“Do you want to talk?” Mrs. Bonner smoothed Tori’s hair back.
When she attempted to speak, only a squeak emerged. Mrs. Bonner sat on the bed, put her arms around her and rocked, rubbing her back and humming like a mother would comfort a small child. Something Tori never experienced from Aunt Martha. She, of the ‘chin up’ school of thought. Tori inhaled Mrs. Bonner’s scent. Spices and coffee.
“It will be all right. These things happen, and one day there will be more babies.”
Tori took a deep breath, and wiped her eyes with the back of her hands. “No. You don’t understand. This is God’s punishment. I killed my baby.”
She clucked her tongue. “No, Tori. You didn’t kill your baby. Some babies just don’t ‘take,’ and you lose them. It happened to me one time, too.”
“Jesse begged me to cut my hours and see Dr. Hendricks, but I kept putting him off.” She clenched and unclenched her fists and continued. “I thought seeing the doctor too soon would encourage gossip. Now the whole town knows anyway. And I refused to cut my work hours, and look what happened.” She put her hands in her face and wept.
Mrs. Bonner pulled her back into her arms.
“Jesse probably hates me, too,” Tori continued, her voice muffled from the comfort of Mrs. Bonner’s shoulder. “He knows it’s my fault.”
The older woman frantically shook her head. “No, Tori, Jesse doesn’t hate you. He loves you. He’s so upset because you feel so bad. The poor man looks like he didn’t sleep a wink last night.”
“Can I just have my medicine so I can go back to sleep?” Tori mumbled.
“You must eat something first. Here, take a little bit of the oatmeal and toast.”
Tori managed to swallow a few bites, and pushed the rest away. Mrs. Bonner mixed the powder and handed the glass to her. Tori swallowed the liquid and, easing down, turned away from Mrs. Bonner, pulling the covers high on her shoulders.
A week later, Jesse climbed the steps of the small house at the end of School House Road. The plump, rosy-cheeked housekeeper answered his knock. “Hello, Mrs. Wallis, is the doctor in?”
“Yes, he’s with a patient, but if you don’t mind waiting, I’m sure he’ll be able to see you.” He followed her into the front parlor and took a chair next to the fireplace.
“By the way, I’m very sorry about the baby. How is Mrs. Cochran doing?”
“Thanks, ma’am. I’m afraid my wife isn’t doing too well, which is why I want to talk to Dr. Hendricks.”
“Ah, that’s too bad. Losing a baby is very hard.” She smoothed the front of her starched apron.
Jesse gave her a scant smile.
Mrs. Wallis patted his arm. “Give her time. But maybe the doctor can talk to her. He should be through in a minute.”
Jesse slumped in the chair. The cheerful fire did little to dispel his chill. Seven days, and Tori still refused to get out of bed, ate very little, and cried a lot. Nothing he said or did made a difference. She’d built a wall around herself and refused to let him in. He was at a loss and had no idea how to help her.
A young woman holding a sniffling toddler came out of the office. She thanked the doctor as she went out the door.
“Jesse.” The doctor nodded at him. “What brings you here today? Is Tori running a fever?”
“No, but can I talk to you for a minute?”
“Sure, son, come on in.” He ushered Jesse into the office and asked Mrs. Wallis to bring some tea.
“So, what’s the problem?” the doctor said, sitting in the leather chair behind his massive desk as he studied Jesse over the top of his spectacles. Despite his problems, Jesse grinned at the mess of papers scattered everywhere. He doubted he’d be able to find a spot to place a pencil.
Jesse rubbed his eyes. “I don’t know. Tori is so, I don’t know, depressed, maybe. But what bothers me the most is she blames herself for losing the baby.”
“Well, if memory serves, you also tried to blame yourself.” The doctor shifted in his chair.
“I guess maybe I still feel a little guilty, but Tori really believes it. She won’t eat, she cries a lot, and nothing makes her mad.”
When the doctor raised his gray bushy eyebrows, Jesse smiled and continued. “I guess that sounds strange, but Tori’s always had a lot of fire in her. Bickering and being generally cantankerous is a part of who she is. Now she agrees with everything I say, and I find it downright scary.”
“Give her time. This is all still new. Listen to her if she wants to talk, hold her when she cries, and try your best to get her to eat and drink. She’ll come around. Time, son, time heals all wounds.”