The Laying on of Hands by Brenda Rhodes Miller

Author:Brenda Rhodes Miller [Miller, Brenda Rhodes]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-307-53700-3
Publisher: Crown Publishing Group
Published: 2004-02-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nineteen

1932

By the time the twins were walking and talking, I was pregnant again. It seemed as though there was always a baby at my breast or tugging at my skirt tail or swelling my belly rushing to be born.

In the mornings Teddy’s voice would drag me out of my slumber, his body warm and insistent on loving mine.

“Wake up, Muchie. You plan to sleep the day away?” Teddy said as I burrowed under the covers.

“Five more minutes,” I begged, pulling a pillow over my head.

“Arise, my love, my fair one,” he quoted, sliding his hand beneath my gown and awakening me in more ways than one. No matter how sleepy I might be, no matter how much I wanted to put off the day, it was hard to resist Teddy in the morning.

“Oh, Teddy. I know I look a sight. How can you want me as fat and clumsy as I am these days? I don’t even have a waistline anymore,” I whined.

I sat up in bed rubbing the sleep from my eyes and pushing my hair back under my night hat.

“How could I not? I always want you, Muchie. Even when I’m teaching school. One thought of you and it’s all I can do to get behind my desk before the students notice their teacher’s pants are poking out.”

“I don’t believe a word you say, Edward Preston.”

“Then let me show you how much I want you, Muchie,” he said, tickling my ear with the tip of his tongue.

“You’re even more beautiful when you’re round and full of life, Muchie. Don’t you know only a dog wants a bone?”

Teddy had a way of making me feel desirable even when my mirror told me otherwise. Maybe that’s why we had four babies during the uneasy years of the Depression.

Nursing or toddling, I loved the sight of our babies. Their sweet brown faces as varied as a box of assorted chocolates. They took the best from each of us, our babies did. The fragrance of clean baby hair and the touch of soft baby skin only reminded me how much I loved their daddy. It was all I needed to be happy.

Our next baby was a boy. We named him Edward Thompson Preston, Jr.

“Does this mean I have to go by senior now? Makes me feel like I’m getting on in years,” Teddy joked. “Are we going to call him Teddy too?”

“I don’t know about that. One Teddy is more than enough for me.” I laughed. “Having the same given name is all right. But to keep down any confusion let’s call the baby Tom-Tom.”

Our boy had such round and rosy cheeks I had to mind that his sisters didn’t bite him when they were playing. From birth, he had double rows of thick, black eyelashes just like his daddy.

People believed it was bad luck for a boy to get a haircut before his first birthday, and Tom-Tom’s hair grew in fluffy ringlets. It made him look as pretty as his sisters.

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