Jessie by Susan Shultz

Author:Susan Shultz [Shultz, Susan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-1-63370-047-5
Publisher: Full Fathom Five Digital
Published: 2015-04-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 12

My baby is six weeks old now.

He is happy and healthy — much healthier than I. My recovery has been slow. So slow that the Blacksmith has not yet been able to meet his son.

Our son’s name is Matthew.

He has his father’s eyes: striking and steel blue.

This has not gone unnoticed by my husband, but so far my frail health has prevented a confrontation.

I am just beginning to be able to walk some distances.

I sing to my baby in my rocking chair to comfort us both.

Outside, spring is in full bloom, and my hope of escape grows.

Despite my poor health, I can nourish my child with an abundance of milk. I am as laden and full as the trees that are returning to their vibrant green.

I love to feed my baby. I look out the window and see his father in the distance.

Our separation makes my heart ache.

While my baby sleeps, I walk outside to breath the New England air, hesitant to leave him for longer than is necessary.

One more day — and I should finally have the strength to walk up the hill to see the Blacksmith — so he can meet his son.

* * *

We must go, Matthew.

He is nestled safely in my arms as we delicately make our way in the dark.

I see the fire ahead. He is waiting for me.

Softly, he reaches to touch my face. It’s been so long.

Our lips meet.

At last, I present him with his son.

Eyes to identical eyes.

Much like his father, Matthew is a quiet child.

The moment is breathtaking.

They regard one another: one so small and vulnerable, and one made of steel, towering and robust.

He holds the baby in his arms. I step back in respect and amazement.

This is my one hope: what I have waited for my whole life.

* * *

It is quickly dashed into a thousand shards by a single gunshot.

I did not hear my husband follow us.

The Blacksmith falls, stunned. His blood stains his son’s blankets red. I stumble to the ground with both of them, reluctant to take the child from his father in his dying moments.

I wrap my body around them and stare into the Blacksmith’s eyes.

He touches my face, his still wet with the joyful tears he shed for his son. With his last breath, I finally hear him speak, a faint smile lingering on his lips:

Patience, Jessie.

Then, the Blacksmith is dead.

I scream.

And scream.

And scream.

Scream to wake the dead.

And for the first time since the night of his birth, Matthew cries.

He has been baptized in his father’s blood.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.