Keep My Own
By Kit Linford
Chapter 5
Synopsis: Irene Spencer, who met her husband Dick in South Africa, feels lonely and discouraged when she first attempts to make a home out of the large old home that had belonged to three generations of the family. The household consists of Dick’s Grandfather, his Aunt Ella, and his young handicapped brother David. Irene learns to love the old house and to think of it as home. She accepts her responsibilities and feels that she is making progress in helping David to overcome his speech handicap.
Irene’s head throbbed after hours spent bending over the sewing machine. She straightened, pushing in at the ache in the small of her back with the palms of her hands. She surveyed with satisfaction the neat stack of white squares she had just finished hemming. Ella had come across a real bargain in outing flannel, and had purchased dozens of yards of it. Irene had spent the better part of two days cutting and hemming the soft white lengths. She had had to cancel her order at the local store for a supply of a different type of gauze diapers, but she knew that Ella was right when she said that these, hemmed at home from the flannel, would be serviceable and cost much less.
Anyway, Irene thought, there’s a feeling of accomplishment in sewing baby things yourself.
A sudden spasm made her stiffen sharply. It was gone so quickly that she chided herself inwardly and relaxed again. The baby wasn’t due for two weeks. Already she was so impatient that every untoward twinge set her on edge.
Rising from the machine, she still pushed against her back with her hands. She thought of the inviting expanse of her bed. As she turned to go lie down, she saw Davy standing in the doorway. She had no idea how long he had been there. For some unaccountable reason, the child had steadfastly avoided her since their moment of communion in the nursery.
She smiled a welcome. “Come in, Davy.”
He was carrying his book about babies. She recalled her promise to read it to him and wondered if that was what he wanted. She hesitated to approach him lest she frighten him away again. She looked into his presently expressive eyes. They searched her face for understanding. her heart wrenched. She read the question there as plainly as if he had spoken.
“Do you want me to read to you?”
a moment before she had been too tired to think of anything but rest. Now she was intrigued by the glimmering hope that she might somehow span the chasm that separated her from Davy.
He nodded almost eagerly.
Irene reached toward him, but recognized the movement as a mistake at once. He backed away a step.
“May I take the book, then?” she asked quickly. ”Where shall we sit to read? It’s nice and light here in the window seat.”
He gave her the book and watched as she sat down at the far end of the window seat. ”Would you like to sit beside me?”
He shook his head. Irene started to read. The appealing story was aptly written to charm a child. Told from the viewpoint of the brother and sister of the new baby, it outlined each phase of the exciting first day home with the infant. Each part of the baby’s routine was illustrated in apt words and charming pictures. At the very last, the baby had been tucked in bed for the night, and the two older children peeped around the nursery room door, blowing kisses to the sleeping wee one. It was indeed a beautiful book.
As she read, Irene knew that Davy was inching his way closer and closer to her. At last he was beside her on the window seat. It was obvious that he knew every word of the story by heart. As she closed the pale blue cover on the final page, he sighed deeply and contentedly. He took the book, turned it back to the beginning again, and handed it to Irene to read it over again. She had read it through twice. She was just beginning the third reading when she was gripped by a spasm that she knew was no idle twinge. She caught her breath, and bent low over the book until it passed. She had broken off in the middle of a sentence. When she looked up again, Davy was staring at her, wide-eyed with alarm.
She tried to reassure him. “Don’t look like that, Davy. I’m all right, really I am. It was just a little cramp. Come closer, dear. Let’s finish the story.”
Now he rested in the circle of her arm, his head laid on her shoulder. She tried not to hurry. She didn’t want to frighten him. It was an unconscious thing, but she was reading rapidly. When at last she closed the book again on the last page, she was breathless.
“Davy, the new baby will be here before very long now. Perhaps tonight. May I leave you now to go telephone Dick, and tell Granddad and Ella?”
His eyes were wide as he moved over so she could rise. She kissed his cheek impulsively, noting that the void expression had been totally absent during the entire time he had spent with her. Not a trace of that terrible blankness remained.
In the confusion that followed, Davy found himself relegated to the background. He didn’t understand everything that was going on, but remembered that Irene had said the baby was to be here soon. He assumed, childlike, that all this rushing about was in preparation for that wonderful, long-awaited event. He was content to be forgotten, if he thought of it at all.
When Dick arrived home, he was excited and anxious. Even he had forgotten Davy. The usual small surprise from his pocket was not forthcoming on this unusual day. Later, Dick would remember and regret this small oversight. Actually, Davy accepted it quite easily as another portion of this mystifying day.
A S they were helping Irene to the car, Ella turned to Dick and said ominously, ”Babies have been born in cars on the way to hospitals, Dick. Are you sure you don’t want me to come along? I could …”
‘There’s no need. Aunt Ella, I’m sure,” Dick replied. “The doctor said it could be hours.”
Irene rolled down the window of the car. “Where’s Davy?”
“Davy?” Dick looked about. “I haven’t seen him since I got home.”
“I’ve got to see him, to say goodbye,” Irene cried. “He’s been so left out …”
They heard a tapping on one of the upstairs windows then. Looking up, they saw Davy. He was in the nursery. He lifted his hand in a little wave, and his face boasted a grin that was the closest thing to a normal child’s laughter that Irene had ever seen him touch. Her heart contracted. She blew kisses to him through the window as they drove away. His laugh remained glued to his lips until he had faded from her sight.
Granddad and Ella sat on the terrace waiting until it was Davy’s bedtime. He didn’t want to go to bed, but Ella gave him his bath and marched him to his room. When she returned to the terrace the chill of an autumn night had settled. Granddad rose. “We’d better wait inside. It’s cold here.”
In the kitchen, they lapsed into a companionable quiet. Outside, a couple of remaining summer crickets sang in desperation, recognizing the advent of winter. The smell of burning fall leaves permeated the air that wafted in the windows. The house rested.
Ella halfway dozed. Granddad kept awake by reading. It was close to four o’clock in the morning when the insistent twang of the telephone jerked them into awareness. Granddad answered the demand of the ring.
“Hello… . Yes, Dick… . Yes… . What was the trouble? … I see… Oh, yes … well, well. It certainly is… . Everything’s all right now? Irene resting? Good, good. .. He’s in bed. I won’t guarantee he’s asleep… . Yes, I will …. I’ll tell her. She’s right here … of course, of course… . Drive carefully on the way home. Goodbye.”
Ella had stood close to him, straining to hear. Her handkerchief was a twisted ball in her hands.
“It is a girl,” Granddad told her, “over six pounds.”
“What went wrong? Didn’t you say there was some trouble?”
“There was a complication… .”
Ella’s hands were shaking. “Complication?”
“The baby had a little lung trouble. Dick said the left lung sort of stuck … refused to inflate. They gave her oxygen at once, inflated it artificially. She’s fine now. Dick said the doctor says it’s not uncommon. Just a situation that needed the equipment and knowhow of a hospital and its staff … or the baby could have died.”
Ella’s face was working. She was exhausted by the long night of waiting. It was all she could do to restrain her tears.
”Here, here, now,” Granddad said kindly, ”don’t cry. Dick says everything’s fine now. The baby’s fine, Irene’s fine. They’re going to name her Kathy Ella, for Dick’s mother, and for you.”
It was too much. Ella burst into tears. With her apron pressed against her face, she ran upstairs.
Granddad remained downstairs, waiting for Dick.
The yellow-gray film of dawn was lifting reluctantly when Dick’s car pulled into the drive. Granddad rose from where he still sat in the kitchen, and made his way out the side door to greet his grandson.
He was astounded to see Davy, still clad in his pajamas, running exuberantly out of the house ahead of him. The child almost tore open the car door and looked inside. Then he looked at Dick. His lower lip trembled. Dick had betrayed him. He had taken Irene away, and he had come home without the baby and without Irene as well.
Dick reached toward the child, but Davy pulled away and started to run toward the house.
”Wait, Davy, wait,” Dick called after him.
Granddad caught him. “Davy, that’s no way to act. Were you looking for Irene and the baby? She’s going to stay in the hospital for a few days to rest. The baby will stay there with her. She won’t be gone very long. Come now, Dick wants to tell you about the baby.”
The appeal was too great. Davy turned in Granddad’s arms and looked at his brother. Dick grinned in that one-sided way he had, and took a bag of peanuts from his pocket. “Come on, fella,” he said gently. “Irene especially wanted me to tell you about the baby.”
Davy went into his arms.
At the kitchen table, Davy secreted the nuts in his pajama pocket for further enjoyment. Granddad had made hot chocolate, and Davy liked that better than peanuts, so the nuts could wait. He sat on Dick’s lap with a large mug of steaming rich, brown liquid in his hands. He had three marshmallows on top of it, and each time he drank some of it, a white marshmallow mustache on his upper lip increased in size.
Dick said, “We’ve got a little girl, Davy, She’s no bigger than a minute. Remember that trout that Granddad caught on the Fourth of July? About the same size as that.”
Davy’s eyes were round with wonder. Dick went on, “She has lots of hair. Blond hair … ash blond like yours, Davy …” Davy squirmed with pleasure… ” And she’s probably going to have eyes as dark as that cocoa.”
Davy peered into the cocoa container. He knew what Dick meant. Eyes like Irene’s. Warm and soft and loving. Davy nestled closer to Dick, remembering Irene’s eyes.
“We’re going to name her Kathy. Kathy Ella Spencer. Do you like that?”
Davy thought about it. Then that elfin grin washed over his face. He nodded.
Granddad asked, as Davy concentrated on the drink in his mug, ”Any more trouble breathing?”
“Not a bit. They’ll keep her under observation for a day or so, but after that initial scare, everything went smoothly.”
‘Is Irene pleased? She never said whether she really wanted a boy or a girl.”
Dick’s face mellowed at the mention of his wife. “She’s thrilled. She really didn’t care which we got.
When she heard it was a girl, she said to tell you that now you’ve got your spice. Granddad … whatever that means. Then she said she hoped Davy would be happy, too.”
They looked at Davy. His empty mug rested in both hands in his lap. He had fallen asleep on Dick’s shoulder, evidence that he, too, hadn’t slept much the night before. The sticky mustache covered his upper lip. Below that white strip, his mouth turned upwards. The corners were, it seemed, permanently settled in an angelic smile.
(To be continued)