After the Storm

He gave her another questioning stare, as if he couldn’t quite figure her out, then said, “What would you like to hear?”

“Harps.”

“Harps?”

“There’s a mountain music one in there somewhere. Harps and fiddles, guitars and mandolins. Soothing—”

Pain caused that word to come out in a scream.

“Okay,” Jared said, spinning into action. “Breathe through it while I put on those harps.”

Groaning, Alisha reached out a hand toward him. “I don’t think I can breathe through this. I…can feel the head—”

“Oh, oh, okay.” Jared turned as soft music filled the room. “Hang on, now. Everything is going to be just fine.”

Even in her fit of pain and trying not to push, Alisha had to smile. The man looked positively terrified.

But then, so was she.

It had all been over in a matter of minutes.

Jared stood at the kitchen window, looking out into the sloping woods behind the tiny cabin. The Easter dawn glistened through the trees and shrubs, the sun’s first tentative rays giving the drenched forest an ethereal, mist-filled glow. The storm had passed, but it had left a soggy, whitewashed stillness that was only interrupted by the sound now and then of ancient tree limbs hitting against the cabin walls in a gust of defiant wind.

There was a pretty garden in the backyard, complete with an aged wooden bird feeder shaped like a tiny house, and a squirrel feeder made so a corncob could be placed where the squirrels were sure to find it. A couple of cardinals dug through the soggy feed, strewing it on the ground below. A wooden picnic table and two sturdy chairs sat near an ancient oak tree. Delicate crushed blossoms from flowering plants lay about on the table and chairs and ground. Everything was covered with a fine sheen of water. It was as if the whole world was frozen in a lake of flower blossoms and trees.

The coffee he’d set to brewing earlier smelled fresh and enticing, causing Jared to turn from the window. It would probably be strong, but he really needed a cup. He wasn’t surprised to find his hands shaking as he tried to pour from the aged percolator. He’d just witnessed something he couldn’t explain.

And on Easter morning at that.

He’d witnessed the birth of a child. A tiny little baby. A boy.

“One more push,” he remembered telling Alisha after the baby’s head began to crown and it was safe for her to finally give in to the urge. “You’re doing great. And don’t worry, I’ve got the baby. I’ve got the head in my hands.”

Jared grinned, still amazed at how tiny that little head had been. So tiny and so soft, with reddish-brown tufts of wet hair.

And then after all the huffing and puffing and pushing, out came the whole baby. Jared stood there, his eyes wide as he stared up at Alisha, a grin splitting his face. “It’s a boy.”

She cried, of course. With joy. With relief. Then she instructed him on how to open the baby’s nasal passages. At first, Jared panicked. Weren’t newborns supposed to cry?

“Keep rubbing on him,” she gently ordered, the trace of concern in her voice making the words shrill. Then because he could tell she was about to panic, Jared handed the naked baby to her. Alisha cooed and cried and even blew on the baby’s little nose.

And that’s when he’d heard the first soft wail.

It was the sound of a tiny miracle.

“He’s okay, I think,” Alisha shouted, tears rolling down her face.

Quickly, Jared cut the cord and wrapped the baby in fresh clean blankets to hand up to his mother. After delivering the placenta, he helped Alisha get herself and the bedding cleaned up—she insisted he turn away while she struggled with a clean gown and underclothing. Then he let her hold the little boy for a while before she suggested he give the baby a quick bath, too.

That had been over two hours ago.

Since then, he’d had time to get to know this tiny cabin full of books and knickknacks. The books ranged from the classics to a stack of romance novels. There were also some textbooks scattered here and there, mostly to do with physiology and social work. The knickknacks ranged from antique dishes to dime-store finds.

Her home, just like the woman, was a paradox to Jared. How could she live here with no phone and no transportation, and yet seem so well-educated and worldly?

Jared drained his coffee and went for more, too weary to figure out Alisha Emerson, but too keyed up to sleep or eat.

Deciding he’d better check on mother and child, he took his cup of coffee into the bedroom. Standing just inside the wide door, he smiled at the sight of Alisha sleeping peacefully. Then Jared walked to the white wicker bassinet over by the bed and peeked inside.

The baby slept wrapped in swaddled blankets. The baby he had delivered, and bathed and held.

Jared held out one of his hands and looked at the size of it, marveling that he’d held that little head inside it just hours before. Bringing a child into the world truly was a miraculous thing. Being a part of that, being a witness to that, had left Jared shaken and changed. He couldn’t put his finger on the change inside him. He just knew it was there.

Not one to put too much store in religion, Jared thought about Mother’s Day. It was only a few weeks away. That, and this Easter morning, made him think of his deceased parents. They’d died in a plane crash when Jared was a small boy. He’d lived with his grandparents after that, in the big, rambling mansion in Buckhead. Mother’s Day had always been hard for him. He couldn’t remember his mother, nor his father, for that matter.

He thought about Christmas, too. Maybe because Grandmother Fancy Murdock had always insisted on telling him those particular Bible stories when he was growing up. He’d heard the story from the book of Luke about the birth of Jesus, of course. But not until this night had Jared ever considered how that story could affect his own life. This morning, he stood reliving the whole Easter story, and remembered how Christ had suffered and died on a cross, then had risen on the third day.

Was that what humans had to do? Did they suffer, then rise triumphant over their adversities? Over their sins?

Jared closed his eyes, wonder coursing through his system. Then he opened his eyes to the bright sunshine washing over the hills and trees. The first green buds of spring were sprinkled throughout the woods like confetti. What a glorious morning to witness the birth of a child! It was the calm after the storm. Everything was glowing and glistening in the fresh, dewy morning light.

“Thank you,” he said to whoever might be listening up there.

He’d never had time to turn to a higher source for inspiration or guidance. Coming from an uppercrust, well-respected family, Jared had always hurried through life. His grandparents believed, but Jared hadn’t followed through with that tradition on a regular basis. He’d been too busy keeping up with all his social and business obligations. And he’d always had the best, from prep school to an expensive college education. Jared had been handed everything life had to offer. He’d accepted all of it with an inbred arrogance that made him think he deserved it.

Maybe there was something to be said for being overly educated and overly rich. And overly cynical. Maybe he didn’t deserve anything, after all.

“No tests or trial by fire for me, Lord,” he whispered as he glanced down at the sleeping baby. At least not until now.

Was this his test, then? Was all the turmoil that had brought him here just the beginning of some sort of faith journey for Jared? He had to wonder. And he had to have answers, concrete answers. Yet as he stared down at this little baby and remembered Alisha’s screams of agony, followed by her tears of joy, Jared finally understood that some things didn’t require an answer. Some things just…were. Some things had to be accepted without question. Life. Death. Betrayal. Forgiveness. Renewal.

But…he always had questions.

“You did a fine job.”

Hearing Alisha’s soft Southern-tinged words, Jared turned from the baby to her, his breath hitching inside his chest. “So did you.”

She smiled as she snuggled underneath the now-clean bedding. “He’s so beautiful, isn’t he?”

Jared nodded, thinking, And so is his mother, then sank down in the chair he’d pulled to the bed during all the earlier commotion. “He certainly is. And he seems in good shape, all things considered.”

“Yes. As soon as we can, though, we have to get the doctor here.”

“Of course. Or I’ll take both of you to the nearest hospital myself. That is, if you’re feeling up to the trip.”

“Need to rest some more, I think,” she said with a sleepy yawn. “So tired. Just need to see Dr. Sloane.”

“No wonder you’re tired. You worked very hard.”