Emma Field Book I - coming of age in the changing times of the mid-19th century

Chapter VI - Humiliated

Although Emma and her father had been in the same room since Jeremiah had returned from the 
 barn, their eyes had not once met. Emma poured hot water from the kettle into the dishpan, her teeth clenched together. Her eyes were dry and her cheeks tight. She circled the dishrag inside the rim of the cup like water twirling down a drain.

Finally she could stand it no longer. "Father-is-lambing-a-bad-word?" The words tumbled out in such a rush they sounded like one word. She shot a look at her father, sitting by the fire.

He squinted at her. "No...not in the right company it isn't."

"Then Mr. Brown isn't the right company?"

"No...no...I would say that he probably isn't," he replied, scrutinizing his daughter's flushed face carefully. "You said something at school about last night, didn't you? Now I understand."

Emma nodded her head. A tear splashed into the dishwater.

"Show me your hand, Emma."

More tears splattered. Emma held her left hand toward Jeremiah without looking up. A screaming red line ran across her palm.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Emma. You didn't know, did you?"

"No I didn't and it isn't fair!" she shouted.

"Life isn't fair." He sat up straight, sighing deeply.

"That's obvious! But why did he have to strap me? I didn't do anything wrong."

"You spoke of matters which are not to be discussed in public. He was making certain that you would not forget that. Matters related to birth are not to be discussed, Emma. Don't forget that."

"I won't!" Her temples felt as if they would burst wide open.

Emma spun around, her wet hands on her hips, her eyes flashing, and a deep frown creasing her brow. "But that is so foolish! So absolutely foolish! The barley plants produce seeds of grain. We harvest those together and talk about the yield. Why wouldn't we talk about newborn lambs? That is so foolish!"

"I don't know. Some of it is just Canadian. We aren't so tight in our talk in Ireland. But some of it is just...private. Or sacred."

"Or scared! It sounds as if people are scared if they act that way!"

"Oh, I don't think so."

"I did nothing wrong. I helped a ewe and two lambs who would have otherwise died. I helped you and I helped Mr. Cooper."

"What did you say to Mr. Brown?"

"That the smell he was asking about came from a ewe's birthing fluids on my dress."

"Oh, Emma."

"There is nothing wrong with that!" She banged the cup onto the table. "I'm going out! Don't wait up for me!"

Emma marched off toward their barn, then headed across the road to the Coopers' barn. She wasn't as familiar with their barn in the dark and she fumbled to find the latch. Patting her hand along the wooden partitions, she came to the pen with the ewe and lambs. She could barely make out the shape of the ewe but heard her rise and stomp her feet at Emma. The lambs rustled in the straw. "Maaaa!" they demanded of their mother. The ewe gave them a calming chuckle.

"I'll just sit here in the corner, Mama. Don't worry, I won't hurt your babies. Remember me? I helped you last night...and I got some of your birthing fluids on my dress and...and that Mr. Brown smelled it and then beat me for telling him what it was. I hate Mr. Brown! I hate him more than anyone else I've ever met.

"But I hate everyone right now. People are so stupid, Mama. They never protect their babies, like you just did with yours. They tell them they should know about all of the foolish rules they established long before any of us had a chance to notice."

Emma leaned her head into the corner. "I hate people. I really, really hate people!" In her anger, she squeezed her eyes shut and pursed her mouth into a hard line.

In the silence following her outburst, Emma heard the lambs sucking. Slowly her face relaxed into a smile. "I wonder how people feed babies. The mothers must let their babies suck at their nipples too, but I have never seen it happen. That is..." She swallowed hard as she thought of her own, dead mother.

Her bruised hand went to the pyramid that was her left breast. "How could a baby ever get milk from this? I've never had any milk come from it. There isn't really even a nipple there. And there isn't a hole. Maybe I won't be able to feed a baby." She frowned, then jutted her chin out at a determined angle. "Well, that's good. It seems like a lot of work." The ewe settled into the straw. With her eyes adjusting to the dimness, Emma could now see the outline of the two lambs nestling against their mother's side and she ached for the mother she barely knew.