Stranded On Christmas (16 page)

“
Jessie,
honey, I'm here. I got you.”

“
Please,
stop, Gideon.” Why was he hurting me so much?

“
Oh,
Jessie.” I felt his hands on my face. He was kissing me and not
hitting me.

“
Mrs.
Thompson,” the doctor called out to me.

I
opened my eyes and tried to concentrate on finding his face. The room
was so bright even though it was still raining outside. I could hear
thunder and see the sky light up. Then I saw Angela's mother. She was
at the foot of the bed. She looked nervous.

Next
to her was the doctor. “Mrs. Thompson, you fell down the stairs.
The baby needs to be born right now.”

I
tried really hard to understand his words. What he was saying simply
didn't make sense. The baby couldn't live if it was born now.

I
had to scream again. I felt it. The birth was honestly happening
right now. My only friend wasn't going to be a part of my life. If
the baby was dying, then I wanted to go with it.

I
couldn't breathe, I was mourning, and I was in so much pain. This was
too much for me.

This
pain went on for hours. I didn't think that a human body could take
that much pain and still live.

I
simply wouldn't die.

Gideon
stayed by my side, holding my hand and praising my feeble efforts.

“
Okay,
Mrs. Thompson. It's time now. I need you to push.”

That
he didn't have to say. Every pore in my body was screaming at me to
push. It wasn't something that I had a choice about. Still, it took
many pushes before the baby was born.

I
had used the last of my energy to give birth to the baby. I was
fighting to stay awake. I wanted to hear if the baby would cry.

The
baby was still and quiet.

Angela's
mother took the baby off to the bathroom. I could hear her sniffling
in there.

Gideon
was also crying. “I'm so sorry, Jessie. So sorry.”

I
nodded at him, but I wasn't sure what he was sorry about. Was it
about the baby, who still hadn't cried, or was it about our marriage,
which hadn't worked out?

“
I
want to hold my baby.” I was crying and begging. I lifted my empty
hands up into the air. They needed to be filled.

What
would I do if he said no?

“
Gideon,
we will leave you two alone with the baby. Take as long as you need
to say goodbye. We'll be downstairs.”

Angela's
mother had wrapped the baby up in a towel. “I'm so sorry for you –
for both of you.” She laid the baby in my arms and they left.

Gideon
moved in closer to me, so we were both lying on the bed. He had been
kneeling next to me the whole time.

We
both stared at our child. I couldn't blink. I knew that this moment
would quickly be gone and that I would have to rely on my tired mind
to keep these memories alive.

“
He
is so tiny.” Gideon smiled at the baby.

“
The
baby is a he?” I asked.

“
I
saw that when he was born. Would you like to give him a name?”

“
I
don't know. I can't think right now.”

“
Take
your time.”

I
held the baby looking at his tiny fingers, which were bare of
fingernails. His eyes were closed, and his ribs stuck out. He had no
hair; still I thought that he was beautiful. I pushed my finger into
the palm of his hand, but his fingers didn't wrap around my finger.

The
moment choked me. I hugged the baby to my heart and bawled. I knew
that I was being selfish, but I had to hold him tightly. I wracked my
brain, trying to think of something that I could do to save him, but
nothing came to my mind. I screamed out several times.

Gideon
had his arms wrapped around the baby and me. He was crying, too. It
felt like he was trying to hold his family together and keep us in
place, but it was too late – too late for everything.

Gideon

Jessie
had finally fallen asleep. The doctor had to come up and give her
something to settle her down.

She
had screamed herself hoarse, but she had given the baby a name before
the medicine had taken away her pain and helped her sleep.

Jessie
had asked me what my name meant. I told her it meant strict judge.
She didn't seem to like that.

Jessie
ended up picking out the name Aaron. She liked that it meant
strength, saying that he would have to be strong because he didn't
have a mommy and daddy with him.

I
held the baby in my arms and walked up and down in our room.
Thousands of thoughts went through my mind. All the plans I had made
were now gone. The cradle that I had built would remain empty.

Jessie
had been making him a sweater and socks, all in white. She had beamed
at me when she told me that she would take either pink or light blue
wool and make stripes once she knew what the baby would be.

She
had taken to knitting. I was so proud of her and she had a talent for
it. Jessie was adjusting, and the baby would have made her happy. We
would have been a great family.

Now
that the baby was gone, she wouldn't want to stay here, with me.

I
kissed my son's tiny forehead and prayed that he would go to heaven
and watch over us and be happy with what he saw. I hoped that he
would be okay without us there to take care of him.

I
pictured the angels fighting over who would get to hold him next. He
was a good-looking baby. I could see so much of Jessie in him.

It
took me over an hour to gather the strength to open the door and walk
down the stairs with baby Aaron. I gave the baby to the doctor. It
was the hardest thing that I had ever had to do in all of my life,
knowing that we would never see our child again was breaking my
heart.

This
isn't how things were supposed to go. The order was all wrong.

The
doctor left, taking my son away. I stayed standing where I was, but
my eyes followed him.

I
felt a hand on my shoulder. I had seen the pastor standing in the
living room when I came in. He had been petting Pumpkin. Now he was
here to help us through this tragedy.

“
Gideon,
he has gone to a better place.” The pastor laid his hand on my
shoulder.

Words
like that were often offered to Jessie and I the next couple of days.
Jessie wasn't speaking at all again. She could be so quiet. She was
still full of bruises from her fall. Sadly, Jessie blamed herself.

I
tried to talk to her about that, but she would gulp loudly and start
to cry. The doctor was giving her daily shots to calm her nerves.

When
she wasn't crying, she was working on the things that she had made
for Aaron.

On
the day of the funeral, we drove to the doctor's to see our baby one
last time. I was worried how Jessie would react to that. I was
imagining her refusing to let us bury him.

I
wasn't sure that I could go through with it either. The thought of my
tiny son under the earth's surface was so wrong.

Jessie
tenderly picked him up and changed him into the things she had made
for him. He had other things on before we came.

Jessie
was talking to him like he was alive and could understand her. She
told him that she wanted him to be good and happy. She said that we
were both going to miss him and think about him often. She told him
that we loved him very much.

I
was too choked up to say anything. Jessie was proving to be stronger
than I was.

I
would have liked to say those things to him too. He should have heard
those promises of eternal love from both of us.

During
the funeral Jessie held onto my hand so tightly it hurt. She broke
down when the tiny casket was lowered into the ground. She was on her
knees sobbing. I tried to lift her back to her feet, but I just
didn't have the strength for something like that. I was using the
last of mine to keep me on my feet.

Jessie
sat next to his grave until it got dark. The doctor gave her another
shot and sent us away.

On
the way home, Jessie worried about Aaron being all alone. Then she
went right back to not talking.

Jessie
would all of a sudden be standing next to me in the barn. She
wouldn't say anything. She just stood there. When she had my
attention, she would stare at me for a moment and then turn back to
the house.

It
took me a few days to realize that this was her way of calling me to
the table. When I came in, she would be sitting at the table and
waiting for me.

Her
quietness made me become her counterpart. I couldn't shut up. I
talked about anything that I could think of. Jessie hung on every
word, but she never commented.

I
tried to get her to answer questions, but that only resulted in her
crying, so I let her be.

At
night, we clung to each other in bed. She would move in very close to
me, and I would wrap my arms around her. She said nothing, but she
cried.

I'm
man enough to admit that I cried, too. We mourned our baby together.

Jessie

Gideon
was being great about everything. I got the feeling that he didn't
blame me.

Of
course, it had been my fault, he had even offered to carry me up the
stairs, but he never said anything along those lines. I never caught
him giving me a look like he was thinking something like that either.

After
the funeral I tried to at least function like I should, but I
couldn't. I was constantly playing catch up. I would be doing fine,
and then I would realize that I had spent an hour just doing the
dishes.

Then
I would start the wash and a little while later I was in the coop,
gathering eggs only to notice that I hadn't finished what I had
started.

I
couldn't bear to hear myself talk. The sound of my own voice annoyed
me so much that I stop talking altogether.

I
would stand in front of the bathroom mirror and try to say things,
but I ended up staring at my stomach. My body shape felt all wrong. I
should still be pregnant, but the baby wasn't there anymore. He was
all alone in his grave. I hoped the things that I had made for him
were enough to keep him warm.

On
Sundays after church Gideon took me to visit him. I took along
flowers from our garden and planted them. Gideon had a stone made for
him. Aaron James Thompson and his date of birth were on it.

I
wanted to ask him why Gideon had picked the name James, but I
couldn't bring myself to talk.

Besides,
we understood each other better without words.

He
held me at night when I had to lay in the bed my son had died in.
That meant a lot to me. He wasn't leaving me alone with my problems.

It
had been two months after Aaron left our lives when I walked into the
kitchen and saw a man standing there who I didn't know.

“
Hello,”
I said, surprised at the sound of my own voice.

The
man looked me up and down and then around the kitchen. He pulled a
gun out and grabbed my arm, twisting it behind my back.

I
didn't understand what was going on. My only thought was that Gideon
had hired him to punish me because I killed the baby. Maybe Gideon
couldn't do it himself anymore.

I
deserved it, so I decided not to fight this man. I was hoping that I
would somehow be able to better live with myself.

“
Make
me something to eat.” The man shoved me towards the stove.

I
quickly started cooking the meal that I had wanted to make for Gideon
and myself.

The
meal would take at least an hour to make. I was peeling the potatoes
when he took a pan off of a hook and hit me square in the back with
it.

“
Hurry
up,” he scolded me.

I
hadn’t expected that, so I screamed out and dropped to my knees. A
moment later the kitchen door opened, and Gideon came in. He raced to
me and asked me what was wrong.

“
The
man hit me.”

“
Who
hit you?” Gideon’s forehead wrinkled up as he held me tighter.

I
pointed over his shoulder from my spot on the kitchen floor. Gideon
helped me to my feet and turned so he was in front of me.

He
spotted the man in the corner. “How dare you touch my wife?”

The
man smirked at him and pulled out a gun. “I'm the new boss here.
Everyone does what I say. Then I won't have to hurt anyone. She needs
to get back to cooking.” He looked at me like he was enjoying this
game.

I
nodded at him and turned back to my work as best as I could with the
dreadful pain that I had in my back and side. I didn’t want the man
to hurt my Gideon.