You Promised

Chapter Twenty One

I slowly lift my head from my arms that are resting on Mrs. Hartly's bedside. My hair is caught in my mouth and I rub my eyes to remove the sleep from them. Jayne lies across the armchair, with her arms thrown about the place above her head. The night before, Jayne and I had told Jayne's sisters to go home to rest while we stay and mind her mother.
I creak to my feet and stagger to the window. I pull my hair back out of my face and I peer out the glass.
As I look out, amongst the men and women milling about the streets, a woman runs and dodges people with amazing speed. As I squint to recognise her, I hear a moan from behind me. Mrs. Hartly is sitting up and stretching her arms about her head.
'Oh my!' I exclaim, running to Jayne and shaking her awake.
'Mother!' She shouts, flinging her arms around her mother's neck. The door slams open and in springs Dolly.
'Look at you?!' She says, racing over to her and checking some metal box that beeps every two minutes. She instantly smiles and and pats her arm. 'You are on the mend, certainly. Don't get two excited but.....you can most likely be going home tomorrow!'
Mrs. Hartly's face shines at the three of us. I soon dispatch a young nurse to fetch Jayne's sisters from their home. They swarm through the door, all chirping happy sounds in the general direction of their mother.
Jayne spins around in circles, looking quite flustered as the noise level rises to squeals of delight at the improving health of their mother. Jayne's curved cheeks are flushed as she dashes to and fro, sorting out the return of her mother.
I slowly sneak out the door, giving them their privacy. As I close the door behind me, the woman I saw running, crashes into me. The woman is my own dear mother. Her bonnet is falling down around her sweating face as she pants and struggles to catch her breath before she can speak.
'Its......it......it's Jenny.' She gasps.
I draw a quick breath. 'But....it cannot be the baby. She is only eight months in!'
My mother shakes her head in response.
My sister is going into early labour.
I push past her as I run. Throwing my obstacles away from me, much to the annoyance of the nurses, I shove the hospital door open as I almost fall down the steps. I sprint down the street, dust flying in my wake. I bang open our front door and rush upstairs. I hear a shout from my father as I fling open the spare bedroom door.
Jenny lies on the bed. Her hair lying in a tangled mess above her head, her normally clear blue eyes clouded in pain. Beads of sweat trickling down her grimacing face as she groans loudly. The doctors and nurses fly around her in a frenzy of panicked work.
Suddenly, an agonised scream erupts from my sister's tortured lips. She writhes on her bed as blood wells on the now crimson sheets.
The doctors share quick, worried glances at one another as she hits her fists on the mattress in pain.
'Whats wrong?' My mother asks as she barges though the door.
The doctors don't even bother answering her question as my sister wails from underneath masses of blankets. I run over to help a small nurse carry a large tub of bloodstained water downstairs.
As I struggle from the room with the tub, I spot my brother's crazy mop of brown hair bobbing around at the bottom of the stairs. He sees my burden and kindly takes it from me and we go together to the kitchen to empty and refill it. Our silence is broken only by a piercing scream form upstairs that shocks us both into rapid movement. John gently hands me the tub before I return to the room.
But before I enter he says. 'Ami, how can I help?' His huge eyes plead me.
'Pray for her, John. Her baby is coming a month early. That is never good.' I don't bother sugar-coating it for him. Instead, I shrug his hand from my shoulder and continue into the bedroom, to wait upon my anguished sister.
I hand the giant tub of water to a nurse before sitting with my mother in the corner. She is holding Jenny's hand as some form of comfort, but nothing seems to be able to comfort my sister now. Her body squirms beneath the sheets as her breath quickens. Her breath comes in short gasps from her dry and cracking lips. Seeing this, I give her a sip of water which she pushes from my hand in a crazy gesture that flings the glass to the floor, shattering it.
I sit back down on the floor, mere seconds before my mother and I are ushered from the room. We go without complaint or question, knowing that we cannot be in the way out here.
We go downstairs to make some tea and then we sit in a horrified silence, listening to the
excruciated screams of my sister. I shift uncomfortably in my seat as my mothers eyes scan the room, biting her lip. I close my eyes and try to ignore the rushing of the doctors feet on the wooden floor above me. The low hums of small conversation between my brother and father as they try to distract themselves. The pained screeches of my poor sister. The sound of water splashing onto the floor. The slurping my mother does when she sips her tea. The slight clink of my teacup back into it's saucer.
When suddenly, the noise stops completely from upstairs.
I share a terrified look with my mother. Slowly, we rise to our feet. My gaze blurry with worried tears, I pick my way up the stairs. John and Father emerge from the library, looking as aghast as we do. John's face is deathly pale as we creep up the stairs, hearing nothing from her room. I grab John's hand and he holds it tightly as we make our dreaded way upstairs. My heartbeat pounds in my ears as fresh tears boldly streak down my cheeks.
When I reach the door, I hang back, afraid to go in. John, instead, reaches forward and lightly taps the door open with his knuckles. The door creaks open and I peer inside.
The curtains are pulled, which only allows small slivers of light to dance upon the wooden floor. A doctor sits, exhausted, in an armchair with his hands laced behind his head. Another nurse stands, shaking her head. I slowly let my eyes take it all in. Then, my eyes see Jenny.
My eyes feel like they are drowning with everything that I can see. Jenny lies, on the bloodstained blankets with her fingers clasped around her stomach. Her eyes are screwed shut and tear stains run down her hollow cheeks. She briefly opens her eyes again and sees us. She rolls into her side, facing away from us, and sobs gently into her pillow. She holds herself tightly and rocks herself back and forth. That's when I see it.
A small bundle of linen, laying softly on the dresser, with its fingers clasped around themselves. It's eyes are closed, and it's small mouth slightly open. His skin has a blue tinge to it, like his mother's eyes.
The only sound in the room comes from Jenny's quiet crying as small tears make their own way down my cheeks, when I take Jenny's still-born baby in my arms and cradle him as if he had not already been claimed by God. I hold him in my arms and bury my face in the linen wrapped around him. My mother scoops him out of my arms, so that I can go over to Jenny and take her hand. For once, she does not pull away nor push me to one side. She curls her knees to her chin, before surrendering to her immense pain and grief. My mother stands, mouth open, being held by my father while John's eyes glisten with tears as he shakes beside Father.