Beacon of Light by Linda Byler

Author:Linda Byler
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781680997972
Publisher: Good Books
Published: 2022-02-15T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 13

AS THE DAYS TURNED INTO WEEKS, MAY’S TORMENT WORSENED, till Clara herself realized something had to be done. She was obviously enduring a torment of the mind, some sickness of her nerves, some odd malady she felt helpless to heal.

May could not fall asleep now without the aid of comfrey tea, and when she did drift off she was rudely jerked awake by the force of her anxiety less than an hour later, to lie awake as waves of panic overtook her. She suffered this all in silence, trying always to present herself to Clara with some semblance of normalcy. She dressed in her neat pleated dresses and aprons, her white bowl-shaped covering on her blond head, caring for Eliezer as best she could.

Clara saw the lack of loving care, the ease with which she left him on the floor with his toys, the amount of time elapsing before she took notice of him. May would sit for hours, a vacant look on her face, rocking and staring into space. When she became so thin her dresses hung from her shoulders like a sack, Eliezer cried with hunger and the breastfeeding stopped.

Clara boiled milk, diluted it with water, added blackstrap molasses, and trained him to drink from a bottle, with May watching empty-eyed. Clara took her to town for a visit to old Doctor Hess, sat with her as he examined her thoroughly, found her to be underweight and prescribed a packet of pink nerve pills to be taken three times a day. May swallowed them dutifully, and continued to decline.

After that, May refused to attend services, dropped out of instruction class, and became a recluse, hidden away in Clara’s house, her eyes large and frightened, full of fear and something Clara could not name.

Betty Weaver came to visit, then Erma Stutzman, but neither one knew what to say. They had seen “baby blues” and plenty of it, but this was not ordinary baby blues. They brought over pies and cookies and cajoled her into taking little nibbles, offered to watch Eliezer for a while so she could get some rest and Clara could get a break. Usually May shook her head, mumbled that she was fine.

It was during a hot August night that Clara kept dreaming of a baby crying in the distance, over and over. Confused, she awoke to the sound of Eliezer’s insistent cries that kept increasing until he was quite hysterical. Alarmed, Clara swung her freckled legs over the side of the bed and hurried to May’s bedroom to pound on the door.

“May! May!”

When there was no answer, she turned the knob and went in, lifted the sobbing, perspiration-soaked baby from his little wooden crib, and hurried to the bed, only to find it empty. For a moment, Clara honestly thought she might faint from fear, the thought of not having done all she should bringing a sickening remorse.

She laid the screaming Eliezer on the bed, struck a match on her thumb nail, and lit the kerosene lamp, then lifted the baby to her shoulder, patting his back, saying, “Shush, shh.

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