A Red Haired Libby Enters the World
When Fate and Fair Winds was published I edited out the last chapter and wrote a series of letters from Rebecca to her Aunt Amalia to sum up the action in that chapter. A good friend of mine is having her first child this weekend, so I am posting this short story in here.
December 27, 1778
The days before Christmas had been busy. The new house was finished; the furniture was in place, and the chimneys drew as expected. Rebecca had packed her things from Claire Daggette’s – with the agreement that the herbs’ seedlings would be collected in the spring. In payment for her cleaning out so well and more quickly than his mother had expected, he’d offered to drive a cart with her and her things over to Ipswich. He’d waved happily as he turned the team.
Rebecca walked into her new house. The walls were painted a golden yellow, with stark white trim around ceilings, walls and doors. It was a color she had not expected to like, but the silent gray skies of the early afternoon made her pleased with her choice. She had surprised Simm by stenciling a pattern onto the walls of each room. And he had been pleased with the results. She reminded herself not to work so hard, but the stencils were now the fashion and it was a wonderful way to you her talents. It had only taken a few weeks, and as the workers were finishing the last details on the house, she worked in rooms they had already completed.
The stenciling had been fun. By Christmas day she had finished all the upstairs bedrooms and was almost finished with the rooms downstairs. The stencils were of animals and flowers for some of the patterns and an eagle design for the edging in the dining room. The front rooms of the house required something extra and Rebecca spent the morning drawing and cutting out a new stencil, with flowers and leaves in a wreath design.
The sun was still high in the sky as she painted, glad to be using the natural light through the unclothed windows. Standing on a low stool, she was just finishing the wreaths around the front windows in the parlor and was ready to bring her brushes into the kitchen for cleaning when she noticed a puddle on the floor. Rebecca looked around to see if her paints or paint water had spilled, but everything was as it should be. She started to walk toward the back with her supplies to grab a towel from the closet when she doubled over in pain. She sat down hard on the floor to catch her breath and think of what to do.
The house was empty and John was not due back till after a meeting with Captain Crowinshield after lunch. Between the pains she looked around for paper and pen. If there were some in the near empty house, there was none available to her, so Rebecca took a brush and the spring green she had mixed for the leaves of the stencil and painted a note on the floor near the front door.
J., Baby coming, gone to Trask’s. R.
Rebecca grabbed her heavy cloak and then waited between pains to pull on her warm shoes. The snow was not deep, but the house was set back from the road and she dared not pretend she would find someone nearby. She breathed deeply and walked out toward the main road. The day had turned, and new snow was beginning to fall. It was not falling heavily and she pushed her worries away as she trudged through the icy drifts. Again and again she paused to let the labor pains pass, but they were not yet unbearable and she kept the goal in sight.
By the time she reached the Post Road the snow was coming down hard. It was getting hard to see through the storm and pain. She stood at the juncture of her drive and the road trying to get her bearings. Luckily, Mrs. Cummings her neighbor who lived on the main road was just on her way home from the shops.
“Mrs. FitzSimmon are you a’right? Come here girl, let’s get you inside.” Mrs. Cummings ushered the near frozen Rebecca into her small house, still beautifully decorated with greens and candles for the season.
“Mrs. Cummings, the baby.” Rebecca rubbed her belly as it tightened. “Mrs. Trask.”
“Susan Trask? Oh that’s right. Who can I send? But you, let’s get you settled.” The old woman was barely able to care for herself, but she helped Rebecca out of her wet cloak and took off her stiff, frozen boots. The house had only two rooms, a great room with fire place for warmth and cooking, and a back room for sleeping. Rebecca looked around, if she labored here it would deprive this sweet old women of her comfort, but she could not force herself out of the chair, certainly not back into the storm.
When Rebecca was settled with a warm brick at her feet, Mrs. Cummings left her little house to find someone who could take a message to Susan Trask. To Rebecca it seemed to be a miracle that Mrs. Trask arrived not thirty minutes later.
Susan Trask knew once the storm moved in, that one of her girls would foal that night. She’d ordered her family to be ready and packed her things, waiting for a messenger or an arrival. The boy had come in breathless, and near dead with cold with the message that Rebecca was down on the Post Road at Emily Cummings cottage. She set her girls to revive the young messenger with hot chocolate and biscuits. She ran to the yard to find to find Tom and the harnessed draft horses.
“Tom, Rebecca FitzSimmon is at old Mrs. Cummings. I don’t how that happened, but the boy who helps her just ran up with the news.”
“I best come with you. Should I collect the boy and bring him back to his mother in town?”
“Yes, They’ll be time. First babies are never quick.”
Tom Trask went into the house to bring the young messenger and ferry him back down to town in the cart. Then with his passengers buried skins and wool blankets. He skillfully drove his team of sure-footed draft horses, through the blizzard into the town. The boy jumped off at his own home with grateful thanks to be out of the storm. The Trasks then rode the short distance to the Cummings house.
“Sue, I’ll wait with the horses till you come out and tell me what you intend to do.”
Susan climbed out from her covers looking like a monster awakening in his cave. “Oh damn, Tom, I should have brought Marigold, well husband, I guess you will have to do for an assistant.” And with that she strode to the front door of the little house, not quite sure what she would find. She rarely did.
Through the daze of pain and worry, Rebecca heard knocking and felt a cold blast of wind, as Susan Trask walked into the room and took over. She had worked hard to be unobtrusive and not make a nuisance of herself, and Mrs. Cummings was very kind, but had no idea what to do. No one had ever looked as welcome as Susan did walking into that room.
Rebecca, who had been stoic enough to get down the road in the burgeoning blizzard burst into tears as soon as Susan walked into the room. Mrs. Trask summed up the situation in a second, the small room, Emily Cummings and a new mother alone here in the storm. It was not going to do.
“Becky, we have to move you. How often are the pains.”
“I don’t know, I haven’t been counting, but not too bad, I can talk between.” She caught her breath and waited out the hard cramp, not wanting to scream or cry in front of sweet Mrs. Cummings.
“Okay,” Susan continued talking soothingly as she put Rebecca’s feet back into her nearly dry boots and wrapped her in the heavy blue cloak. She helped Rebecca stand and walked her to the front door. She called to Tom at the road. The foreman came over and picked Rebecca into his arms and put her into the back of the cart. Susan climbed in after and covered her, murmuring how everything was going to be just fine.
“Tom, she called over the wind. “I don’t like this. Let’s get her back to the FitzSimmon house. I don’t know what’s set up there, but it’s closest and this storm is not letting up.”
Tom turned the big horses down the drive toward the new house. The building was dark against the white snow of the fading afternoon light. The horse cart took no time getting back to the house and the door was open to their entrance.
“Tom, light, fires, heat, hot water.” Susan shivered in the cold empty house. “then take care of the horses.”
“Yes’m” Tom Trask knew better than to second-guess Susan when she was working.
Susan Trask helped Rebecca up the front stairs to the best bedroom. The bed was made with warm blankets and clean sheets, the fire was laid and the wood box was full. Susan started a fire while Rebecca took off her boots again, and sat on a step stool as the next pain over took her.
The two women could hear the clang of pots and fire starting coming from the kitchen below as Susan helped Rebecca off with her cloak, gown and undergarments leaving her wearing only a warm shift and wool socks.
“Now, you’re comfy, we wait. Just breathe, Becky.” Susan climbed onto the bed behind her to rub her back for a while, then fixed pillows for the young woman to lie back on between pains. Between times, relaxed and warm, comforted by the presence of Susan Trask, Rebecca slept, willing herself not to worry about Simm out in the blizzarding cold.
Simm had left the meeting pleased with the work the men had done in planning the new bridge at Beverly Harbor. He pulled his great coat closer and rebuttoned the collar over his tricorn. The storm had already dropped nearly an inch onto the ground, but it did not concern him as he turned Sisyphus north.
The road was fine for the first part of the trip, but as he near his own home the ground became too slippery for the young stallion. Simm dismounted and walked the horse over the dunes toward his stable and home. The dark cloaked man and the black horse made a moving shadow in the ever whitening afternoon to anyone who was out and cared to look.
He arrived at the yellow house from the rear and stabled the horse. Simm took his time in the dry barn. He toweled the stallion and found his warmest blanket. He checked food and water and spent a minute feeding an apple to Artemis. He enjoyed the peace of the icy snow hitting the roof of the well-made stable, and with both horses warm and fed he walked back out into the storm to find his wife.
Simm entered the house by the kitchen door. The house was cold and no candles were lit. He found a lantern and lit the wick. He carried the light though the near empty house wondered where Rebecca could be in this storm. He smiled at the stenciling and paintings on plaster she had done in the main rooms of the house, pleased as always that they would not be visually burdened with the stylish, heavy wallpapers and their scenes of faraway places. In the front room he stopped and stared at the nearly frozen puddle of water on the floor, confused he went to fetch towels and started to wipe the floor. He left the towels on the floor more worried that Rebecca might be upstairs asleep. He nearly missed the green paint on the floor.
The paint was wet with ice crystals beginning to form at the edges. Damn the house was cold. He went back to the parlor to collect his rags to wipe up the green before it froze or dried in place. Walking back into the hall, he placed the lantern on the floor and went on his knees ready to clean.
J., Baby coming, gone to Trask’s. R.
Simm was relieved Rebecca was with Susan Trask. He grabbed his heaviest woolen cloak and a fisherman’s cap, and went out into the storm. He trudged down the long drive hoping to see Rebecca. He pushed down his panic that she was in a snowbank somewhere on the way to the Trask’s, but the fear would not let up. He called to her at each tree and wall hoping she would hear him over the howl of the wind. At the main road he turned toward the Trask’s and his shipyard. Travelers heading into town passed him, but he paid them no mind as he was determined to get to the Trask’s and find Rebecca.
Simm ran the last rise to the house on the hill. He was tired, wet and near frozen from the storm. His feet had not thawed from his walk with Sisyphus from Beverly, and now the wet and deep snow slowed his journey. This only made Simm more anxious for Rebecca, he pounded on the Trask’s door, demanding that someone let him in.
Tom junior opened the door and jumped as the wind – straight off the ocean – hit with a full blast.
“Tom, don’t be afraid, it’s me, John FitzSimmon. Is Rebecca, I mean Mrs. FitzSimmon here?”
“No, Mr. FitzSimmon. My Ma and Pa left with Joseph Grimley a while ago. I don’t know where they went.”
“Damn! Sorry Tom I didn’t mean to swear. The team isn’t here, is it?”
“No, Sorry. I saw Pa driving them when he took Ma and the boy to town.”
“Thanks, son, I’m sure everything will be fine, thanks.” And Simm turned back into the storm for the walk back to town. “I assume the first stop should be the Grimley’s to see if everyone is there.”
It took the better part of an hour, but Simm discovered that little Joe Grimley had been sent by Mrs. Cummings to find the Trasks, and that they had driven him back into town. Simm was sorry to pull Mrs. Cummings away from her warm fire, but there he learned that the Trasks had been there. Mrs. Cummings had been asleep and not offered further information, but he assumed that with the powerful storm moving in they had all gone back to his house since it was nearest. He must have missed them coming down the hill.
Simm went out into the wind and snow again. This time he retraced his steps from the main road down his long drive. The wind was causing almost immediate drifting but it had not quite covered the hoof prints and cart tracks left by Tom Trask’s powerful Suffolks. This time, there was smoke rising welcomingly from his chimneys. Simm climbed his front steps and entered a warm house with Tom Trask boiling water and folding clean towels and blankets in the kitchen.
“Well, man it’s good to see you. From what I hear little Becky’s been a bit worried about you out in this storm.” Tom welcomed him with a friendly wave. “Good pull on the chimneys Simm, nicely built, house. Congratulations are going to be in order all around.”
“The baby? Rebecca? Tom where are they?”
“Calm down, Johnny. Susan has delivered hundreds of bairns. Take off your wet clothes and shoes. The party is in your room, so changing is out of the question. But sit here in the kitchen and warm up after you tell the ladies you’re in out of the storm, of course.”
“Thanks, Tom, you are a good friend, I’ll just go up now.”
Simm climbed the stairs two at a time, Before he reached the second floor of the house he called out, “Ladies, I’m here and I’m just fine. Susan,” he asked, “how is Rebecca?” he opened the door a crack to wave at the two women in the room.
“Jack, now she is fine. This is no place for a man, now you go get some warm tea into you in the kitchen and I’ll find you later.” Susan shooed him out of the room.
He had been a leader of troops in the field. He had grown up on a busy estate with animals and people having babies around him all the time. He had observed a thing or two in all those years. One was that Susan Trask was more harried and worried than she was trying to let on, and the other, which might explain the first, was that all the births he had observed had been communal experiences. There had always been young girls helping with food, and the older women helping the mother. His Rebecca was doing this with only one other woman. Susan Trask was the most competent midwife, but even she helpers. And right now she needed someone to help Rebecca, and get this job done. He obediently went down to warm in front of the fire, but as soon as he found warm wash water to clean his hands and face he bounded up the stairs.
“Susan,” he knocked forcefully on the door, “you cannot keep me out of this room. I am not just a ship builder. I am a soldier. I while I may not have delivered the hundreds of babies you have, I have delivered my share. The wives who follow the drum always assume commanding officers can do anything, we rise to all occasions. I am coming into that room. And I need warm socks.” Simm paced in front of the closed door, taking turns yelling and mumbling depending on the level of noise from within.
He counted to fifty and then opened the door. Rebecca was sitting up on the bed with Susan Trask’s head under the covers telling her to push. Simm closed the door behind him. He smiled at his wife who was weakly trying to sit up among soft pillows, leaning back against the headboard of the bed. Simm was barefoot as he sat on the edge of the bed and pulled warm socks over his chilly feet. He heard Rebecca moan a laugh as Susan chastised him to get out of the room.
One look at his wife told him she was exhausted. That walk to Mrs. Cummings must have sapped whatever strength she had. They did not call birth labor because it was easy. That look told him everything, Rebecca’s hair was still wet from the snow, and now sweat was running down her beautiful but drawn, weary face. “Susan, you don’t have to tell them at the midwives’ guild meetings, but I am staying.”
Rebecca had been trying. Lying down had hurt during the pains, and had produced weak pushes so she had tried to sit up, and for a while Susan had been behind her helping. But now Susan needed to be there to catch the baby and she was on her own. She could barely sit up, let alone push again. She heard John’s voice coming from the hall outside the bedroom. She wanted him to just go away and not to see her in this mess. Then like the man he was, he walked into the room to get dry socks.
The next pains swept her away. She lost track of John till she heard Susan tell him again to leave the room. She heard someone swear and then there were strong, familiar arms holding her up. She leaned backwards onto his hard chest, breathing when he breathed, drawing strength from him. She heard Simm’s voice in her ears telling her to push and in between the pains she heard him telling her to lean back onto him. She followed Susan’s directions with new strength. So cradled in Simm’s strong arms and with his strength willing her to continue, Rebecca pushed those final times until she heard the wail of a healthy baby.
Susan Trask told her sister later, she hadn’t been certain that Rebecca had the energy to finish her labor. She was that worried that she was going to lose her first mother. But the girl’s reaction to Jackie was immediate and powerful. Maybe we should let fathers in? Susan asked her sister; both women laughed.
Susan Trask sent Simm down to the kitchen to get some of the water and towels that Tom had prepared. “Well Jackie,” she started as she took the warm water and started cleaning the tiny girl, swaddled her and handed her off to Simm, moved on to help Rebecca wash and change into a clean dry night rail, “you were right that we needed more people around for a birth, it was good that everyone we had was an expert.” She kissed Simm on the cheek and went down to the kitchen to get herself a cup of tea, leaving the new parents alone with their daughter.
Simm added a few logs to the fire and turned to look at Rebecca and the baby. She glowed with success and joy. The little girl suckled like she had the situation in hand, her fuzz of red hair creating a halo around her head. “FitzSimmon, I love you.” She tussled the child’s silky hair. “And, I won’t say I wasn’t warned. I remember what you said about eldest girls in your family. And although she doesn’t have much hair, I believe it will be safe to call her Elisabeth.”
Simm climbed onto the bed and put his arms around the two beautiful women in his life, and vowed that he would never leave either alone to face the cruel winds of fate or weather.“Rebecca, I think we need to discuss that. I like the nickname Libby for Elizabeth, but I think we both know this little one’s name is Liberty.”
If you liked this story find the rest in the book: Fate and Fair Winds in e-book and paperback.
