She frowned. “Put on the kettle, Jackson. Then bring in a stack of wood and get a fire going in here,” Rose said.
Jackson flushed, his apprehension growing. “Should I go fetch the doctor?” He kissed my forehead.
“No. Stay with me.”
“Just like a man getting foolish notions that’ll get him killed. Sir, you won’t get a block in this bitter weather. This child will need a father. Get the water on and bring me towels. Now!” Rose ordered.
Jackson looked torn and glanced over at Miss Rose, concerned if she was up to delivering a child.
“Don’t go out there,” I pleaded.
“You better get those towels right now ’fore I strip off your clothing and use them instead. Go on now, scat. Your woman’s gonna be just fine,” Rose ordered, wiping her tired eyes.
When morning broke on the twelfth of December, the babe still had not come, and Miss Rose’s face took on a bigger worry as she sat in the chair in the corner of my room watching over me.
The labor pains intensified, stealing my breaths. Rose would rise and examine me several times, then slowly shake her head.
Close to noon, she peeked under the covers one last time and then checked the clock and smiled. “The babe is finally coming. Gonna be here in just a bit, Angeline.”
My chin quivered as the memories of Susan’s haunting words tumbled around my mind:We won’t truly know if the drug harmed the infant until the birth.
***
Rose cut the umbilical cord, then placed the quiet infant on a towel atop the dresser instead of handing the babe to me. She rubbed a hand over the tiny back, patted and lifted the babe to her ear. Again, she repeated the steps.
But the child remained silent.
“What is it, Miss Rose?” I squinted, struggled to rise, straining my neck to get a better glimpse.
She clenched her jaw and rubbed the baby’s back a little bit firmer.
Jackson dropped my hand and crossed over to her.
“Give me the baby.Jackson, Miss Rose?” I shrilled.
Jackson glanced at me, then turned back to the baby, but not before I saw the terror building in his eyes.
I pulled myself up on my elbows. Again, Rose rubbed the tiny bluish-gray back. Then she lifted the baby by the feet and smacked the child’s bottom.
Panic grabbed hold and I couldn’t stop shivering. “Rose. No, Ro—” My words knotted.
Jackson looked over his shoulder once more, something unfettered and desperate spreading across his face.
I swallowed hard, the words squeaking out, “My babe, my babe.Tell me my child is okay.Tell me!”
Then Rose did something I’d never seen before. She put her lips over the baby’s mouth and nose and blew once and then again.
I pressed my hands over my ears. For a moment the silence was suffocating.
“No—” I screamed, just as the babe’s lusty wail filled the room.
Then the baby sputtered out soft sneezes and squalled again.
Weeping, I collapsed onto the pillow, a fist pressed to my riotous heart.
“Okay, okay, you’re safe.” Rose sighed loudly and bobbed herhead, rocking the infant in her arms, rubbing the back. “There you go, little one. There you go. Another breath. There you go.You just needed some assistance, didn’t you, sweetheart?” She closed her eyes and whispered a prayer of gratitude.
“You saved our baby’s life, Miss Rose. We can never thank you enough,” I sobbed.
