The Fulfillment (23 page)

“Okay. Thanks,” he repeated.

“Good night, Aaron.”

“Good night.”

He rode home in a tangle of thoughts that played tricks on his mind, appearing and disappearing so fast he couldn't grasp any one of them. Mary's hands pulling on an iron bedstead hard enough to bend it…a head full of brown
curls…a different head of honey-colored hair swaying over bare skin…Jonathan's face when he said it was a girl…then, hands bending iron rails again…

The house was dark when he got there. He made straight for the cellar and brought up two quarts of chokecherry wine. He took them to the barn to do the honors, as he ironically put it to himself. When he'd finished the first quart and reached to uncap the second with stiffly moving fingers, he bellowed into the quietness, “Don't tell me when I've had enough!” as if someone had scolded him. But there were only the animals and himself, and his voice softened as he blubbered, “Man's gotta right ta get drunk whenniz wife az a baby.” He'd forgotten she was someone else's wife. The wine had done its work.

 

Jonathan found him there in the morning. Aaron's sheepskin jacket was pulled up around his ears, his knees drawn up for warmth. In the hay beside him the second bottle of wine stood, nearly full, straight up. Not a drop had spilled.

Jonathan took the bottle and dumped it in the gutter. He went back to shake Aaron awake and smelled his fetid breath as his brother snored, unaware. He felt a sort of pity for him, but realized that this kind of self-indulgence would gain them all nothing. The deed was done. They had to proceed.

He leaned down and shook Aaron's shoulder, resolution in his voice as he ordered, “Wake up, brother, I need you. C'mon, let's do chores!”

Aaron opened his bleary eyes and did a most
surprising thing. He got straight up, as if he'd been caught napping during a sermon. But when he was upright he wavered a minute, then slammed back down.

“Gotta get started with the chores,” Jonathan said, and turned away, leaving Aaron to locate his equilibrium.

Aaron pulled it off with wretched aplomb. He got up, straightened his jacket, joined Jonathan with not so much as a whine. But he felt as if he'd been horse-kicked.

They couldn't work in the close barn without words between them. After all, Aaron had left the house with little news of Mary or the baby.

“How's everything up there?” he asked, with a nod in the general direction of the house.

“They're doin' okay,” Jonathan replied.

“Must be some things that need doing in the house…” But before he could finish the thought, Jonathan was nodding, “Yup. Agnes says the women from around here will be comin' up each day to lend a hand.”

“Good,” Aaron answered. But he felt a ripple of regret that events were already flowing on, out of his hands. The women were coming to help out, and there wouldn't be much need for him to. He'd gladly have helped at any unaccustomed job. It would've made him feel closer to Mary and the baby.

“I'll tend to the chickens and geese,” he obliged. That, at least, was Mary's job. But even that wasn't much now in the winter with the dwindled flocks.

 

The first day was oblivion for Mary. She never remembered a sleepiness as heavy as she felt that day. She slept for long hours at a time and was awakened when the baby was brought to suckle. But Mary fell asleep with the warm, wet tugging at her breast, in a deep, delirious contentment. She ate something once when the sun had circled past the south side of the house, drank huge glasses of milk when she was told to do so. It wasn't until the second day that she awoke, refreshed, at first light, to the tiny sounds from the cradle beside the bed.

The house was silent. Jonathan must have slept on the couch or in Aaron's room, she thought.

She reached an arm out and, without leaving the bed, pulled the cradle up close. The baby was lying on her stomach, and all Mary could see of her was a silken cap of brown curls on the back of her head. Tiny, disgruntled complaints came from the wriggling bundle, and Mary recalled how that same wriggling had felt inside her own body. A surge of feeling coursed through her at the moment as she reached to pick up her daughter. She thought, How can I contain all this joy when it grows into love? A giddy sensation of completeness aroused everything maternal in her as she cooed to the babe, examined her perfection.

“Hello, precious girl. Look at you, all wet and complaining. Mama has to learn everything, so be still while I get this off you.” Inside, she found the skinny, bowed legs, the perfectly formed toes. “Princess, you're beautiful. Yes, I'm hurry
ing,” she said, reaching for a diaper from the foot of the cradle, “I'll get faster when I learn.” She continued the flow of soothing talk until she'd changed the baby and settled her at her breast. Then she ran her forefinger over the delicate earlobes, the eyebrows that looked no more than a fine mist. The baby's perfection seemed a miracle.

Oh, Aaron, she thought, how can I ever repay you for giving her to me? And how will you bear it not to share her? Her newfound feelings still imbued her with this sense of fulfillment, making her sharply aware of what Aaron would suffer. With the living reality of their baby in her arms, she admitted the magnitude of the sacrifice he was making. But she was helpless to change it.

 

Jonathan came to the door at midmorning, as spit-shined as a boy in a school play. She couldn't help chuckling. “Jonathan, I've been waiting for you,” she said, reaching a hand out toward the door.

He came in and took it, but she thought if he'd had a hat in his hand he'd be turning it nervously by its brim. “How you feeling?” he whispered, dropping her hand.

“Fine. Sit down,” she said, moving her legs over.

“Oh, no,” he said as if she'd accused him of something.

“Did you see her yet?”

He shook his head, and she couldn't tell if he meant yes or no, he was so nervous.

“Don't be scared, Jonathan. She's only a baby.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” he said, peering into the cradle.

“Sorry it couldn't have been a boy for you.”

“Oh, no, it don't matter. She's…she'll do just fine.”

“I reckon she'll have to.”

He stood above the cradle, nodding repeatedly as his arms dangled uselessly at his sides. Then one hand reached out tentatively, jerked back again in doubt.

“It's okay to touch her,” Mary said. “She'll be waking up pretty soon, anyway.”

He touched some of the brown curls with his large knuckles. “She's sure small,” he said. When he turned, he caught Mary wiping quickly at a tear, trying to get it gone before he looked at her. All he could do was clear his throat, but it sounded like thunder in the quiet room.

“Could I get you something?” he asked.

“I reckon I've got all I need,” she said.

He cleared his throat again. “Mrs. Orek is cooking up some dinner down there,” he said, not able to think of anything else. “Why don't you sleep awhile till it's ready?” But when he'd left she couldn't sleep at all. She couldn't forget Jonathan's big brown knuckles on the baby's hair.

 

That first week brought a steady parade of neighbor women each day. The house seemed invaded, overrun. No matter that they came one at a time. You never knew who you'd run into next, Aaron thought, and stayed away most of the time. Priscilla came one day, and he made a special effort to remain outdoors so their paths
wouldn't cross any more than necessary. They were civil to each other at mealtimes, but each felt distant from the other.

Aaron had pulled himself together after that first night, but it took a full day for his body to return to normal after the abuse he'd done it. He put off seeing the baby for the first time, not wanting to disturb Mary during her first uncomfortable days. He chose the time carefully, waiting until he was armed by the presence of others in the room.

Mrs. Hawkins was there that day, with her perpetually flapping jaw. He knew she would run plenty of interference for him during his visit. Jonathan was in the bedroom, too, when Aaron stepped to the door.

Mrs. Hawkins was changing the baby's diapers, and for once Aaron was grateful for the woman's chatter. “Well, lookit here! And if it isn't the proud uncle. Now don't you be rude and put up a fuss when your uncle comes to see you. Yeees”—she drew the word out in the pouting way some adults talk to babies—“yes, yes, we're nearly through here, little one.”

Mary was sitting up, wearing a silk bed jacket. Her hair was tied back but unbraided. He remembered the night she'd taken her braids out because he'd asked her to. She turned a radiant smile to him as he stood in the doorway and Mrs. Hawkins jabbered to the babe. But Mary's face gave away no secrets, and neither did his. Except maybe that he couldn't keep his eyes from the metal rods of the bedstead, and sure enough, it was easy to see the two that were bent a bit out of line.

“Aaron, you've come at last,” she chimed. “Jonathan and I couldn't guess why you waited so long.”

Aaron stepped inside the room, throwing a wink at Jonathan as he declared, “The wee ones are a bit overpowering to us bachelors.”

Mrs. Hawkins guffawed as she brought the wrapped bundle and thrust it toward him. “This little thing ain't but a mite. You hold her, Aaron, you'll find out.”

But Aaron staved her off with open palms. “You can hold her, Mrs. Hawkins. I'll just look over your shoulder.” That brought their laughter on him as he peeked inside the concealing blankets. He could see dark eyes that didn't seem to focus on much, a tiny mouth that sucked at nothing. He kept his hands folded behind his back and rocked forward on his feet as if cowed. Actually, he knew it'd be folly to touch her, especially that curly brown hair.

“What'll you call her?” he asked.

“Sarah,” Mary answered. “It means princess. That was the first thing I called her, so it seemed right for her name.”

“It's a pretty name.” He nearly said it aloud to hear it—Sarah Gray. But he bit off the words, saying instead, “She's mighty pretty, Mary,” then added tardily, “Jonathan.”

Jonathan cleared his throat. “Mrs. Hawkins cooked a fine-smelling meal. Reckon I'll go have a bite.”

Mrs. Hawkins made for the door, and Jonathan followed her. Aaron turned, too, but Mary stopped him, saying, “Aaron, can you stay for a minute?”

He thought, I could stay forever, but a minute is harder.

“Sure,” he said.

When the others had left, she said, “Jonathan told me you went after Agnes, and I just wanted to thank you. You can't know how happy I was to have her here that night.”

“We all felt better having her here,” he returned, and his eyes went to the spokes behind Mary's head. “Is everything okay? I mean…you?”

She just nodded, that same brilliant smile on her face.

He wanted to say, “Call if you need me, let me know anything you want and I'll get it for you, do it for you, buy it for you.” But instead he just said, “Good. Be seeing you, okay?” And he hurried from the room.

 

Most women stayed in bed for two weeks after giving birth. Mary refused to be pampered, coddled, or cajoled longer than seven days. When Doc Haymes came around, she asked his okay to get up and start doing for herself again. He realized the willful girl would do as she pleased, anyway, and judged it wisest to give her rein and at the same time some sensible advice to go with it.

“All right,” he agreed, “but no lifting, no straining, and plenty of short rests for a couple of weeks.”

“Oh, I promise, Doc Haymes,” she conceded. “The neighbors have been grand with their help, but I can do most of it now, I'm sure. And Jonathan and Aaron are here to help, too.”

“Well, see that they do, young lady,” he warned.

She chuckled at his grudging, grumbling warning, hearing, too, the concern behind his words. On an impulse, she stayed him with a hand on his arm, saying “You were right, Doc.”

His grizzled eyebrows raised questioningly to her. “About what?” he asked.

“About the time of the month. I tried it till it worked.”

She was happy she'd told him when his wizened face broke into a smile. He patted the small hand on his arm, gave it a squeeze as he spoke. “Good for you, girl, good for you.”

He'd seen many babies into the world, but few had been wanted as much as this one. It was heartwarming to see the couple blessed after seven fruitless years. It was downright gratifying, he thought as he walked through the kitchen on his way out. Jonathan was waiting for him there. “I'd like to settle up with you,” he said.

“No need to be in a rush, Jonathan,” the older man answered.

“It's not my way to let debts go for long,” and he seemed intent upon having it done. He held a number of bills in his hand.

Doc Haymes named his fee, and Jonathan placed the proper number of bills in his palm, abrading the corner of each between his callused fingers as he counted.

The doctor folded them in half, then looked at the man as he thanked him. But before turning to leave, he said, “You have a fine daughter, Jonathan…and a hell of a fine wife.”

“Yes sir, I do,” Jonathan agreed.

Aaron made
his decision the day he first saw Sarah. Folly, he'd thought it was to touch her. And folly it was to stay here any longer. He should have left last summer when common sense told him to the first time. But something had kept him here until he was sure everything would be okay. Now that the baby was born and she and Mary were both doing all right, he knew he had to leave. Jonathan had stepped into the father's role so smoothly there was no doubt that Aaron wouldn't be needed around here anymore. Mary treated Aaron exactly as she always had. But the difference now was that sometimes when she turned to say, “Aaron, hand me that wash cloth,” Sarah was there on her arm. He stayed away from the house as much as he could, but he began to hate the granary steps where he sat and shelled corn or mended harness or did nothing in the evenings. He began going down to the hall again. But he made plans to leave as soon as he could.

Farmers all over the state would need field help soon, and he could find work anywhere. He'd been to Douglas County before and liked
the look of the land out that way. He remembered once when he'd taken a load of geese to Osakis, passing farms much larger than those around here. The land west of Alexandria bore farms of even greater acreage, and besides, the country there was as pretty as here, not flat and desolate like Dakota.

He subscribed to the
Douglas County Courier
and waited for the first paper to arrive by mail so he could read the want ads.

Meanwhile, spring moved closer. Jonathan was again full of plans for Vinnie. He never tired of searching the farm journals for information on Black Angus cows and seemed obsessed with the idea of buying one soon. The bull had matured over the winter and broadened in its wide, powerful shoulders. Aaron had to admit he was a beautiful specimen as Vinnie's coat glimmered in jet sheens. Jonathan had a right to be proud. The way the bull handled for Jonathan was a thing of beauty. He could walk near the animal and say some mysterious thing near the smartly angled ears, and as if the animal truly understood the man, he followed, doing as he was bid. His polled head would turn in response to Jonathan's nearness and his throatlatch would tighten as he became alert to the man.

They started preparing the fields for seeding but an early April blizzard unexpectedly forced them all inside for two strained days. When the mail came again, Aaron had two replies to his inquiries from Douglas County. The pay wouldn't be as good as in Dakota, but it would do. He wrote back inquiring when he could start work. Then he and Jonathan found their days
frenzied with spring activities, and Aaron waited for his reply.

 

Aaron could hear the grindstone downyard where Jonathan was sharpening implements. He walked toward the sound, and Jonathan finished honing the piece as Aaron approached. Jonathan looked askance at his brother as he poised a harrow spike over the wheel. Before he lowered it, Aaron spoke. “I've decided to leave, Jonathan.”

“Seems you're always leavin'. But you always come back. So why not just stay?”

Aaron hunkered down, elbows on knees, and picked up a stone, tossing it repeatedly as he answered. “It's different now. I've got to go now.”

Jonathan started the wheel up again, his foot rising and falling in smooth rhythm. The blade touched the wheel, sending sparks and swarf spraying around it. He had to shout to be heard above the whining noise. “There's still room for you here.”

“Three's a family—four's a crowd,” Aaron replied.

“What?” Jonathan yelled.

Aaron raised his voice. “Never mind. I'll be gone in early May.”

“What?” Jonathan yelled again.

Aaron put his foot on the paddle, stopping the wheel. “Stop that damn thing, will you?” he demanded gruffly. “I got a job in Douglas County. I'll be leaving in early May.”

Jonathan had felt more comfortable with the noise of the grindstone grating around them. “It's a two-man farm,” he reasoned.

“Not anymore,” Aaron said. “You'll just have
to let some lie fallow. Vinnie's calves will bring in plenty extra cash to make up for it.”

“What about the house?” Jonathan asked.

“We'll settle that when we must. I'll get my room and board there, so for now let's let it ride.”

“I want to buy a cow this year,” Jonathan said, meaning he couldn't pay for a house, too.

“We'll let it ride, I said.” And with that Aaron left. The wheel shrilled behind him once again.

 

Mary knew what was coming before she was told. She'd seen the
Courier
arriving for Aaron, then those two letters right after the blizzard. It could only mean that Aaron was after a job.

Jonathan told her it was true one night at bedtime while they whispered in the dark, not wanting to awaken Sarah, who slept beside them. He seemed to accept it quite readily, even to using the house again without settling anything on Aaron for its use. It rankled her that Aaron shouldn't even realize a bit of rent for it. But she didn't say so, for there was one thing Jonathan had a fixation about and that was building his Angus herd. He could start that only if the house came free.

But she made up her mind that she would not see Aaron pushed away from his home without any compensation at all. She knew they couldn't continue this way but felt a guilt at her part in forcing him out. She began thinking about asking Jonathan to build another house, maybe down in the woods west of this one. She expected him to balk at the idea, but why should Aaron get cut out? Knowing how he felt about this place, she
thought of him leaving it again and formed questions she would put to Jonathan. But she and he were getting along so well, and if she argued in Aaron's favor, what would Jonathan think? She thought of the money she still had from selling the geese. More had come from the down they sent to Chicago. She decided she'd offer it as a start. Maybe Jonathan wouldn't doubt her sincerity.

 

Aunt Mabel and Uncle Garner came at last. They arrived in a buckboard one hot Sunday in late April, bringing their entire troop of kids and half of their larder along for a picnic. Mary was ecstatic. Her confinement and the time since Sarah was born had left her little time to feel lonely, but she often missed Aunt Mabel.

The big, mothering woman took over the house and the new baby with a largess of familiarity that left Mary in a compliant, amused frame of mind.

“Why, this child is damn near as pretty as my Bessie was when she was born!” Mabel raised the baby aloft while Mary wondered why Sarah didn't cry, suspended as she was.

“Land! Girl, you got this tyke so wrapped up you're lucky she ain't mummified!” Mabel Garner loosened the blankets and freed the baby's feet, removing booties, chuckling and talking to Sarah. “This here's one hell of a hot day for April. 'Lizabeth, fetch that blanket!” she ordered one of her children. She used it to make a pad on the floor in the living room to lay the baby there.

“Won't she be too cold?” Mary fussed.

“Cold! Must be eighty-five degrees! She ain't no different'n you, child! Give 'er some air! Besides, a-trussed up like she was, how's she gonna find room to grow?”

It was impossible to feel criticized. The big woman had an air of authority and homespun good sense that couldn't be denied. As if to prove the point, Sarah slept peacefully. Mabel drove her own brood out into the yard, giving orders for laying out the picnic dinner. And they weren't the only ones she raised a tongue to. Jonathan, Aaron, and Uncle Garner heeded her gusty orders, too. Nobody gave Mabel Garner short shrift. Mary alone took her leisure for this one day, thoroughly enjoying the unaccustomed vacation.

The heat intensified as the day wore on, surprising everyone into lethargy with its unexpected force. It pushed a lusty wind ahead of it, graying the sky. After their meal and a rest on the lawn, Uncle Garner said a walk would feel good and told Jonathan he'd like to walk out to the south pasture and see Vinnie. Jonathan was more than happy to oblige, and the three men left the yard together.

When they returned to the house it was late afternoon, and the Garners made ready for their long ride home. When the hugging and hand-shaking was done, the buckboard pulled away under a lurking sun. The heat had sapped everyone. Sarah slept unusually long, and even Jonathan lay down on the sofa in the front room to rest a bit.

 

Aaron's suit jacket had blown off the fence post, but he was nowhere to be seen. Mary sat in the kitchen, watching the colors changing outside. She saw the dish towels standing straight out from the line, and suddenly one let loose, flew like a kite, and was plastered against the woodpile downyard. Sitting inside, out of the wind, she'd been unaware of its growing force. Aaron appeared then, fighting his way against it, and she rose and opened the screen door, but it was ripped out of her hand and flung against the porch wall.

“Get Jonathan!” he called against the wind, “We have to get the stock inside!”

The baby awoke and began crying as the sudden cold draft gusted through the house. Jonathan awoke at Sarah's sudden squalling, flew off the sofa, and scooped her up off the floor, depositing her in Mary's hands on his way out the door. She put Sarah in her cradle and ran to the porch door again as the men headed for the yard. Aaron had turned his head to protect his face from the wind that now was blowing bits of flotsam before it. With his head screwed around, he saw Mary making as if to follow and knew she must be heading to the chicken coop.

He motioned her back inside, but his words were garbled by the wind. She heard him say “chicken coop,” so he must have shut it up already. Sarah was squalling inside, and she went back in to pick her up, holding the baby against her, as much to settle her own thumping heart as to still the child.

“We've got to herd the cows inside,” Aaron shouted.

“Vinnie!” Jonathan hollered, jabbing a finger repeatedly, pointing at the south pasture.

Aaron grabbed his arm and tried to stop him. “It's too far!” he screamed, but Jonathan wrenched his arm away. Aaron grabbed Jonathan around the neck and yelled into his ear, “You can't make it—too far!” But again Jonathan pulled away. The jaundiced sky had turned the color of an old bruise, an unearthly yellow tinged with green. Aaron felt Jonathan wrench away from him, saw him break into a run toward the field lane. He cupped his hands to his mouth and shouted, “Come back, Jonathan,” but the wind had swiftly shifted to the southwest and blew his words back down his throat. He knew the cattle would stand facing the storm as always, letting it knock them senseless. He had to get them into the barn.

“Damn Jonathan!” he cursed. But he couldn't follow his brother. He had to get the stock inside.

 

Jonathan felt the first rain riveting into his face as he ran down the lane. The trees were arching toward earth as if rigged for snaring animals. He cut sharply across a stubbled cornfield, away from the line of trees on his right, and the rain began to slash at him. When he reached the south pasture, he had to struggle with the gate. It was no more than barbed wire strung between two posts and secured by a loop of wire off an adjacent post, but the wire loop slipped from his wet fingers and he had to grasp the post to keep
from blowing over. He opened it at last, but the wind was a wall of violence now that knocked him from his feet. He could make out the black, hulking shape of Vinnie and began crawling toward it, his clinging, wet clothing dragging him back.

“Vinnie!” he screamed into the banshee wind. “Vinnie!”

But the relentless force swallowed his sound. A slashing bolt of lightning cleared his view, and he saw the animal above him. He struggled upright on his knees, waiting for the slightest ease in the gale so he could reach for the animal's halter. His only thought was of forcing the animal down to the ground, forcing Vinnie to lie where he'd be somewhat protected from the fury around them. If only he'd put the ring in Vinnie's nose, he could give it a yank and make the animal lie down instantly. But there was no ring, only the halter, and he straightened his arm, straining his body upward, seeking it, groping blindly while the rain blinded him and the wind pushed him flat.

The bull danced in dumb terror as the twister threw itself in crazy commotion, carrying leaves, wood, branches in its gaping maw. The scream of the wind became an earsplitting rumbling as the tornado hit them with full force. The animal swayed in a terrorized dance, its hooves striking left, then right, its powerful chest rippling, its eyes bulging in fear. Vinnie had no horns to meet the force that tried to grasp him from below, while the sucking wind pulled at him from above. So the bull struck at it with his hooves instead, stamping at its softness, knowing only
terror. The wind howled and the animal stamped—left and right, left and right—until both the wind and the bull quieted at once.

 

In the barn Aaron shivered inside his wet, clinging clothes. There was a small, cobwebbed window facing the house, but only the main door facing in the direction Jonathan had gone. If he opened it, it would be torn from its hinges. He rubbed the dust from a pane and peered toward the house, but he couldn't even define its outline in the pounding torrents. He could hear objects striking the barn as they were driven by the wind, and his mind flashed from Mary to Jonathan to the Garners in their open buckboard.

The cattle were restive, the storm making them shift and low noisily. He'd brought the pails down earlier. It might soothe them if he started milking. It would soothe him, too. There was little he could do for the others, and the milking had to be done sometime. Jonathan would be in no shape to help when he came back. What a fool thing to do! Chase after that bull in a storm like this. There was no denying Jonathan had a way with that animal, though. Aaron thought, I wouldn't be surprised to see him ride Vinnie in bareback. The idea made him smile as he tried to shake off the worry that was nagging him, worsening the longer Jonathan was gone.