Lincoln County Series 1-3 (22 page)

Despite many hours of rest and doing nothing over the past three weeks, Cameron struggled with lack of strength. It was true she had not seen many women expecting a baby when she was younger, but hardly thought that absolute weakness was normal. When Dr. Grover visited to examine her, his concerned face told her it was not.

Andrew had done everything. He cooked and cleaned and took care of an incompetent wife. He ran the church and looked to everyone’s needs but his own.

And Cameron resented it—every moment.

This was not how one’s first year of marriage ought to be. What kind of a wife could not fulfill her duties? Duties as simple as cooking and taking care of her husband? Of carrying a baby?

She looked upon Dr. Grover as he was preparing to leave.

 “When am I going to regain my strength?”

“I should think you would be better by now.” He spoke the truth, and at least she respected that of him, even if he appeared without much empathy.

“I sense nothing wrong with your baby, but the fever should not have had this effect on you for so long, we need to wait.”

She was tired of sitting in bed, tired of staring at the walls. She couldn’t stand to see Andrew come home, weary after a day of traveling to see parishioners, only to prepare supper for her. His smile was always gracious and his tone always polite, but she wondered how long he could stand it as well.

 “I’m sick of waiting!”

She preferred not to be so testy, especially after Dr. Grover traveled to her home week after week. She picked at the quilt on her lap, already working on the baby’s second blanket. At this rate, her son would have a heap of them by the time he was born.

He braced to leave, or escape her. “No one thinks ill of you for being bedridden, it happens.”

She looked up at him hopefully. “It does?”

“I’ll be by next week. Maybe you’ll feel more like yourself then.”

He slid his arm slowly through the sleeve of his coat and bid her good-bye. Knowing Andrew would be home soon, she chose to brush out her tangled hair and willed her state of being to be less impatient and less cross.

*** *** ***

Before heading home for the day, Andrew paid the lumber mill for his purchases. His plans were finally beginning to unfold. Now they could build an add-on room to the house.

He mounted the lead horse and Clayton, one of the mill workers, followed with a flatbed wagon of freshly cut wood. With them was Penny Keiser. Andrew thought to surprise Cameron. He figured she could use the girl’s chatter for company. Besides, Penny had pestered him through and through to spend an afternoon with Cameron and today he would take her up on it.

The repercussions of Cameron’s weakened health were beginning to wear on him. He recalled Cameron’s beaming face when she announced a fluttery feeling their baby presented in her womb. That had been a good day. If only there were more of those.

When they arrived, he announced his homecoming. “I’ve someone with me to visit you.”

As Penny went off to his wife’s bedroom he said to Clayton, “Coffee’s still warm. Help yourself.”

Penny returned immediately, and what she said was barely an audible squeak. “Reverend Andrew…Miss Cameron...blood.” She burst into tears.

He rushed past her. Cameron was white as the melting snow outside and all around the middle of their bed was a haunting, bright red pool of blood. Her lips were gray and she—unconscious. After being paralyzed with fear, he gripped her frail shoulders. “Cameron! Can you hear me?”

She moaned, a sign of life at least.

Clayton had some sense. “I’m going for the doctor.”

Andrew scooped Cameron away from her blood. “Hurry!”

He wept. Why had he left her alone? Couldn’t he do anything right? She was his responsibility under God, and he continued to fail time and time again.

Penny stood frightened, looking in. “Mr. Clayton told me to help.”

He’d forgotten about her, obviously. He jerked his head towards the sheets on the bed. “Clean sheets. I don’t want her lying on those.”

Cameron moaned again.

“I’m here for you. I’m so sorry I left. I shouldn’t have...” He could not lose control. He cradled her like a baby until Clayton returned with Dr. Grover.

Blessedly, Penny was efficient, and in no time had new sheets on the bed and hot water boiling on the stove. Andrew replaced his bride in the freshness of their bed and kneeled in prayer until the doctor entered.

After several minutes of Dr. Grover’s administrations, he reported to Andrew. “I’ve been reading up on her symptoms. I’ve also been in contact with a few of my colleagues back East. They are more current in the field. I believe what she has is called anemia.”

“Anemia?” The diagnosis did not sound good.

“That is why she’s so weak. That is why her body rejected the baby.”

Agony vibrated between Andrew’s ears and all he heard was
rejected the baby… my baby
.

Dr. Grover continued. “Losing blood has made it worse. I’m going to need to treat her, or we will lose her, too.”

A numbing sensation overtook him. He was not hearing this. He was not the receiver of these words of death spoken over his wife.

Jake’s voice cut in. “What do we need to do?”

Andrew whipped around to see Jake standing in the doorway. With no sense to ask him why he was present, he stood to his full height, waiting for the doctor’s response. Deep down Andrew was glad for Jake’s presence. He didn’t care how Cameron got better—he just wanted her back, whole and healthy.

Dr. Colvin looked Jake square in the eye. “I need Thomas and I need him now. I must transfuse his blood into her body.”

Andrew blanched and saw the task was not a welcome one to the doctor, but a necessary one.

Jake nodded and left.

Chapter Twelve

It was the crude looking instrument that caused the men uneasiness, with the exception of Dr. Grover. Andrew looked towards the crease in Thomas’s arm, then looked away from the copper metal tool invading his flesh. Thomas tightly gripped the arm of his chair. The unfamiliar treatment made them all queasy. They were as gray as Cameron. Dr. Grover’s hands were steady as he slowly pulled back what could only be called the trigger on this tube, draining blood out of Thomas. They all stared at the process in curious awe, and when the doctor slowly pulled the long, ugly needle from Thomas’s arm, they cringed as one.

Dr. Grover walked with care towards Cameron, needle upright. He wiped the blood oozing from the sharp point with a cloth and gently pulled Cameron’s limp arm into position to receive her deposit of blood. The only sound heard was Andrew’s soft prayers as he knelt at his wife’s bedside, out of the doctor’s way. The foreign process was repeated not once, but two more times. No one dared utter the unasked question—
will she be all right?

Thomas looked almost as pale as his sister did. The doctor was stern when he tried to rise from the chair. “Sit down, Thomas!” he said tersely. “Jake, get him something to eat or drink.” He then spoke to Thomas in a calmer tone. “I don’t have the energy to be working on you should you have a spell and fall. You’re going to be weak a short while.”

The doctor’s intolerant tone snapped Andrew out of his reverie of prayers and he took note of the fatigue in his eyes. “Dr. Grover, please sit at the table and rest, eat, whatever you need to do. I don’t have words enough to say thank you, but
I am
very grateful to you.”

“I know you are.” The doctor stopped on his way out of the bedroom, filled with uncertainty and much hope, and looked at Thomas. “You are a good person, young man, despite what you think of yourself or what anyone else says of you. If she lives, it’s because of you and the good Lord above.”

Penny entered and proceeded to scoop up the soiled blankets, earlier left out of view and still in the corner of the room.

Andrew said firmly, “No!”

The unexpected act of his brashness startled her to tears. His stare was lost within the sheets. Somewhere in them was his baby, his son or his daughter. He could not let go. This was not real. It would not sink in—ever.

“I’m...I’m sorry,” she stammered and backed away.

Andrew had never spoken so to anyone before.

Thomas opened his eyes lazily. “Just leave that be a little while longer, all right?”

Obediently, Penny nodded.

*** *** ***

Cameron awoke to Andrew’s fingertips lightly stroking her cheek. She lay there awhile, relishing his touch. Suddenly, her hands clutched her abdomen and her eyes flew wide open. She focused on him. “Our baby?”

Tears formed in his eyes—it was answer enough. She turned away and stared blankly at the plain wall. She did not answer when he talked in soothing tones, as if she could be comforted. What she did do was close her eyes, shut him out, and will for him to go away and leave her alone.

When he did not give her peace, she became brutal and said, “I want to be alone!”

Though instant regret was forming in her mind, she refused to acknowledge an apology. She couldn’t do anything but mourn her baby.

A while after her outburst she heard voices outside her door. Had she fallen asleep again? Yes, she had after another round of begging her husband to leave her be. Telling him his absence is what would make her better. Had she really been so cruel?

Now she was groggy and…lost. Finally, she picked up the hushed tones of Lacey and Andrew discussing her.

“She won’t see anyone. She will ignore you, or if you’re lucky, she will speak to you and tell you to go away.” Andrew sounded miserable.

“That doesn’t sound like Cameron.”

“She’s not herself just now. Please, don’t go in. She needs to rest.”

But she didn’t need rest. She needed her baby back.

*** *** ***

Andrew did leave her alone, but only because he was desperate. He called on Doc Colvin, even though his friend had been trying to retire for months. He was the one who would know how to help. “She won’t eat,” Andrew said.

“That doesn’t surprise me. She’s not only lost a child, she’s also suffering from a feeling of failure. It was her body that lost a baby,
your
baby. That sense of loss affects one’s ability to rationalize natural circumstance. Cameron was quite ill but she’ll get better, and one day you will have lots of babies to fill your home.”

“I don’t know about that Doc. It’s as if she blames me. I want to reach her and don’t know how.”

“I assure you, she’ll come around. You have an advantage over most of us. You have faith, hope and love. Folks think that preachers need to do all the praying, but I’ll be doing some praying on your behalf.”

Andrew blinked back the moisture in his eyes. “We appreciate you and your kindness.”

“Go on home to your wife, Reverend, and give her time—time to mourn, and as unnecessary as it is, to forgive herself.”

*** *** ***

Andrew sat in his darkened living area with Cameron, as usual, alone in the back room. All was quiet with the exception of sputtering and crackling sounds coming from the fireplace. With elbows balanced on knees, he tucked his face within both hands. He needed to think, to pray, to ponder.

There was simply nothing else he could do for his wife’s state of mind. Nothing except give it up to the One who is the most able to comfort and care for her—for their marriage. Several moments of silence and waiting passed before Andrew felt a peace settle over him, removing anxiety, doubt, and fear of not being enough for his hurting wife. Yes, he was her husband and had a role to play, but it had been played out.

He’d been attempting to handle this crisis on his own and he now realized it was not meant to be upon his shoulders. “Forgive me, Lord. I’ve taken responsibilities beyond myself. I give this situation, Cameron, our...baby up to You. I ask that You make a way for things to be right. Touch her heart as you’ve been so faithful in touching mine.”

Release and ease came. Andrew looked towards the door that was always shut, the door his wife used to separate him from her, unconsciously using it to shut out hurt and pain. It was his baby, too, and he, too, felt grief and the pain of loss, but he did not understand Cameron’s lack of hope, and he did not understand her depression and not being able to rise above this. He was ready to step aside and allow God to work in her life. It was time for him to go to the church and prepare a sermon for Sunday. Newly filled with peace, he whispered to the closed door, “Bless you, Cameron Jackson.”

*** *** ***

Cameron heard the door click and was torn between relief at being alone and anger at him for leaving. As her conflicting feelings warred with each other, she curled herself up and lay on her side. She’d been letting herself go, having no desire to do anything but remain in the safety of her bed—alone—eating only out of necessity and seeing no one. She did not care about anything, for nothing was worse than losing her baby. And Andrew, how could he move on so quickly? Did he not care? 

With an abundant amount of time on her hands, she began to think about her childhood. Her drunken father’s rages. She’d spent many hours as a child crawling up into a ball in a corner of the house, pulling her dirtied apron over her head so she couldn’t see. Shoving her palms against her ears so she couldn’t hear. To sit and wait for the moment her mama would cautiously, so as not to scare her, tug at her apron. When she did, it meant it was over. Her pa would be asleep somewhere or gone again. Her mama would then hold her tightly and sing for hours. And she remembered her mama dying of pneumonia, and on her deathbed, ordering her to go and find Thomas.