The woman’s mouth hung open, then she slapped her own hand over it and bent a little at the middle. Vomiting can be catching, I knew. I also knew Spencer would never call because he’d never get the message, and part of me was happy. Gran had the honesty she wanted—at least I’d tried—and I wouldn’t have to wonder if his family would have welcomed a new little one and me.
I stopped cleaning houses before I was far enough along to draw questions. I had a little money saved up, and it didn’t take much to keep us fed. Mr. Bridger, who lived over the ridge, shared his venison with us, and sometimes a squirrel or rabbit. Gran and I grew veggies and canned them, and I’d kept that up after she got too sick. We had electric for the lights and propane for cooking, and the man in town mostly handled the bills. If I were laid up for a few days after having the baby, we’d manage well enough.
On a visit to Gran, Mildred saw my condition and had another, sterner word with me.
“You need to see an ob-gyn.”
I set my lips to closed and scowled at her.
“It’s not only about you. You’re pregnant. You owe it to this baby to give it the best start possible.”
My stern expression may have wavered because Mildred pressed harder.
“I’ll make the appointment.” Mildred moved close to me and put her hand on my arm. She lowered her voice. I was forced to lean toward her to hear better.
“This doctor is near Charlottesville. You won’t run into anyone from around here. I know you want to keep your business private.” She glanced at Gran, and Gran nodded.
I didn’t respond, but Mildred saw my doubt. After she left, Gran pressed the subject further.
“She’s right, Hannah. The babe deserves the best. And you, too. It’s no easy thing to have a baby. You need to be at your best.”
When Mildred called the next day with an appointment time and an address, I agreed to go. She gave me directions. She offered to drive me. I told her I could handle it.
I found the doctor’s office with no problem. I was early, and the parking lot was all but empty. I sat in the car trying to get up my nerve. I’d rarely been to a doctor for any reason, and this felt far too personal and intimate. On the other hand, intimacy had led to this whole thing, so that felt like justice of some sort.
That morning the sun shone brightly in a pure-blue sky. A flock of birds flew overhead, low enough that I could hear them squawking through the rolled-down window. Other cars drove into the lot and parked. Several women emerged from the cars and gathered near the office door. They wore pink and blue scrubs. They must work for the doctor. One of the women laughed loudly and turned toward my car.
She couldn’t see me, not with the glare of the sun on my windshield, but I saw her and recognized her as the mother of a girl I’d gone to school with. The girl and I weren’t close friends, but we’d known each other for years, and her mother would know me in a heartbeat.
I tried to tell myself that she wouldn’t know why I was here. It could be for one of those wellness visits, right? At this point, I was thicker in the middle, but it wasn’t obvious. All the same, Mildred had figured it out pretty quickly, hadn’t she? And this woman might come in the room with the doctor for the examination. Even if she didn’t, my records would be right there in their files. I imagined how natural it would be for her to mention to her daughter over supper, “Guess who I saw today?” And the next reasonable question would be, “Why?”
My fingers gripped the steering wheel so tightly that my joints ached.
I’d learned it well from my grandparents—the value of privacy and self-reliance—and I wouldn’t let my Grand down now. Likely, some of my own pride was at stake as well, though I didn’t want to admit to it. I didn’t have much in life, neither possessions nor social position, but I had my reputation as a decent, practical, respectable young woman who minded her own business, and I didn’t want to be the subject of anyone’s gossip. I was a Cooper from Cooper’s Hollow, and that’s who we were.
I drove home. Gran welcomed me as I came through the door and started to ask about the visit. I shushed her. Her smile dimmed, and she rubbed her hands over her face, but she didn’t persist.
Mildred called later that day and asked why I’d missed the appointment. I was honest with her. I owed her that.
“I saw people I knew. Someone who worked there. I’d like to keep my business as my business.”
“We’ll try another doctor.”
“No. Thank you for your concern, but definitely no. Babies have been born for centuries without doctors. I’m young and healthy, and I’ll take my chances.”
There was a long pause, a moment of silence wherein I let Mildred gather her thoughts, hoping we could resolve this now and put it aside.
“What about your baby?” she finally said. “You have a responsibility to your child.”
Out of respect, I’d given her the opportunity to speak her mind, but this was enough.
“We’ll be fine. Thank you for your concern.” I said it firmly, leaving no doubt there was a period at the end of the sentence and an end to the conversation.
Mildred showed up a few days later with prenatal vitamins and books about pregnancy, childbirth, and bringing up babies. She began checking my blood pressure along with Gran’s. I allowed her to do that, and it seemed to ease her mind.
The book she’d given me about childbirth was almost enough to send me running back to the doctor’s office. I was curled up on the sofa, reading, and Gran was in her bed doing the same. I must’ve made a noise because she asked if something was wrong.
I looked down at the picture of the crowning baby and slapped the book closed. “No, ma’am. It’s all good.” I stood up and walked toward the kitchen. “Thirsty? Can I get you something, Gran?”
“Hot tea would be nice.”
“Yes, ma’am.” In the kitchen, I stood at the back door. We’d left it cracked open for fresh air. I clutched the book to me and stared out across the yard and the creek. Beyond the creek and amid the trees on the far side was the cemetery. Its stone walls had been there long before Grand and Gran, and maybe before Grand’s grandparents, too.
For untold years, women had been having babies. There was no disputing the value of doctors and hospitals and all the conveniences, but in the end, babies were conceived and born with or without them.
My reasoning wasn’t without flaw. I knew that.
I closed the door and put the book on the counter while I filled the teakettle. I felt assured. All would be well for both my baby and me. We’d do just fine.
Before my baby was due, I drove up the interstate to the next town. My house-cleaning savings were tucked in my purse. I wandered through the infant section in Walmart and picked out what I deemed most likely to be needed early on. I did everything I could to make sure we were ready for the big day.
My baby was born in late February. It was a cold, bitter, rain-spitting morning. Per our calculations, we’d been planning on an early March delivery, but when the contractions started and didn’t let up, Gran called Mildred. Mildred lived a few miles up Cross County Road, nearer Mineral, so we were lucky there was only rain.