My Children Are More Precious Than Gold Read online

  Jacob dropped the pitch fork full of bedding he meant to throw in a stall and headed in long strides for the house. Cass had to skip to keep up with him.

  Quietly, Jacob slipped into the bedroom to look at Nannie. She seemed to be resting, but her breathing was labored. She clutched her stomach as if to ease some discomfort. Without saying anything to her, Jacob tiptoed out of the room. He was afraid that if he spoke to Nannie she’d try to put up a good front and tell him not to bother Genon yet.

  “Ya girls are right. Yer mama doesn’t look right. Its close to two months too early fer her time, but something seems to be wrong so I’ll send Lue to fetch Genon. Keep things quiet so yer mama kin rest until Genon gets here. Not a word about Genon comen though soens yer mama won’t get upset about us fetchen her.”

  Genon began to pack a bag to take with her while Lue told her what he knew about his mother. She glanced out the cabin window to the north and decided to put in her spiked shoes just in case the brewing storm turned into an ice storm. When she made the return trip home, she might need those spiked shoes to get a grip on the icy hills.

  “All right, youngun. Let’s go,” Genon said. The frigid air gave her goose bumps as she left the warm cabin. She shivered, pulled down her wide brim hat over her ears and pulled up her jacket collar around her neck, preparing to face the north wind.

  “Nannie, its Genon. Is ya awake?” Genon spoke softly so she wouldn’t startle the expectant mother.

  “Mercy sakes, it been two weeks already?” Nannie rubbed her eyes to wake herself up.

  “Nope, nope. Jest passen by and thought I’d stop in to say hey,” Genon fibbed. “Ya look a might puny today. Are ya haven any pains?”

  “A few little ones. Nothen to brag about yet,” Nannie confided, licking her dry lips.

  “Jest rest easy. I’ll have yer girls heet ya up some chamomile tea. Maybe this here is jest false pains, and it’ll go away directly,” Genon patted Nannie's hand and noticed it felt feverish.

  Genon returned to the living room. She looked gravely at Jacob as he stood up. “I better stick around. Nannie’s got fever, and she may be birthen soon. Are ya sure ya don’t want to fetch Doc. Jensen?”

  “Her time’s not fer a couple months yet!” Jacob cried in alarm.

  “It should be, but somethin is wrong. Has been from the start, and it don’t look good now, Jacob. What about Doc. Jensen?”

  “There’s a storm comen. Doc might get caught in it along with one of my boys tryen to get him here. Nannie would have my hide if I let somethin have to Doc or one of the boys. Nope, besides Nannie jest wanted y'all here. Jest like always.”

  “All right, me ya got, Jacob. Gals, keep some water bilen and some clean rags handy.”

  “We already have that done,” Cass replied softly.

  “Good fer ya, Cassie. Ya remind me of yer mama more and more ever day. Ya are as handy as a pocket on a shirt,” Genon praised. “Kin I have a cup of that coffee I’m smellen? Its right chipper out yonder, and I had a long, cold walk getten here.”

  Genon scooted a chair from under the table over by the fireplace. She plopped down, stretched her legs out to feel the warmth of the fire on her feet and held her hands palm out toward the flames while she watched the girls scurry around the kitchen.

  Later that afternoon, a distressed cry in the bedroom broke the silence. Startled, Genon nearly knocked her chair over when she jumped up. Waking out of a doze, it took her a second to get her bearings.

  “I’m comen, Nannie,” she yelled as she headed to the bedroom doorway. “What’s the matter?”

  “Genon, yer still here. Thank goodness!” Nannie cried. Her face was twisted in pain, and she had a white knuckle grip on the bedpost above her head with both hands.

  “Younguns, bring hot water and rags in here now,” Genon ordered before she shut the bedroom door.

  “Bess, go get Pap from the barn!” Cass said, reaching for the hot dish pan with a folded up dish towel in each hand.

  The hours stretched on and on. Wordlessly, Jacob and the children picked their way through supper then settled down by the fireplace to wait. The flickering yellow-red flames crackled and danced over the logs, mesmerizing everyone. Behind the children, different size shadows moved back and forth on the wall as the Bishops changed their position.

  At intervals, the silence was broken only when the logs popped and crackled, sending showers of sparks up in the air to glow like shooting stars in a black sky before they died out on the stone hearth. Once in a while a log would give way, falling in a rush of flames to disintegrate into glowing, red coals.

  The children sat close together as much for comfort as for warmth. Once in a while, muffled moans or stifled screams leaked through the closed bedroom door causing everyone to be startled as they glanced worriedly at the door and then at each other.

  Tap! Tap! Tap!

  “Listen, Pap!” Lue spoke in a hushed voice. “Ice hitten the tin roof. The storm is here.”

  ‘Yep, I heared it,” Pap nodded. “But we’re all in here together safe and warm. That’s what counts. Right, younguns?”

  “Pap, ya know what I think that tappen on the roof is?” Lydia, her face taking on the look of a cherub, suggested. “I think it’s angels dancen on the roof, watchen out fer Mama and the baby.”

  “Oh, Lydia - - -.” Always realistic, Veder started to give her opinion, but Pap shook his head to stop her.

  “Ifen we ever needed angels, it would be now, Veder. I reckon, Lydia, ya could be right.” Pap picked the little girl up, placed her on his lap and gave her a hug. The rest of the children crowded a little closer to Pap for comfort. Once in a while when the tapping was particularly loud, they’d steal glances at the ceiling as if to see if an angel or two might be descending upon them.

  Finally as the night lengthened, the younger children couldn’t keep their eyes open. They curled up on the floor, basking in the warm glow of the fireplace, and Jacob didn’t have the heart to make them go to the cold upstairs. He knew they wanted to be near their mother. Jacob sent Cass go upstairs for quilts from their beds to cover the little ones with right where they lay.

  It was just after midnight, when the bedroom door squeaked slowly open. Genon slipped out, carefully shutting the door behind her. Jacob looked at her hopefully, but Genon leaned against the door and sadly shook her head no at Jacob. He jumped up to rush to Nannie’s side, but Genon put her hand on the door facing to stop him.

  “Jest peek in at her and don’t disturb her, Jacob. She’s sleepen, and she needs the rest,” Genon said firmly. “There’s nothen more we kin do til mornen. Ever one of us is fagged out. I can see that from here,” she said, looking over at all the children rolled in quilts on the floor near the fireplace. “Get me a cover soen’s I kin make a pallet on the floor by Nannie’s bed. I’ll stay with her the rest of the night. Ya best get em younguns up to their beds now, too.” Genon turned to reenter the bedroom then turned back and said softly, “Jacob, it was a boy. The poor little thing was backward and never breathed. The cord was around his neck. I felt it in my bones that this wasn’t goen to be an easy birthen.”

  “Thankee fer all ya done though, Genon,” Jacob said. “Cass, fetch Genon and me some covers. I’m goen to bed down by the fireplace soens I’ll be close to yer mama. Boys, hep these younguns up to bed. Genon, did ya hear the storm?”

  “Yep, it sounds rough outside. I felt that ice storm comen in my bones. I brung my spiked shoes jest in case.” Genon paused to watch the children. Their sleepy heads hung low as they dragged their feet and stumbled up the stairs.

  She said in a hushed voice, “I wrapped the baby up in a towel, and laid him beside Nannie ifen ya want to take a peek. Ya need to get busy on the coffin tomorrow. Jacob, Nannie said she wants the name, Richard Jacob, after ya all put on the marker.”

  “I’ll get at it first thing in the mornen, ice storm or no ice storm.” Jacob rubbed his forehead as if to help him clear his thoughts, “Won’t take long to m
ake a coffin that babe’s size.”

  The next morning, the sun woke everyone up, rising to shine on the ice covered surroundings. The whole world around the Bishops sparkled like fine crystal.

  The middle of the morning not far from the cabin the ringing sound of a pick ax bounced off the ridge as Elmer Litwiller worked to loosen ice covered, frozen soil and rocks. He was digging a hole for a small grave in the Bishop family cemetery. Tutt Jones, squatting with his backside to a small stick fire, waited to shovel away the dirt and rocks loosened by Elmer’s pick.

  “Sure a sad time,” Elmer grunted between strikes. “Too bad fer the Bishop that this had to happen at Christmas.”

  “Yep, sure is,” Tutt agreed shortly, watching the puff of steam his voice produced float away on the cold breeze. “Keep picken, Elmer. It’s too cold out here to fool around.”

  “This here rocky ground is hard enough to dig in warm weather, but it twice as hard when the ground is froze and covered with ice. Don’t know why yer complainen, Tutt. Yer the one sitten on the fire while I work. The grave hole ain’t goen to need be all that big,” growled Elmer.

  “This fire feels darn good where it’s warmen, too,” drawled Tutt, grinning in spite of himself.

  A blustery north wind blew down Mosquito Hollow on the day of the funeral. The church, a long, narrow, unpainted building darkened throughout the ages to a dark gray by years of weather stood in a grove of leafless oak trees. A black pitcher pump, covering a well in the front yard, seemed an imposing fixture in the bare yard. Attached to the bump on the pump spout was a shiny, tin, drinking cup, glinting in the sunlight like a beacon guiding the mourners to the church.

  The rough board floor of the church was worn and shiny in the aisles between the pews, made that way by the feet of many generations of worshipers. The pews, made of one by four boards spaced four inches apart, glowed, polished from the congregation scooting back and forth. Ask anyone in the congregation. They would tell you those pews were hard sitting on a Sunday that the preacher gave a long winded sermon.

  The Bishop family arrived early at the church for the funeral. Elmer Litwiller had already been there to start a fire in the heating stove, standing middle ways of the room along one wall at the end of a line of pews. The fire’s warmth had time to reach around the room and fog up the windows before anyone arrived. The stove’s dented sides emitted thin heat waves that shimmered toward the ceiling. Flames crackled inside the stove’s belly. A flicker of red danced behind the three holed air vent at the bottom. Sid opened the door to check out the stove’s contents and made a mental note to refill the stove from the dry oak slabs stacked in the wood box in the back of the room if no one else did.

  Tom and Lue carried a small bench up to the front and placed it by the podium. Jacob gently placed his namesake’s coffin down on the bench and sat down in the first pew with Nannie. He looked worriedly at his wife, and the thought crossed his mind that she was one strong woman to get out of her sick bed so soon. Her face was drawn and pale from months of staying in bed and the difficult birthing. Jacob worried that the effort of coming to the church may be too much for her.

  Bess twisted around on the pew behind her parents and looked down the aisle. She couldn’t see outside from there so she got up and walked back to the door to see if anyone was coming. It was a relief to see several buggies arriving from both ends of Mosquito Hollow so the funeral could get under way.

  In a hushed voice, Preacher Irby spoke to each of the Bishops then he stepped behind the podium. He began with a prayer. “Amen. Now let’s sing a hymn. How about --,” Preacher Irby halted, transfixed. His mouth stayed open as he stared down the aisle at the door.

  Everyone turned in their seats to see what had his attention. With the sun at her back, the darkened figure loomed in the door, casting a long, black shadow over the mourners. She walked slowly down the aisle to the front, looking straight ahead of her and sat down at the ancient, out of tune, upright piano that hadn’t been played in years. Its beauty had disappeared with its age. Now covered with scars from being moved from one corner of the room to another, some of the white keys were a gaped brown among the rest, missing the ivory top.

  Frozen in the moment, the congregation stared at Genon Mitt’s back as she began to play The Old Rugged Cross. They were amazed at how well the hymn sounded coming from that piano after it had been silent for years. It was being brought to life, played by this mystical woman the congregation had never seen play before. How could they know? The woman hadn't been a member of their church for years. Genon was through the first verse before people came to their senses enough to sing the words.

  As if Genon playing the piano was a regular occurrence in his church, when the hymn was over, Preacher Irby nodded his head and said, “Well done, Miss Mitts.” Then he began his message.

  After the service, Jacob rose, picked up the baby’s coffin and turned to go down the aisle with his family following behind him. The congregation stayed seated until the family had all left the church. They rose to follow them to the cemetery.

  Curious about the sudden appearance of Genon Mitts, Preacher Irby stepped over to the piano. “Well done, Sister. I didn’t know ya could play the piano. Ya should come to Sunday services on a regular basis and play. The congregation would love that.”

  “First of all, I’m not yer sister. I be Nannie’s sister. Second, I wouldn’t play like that fer anyone cept Nannie and Jacob. Good day to ya.” Genon said curtly as she rose from the bench to leave.

  Preacher Irby stood with his mouth open for the second time that day as he watched the mysterious and often spooky midwife leave the church. He tried to digest what she had just said. He wondered if he'd just found out more about Genon Mitts then most of the people on the ridge knew. Of course, ridge people were a tight lipped bunch so there was no telling what they kept to themselves.

  Chapter 19

  Blue Ridge Christmas

  After the funeral, the Bishops walked back to the cabin, and Nannie went back to her bed. A morose quiet hung over the house for a few days. Then one morning, Nannie called Cass and Bess into the bedroom after breakfast.

  “Younguns, it’s high time we start preparations for Christmas for the sake of the younger children, don’t ya think?” Asked Nannie.

  “I reckon Christmas is getten close, Mama,” admitted Bess.

  “See ifen ya two girls can do something to get the Christmas spirit started around here,” instructed Nannie with a weak smile at Cass.

  “All right, Mama. We’ll see what we can do,” agreed Cass.

  “It’s time to get on with our lives. We’ve mourned enough, I reckon,” shared Nannie.

  Nannie hoped for the sake of the whole family that once they started thinking about Christmas they would perk up.

  Cass put her coat on and went to look for Jacob. He was coming out of the barn. “Pap, Mama wants ya to go get a Christmas tree. She says we best be thinken about getten prepared fer Christmas for the sake of the younguns.”

  “Reckon, yer mama is right,” agreed Jacob.

  Right after chores, he took Sid and Lue with him to find a Christmas tree. They looked throughout the pasture. Finally, they settled on a big cedar tree, growing close to the house since it was going to take all three of them to drag it. Once they had the tree through the cabin door, Jacob nailed two boards together for the stand and nailed the cross to the bottom of the tree.

  “Sid, Lue and Don, come hep me stand this here tree up. Ifen it don’t stand by itself, then we might have to tie it to a nail on the wall,” said Jacob.

  The boys reached down into the tree to get hold of the branches and began to lift up. The tall tree rose slowly upright, and shuttered when the boys turned loose of it. Holding their breath, everyone stared at the weaving tree, but it remained in place.

  Cass opened the steamer trunk, lifted out the Christmas ornament box from among the games and placed it on the table. The children, now full of excitement, began to chatter as a
ll of them picked a place to decorate on the tree.

  Cass heated a skillet on the stove, tossed in a handful of popcorn and placed on the lid. The kernels sizzled in the lard, then popped open, flying up to hit the lid while Cass shook the skillet back and forth over the stove to keep the popcorn from burning. She popped two big dishpans full of corn and set them between the children at the table to string the garlands. There would be plenty of popcorn for everyone to munch on at the same time.

  Looking for the gold star, Lue hunted through the box until he found it. This Christmas tree was taller and larger around than most the family had brought in. The top was even out of Lou’s reach so he carried a chair over to the tree, climbed on that and placed the star.

  It took most of the afternoon to decorate the tree, and finally, the job was done. The other children stood back to admire their handiwork and clapped at the tree’s decorative holiday look.

  After supper, Cass and Bess sat down at the table to put their heads together and planned the Christmas meal.

  “The geese are big enough to butcher so we could have geese and cornbread dressen,” said Cass.

  “That sounds good along with all the usual dishes that Mama always fixed like mashed potatoes and gravy, baked sweet potatoes, hominy and squash pie,” Bess stated licking her lips at the thought of all that good food.

  It seemed like quite an undertaking to Cass, but she wanted to do all she could. She had to make things easier for Nannie to rest until she was able to get back on her feet and take over again.