For The Sake Of The Children

“I’ll do it,” Rose murmured.

Uncle Frank frowned. “It’s all right. I’m sure we can find someone else. We haven’t even asked—”

“I said I’ll do it,” she said, a little too forcefully, perhaps, since everyone stared at her.

“I don’t want to put you out,” Silas said, looking at her so forlornly that she felt guilty for not receiving him more warmly.

The truth was, Rose was being difficult. Years ago, when they’d all sighed at how difficult she was being, she’d felt misunderstood and angry that no one saw her side of things. Now she could recognize that she was exactly what they thought her to be. The difference was, they still didn’t see the heartache she was trying to heal from.

Matthew giggled again. Milly laughed with him.

Would it be so bad to have another child around? One who made her son smile when so few could?

Even Rose could admit that the only reason she said no was her anger toward Silas. Why should she help him when he’d hurt her?

But that wasn’t the way of forgiveness. She’d said the words and made the commitment to forgiving him. Which meant she couldn’t act out of the anger, no matter how deeply she felt it.

Why did this have to be so hard? Why couldn’t she have just said the words and Silas have been on his way, never to cross her path again?

Because something deep inside her told her that forgiveness didn’t work that way.

Rose looked at Silas, giving him the best smile she could muster. “It’s all right. I don’t mind. Matthew seems to be entertained by Milly, so I’m sure they will enjoy each other’s company.”

“And that’s something,” Joseph said, grinning. “I don’t think he’s gone this long without fussing since he was born.”

Rose sighed. She’d like to have argued with him, but he had a point. The ladies at church said he was the most contrary baby they’d ever met, and the most unkind ones said it was no wonder, given the circumstances of his birth.

With a thwap, the doll Milly had been waving in front of Matthew hit him on top of the head. Matthew began to wail.

Milly began to cry, as well. “Was assident.”

“It’s all right,” Rose said, patting the little girl with her free hand as she tried to soothe her son with the other. “I know it was. He’ll be fine.”

Then she stood, bouncing him and patting him in the way that sometimes got him to calm down. Red-faced and fists pounding, Matthew seemed completely uninterested in being comforted.

“I’m sorry,” Rose looked apologetically at Silas. “It truly wasn’t her fault. Matthew is just overly sensitive.”

She looked over at Milly, who clutched the doll to her chest. Her light eyes were full of unshed tears.

“It’s all right, Milly,” Rose said again. “Matthew’s tired, that’s all.”

The accompanying sighs from Joseph and Uncle Frank both said what she was feeling. Matthew was always tired. Just as they all were.

“He never sleeps,” Rose told Silas by way of explanation. “Just an hour or so here and there. Everyone says he’ll grow out of it, but for now, we’re all doing the best we can.”

“Can I try?” Silas held out his arms. “Everyone used to have difficulty getting Milly to sleep, but I always could.”

She should say no. At least that’s what the stubborn side of her said. But her arms were so heavy. So tired. And her practical side needed a break.

Rose handed the baby to Silas.

Matthew continued to wail.

Silas held him to his chest, tucking him tight against him. “Do you have another blanket for him?”

She grabbed one of the blankets from the side of the sofa. Silas wrapped it around the baby, pinning his arms to the side.

“He doesn’t like to be swaddled.” Rose gave a sigh. The first thing everyone tried with Matthew was swaddling him, and it only made him angrier.

True to form, his already-red face grew brighter, and his wails louder.

Silas loosened the blanket and began rocking him gently, whispering things that Rose couldn’t hear, that Matthew probably ignored. His cries were too loud for him to hear anything. At least that’s what Rose figured. But as Silas pressed Matthew against his chest, continuing to murmur whatever he’d been murmuring, Matthew began to quiet.

Then Silas sat, unwrapped the baby and played with his legs, rubbing his stomach. “His stomach hurts,” Silas said.

Rose sighed. “I know. Everyone says it’s gas, and he’ll grow out of it. But peppermint water does nothing for him.”

Silas nodded. “I know, little fellow. It’s rough, isn’t it?” Looking up at Rose, he said, “Rub his stomach like this. It’ll help.”

“How do you know?”

“Experience.”

Matthew stopped crying. His big eyes stared up at Silas, watching him.

“And the Garretts don’t think you can take care of your daughter?” Rose watched him, transfixed. No one had ever been able to get Matthew to calm down. Even the doctor, who’d tried every remedy he knew, hadn’t been able to make Matthew’s tummy troubles go away.

“Men don’t know anything about how to take care of babies.” He used a baby voice as he smiled down at Matthew. “But we know that’s not true, now, don’t we?”

Silas returned his gaze to Rose. “This is going to sound crazy, but stop drinking milk, and eating anything made with milk. I’m fairly sure that’s what’s making Matthew’s stomach so upset.”

“Milk?” Uncle Frank sounded surprised. “But that’s what babies need to be healthy. We’ve been making sure all of our mothers get extra to pass on to the babies.”

Rose couldn’t help but sigh. She wasn’t fond of milk, but at every meal, someone was pressing an extra glass of milk into her hand, telling her it was good for the baby.

“It’s good for most babies, but some babies can’t tolerate it. Milly was fussy as a baby, and I remembered my mother talking about how when I was a baby, someone told her to stop drinking milk, and it would make me less fussy. It worked for me, so I asked Annie to give it a try. Milly stopped being so fussy.”

Then he let out a long sigh. “One more battle with the Garretts, I’m afraid. I don’t give Milly milk, even now. The Garretts make her drink a big glass every day. She’s done a lot better now that she’s away from them.”

Rose looked down at Matthew, who’d fallen asleep in Silas’s lap. He seemed content, and Silas still rubbed his stomach. Rose memorized the motion. If nothing else, she could try it on him herself.

“I don’t know if you remember,” Silas continued, “but I don’t drink milk. I never acquired the taste for it. That’s why my mother always kept goats. We’d drink their milk, eat their butter and cheese, and it never bothered me the way cow’s milk did. People always thought we didn’t have cows because we couldn’t afford them, but the truth was, goat milk always suited us better.”

Actually, she did remember. Aunt Ina had invited Silas over to supper one night, and she’d poured everyone the half a glass of milk she allotted them once a week, and Silas had surreptitiously given it to Rose. At the time, Rose had thought he was being generous in letting Rose have the extra, but now she understood.

“When you gave me your milk, it was so you didn’t have to drink it.”

Silas shrugged. “Partially. But Ina was so stingy with her portions of everything. I knew how hungry you were. I’d seen you slip a piece of meat to your brother, Daniel, and your roll to your sister, Bess. It didn’t seem fair that you always went without.”