him and Jack would behave with her here. He’d show his cheerful side, the side that Mary expected. Sarah might believe me if I told her about my captivity, but I couldn’t imagine any one of the Giesys giving any credit to my charges.

  I was grateful when Mary arrived. We spent a long evening together as I panted and squeezed her hand to press against the pain. I heard myself saying as a rhythm to the arch, “You, you, you, you, you,” but I silenced the end of it, kept “must go” to myself.

  In the early hours while the children slept, I felt as though my insides tore in two. The warmth of my own blood seared like salt rubbed into an open wound. My second daughter arrived in the world.

  “She’s a big baby,” Mary said. “She’s torn you. I’ll have to sew. It’ll be painful.”

  “Let me see her first.”

  Mary laid her on my stomach while she tended to the cord. I’d decided to call her Louisa for our Prussian queen, but mostly for my sister. She could have been Kate’s twin, the two looked so alike. She was the largest of all my children, and yet she weighed not more than eight pounds. Her heart-shaped face looked wrinkled and stressed from all the pushing and shoving, but she had blue eyes and a fluff of tiny dark curls covered her head like a cap. She didn’t look a thing like Jack.

  Mary’s stitching hurt worse than the delivery, if that was possible. She used the needle from my chatelaine, moved it through a hot flame to sanitize it and then began to sew with a heavy thread. My baby’s size and my great weight gain and lack of movement and that puffiness must all have added to the complications.

  “Louisa?” Jack said when I introduced him later to his daughter. “No, we’re not naming her for your sister. Didn’t you say she fell and is strange now? Why would you name a child after someone not whole? No.”

  His words stung. My sister was whole and so was this child. “After Louisa Keil, then. Think of her name as honoring Herr Keil,” I said, believing that might move him.

  “Nein. If it has to be a girl rather than a boy you bear me, then I pick a solid name, a strong one. I pick Ida,” he said. “Ida is what we’ll call her. After my mother.”

  It was the first mention of Jack’s real family he’d ever made.

  Ida did have a good suck, and praises be I had milk to feed her. It seemed a wonder that after three children my fourth could take nourishment from me, a special though ironic gift. All the other children arrived as easy as otters slide the riverbanks but had been challenging to keep alive after that. Ida’s pregnancy and delivery carried memories of complications, but in her taking her own breath, she gained weight and was a healthy child who made few demands. And I could fill her up. The smallest of blessings.

  Jack paid little attention to Ida, wrinkled his nose at the smell of her soiled napkins. He couldn’t use her so he ignored her, I thought.

  In early July I told Jack I thought I should see a doctor. I knew from my own scent that I had a serious infection, and the pain grew worse. “Can you go get him for me, or will you help take us all there?” I dreaded riding a mule feeling as I did, but I didn’t know if he’d believe me that I needed a doctor. “Maybe you could put me in the cart. I’m not sure I can ride.”

  “You want my help and then you want to tell me how to give it? You … woman,” he said with such disgust in his voice that tears pooled in my eyes. My emotions were like a pot left boiling then cooled, then boiling again as though someone stoked the fire beneath it.

  “You just want an excuse to get someone else to come here.”

  “I think the stitches are infected.”

  “Use your healing herbs, Emma Giesy. I’ve no time to run off and bring someone back for you for sympathy.”

  “Jack. I need someone. Send Andy, then.”

  “Stop being a burden on me, you and your children.”

  “Jack—”

  “Will these demands never end?” He pressed his head between his hands. “These … these complaints that are in your head?”

  “I’ll go, Mama,” Andy said. He ducked past Jack and headed toward the door, but Jack grabbed him and held him up with his arm. Jack was tall and strong and he lifted my son. While he dangled there, Jack struck him with his fist. My son yelped.

  “You will do as you’re told,” he raged, then threw Andy against the door. I rose, shouted. He turned on me. “I’ll break your cussed neck,” he said. “Enough of this lying in bed.” He began a tirade of cursing. Andy picked himself up and before Jack could reach him, my son shot through the door and ran toward the road.

  “See what you’ve done?” Jack said as he headed out after Andy. “You did this!”

  I prayed now.

  I prayed that my son would know the little back ways to take through the trees, to be a silent as a mouse as he raced for help. I prayed that Jack would tire and return, be disgusted though his rage simmered. Why does this have to be so hard? I leaned back onto the bed. I was a little coin lost in the corner of a kitchen hearth, hoping to be picked up by someone safe and kind and loving. I’d once wanted to be the shiniest coin in the realm. Now, I just wanted to be found.

  Jack returned, had not chased after my son. He ate, then left, and did not come back to the bed that night. This wasn’t the first time he’d spent nights
away. I was never sure where he went; I didn’t care. The doctor arrived the next day. Andy was not with him. The doctor confirmed my suspicions and gave me packs to place across the stitches to try to pull out the infection.

  “The stitching was well done,” he said. “But there was infection there. It has gone … inside, Frau Giesy. It may affect your being able to conceive again if we aren’t successful in treating it.”

  “I just want to be well enough to look after the four I have,” I said.

  “You have a good son there in Andy.”

  “He didn’t come back with you.”

  The doctor didn’t look at me, kept working. “He said he wanted to visit his grandmother. Fine lad. Very thoughtful.”

  And wise, I thought. Very wise.

  Jack complained the following week about Andy’s not being there to do his chores. I didn’t try to defend my son, finding that my words only angered Jack more.

  Later, I felt well enough to be up churning the milk for the first time in months. The day was hot and I waited until the evening to do it. I sat. Standing still caused pain. Ida slept and Jack stayed away late, a relief for us all. I finished the churning, then went to the half barn to bring in the chickens and check on Opal. I petted her back, ran her silky ears between my fingers as she nudged at my cane. I took short steps and breathed deeply. Kate had helped milk the cows and now played with her doll, convincing her younger brother that he was a dog. They laughed together like normal children. I leaned against the barn wall. If only it could be like this always, the children in peaceful habitations, secure dwelling places. At least Andy was safe. How ironic that I’d married Jack to keep my children with me and now my son’s being with his grandmother was the better choice. I walked back into the house.

  There sat Andy, Jack’s muzzle loader laid across his knees.

  My heart pounded. “What are you doing, Andy?”

  “I’m waiting for Jack so he won’t hurt anyone anymore.”

  You, you, you must go. You, you, you must go. Seeing my son sit there with a gun in his hands brought the words back. Andy had to go; so did we. If we didn’t, Andy would do something that would grieve him for a lifetime. If Jack even knew he considered it, he’d harm the boy. I knew that too. Violence begat violence. I couldn’t stay here any longer. I had to take my children and get out. I just didn’t know how I’d do it.

  “Andy, go back to your Oma and your uncle Martin, and stay there until I come to get you, all right?”

  He shook his head. “I have to take care of you. He hurts people and he hurts you, and a papa isn’t supposed to do that.”

  “I know. But you can’t fix things by hurting Jack back. That isn’t the way to do this. Your father would never want you to do it that way.”

  “Papa would want me to take care of you.”

  “And you have done such a fine job of it. You will, if you go now, before Jack comes home. Go stay with Martin.”

  “You won’t come. It’ll be like that other time.”

  “That’s not true. I will come. See, I’m up using a cane now. Andy, give me Jack’s gun. Please. You have to listen to me.”

  I’d let my son have too much say in our lives, depended on him too much, and now when I needed him to just be a child and listen, he resisted. “I’m still your mama, remember?”

  He shook his head. “You’re sick still.”

  Please, please, please. “I’m better. I’ve churned the milk and fed the chickens. Andy.” I grabbed for the gun and had it in my hands before he could hold back. I was still stronger than he was despite my ailing. “Now go. You’ll be safe at Oma’s. That’s what matters. Please.” He held his fists at his side, opening and closing them. I leaned into him then and hugged him to me. “You have to go,” I whispered. “I’d die if Jack hurt you; you mean so much to me. It doesn’t seem right, I know, but doing this, leaving, will be the greatest gift you can give right now. I’ll make plans. I’ll find a way. But first, you have to be safe.”

  I felt his shoulders sag, and then he straightened. “Should I take Christian with me?”

  I hadn’t thought of that. “Ja,” I said. “That would be gut. Both of you, safe there.” Then it would be easier for me to take Kate and Ida away from here while Jack was gone. I could collect the boys and then sail down the Willapa to the coast. Or maybe I could pick them up and go to Olympia or Steilacoom. And what then? I couldn’t even stand for longer than ten minutes.

  I started to cry but swallowed the tears. “Take Christian. I’ll say that Karl came by and took him to visit you at his grandparents. Jack won’t question that. You go. Christian,” I called him in from outside. He ran with glee to Andy. “You boys be very quiet now. Andy is taking you to visit Oma, but you must stay out of Jack’s way. He’ll be coming back soon and you’ll want to miss him on the trail. So you have to be quiet and very careful. It’s a game,” I told Christian. “No cheating. Just listen to your brother.”

  “Wh-what do I take?”

  “Nothing,” I said. “You both go. Now.”

  “Mama?” Kate asked. “Can I—”

  “No.” I hated that I put her at risk because she was a girl. “I’ll need your help with Ida, and Jack would question why I let you go with Karl. We’ll go there later.”

  My heart pounded as I put Jack’s gun back on the pegs, then threw food into a bag for the boys. Andy took the bag over his shoulder, then reached for Christian’s hand. Andy would be eight in October; Christian had just turned three. I hugged them both, then said, “Hurry. Stay away from Mary and Boshie’s house, don’t let them see you. Go straight to Oma’s. Promise me.” Andy nodded and I stifled a sob as I watched them walk bent over like little old men who’d already seen more than they should have.

  My mind began to spill with possibilities. I’d wait until tomorrow, after Jack had left for the mill. Then I’d pack what we needed for the baby and forget the rest. I scanned the room. Leave everything here. And go … I still didn’t know where, only that we had to leave this place and never return.

  Sarah and Sam would take us in, but then Jack would direct his wrath at them, maybe Edwin. They might loan me some cash, though, enough for the ship’s fare to … someplace. Maybe San Francisco, where we could get lost in the crowds. Maybe I could head back to Bethel, face my parents and beg their forgiveness. But I was so weak. Such long journeys would be too much, especially with four children in tow. Would it be better to wait for a month or so, until I was stronger? My eye caught Jack’s gun. I remembered the look in Andy’s eyes. He would kill Jack if given a chance. Jack wouldn’t let them stay at Barbara’s forever. He’d want Andy to work here. How ironic that having my son close to me could be the worst thing for him.

  What would Jack expect when he came home to an empty house? That I’d gone to Sarah and Sam’s. So not there. Maybe he’d think of Steilacoom, because I loved it there. Not there. Where do I go? Where, oh, where?

  Aurora Mills.

  The words stung like sand against my face. I tried to pitch the thought away but I couldn’t. Go to Aurora Mills after all Keil had done to my life? I’d be admitting everything I’d done here was a mistake, was somehow wrong. I’d be failing Christian.

  But of course I wasn’t failing Christian. He wasn’t here to fail. And he’d already forgiven Keil for that harsh winter those years past. Before he died he’d come to see Willapa as a part of Aurora Mills, as a part of the colony’s growth here in the West, much as I hated that. Christian would be pleased I was heading there; maybe he was even pushing me in that direction, if a husband’s spirit could do such a thing. But I couldn’t; I just couldn’t go there.

  My brother wasn’t there anymore. My face burned with the thought of having to ask for help. I could not find a way to live within the constraints of that colony; I could not!

  But there was only one I could ask for asylum, one who might be strong enough to hold Jack in check. A rush of emotion heated my face. Should I leave Andy and Christian behind? Just for
a time. I’d come back for them. I would. But once I was gone, would Jack take them, use them to compel me to return? We’d all have to go. To Portland. To San Francisco. It didn’t matter where, just so long as we were far from here.

  30

  Emma

  Attenuated Anguish

  Once decided, my heart pounded with firm direction. Feed the baby. Prepare an evening meal. Act normal. Think. It felt good to be acting, to move past just huddling in fear, coughing up responses.

  “Where’s Christian?” Jack asked as we sat at the supper table. He’d arrived home, completed his usual chores, then come inside. His eyes looked red as though he hadn’t slept well. I tried to remember how long he’d stayed up when he awakened in the night; couldn’t remember when he’d come back to bed.

  “Karl came by and picked him up,” I lied. “He was visiting Martin and Barbara and thought we might want to go as well, to see Andy.” Jack grunted. “But of course I told him I wasn’t up to anything like that. I was sure Barbara would enjoy seeing both her grandsons and I didn’t think you’d mind.”

  “People just come by and decide what to do with my children?” he said.

  “I imagine he thought he was doing me a favor, taking a child off my hands with this little one so demanding.”

  “Her name is Ida. It means ‘work and labor,’ things children should learn at a young age,” Jack said

  “Does it?”

  “You maybe could use her name.”

  “Yes, I could. And do.” I served Jack his favorite, a cake with cocoa and honey and some of that coconut we occasionally got from the Sandwich Islands. He ate his fill, went outside, returned, dozed in his chair, then stood up with a start. “I’m going to bed. Keep your cleanup quiet.”

  He never even held his daughter. Instead, he snored while I stood over the hot water then sat at the table cleaning the dishes and watching him sleep. Later, I held Ida to me, feeding her, rocking her softly. Kate slept in the loft. I planned my future and what I’d take with me. Only eight years previous I’d made a similar sorting of what to take from Bethel to this new land.