Riley nodded. “Let's take you to Poppa's room, Addy. That's the biggest bed.”
Addy had washed the walls and the linen and hacked at the ice inside and out to get the window open in the days since Poppa's passing. She was glad she hadn't put off the chore even though she'd been tired and hadn't wanted to spend time in the room. Now the air was fresh and wintry and didn't smell like death at all. The mattress was caved in the middle and she found it comforting to think of Poppa lying there. She imagined she could still feel his warmth in the bedding. She was about to tell Riley just that when another stabbing pain made her cry out.
Riley put his palm on her forehead and did not know what to do. When the pain passed, Addy said, “There's some clean linen in the cupboard. Bring that, Riley. Emeline's gonna need it. And a piece of yarn from my basket for tying the cord. And a glass of cool water for me.”
“You think the baby's coming?”
“I think it is.”
“What if she's not here in time?”
“She will be. Takes a long time to have a baby. Sometimes it takes days.”
She thought of her Rusholme neighbour, Claire Williams, and her two-day labour with her oldest son, Isaac. It was the only birth Addy'd witnessed, and even then she hadn't seen the whole thing for all the clucking women in the room. Still, she could recall the shouting and the pushing and the blood and the tying off of the cord and finally the cry of the baby and how the whole room was instantly filled with joy.
Addy was about to tell Riley about Isaac Williams' birth, but the pain came again and then quickly again, and each time it came it grew worse and stayed longer. Addy had the sudden feeling she might be giving birth to Mr. Kenny's Ford truck and not a child at all.
Riley left the room and did not run back when he heard Addy cry out with another wave of pain. He wanted to cry himself, for he'd never expected to be present at the child's birth and certainly not the only other person in the house. He ran to the front door and opened it to see if Emeline and Verilynn were near, but there was no sign of them or anyone on the snowy streets. Addy yowled in the back bedroom and Riley was suddenly cross with her and disappointed, for she'd seemed such a brave girl and not one that would cry out like she was doing now. He wished she could be stronger, at least until Emeline and Very got back and he could leave the house.
Addy wanted Riley to return, for she felt panic at being alone in the room. She pulled up her heavy, wet dress, thankful she didn't have to struggle with bloomers. She hadn't fit into them in the last few weeks and, though she felt immodest, simply wore nothing at all. Another pain struck her and she felt the baby move within. She felt her own body bear down and push as if only her womb had a will. With some effort, Addy reached down to feel her lady part. She found the hole big as an apple and felt the greasy hair on the head of her baby coming through.
“
Riley
!” she screamed, and he came running, frightened when he saw there was blood streaming out from the hairy moon between Addy's legs.
“There's blood, Addy! There's blood!” Riley cried.
Addy could not catch her breath to say the baby was coming. Her muscles contracted and her pelvis tilted. She could do nothing but give over to her urge and bear down with all the strength she had. Riley did not catch the baby as it fell onto the bed and only watched as the fluids gushed out after.
Addy didn't know how much time had passed. She struggled to sit up to see if what she thought happened really had, but she did not have the strength to rise. “Is it out?” she asked. “Is it out, Riley?”
Riley could barely nod as he watched the quiet blue thing and the pulsing purple cord pendent between Addy's legs.
“Why ain't it crying? Pick it up, Riley,” she said. “You
gotta shake it or slap its bottom and get some air in its lungs.”
The seconds turned to a minute and Addy struggled to stay conscious. “Pick it up, Riley,” she begged, and again, “You got to pick it up, Riley.”
But Riley could not pick up the child and could hardly bear to look at it, for he knew that something was very wrong indeed. Its head was shaped like a butternut squash and not like a head at all. Its ears and nose were flat, its mouth gaping like a fish. There was long dark animal hair matted down on its back and chest and
Zach Heron
was all Riley could think, recalling what Adelaide told them about the devil and what he'd done to her. And now, lying there on the bed in a pool of filth, a baby version of the same devil, hairy and blue and covered in white clotted cream.
Addy was saying something, but Riley couldn't hear her. He hardly even noticed that she was reaching over her still-round stomach, searching for the baby. She found the child and dragged it by its slippery leg, over the hill of her belly and onto her breast.
When Addy saw the child, she called, “Tie the cord, Riley. Tie the cord.” But Riley could not find the piece of yarn and left the room to get another.
Addy shook the baby. “Come on. Come on,” she urged in a sweet breathless voice. “Give a little cry now. Give a little cry.” She could see the child was not breathing and growing bluer by the second. “Come on, Baby. Come on, Baby.” She held the baby in one hand and pulled at the
cord still attached to herself. She leaned forward as far as she could, bit down on the cord, and severed it. Riley entered the room just as she did this. He saw the blood on her mouth and the slick blue baby in her arms and nearly turned and left again.
“Riley,” Addy whispered. “Help me, Riley.”
The baby was still not breathing. Addy held it in the air and slapped its bottom and shook it. “Come on, Baby,” she cried. She shook it and cried and shook it and cried and shook it and cried. “Riley?”
Neither of them had heard the front door open and were surprised when Emeline Fraser appeared in the room. She'd heard the crying from outside the house and along with Verilynn had sprinted up the walk and down the hall. Emeline knew things had not gone well and told Verilynn to stay out of the room.
When Addy saw her, she looked relieved and held up the baby. “Can you help us?”
Emeline took the blue baby but knew it was already too late. “Oh, Child,” she said. “Oh, Child.”
Addy wiped her blood-smeared mouth. “Can you get him breathing, Emeline? Can you get him breathing?”
Emeline settled the baby into the cradle of her arm and sat down on the bed. She could not speak at first, for the hope on Addy's face was not to be borne. She looked up at Riley but he was drained and speechless and could not take his eyes from the devil child. She asked quietly, “What happened?”
Riley couldn't answer. Addy caught her breath between words. “He, wouldn't, pick, him, up. He, came, out, but, Riley, wouldn't, pick, him, up.”
Emeline waited but Riley didn't explain. Babies were born a little blue sometimes. It was necessary to suck the mucus from the nose or jolt the baby to cry and get oxygen into the small lungs. For how long the baby lay there before being picked up, Emeline would not ask.
Emeline had delivered all of her grandchildren. Some went hard and long, some went fast and easy, but she'd been spared the task of telling a mother the baby she'd nourished in her body would not take breath in this world. She gestured for Riley to leave. He did so quickly, closing the door behind him. She set the baby on the clean linen beside Addy Shadd, wanting her to see how beautiful he was.
Addy studied the little being and said, “He don't look right, Emeline.” She didn't know her baby was already gone. “Why don't he look right?”
“This baby boyâ” Emeline said, then had to catch her breath, for she was needed to comfort Addy and could not cry herself. “This baby boy is already gone to Heaven.”
Addy could not believe it even though she knew it was true. She reached out and stroked the underside of his tiny curled-up foot, drawing a line from his toe, up his plush leg, over his soft belly to his still, closed eyes. She whispered, as if she was afraid she'd wake him, “Why's he have hair here and here?” She pointed to his tiny shoulders and sunken chest.
Emeline cleared her throat. “Well, babies got hair like that to keep them warm in the womb. Like a coat. Usually falls out by week or two later.”
“Will this hair fall out?” Addy asked.
Emeline couldn't imagine why Addy wanted to know. Had she not understood the child was dead? “He's a beautiful boy, Adelaide. A big boy too, considering you're early.”
Addy nodded and said, “His Daddy was biggest man in Rusholme.” She held out her arms. “Could I hold him a minute?”
Emeline picked up the infant and carefully passed him to his Mama. “What's his name, Honey? What you gonna name this baby boy?”
“Do I still get to name him?” Addy asked, confused.
“Course you name him. That's your boy. And you always remember you gave birth to that boy. And you always love him and think about him.”
Addy nodded. “He never saw me.”
“No. But he knew you. Don't think he didn't. Babies know their Mamas from the inside out.” Emeline reached into her pocket and drew out a handkerchief. She blew her nose and dabbed her eyes as she watched the young mother cuddle her newborn son.
“Did he know I loved him?”
“Yes he did, Child.”
Addy looked into the older woman's eyes. “Looks like he's just sleeping. You sure he's gone?”
Emeline nodded.
Addy looked back at the quiet baby in her arms. “Does he have to get buried right away?”
“Child, you hold your boy just as long as you care to. You tell him all the sweet things you been thinking about him and then you say goodbye when you're ready. All right?”
Addy nodded and kissed the baby's parted lips. “Leam,” she whispered. “I love you, Leam.”
Emeline left the room, shuting the door behind her. She blew her nose again before she made her way down the hall. In the sitting room she fell into a chair, heaving, wiping her eyes and cheeks. She had not been surprised that Addy was dry-eyed. The child was in shock, likely, and exhausted from the efforts of her labour. But the look on Verilynn's face surprised her. And the look on Riley's even more.
Verilynn was herself sobbing and red-eyed. Emeline had never thought her a compassionate young woman and was glad to know she felt Adelaide's pain. The child was going to need some comfort and the understanding of this, her only family.
It was Riley who worried Emeline, for he was reclining on the sofa smoking a cigarette and did not seem devastated or even very upset. She looked at him squarely and, as always, felt displaced by his look-away eye and the feeling that he was not the man he appeared to be. “Riley. Don't blame yourself too much. You couldn't know what to do.”
Riley sat up, surprised. “Blame myself? I don't blame
myself, Emeline. You saw that thing. There was no measure for me to take to save it.”
“What do you mean, Son?”
“I know I did the right thing in letting it die. Addy'd be worse off if it had lived.”
Emeline was profoundly confused. “Are you saying you did that on purpose? Do you mean you didn't pick that baby up because you
wanted
him to die?”
Verilynn shot a look at Emeline. “Why would Riley want to save the baby if it was deformed and looked like a devil?”
Emeline still did not understand.
Verilynn went on, “He said it came out a monster, with a big horny head and puss all over his body and hair on his chest like a grown-up man.”
Emeline's heart fluttered and she grew sick as she began to understand what had happened. She turned back to Riley. “That's a perfectly healthy baby boy, Riley. Babies born early sometimes got a little hair and that white creamy fluid just something covers the baby in the womb. That was a healthy baby boy, Riley.” She felt she had to say it again. “That was a healthy baby boy.”
Verilynn's face went slack. Riley cleared his throat several times before he could speak again. “What about his head? His head was allâall pointed and long and looked like the picture of the devil.”
“That's the head bones squeezing together to come out is all. They drift apart and round up after a few days. Most babies look like that, Riley. Most babies look just like that
baby in there, except they're breathing and suckling right now, and not waiting to be laid in the ground.” Emeline could hardly control her rage even as she sensed Riley's horror at what he'd done.
Riley rose from the sofa, put his feet into his boots, took his coat from a hook by the door, and left the house. Emeline and Verilynn looked at each other.
“I need to get on back to my family, Verilynn. Nothing more I can do here.”
Verilynn nodded.
“I'm sorry about your father. You know he was like a brother to me.”
Verilynn nodded again.
“This house has seen too much sadness. Much too much.” She shivered. “You have to help her, Verilynn. Doesn't look like Riley's gonna take this too well and she's gonna need someone strong to help her through. There's some cleaning-up and washing to do. You'll have to get that baby buried, too.”
Verilynn nodded.
“Ground's frozen hard. Likely have to dig close to the house.”
Verilynn nodded once more, then asked, “Did she give him a name?”
Emeline blew her nose. “She calls him Leam.”
Verilynn repeated, “Leam.”
Verilynn waited until some time after Emeline left to venture down the hall toward Poppa's room. She opened
the door slowly and stood very still. Addy was gazing into the face of her son and did not seem to see Verilynn there.
Soft afternoon light filtered through the window and fell upon Addy's calm, gentle face, and since the child was hidden in the cradle of her arm and might have been alive for the way Addy looked at him, Verilynn thought it a most beautiful picture.