March 1919
All the Delaney's sat gathered round the dinner table.
Unperceiving of her heightened feelings, Margaret suppressed pesky reminisces of a certain hay bale. They swam in her transit mind. Despite this, she had no intention of welcoming them.
"All right. All right. We have an announcement." Mrs.Delaney's voice was laced with enthusiasm and conjoint discipline. Her stringent tone gave way as she paid Mr.Delaney a flirtatious glance, flashing her eyes wide in a simper. Most nearly stifling a giggle.
Margaret wondered what gave her such a joyous temperament. Mrs.Delaney cleared her throat for further emphasis, as Annie and Jacob were more intent upon stuffing their faces, and Betty, on herself. Betty wound a perfected curl through her fingers. Margaret was forcing away yet another thought. The violet eyed boy with a golden mound of hair.
The children, once realms away, were all instantly attached to their mother's every word. As she relinquished the consequential truth. Clenching her stomach in a broad grin, taking hold of their father's hand.
"We're having a baby!"
Sudden realization sprouted about the room. Followed by latter companions, joy, shock, contempt, uncertainty.
"Oh, mama! That's wonderful!" Betty cooed excitedly.
"Suppose it is." Jacob muttered, still much engaged in the steaming bowl before him. Margaret wasn't yet decided on her take of the matter. She remained in silence. Annie joined the animated conversation in her absence.
"I was wondering where all the chocolates went."
The family erupted with laughter.
"Guilty." Mrs. Delaney admitted, through chuckles.
They were happy. Free from pain and unsuspecting. Though, Margaret possessed some mild apprehension. I wish deeply that she could have been misguided in it. Alas, sadly, Margaret Delaney was hardly ever wrong.
~
November 1919
Mrs. Delaney calmly swayed in her chair. A trace of alabaster moonlight delineated her gentle features. Then the patchwork draped over her thighs slid downward, sending the vibrant cloth trickling against the cold, stone fireplace.
All throughout the day, everyone did as they ought to. Never deviating for the apparent likelihood of falling into her wrath.
"Annie, fetch the kettle."
"Yes, mama."
See customarily, that was never to occur. No, any other bout of existence would prove more like this:
"Annie, fetch the kettle."
"But....ma'!" Followed by exasperated sighs and signifying indication. Then the loud, expressive shuffling of feet. The stifled groans and silent swearing, before the kettle were to grace her mother's presence. Now it was not so. Everyone was astutely aware of Mrs.Delaney's wavering tolerance. As of then, her patience was as irretrievable as her waist line.
That being said, there was no stirring in the house, only the faint crackle of the fire place. Come the thunderous resounding of patchwork meeting stone. Her piercing cry.
"Ben!"
~
Jacob was sent sprinting down the dirt path. A tilted speck of a sign flickered in his vision line. Clement Street. He neared the last house, with adamant intent of retrieving Helen, the midwife. What a cursed day it was, mud slashing about the ground.
Mrs.Delaney let out a series of agonized groans.
"Hold on M, she'll be here any second." Mr. Delaney squeezed her hand with such ferocity, in hopes to transfer strength through its hold. She reached out and grasped his shoulder tightly.
"Ben, something's wrong." Pain carried in her voice. It could harm the sole observer.
The door clicked open to reveal two muddied, panting figures. Helen immediately leapt over to attend to Mrs.Delaney, despite never regaining an adequate breathing pattern. While Jacob meandered over to the conjoining room upon his father's instruction.
They all sat gathered on cushions.
"Do you think we're getting a sister or a brother? I think it'd be so dull to have another brother." Annie commented sheepishly, for the purpose of breaking silence.
Each was lost in thought , and content upon maintaining the sheet of verbal ice.
Their father stepped out of the room, exhibiting traces of worry in every crease of his face.
"Son, I need you to go into town. Run as fast as you can. Ask for a doctor, ask every soul in town, I don't care. Get one. Get one fast."
Jacob looked up into his father's watery eyes, now weak and frale where they were once bright and strong. His mind raged with silent inquiries. But he asked no questions. He only ran.
(DON'T FORGET TO VOTE)
YOU ARE READING
Guarding Margaret D.
RandomThere was something about her soul. The air was frozen, come the day of the service. The ground wore a muddy overcoat. All stood gathered round the casket, speechless for lack of adequate words. Only Margaret came forward, a single sheet of paper e...
