Hannah's Rainbow: Every Color Beautiful

Chapter Six

Summer of 1922 proved in many ways that Hannah wasn't ready to grow up. As she had every summer before, she spent the long, hot days outside, never a dull moment with her friends on Madison Avenue. Louisa eventually apologized and came around to Hannah's new hairdo.

Ma's pregnancy progressed without complications, although she had to stay off her feet often. That meant more work for the rest of the family, and while Hannah didn't complain, Amy was never quite herself. With Amy being at work, Hannah had more to do at home, and she also had taken over keeping Pa's books for his business.

By September, the elderberries on the shrub in the backyard were ready for picking. Hannah harvested the majority of them and brought them to Ma, who made tea and pie. In the basement, Pa was making root beer and ginger ale. The flavorful smells of the season filled the house.

Soon, leaves were shedding their summer green and displaying brilliant reds, golds, and oranges. Fallen, dried leaves crunched underfoot on the walks to and from school. In late October, Irma Claire was born.

Hannah watched the screaming baby a few days later as Ma rocked her in the cradle. Irma's tiny face was beet red, her eyes scrunched shut, and her mouth wide open as she wailed. Her hair was dark and wet.

"Did I look like that?" she asked.

"Yes," Ma said.

"I thought babies were supposed to be cute."

Ma chuckled, picking the infant up and holding her to her bosom. "I think she's still hungry. To answer your question, dear, newborns usually look a bit... Well, let's just say that being born isn't an easy thing. Give her a few days. She'll look 'cute,' as you call it. In a few weeks, she'll even be smiling."

Hannah left Ma and baby Irma to themselves and returned to her bedroom. She was disappointed not to see Amy. Spotting Amy's long-forgotten doll in her dusty violet dress, Hannah walked over and picked it up.

"I remember Ma telling me how Amy said she was looking forward to tea parties with me after I was born. Now I could say the same thing. I wish... I wish Amy hadn't grown up. It's like she's grown out of having any fun."

Hannah gazed at the doll's face, the frozen smile that seemed to mock her. Frowning, Hannah set the doll down more roughly than she intended and left the room. When she returned to her parents' room, Ma was finishing up feeding Irma. The infant was quiet and content as Ma burped her. Hannah watched from the doorway, not wanting to make too much noise.

"I think now would be a good time to try to hold her," Ma said softly, nodding.

Hannah returned the nod and entered. She took a seat on the end of the bed as Ma rose from the rocking chair.

"Put your arms out. I'm going to pass her off to you, but it's very important that you keep her head supported."

"All- all right," Hannah replied with hesitation. She did as instructed and gingerly took the baby in her arms, slowly and carefully guiding the bundle toward her until the swaddled infant was resting on her lap. She didn't move a muscle.

"You can relax a bit," Ma said with a light chuckle. "You're not going to break her."

"But you said to keep her head supported-"

"Yes, but babies are also stronger than you realize. You can afford to move a bit. She would like that."

Hannah gazed down into Irma's tiny face. "Is it strange that I don't feel like she's really my sister? I mean, there's no connection yet."

"Not strange in the least. The more time you spend with her, the more you'll come to feel like she's part of the family. When Amy was born, I was scared beyond words. Being a mother for the first time is both exhilarating and scary. I thought I was supposed to feel a deep connection with my daughter the first time I held her, and when I didn't immediately feel it, I thought something must have been wrong with me. But you know what the funny thing was?"

"What?"

"My mother told me she felt the same way when your uncle John was born. Before you know it, Hannah, Irma will be running around and talking your ear off, if she's anything like the rest of you."

Hannah smiled. "She won't be walking and talking for a year or so, right? Ma, that's for ever and ever."

"To you, child, it is, but trust me when I say that time goes faster the older you get."

Ma withdrew Irma from Hannah's grasp and was singing a lullaby to the baby in German as Hannah left. She went outside to enjoy what might be one of the last warm days for a while. Halloween would be upon them before they knew it, and Hannah briefly considered working on her black cat costume. As the sun shone down upon her in the yard, Hannah kicked at some leaves and wondered about raking them into a pile to play in. The trees were half-bare, and if the wind continued as it had, they would be completely naked in a few days' time. The smell of rain clung to the smoky fragrance wafting into the yard from the neighbor's chimney.

Hannah left the boundary of her backyard and roamed the neighborhood, these sidewalks and houses familiar friends after ten years together. Church bells sounded the hour down the street, and somewhere off in the distance, shrieks of children's laughter echoed off the houses.

Ma spoke of time moving faster the older she got, but Hannah couldn't understand that. To her, this street, these homes, these neighbors - they were all she had ever known. Her life felt timeless, like she would be a child forever. When she thought deeply on such matters, she was surprised to acknowledge some hard truths: Amy was a grown woman, and she had changed from the fun-loving youth she had been not long ago. The evidence of both of her parents' ages were clear in the grey hairs and wrinkles that had crept so slowly, they seemed uninvited guests who had patiently yet persistently moved into her house over the years.

Looking up, Hannah noticed some storm clouds rolling in, the kind seen only in autumn that lie low in the sky and seem to stretch for miles and miles. She turned for home.

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After the dinner plates had been washed and put away, Ma retired to the bathroom for a well-earned soak in the claw-footed tub. The radio in the corner of the dining room was playing jazz music, the volume low. Pa and Hannah's brothers had taken a liking to the newer music. As the three played a game of cards in the living room, the static broadcast rambled on. Hannah sat on the couch for a while, trying to read, but her eyes were growing heavy. She retired upstairs and stopped at the top of the landing when Amy's lovely singing voice drifted down the short hall.

When Hannah reached the doorway of her parents' bedroom, she stopped, stunned by the sight that greeted her. Amy was sitting in the rocking chair, holding baby Irma, singing whatever lullaby Ma had earlier. A soft smile formed on Hannah's lips.

Perhaps Amy hadn't changed so much, after all.

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