My stomach drops.
My knees squelch into the moist soil, and I don’t even hesitate before lifting the baby out of the basket. Her eyes are closed, a small cleft bisecting one side of otherwise full lips to her button nose. The foot peeking out is clubbed, turned fully inward. Every little detail is so precious that I find myself memorizing it because, clearly, no one else cares. There’s hardly any color left in her face and she’s cool to the touch, her breathing labored.
Anger and pain for this little life squeezes my heart. Gods, how could a parent abandon their child like this? I hold the baby against my chest, desperately trying to warm her little body. Her respirations grow slower, less frequent, and I hum a tune from my memories, a prayer asking the Great Rhianu to escort the little one’s soul into Lugda’s hands and begging the Underworld god to grant her a place in paradise. It’s perhaps more superstition than anything in this age, but…I hope with all my being.
Eventually, the baby takes a shallow breath and then no more. I cradle her little body in my arms, silent tears streaming down my face, until my joints ache from sitting still for so long in the chilly elements.
Her forehead is cold when I press my lips to it. It’s nonsensical to wrap her up again, but I can’t stand the idea of leaving her little body open to the cold air. It’s only then that I release the sob I’d been holding, the built-up tension in my chest releasing.
Yet another innocent life commended to Lugda because of fear driven by the foolish laws of the land.
My skirt is a muddy mess when I stand, cold wind whipping my braids free from their pins. I wipe my tears and then hug myself as I walk away from the infant’s body, reclaiming the wagon before resuming my journey home. My legs are heavy, my heart even heavier. The poor babe. She didn’t deserve such an end. More tears leak down myface every now and then, but I press on. I just need to get home and wrap my arms around Taig again. He could’ve easily been that babe.
By the time I reach my village, Cluain Baile, there is one streak of orange left in the sky. Barely enough light for me to see my own feet, but I trudge on. Behind me, the wheels of the wagon keep sinking into the wet ground and I have to yank violently on the handle to get it moving. Seeing Taig’s little face again is the only thing keeping me from spiraling after that little one died in my arms.
As I get home, Osheen and Finn greet me at the door. Taig is happily playing with a little wooden toy, gnawing on it without a care in the world. It does my heart well to find him safe and sound.
“Welcome back,” Osheen motions. “Taig was perfect.”
He answers before I can even ask. “Thank you. You better get back home. I’ll get Taig fed and bathed.”
My voice must’ve sounded as flat as I imagined because Osheen regards me carefully. He doesn’t speak for a moment, but at last, he says, “I’ll bring over some food and look after Taig a while longer so you can relax for a moment. You’ve just gotten home. You need a break.”
I laugh humorlessly as I step toward Taig and lightly ruffle his hair. Finn trots by and licks Taig’s cheek, pulling wide-mouthed giggles from him. I turn back to Osheen. “I don’t have time for breaks.”
“Read that fancy book you like so much,” he signs, as if I hadn’t already responded.
My lips quirk up. It’s not afancybook; it’s a book of fairytales.
“Get some knitting done. Or wash up and go to bed.”
I lower my brows. “I’ve already been gone all day. I want to spend some time with Taig.”
“Durvla.” He rests his hands for a moment as he carefully considers his next words. “You have to take a break sometime. You’re eitherworking or looking after Taig. You can trust my family, you know. You don’t have to take on this burden all by yourself.”
Heat pours into my chest and I sign sharply. “He’snota burden.”
Osheen throws up his hands in surrender, forgetting to sign for a moment. “Wrong choice of words.” He remembers himself and resumes signing. “I wasn’t implying thatTaigis a burden. I just mean that I know he is…” His mouth snaps shut, and his hands pause. “I know Taig requires a lot of energy, and there’s a lot more you have to deal with. You have your own ailment, and you’re only just on the mend from that episode you had a few days ago.”
“Thank you for the reminder.”
“The point is I want to help. My family would want to help. You know they love you.”
“I know they do, but I refuse to put them in danger. The less they know, the better. Your mother already knows about my ailment and my deafness. That’s more than enough, thank you.”
Osheen’s chest heaves with a deep sigh. “How about I bring you some pork and potatoes, and I can feed Taig while you change your clothes and freshen up. Then I’ll leave you alone.”
Pork and potatoes? Pork is a rare meal in Cluain Baile, so it’s a tempting offer. All I have in the house is stale bread and questionable cheese. I glance over at Taig. He’s playing with a wooden toy. “Fine,” I sign. He wins this time. “Thank you.”
He smiles, a little too pleased with himself.
Osheen sees his way out and I sit on the floor, soaking up Taig’s presence. He crawls away, grabbing a pillow, which he squishes into his face with a gleeful expression. His joy is undeniable, but also inexplicable. For a child who’s had it so hard, who’s not seen the outdoors in the past three years, never interacted with other children, and only recently learned to walk at the age of five, he’s so very happy. I could learn a thing ortwo from him.
Taig glances up at me from his beloved pillow, his big brown eyes peering through runaway coils of hair. I move closer to him and push his hair back. Our complexions are the same, light brown with a bronze undertone, but his hair color is like Ma’s. Mine is dark brown like Da’s. Sometimes I see Ma’s face in his. Does he remember her?
“Are you ready for dinner?” I ask aloud. Taig smiles at me and chucks the pillow aside, crawling away to do who knows what.
He’s clearly more than alright. Calm even. Maybe I can get a bit of work done on the gown my mother had guided me through. I get to my feet again and fetch fresh clothing to change into before heading into the washroom. Leaving the door open, I quickly relieve my bladder before peeling off my sordid work clothing and sponging off with the chilly basin water. My heart races as I expect Osheen to walk in at any moment, but I manage to get into a fresh skirt, tunic, and socks. From my wardrobe, I remove a garment cover containing a knitted dress. Ma and I had been working on it for so long.
