Solomon the Midwife: Appalachian Afterlife

Prologue

2008-10-14T21:58:00.000-07:00

He has powers, you know. He can heal the sick and raise the dead. He would have prevented my death had I allowed it. Even in my newness, I would not let Solomon interfere with my decision ... for he is my assignment.

I detached from my fetal body and emerged from that dark womb-tomb for I am the Pure One. I walk with him in the placeless realm. I witness as tendrils of knowledge and wisdom penetrate his being. I tell him that there is no hell, and then I show him its gates where sulfurous clouds sting his eyes.

But wait ... I’m getting ahead of my story. Let’s go back to before I died, back before the scar-faced widow woman penetrated her granddaughter’s cervix with a dirty shard of wire, back before the sick and dying came to beg Solomon for healing. In fact, let’s go back to a stall in the girl’s bathroom at Rooster Cove School.

Chapter 1 - A Boy for a Midwife!

2008-10-14T19:04:00.000-07:00

March 1943

Shirley braced herself against the walls of the stall in the girl’s bathroom. She sucked in her breath between clinched teeth and held it. She let it out with staccato gusts of panting. Her face twisted. She squeezed her eyes shut and pulled her lips tight. Pain blasted her in waves. What did a twelve-year-old know about having babies?

In the sixth grade classroom a little blond whispered to her teacher, “Miz Hamilton, Shirley’s sick.”

Mrs. Hamilton looked around the room. “Where is she?” She hadn’t noticed that one of her thirty-seven students was missing.

“She’s in the bathroom.”

Frances, Shirley’s younger sister, stood outside the stall holding the door open.

“Shirley,” Mrs. Hamilton said, “what’s wrong?”

“My stomach hurts real bad, ma’am,” she said leaning her head over on the wall of the stall. Shirley had always been a big boned, chunky girl. She’d never had a period in her life, and of course she didn’t have a clue how it felt to be pregnant. When her baby moved, she thought it was gas. And when her labor started, she thought it was a stomachache.

Shirley played down at the stone mill on Bristle Creek everyday with fifteen-year-old Edgar Taylor. They’d walked home from school together since the first grade. She screwed up her face again as another pain crashed into her. Mrs. Hamilton touched Shirley’s belly. It was rock hard.

“Go get Solomon,” Mrs. Hamilton said, “and hurry!”

Through grunts and groans Shirley said, “No, please don’t!” She thought, I’ll die if he sees me on the pot like this. All the girls in the sixth grade had a crush on Solomon. Just seeing him in the hallway was cause for giggling outbursts. And if for some reason he spoke to them, they’d brag on it all day. His Greek-god look was the reason he’d been voted Most Handsome in the school and Prom King too. Dear God, don’t let him see me like this.

Frances burst into Mr. Allen’s room. Mr. Allen had grades nine, ten, and eleven. It was study break, and Solomon was kicked back in a chair by the windows reading his history book. His chair was balanced on two back legs as he tapped or pulled on the desk in front of him to keep a perfect balance. Frances gasped for breath, “Mr. Allen…we need Solomon…in the girl’s bathroom!” Her frantic eyes searched the room for him.

Solomon pulled his chair into an upright position and paused for a second. When he sensed panic in others, his mind kicked into calmness. He stood up and all six feet of his lanky frame moved towards the door. Frances took off running for the bathroom. Solomon trotted to keep up with her. Mr. Allen followed Solomon, and the rest of the class watched with heads peeking out the classroom door.

They snickered and speculated that some girl had probably fainted. They knew that Solomon helped his grandmother with her midwifery. A girl could ask him questions about female stuff, and she could tell him things like when she had cramps. He didn’t mind hearing that kind a stuff. He even looked like he cared.

Mrs. Hamilton grabbed Solomon’s arm. “I think Shirley’s in labor,” she whispered.

Solomon, in a manner of speaking, wore two hats. He was a sixteen-year-old boy, but right now he was a midwife. And there could be no doubt that he was in charge. He squatted down in front of Shirley and put his hands on her knees. “What’s going on, hon?” He ran his fingers through his hair to brush the curls off his forehead.

“I don’t know. I got a bad stomachache,” she answered. He was already pulling her panties off over her boots. They’d been down around her ankles.

Shirley’s face turned blood red as she put her hands on the walls of the stall pushing them away from her. They swayed outward. She was a strong girl. “Uurrgghh,” she strained.

Solomon felt of her belly. It was solid. Her abdominal muscles had clamped down on her in a cramp from hell. “Shirley, don’t push! Pant for me.” He pursed his lips and panted to show her what he wanted.

“I…can’t…help…it,” she grunted as she strained. She hurt too bad to pay attention to him. She pushed harder, “UURRGGHH!” Her grunts were punctuated at the end by a rush of air from her throat.

He waited for the pain to ease up, and then he said, “Shirley, walk with me to the cot.” The school kept a cot in the girl’s bathroom and first aid supplies in a cabinet.

“I can’t,” she whined.

“Yes, you can,” he told her. He put his arms around her and pulled her up to a standing position. I’d rather catch the baby on the way to the cot than fish it out of the toilet, he thought.

“Oh no, please no! I have to go to the bathroom!” She complained, but she cooperated. She dropped into a fetal position on the cot and buried her face in her hands.

Solomon knelt beside her and said, “Shirley, do you know what’s happening?”

She shook her head, no.

“You’re having a baby.” His eyes scanned her face as he moved the hair off her forehead with his fingertip.

She looked at him with wide unbelieving eyes. “No, please don’t say that!”

“You’re going be fine,” he said wiping her wet forehead. “Roll over for me, hon,” he said as he rolled her on her back so he could palpate her abdomen. He was feeling for the baby’s position.

“But I can’t be pregnant,” she said, “honest.”

Mr. Allen leaned over to Mrs. Hamilton and whispered, “Yeah, right.”

Solomon cut his eyes at his teachers and glared. “Mr. Allen,” he said, “go get Ma Patsy.”

“Okay,” he said hurriedly leaving the bathroom. He was ashamed of his comment.

Solomon touched Shirley’s knee. “Hon, I need to look,” he said.

“At what?” she asked. “Please don’t hurt me!”

Mrs. Hamilton said, “Just let Solomon look, Shirley.”

Solomon took off Shirley’s boots. He put the bottoms of her feet together, which spread her legs like a lab frog. The saggy cot swayed under her bottom so he picked up the leg closest to him and pushed her knee up towards her belly. A three-inch-wide circle of baby’s head glistened at the entrance to her vagina.

Solomon looked up at Mrs. Hamilton. “She’s crowning, and her water’s broken,” he said as he stood up and pulled the cot away from the wall. Urgency was in his voice and his movements.

“Raise your hips, Shirley, before you have another pain,” he said stuffing a pillow under her bottom. He grabbed an armful of towels and sheets out of the first aid cabinet and spread a sheet over her. He hurriedly washed his hands and wished for a pair of gloves. I’ll have to do this barehanded, he thought shaking his head.

Shirley began a high-pitched squeal building up to her next contraction. “Please help me!” she cried.

Solomon straddled the bottom of the cot and pushed the sheet out of his way. The pillow had raised Shirley’s hips up high enough that he could see now. “Put your hands behind your knees, Shirley,” he said, “and pull your legs up against your belly. I want you to push like you have to go poop.”

He barely had the words out of his mouth when she began pushing. Her bottom swelled out with the baby’s head. “You’re doing good, Shirley,” he said, “push and hold it while I count to ten.” There was less than thirty seconds between her pains now. “That’s right, push and one…two…three… keep pushing, four…five…six, quick breath and hold and push, seven…eight…nine… and ten.”

He put his palm against the baby’s head to control its movement. Then he inserted the tip of his index finger between the baby’s head and Shirley. He ran his fingertip round and round gently stretching the vaginal opening so it wouldn’t tear. He massaged her perineum which had blanched white from the pressure of the baby’s head. Her abdomen bowed up with another contraction. “Push, Shirley,” he said, “you’re almost there, hon. Push your little boy out.”

Mrs. Hamilton smiled. She’d never known Solomon’s predictions about a baby’s gender to be wrong.

Shirley curled over her abdomen and pushed with all her strength, “UUURRRGGGHHH!” A fat little head with curly dark hair popped out.

“Good job, Shirley. Stop pushing,” he said quickly.

Shirley relaxed back onto her pillow. Her little sister, Frances, squealed with delight. She’d never seen a baby being born.

Solomon held onto the baby’s head as it turned sideways. I wish I had a suction bulb, he thought. In one smooth motion, he swiped his index finger through the baby’s mouth. He slid two fingers under the cord and slipped it over the baby’s head. Then he carefully pushed the head downward. He stuck the same fingers inside Shirley feeling for the baby’s armpit. When he found it, he rotated it counterclockwise. A shoulder popped out, and immediately the rest of the baby spilled out.

“You did perfect, Shirley.” The infant lay on Solomon’s forearm while he wiped it briskly with a towel. It let out a healthy howl. “I’m proud of you,” he said placing the baby on her belly.

Mrs. Hamilton echoed, “Yes, you did great, Shirley! Solomon, you did great too!”

“Thanks,” he said with a little blush as he got up to wash his hands and forearms. The pulsating umbilical cord still hung out of Shirley. Drying his hands and arms, he eyed it and decided that it was long enough to let her nurse her baby. He knew that would help deliver the placenta.

The baby’s mouth made contact and closed around Shirley’s nipple. With the eagerness of a newborn, it buried its face in her breast. The audible swallows thrilled Shirley. She was the picture of maternal love.

There had been very little bleeding during Shirley’s delivery and within a few minutes, the cord had quit pulsating. Solomon looped a finger around it and gently pulled. It suddenly lengthened and a gush of blood flowed out as the placenta released from the uterine wall. He looked up at Shirley, “Give me one more push, hon.”

She pushed, and the placenta tumbled out of her. He caught it with towel.

Solomon bent over Shirley and the baby boy sleeping on her belly. His hair hung down in his face now. He blew a puff of air at the curl tickling his eyelashes. It fluttered up and fell down again. He pushed it back with the forearm of the hand that held the scissors.

Shirley gasped, “What you gonna do with those?”

“It won’t hurt,” he said turning the baby on its side. He tied off the umbilical cord a few inches from the baby with a strip of gauze, and then he tied a second one closer to the placenta. He cut between them and laid the placenta on a cafeteria tray. He spread it out to make sure it had come away intact.

Frances grimaced and said, “Yuck, don’t send that tray back to the kitchen.”

Mr. Allen stuck his head into the bathroom. “Ma Patsy said she could be here in an hour,” he said.

Solomon smiled and nodded.

Copyright © 2008 by Robbin Renee Bridges
Coping with Grief through Afterlife Communication
http://www.spirit-sanctuary.org/

Chapter 2 - An Abortifacient

2008-10-14T17:41:00.000-07:00

March 1943

Ma Patsy had been running around all morning like a chicken with its head cut off. It wasn’t quite noon yet and already six patients had been in to see her. Doc Wall had called and said that he had her package from the drug company. He’d ordered Patsy’s quinine when he ordered his monthly supplies of medicine. He didn’t have much need for quinine. It was an anti-malarial medicine, and he didn’t see much malaria in Rooster Cove since TVA had waged war on mosquitoes.

He knew what Patsy intended to do with the quinine. She’d mix it up with some cocoa butter and make vaginal suppositories for her patients. It was an abortifacient. If one of Patsy’s patients missed her period, she’d come in for her to take care of it. Patsy would slip one of her quinine suppositories into her, and she’d be bleeding again in a few days.

That’s what Clara Cash had come in for this morning.

“Clara,” Ma Patsy said looking up from what she was doing, “don’t Henry have any condoms left? These quinine suppositories don’t always work, ye know.” She unwound the wax paper she’d wrapped around the suppository. She kept them in the icebox so the cocoa butter wouldn’t lose its bullet shape.

“Yeah, he’s got a plenty left,” Clara said. “He don’t like rubbers.”

Ma Patsy looked exasperated. “Why in God’s name is Henry so pigheaded? Ye’ve had five babies already and three miscarriages. Ask him if he’d cotton to raisin’ five young’uns by hisself. This is gonna be cold, hon.” Ma Patsy said as she slid the suppository into Clara’s vagina. She pushed a tampon in after it so the quinine wouldn’t leak out. “Be sure and take this tampon out in the morning, Clara,” she said pulling off her rubber gloves, “and let me know if you don’t start bleeding in a few days.”

Clara sat up and swung her legs off the side of the examining table. Pa Shiver had made the table before he died. It was just a narrow table with some quilt batting under a red and white checkered oilcloth. He’d nailed the oilcloth to the underside of the table. The batting made it almost comfortable, and the red and white tablecloth was waterproof. Ma Patsy kept a white rubber sheet on top of that so she could keep things clean. At the end of the table Pa Shiver had drilled two holes. They were for the dowels that held two wooden contraptions where Patsy’s patients could rest their feet during a pelvic examination or during delivery.

Clara stood up still holding her panties in her hand. She stepped into them and straightened up smoothing her calico dress over her hips. Clara was only thirty-one years old, and she already had a potbelly from too many pregnancies. Her stringy hair was dull. It looked like last year’s straw. Her gray eyes were tired and bloodshot from not enough sleep. Clara worked hard to keep herself, her house, and her five kids clean. She was a good mother. She was just caught in a situation like a lot of other women in the cove.

She loved Henry, her husband, and she loved to sing and play the guitar that he’d bought her out of a catalog. Every night she’d croon sweet lullabies to her kids with a voice like a nightingale. You could hear her Irish roots when she sang.

Ma Patsy straightened up her instrument tray and wiped down the white rubber sheet on the exam table with chlorine water. She looked over at Clara and asked, “When have ye been to see Doc Wall? Ye look pale.”

“I hain’t never seen him fer myself,” Clara said. “I taken Henry Junior to him when he broke his arm. Ye remember that?”

“Yes, I remember,” Ma Patsy said. “Well, ye need to go see him. He should check yer blood. Ye look anemic.” She pulled down Clara’s lower eyelid and looked at the pale mucosa. She pinched Clara’s fingernail. It blanched and slowly turned pale pink. “Until ye get over there to see the Doc, put a rusty nail in an apple and leave it overnight,” Patsy said. “Come morning, take the nail out an’ eat the apple. Do that everyday ‘til ye get to see Doc Wall. Okay?”

“Yeah, I’ll do that.” Clara replied.

Solomon left school at noon and trotted the mile across the cove to his house on Rooster Cove’s main drag. He’d lived there with his grandmother since he was two years old. He hit the front steps taking them three at a time. The screen door banged against the door jam when he let it go. The commotion announced to Ma that Solomon was home from school.

He only went to school in the mornings now. Not many kids stayed at the high school in the afternoon. The ones that did were the few that were going on to college. Solomon planned to go to college, but he needed to work in the afternoons to save money for the University in Knoxville. Ma had been paying him to help her with patients and with things that had to be done around the office like sterilizing instruments. Solomon wrapped each item in butcher’s brown wrapping paper and put it in the oven for an hour or so according to how many things needed sterilizing.

Delivering a baby like he did this morning at school was nothing out of the ordinary for Solomon. He’d hung around Ma’s office for as long as he could remember. He’d seen or heard of most female complaints and conditions. He was like a sponge. He remembered everything, and he wanted to help with everything that Ma did.

When he helped her with the herb garden, he wanted to know the name of every plant and what it was for. Of course that led to more questions like, “What’s asthma?” and “What’s a poultice do?” The herbs looked different when Ma brought them in the house and dried them. She’d hang them in little bundles from the ceiling. Some she’d hang in the kitchen where they’d stay moist. And some she’d hang in a cool storage room that she kept closed off. Solomon would ask, “What’s this one for? And what does that one smell like?” He stayed by Ma’s side as she chopped, shredded, or mashed the stems, leaves, and flowers. Some of them she’d boil on the stove, some she’d mix with alcohol for a tincture, and some were just dried and put in jars to make tea.

With plants like the dandelions nothing went to waste. She’d collect the milky white liquid that oozed out when the stem was cut and save it in a jar to use for warts, corns, and eczema. The leaves she dried to make a tea for patients that needed a diuretic. Of course, Solomon’s next question was “What’s a diuretic?” He cackled like a hen when Ma called it “piss-a-bed tea.” Finally, she gave the flower heads to Pa Shiver so he could make dandelion wine. Sometimes he’d even let Solomon try a sip after supper.

For the past four years, Ma had been officially instructing Solomon in the art of midwifery. He’d delivered his first baby all by himself when he was fourteen years old. The mother that he’d delivered was his same age—fourteen. Her name was Missy Hawkins. He’d been in grammar school with Missy, but she’d dropped out after the fifth grade to help her ma around the house with the little’uns. Now she was having little’uns of her own. Ma had watched the delivery from the sidelines, but she didn’t need to say a word. Solomon’s labor and delivery skills were perfect … something that the folks at school could attest to after this morning.

By the time Solomon was fifteen years old, he could do anything Ma Patsy could do from setting broken bones and sewing up cuts to delivering babies and, if need be, executing a perfect mediolateral episiotomy to prevent tearing of the vaginal opening, which he then expertly sutured.

Ma’s womenfolk patients didn’t mind the teenaged boy’s presence at their most intimate moments. They knew that he would be taking over Ma Patsy’s work and probably Doc Wall’s too. They didn’t think of him as a teenaged observer. They thought of themselves as helping to train the man who would take care of their families for decades to come.

He had decided a long time ago that he wanted to be a doctor for Rooster Cove. Now that he was sixteen years old, he planned to ask Doc Wall if he could help out around his clinic. That way he could save the money for college and medical school faster. Solomon was a good saver. He hardly ever spent any money on foolishness.

Ma Patsy heard him coming into the house, and she hollered, “Solomon, come in here, please.”

He could heard Clara Cash’s voice in there with Ma, so he slowly opened the door to the exam room and peeked in. He didn’t want to embarrass Clara. There was no telling what Ma might be doing to her. The coast was clear. Clara was dressed and just standing there with her arms crossed in front of her breasts. She looks awful tired, he thought. “Afternoon, Miz Cash, how are you?” he said.

“Fair to middlin’ thank ye, Solomon.” Clara couldn’t have cared less what Solomon saw. He’d helped Ma Patsy deliver her last baby, and he’d been the one to slip the quinine suppository into her more than once in the past. Solomon was just overly sensitive about the way people felt. It was as if he walked around with his psychic radar up. Sometimes people would say they didn’t mind the things that he did to them, but he sensed it when they were afraid or embarrassed. Whatever they might say didn’t fool Solomon.

“Sounds like ye had a tad of excitement at school this morning,” Ma said.

Solomon grinned, “Yeah, a little bit.”

“Would ye run over to Doc Wall’s?” she asked. “He says my quinine’s here. I need ye to fetch it.”

Copyright © 2008 by Robbin Renee Bridges
Coping with Grief through Afterlife Communication
http://www.spirit-sanctuary.org

Chapter 3 - The Clinic

2008-10-14T13:57:00.000-07:00

March 1943

Dr. Wall’s clinic was half a mile down the road from Ma Patsy’s office. It was where Rooster Cove Road met Knoxville Highway. The road going into the cove had been paved in 1940 by the Work Projects Administration, better known as the New Deal’s WPA. It was paved for six miles up into the cove, which made it easy now for the folks of Rooster Cove and the neighboring hollows to get in and out. Before that, the old dirt road was full of ruts and holes that turned into mud bogs when it rained. The old logging roads into the hollows weren’t paved, so they still turned into mud bogs when it rained.

Spring flowers were already popping up along the edge of the asphalt. Just looking at them made Solomon feel happy. He had a scientific kind of mind. He had to know why about everything. He had cogitated about the little spring flowers, and he figured that the asphalt trapped water underneath and held heat so the edge of the pavement was the first place to blanket itself in flowers at the end of winter.

Something about the asphalt looks strange today, Solomon thought. Distorted waves rose from it. They reminded him of pictures that he’d seen of heat waves rising from the desert floor. But this was March, and it was Tennessee. Solomon slowed his pace. He stopped beside a power pole and cautiously stepped closer to it. A hum came from inside the pole. He watched in fascination as it became translucent and then transparent. A frenzy of activity buzzed within the outline of what had been the power pole. He looked up at the power lines that ran the length of Rooster Cove Road. They looked like Fourth of July sparklers throwing white-hot sparks. Solomon turned round and round in the road. The asphalt itself glistened with twinkling, swirling red lights. Solomon’s feet stirred the sparkling red lights into a mini-tornado. What’s going on? He thought. Is this the world Ma sees when she goes into her transfiguration chamber?

The half-mile to the clinic didn’t take Solomon long. At sixteen he already had the long, lean musculature of a runner. That fact had won him many trophies. His dark brown, wavy hair was long enough that it fell down on his forehead. When he was working, he’d brush it away, but a stray curl would manage to hang down and tickle him. Some of the kids at school had cut out a picture of the sculpture of David by Michelangelo. They’d called it “Solomon” which caused him some embarrassment because David in that picture was naked. Some kid even made up a little ditty that had taunted Solomon’s teenaged years.

Sepaugh, Say Paw
Mike a land gello
Carved hisself a statue
Of the Sepaugh we all know.

His resemblance to the statue was indeed remarkable. Even Solomon saw the similarity, but he firmly declared that he was much better endowed as far as the family jewels were concerned. That was just guy talk, but the rumor had spread nevertheless.

Solomon’s Mediterranean heritage through his Melungeon ancestors was apparent in his face and hair. The only departure from this heritage was the color of his eyes, which were a vivid blue like the color of the sky when you look straight up on a summer day.

Dimples dotted his cheeks when he smiled, and Solomon smiled all the time. He smiled when he was happy, and he smiled when he was mad. He even smiled when he was worried. It was as if the corners of his mouth didn’t know how to turn down. And behind his smile straight white teeth sparkled. Ma had taught him to make a paste of baking soda and peroxide for brushing.

Today, Solomon was happy that he had an excuse to go to Doc Wall’s. This would be a chance to ask him about a part time job. He liked the old doctor, and he felt like he could be useful around his office. He already could do anything that Ma Patsy could do with her patients. Doc Wall could teach him a whole lot more. And considering the doctor’s failing health, Solomon felt like he could take some stress off the only physician within a thirty-mile radius of Rooster Cove. He just hoped he could convince the doctor of this.

Dr. Hezekiah Wall, whose father was a Bible scholar, had opened his clinic out on the highway between Black Fort and Knoxville in 1908. It was right after he’d graduated from medical school over in Chapel Hill. Since then, the medical office had been his home too. Its gingerbread front porch was a landmark out on the highway.

The doctor had lived there alone for the past fifteen years. Since his wife died from breast cancer, his health had been slowly going down hill. It was hard on him to be available for late night or weekend emergencies. His daughter, Alice Moriah, had been trying to get him to move into her home a few miles west of the clinic, but he’d told her that he wasn’t ready to give in yet. He was seventy-two years young this year, and he figured that he had a few more good years left in him. The old doctor’s nurse had retired last year, and since then, he’d had to do literally everything by himself.

Solomon knew that Doc Wall and Ma Patsy had an arrangement of sorts. They respected each other’s territory. Ma Patsy knew when her patients needed modern medicine, and she didn’t hesitate to send them to Dr. Wall. In return Dr. Wall considered Ma Patsy an extension of his health care system. He supplied her with prescription medicine that required a doctor’s signature, like the quinine.

As Solomon approached the clinic, he saw Dr. Wall struggling to get heavy boxes off the back of a truck. Doc Wall saw him running towards him, and he stopped what he was doing. “Hey, Solomon, Patsy must have sent you for her quinine.”

“Yes,” Solomon said, “can I help you get these boxes into the clinic?”

“Thank you,” Dr. Wall said, “that would be mighty kind of you.”

Solomon already had two of them in his arms, and he was walking towards the back door. “Just show me where you want them, and I’ll bring them all in for you.”

“This really is my lucky day,” Dr. Wall smiled as he held open the back door for Solomon. “Down the hall and to the room on the left,” he pointed for Solomon then followed him. “Put them on the floor over there,” he said.

As soon as the boxes were out of his arms, Solomon was on his way back for more. Dr. Wall knew that Patsy’s quinine would be in one of the smaller boxes, so he followed Solomon out to the truck. Solomon picked up two more large boxes, and Dr. Wall scooped up three small ones. As Solomon put his boxes on the floor, he said, “There’s only one left,” and he was on his way back out to the truck.

Dr. Wall put his three small boxes on a low chest, took out a box cutter, and opened one of them. Patsy’s quinine was on top. Ah hah! he thought, am I psychic, or what? As Solomon brought in the last box, Dr. Wall put the little amber bottle into his coat pocket. He patted Solomon on the shoulder and said, “How about a glass of iced tea, young man?”

“Okay, thanks,” Solomon replied as he followed the aging doctor down the hallway to the kitchen.

Dr. Wall was a few inches over six feet, and his back was straight as an arrow. His white hair he kept short, and he was balding on the very top of his head. His eyes were surprisingly good for his age. He only needed reading glasses, which he’d let slide to the end of his nose. He tilted his head backwards when he needed to read a label. The rest of the time he looked over the top of his little half spectacles. He motioned for Solomon to sit down at the kitchen table. He took the amber bottle out of his pocket and sat it in front of Solomon.

Solomon turned the little bottle round and round in his fingers, trying to decide the best way to start this conversation about his working part time at the clinic. Dr. Wall set a glass of sweet tea in front of Solomon and said, “Solomon, what would you think about coming to work for me here at the clinic?”

Solomon looked startled, “Really?” He smiled and said to the doctor, “I was planning to ask you if you might be able to use me around here.”

“Great minds think alike.” Dr. Wall raised one white eyebrow. “By the way, how old are you, son?”

“Sixteen,” he answered.

“That’s good,” Dr. Wall said. “I don’t want to get in trouble with that new labor law for children. I couldn’t remember whether you were fifteen or sixteen. When can you start?”

“Anytime,” Solomon said, “now if you want.”

“Well, I know you work some for Patsy. Is that going to mess up anything for her?”

“No, I’ve already talked to Ma about it… I mean about asking you for a job. She’s fine on it. I can still help Ma,” he said. “I can be here for your afternoon patients, and I can help Ma at night and on the weekends.”

“That’s a lot on you, son. Do you graduate from high school this year?” Dr. Wall asked.

“No sir, I’m in the tenth grade. I’ve got one more year in school. I go to school in the mornings, but I get out at noon. School’s real easy for me,” he said. “I won’t have a problem. I promise.”

“What kind of grades do you make?” Dr. Wall asked.

“I make all A’s, sir,” Solomon answered.

“That’s good,” Dr. Wall said. “You’ll let me know if this creates a problem for you, won’t you?”
“Yes, sir,” Solomon said, “I promise.”

Someone rang the bell in the waiting room. Dr. Wall put his arm on Solomon’s shoulder and guided him towards the waiting room. The doctor stuck his head through the door. An older gentleman was there. Solomon recognized him. It was Toby something. He lived in a hollow across the highway. Dr. Wall said to the man, “Hello there, Toby. I’ll be with you in a minute. I need to get this young man started on a project in the dispensary.”

Dr. Wall shut the door to the waiting room and said to Solomon. “Unpack the boxes we just brought in. It will be a good way for you to get familiar with the dispensary.”

“Okay,” Solomon said following the doctor into the room.

“Over here I keep all the medicine.” Dr. Wall pointed to rows of glass encased shelves. “They’re all alphabetical.” He opened one of the glass cases to show Solomon. “The ones over there,” he pointed to the glass cases near the window, “These are the ones I use everyday. They’re not in any order. The ones most used are closest to the table.” He gestured towards the table in front of the window. On the table sat a mortar and pestle for grinding tablets into a powder. Beside that were funnels in various sizes. “You’ll get the gist of it. Here I keep the distilled water, tincture of iodine, alcohol, glycerin,” the doctor said touching his assorted bottles. Some were in clear glass bottles. Others were in amber, cobalt blue, or dark green glass bottles. Some were pint-sized and some were ounce-sized bottles, and lots were in between. A few were gallon-sized and sat on the floor beneath the table.

“This is where I compound the elixirs and capsules and whatever else I need,” he said as he pulled out a drawer beneath the table, “and here’s the rest of it.” The drawer contained empty capsule shells and little bottles with cork stoppers that would be filled with medicine that the doctor could send home with his patients.

Dr. Wall walked to the other side of the room to a tall cabinet with forty narrow, shallow drawers. “Over here is where I keep equipment for injections, sutures, gauze, cotton balls, and so forth.” He pulled out a drawer with assorted stainless steel needles. “Different situations call for different sized needles. You’ll learn all this as we go,” Dr. Wall said.

Beside the large cabinet was a small table with a stainless steel box that had a round door like a porthole. “What’s this?” Solomon asked touching the top of it.

“That’s an autoclave,” Dr. Wall said. “I use it to sterilize my instruments. I’ll show you how to use it later. How does Patsy sterilize equipment?”

“In the oven,” Solomon replied.

Dr. Wall said, “This works basically the same way.” The doctor turned to leave, “I need to find out what Toby wants. You start unpacking and put things where you think they belong. You’ll find that I already have at least one of all the things that are in the boxes. So put the new one behind the old one on the shelf.

“Alright,” Solomon said feeling a combination of excitement and awe as he looked around the room. This was so much more than he’d expected for today. There was a telephone on the compounding table so he called Ma to tell her his good news. “Ma, I’m still at Doc Wall’s. He’s put me to work already.”

“That’s great, Solomon!” Ma Patsy could hear the excitement in Solomon’s voice. He had a squeaky sound when he was excited about something.

“I just wanted to tell you not to wait supper for me,” he said. “I don’t know when I’ll get home with this being my first day and all. Dr. Wall’s got so many things to tell me.”

“That’s fine, son. I’ll see ye when I see ye,” Ma giggled.

One wall of the dispensary had Dr. Wall’s medical textbooks and journals. I could spend the next ten years just reading, Solomon thought as he thumbed through some of the books. It was hard to put them down. Reading and looking at the graphic pictures of body parts made him want to look through another and another and another. I don’t want Dr. Wall to think I’m malingering. Solomon grabbed the box cutter and opened another box.

Except for the medicine, which was easy to put away because it was alphabetical, Solomon was taking much longer than he would have liked. Finding the right place for everything was tedious. Dr. Wall came back into the dispensary. “I forgot to tell you to mark things off the packing list as you unpack the boxes.”

“I was doing that. I figured you’d want to know that everything on the list was in the box,” Solomon said.

“Good, and as for the books on those shelves,” Dr. Wall pointed to the wall of books, “you’re welcome to spend all the time you want reading. I figure the more you know about medicine, the more help you’ll be.”

Solomon was in heaven. He explored the room, the equipment, and the medications. If he found something that he wasn’t familiar with, he’d look it up in the medical texts. He looked up all the drugs in alphabetical order. He started memorizing the drugs and each drug’s indications and contraindications. He wanted to be sure that he understood why a patient would need a specific drug, and he wanted to be even clearer on why they shouldn’t take the drug. He memorized side effects and dosages.

After several hours, Dr. Wall came back to the dispensary. The old doctor stood in the doorway for a few seconds. He looked pleased. He said, “Solomon, you’ve outdone yourself. This room hasn’t been this organized since my nurse retired last year. Thank you for your industriousness.”

“You’re welcome, Dr. Wall.” Solomon blushed.

Dr. Wall walked around the room tenderly touching a cabinet here, a bookshelf there. Memories of his lifetime of caring for patients flooded his mind. Solomon watched him carefully. When a person experienced high levels of emotional energy, like Dr. Wall was feeling now, Solomon could feel what they felt. He was empathic; Ma had told him. The feeling that he was getting from Dr. Wall right now was one of joy and profound satisfaction. The doctor took Solomon’s hand. His voice trembled as he said, “Your enthusiasm is contagious, son. Thank you for coming to work for me.”

“Thank you for hiring me,” Solomon said. His smile was so wide that it hurt. His heart felt so big inside his chest that he thought it might burst open with happiness.

“Can you be back here at one o’clock tomorrow afternoon?” Dr. Wall asked.

“Oh gosh, I can’t wait to get back to this room,” Solomon beamed at him. On the way home his feet barely touched the ground.

This turned out to be the perfect arrangement. Dr. Wall taught Solomon how to take a good medical history, and then he’d let Solomon figure out what kinds of tests or treatments the patient needed. Solomon dog-eared the Grey’s Anatomy. He’d put a piece of paper over the illustrations, and then he’d trace them. Later he’d sit down and label all the parts without looking at the book. “He’s a smart boy, that Solomon,” Dr. Wall would say.

Solomon sterilized the equipment in the autoclave. He kept inventory of all the supplies, and he ordered more when anything was needed. Doc Wall laughed and told people that his job was to sit in a rocker on the front porch of his clinic and to answer Solomon’s questions. Both mentor and mentee were happier than two hogs in a mud puddle on a summer’s day.

Copyright © 2008 by Robbin Renee Bridges
Coping with Grief through Afterlife Communication
http://www.spirit-sanctuary.org

Chapter 4 - Dementia and Demons

2008-10-14T13:03:00.000-07:00

March 1947

Solomon knew he’d need a running start if he was going to get up enough speed to fly off the cliff and soar above Lake Blarney. He backed up, sprinted along the pathway, and then jumped over the precipice. Fleecy white clouds billowed in the purple sky. He spread his arms and sailed in circles over the lake until he got close enough to splash down in the blue-green waters. As he floated on the water, a beautiful Indian maiden in a canoe asked him, “Do you have the Sign?”

Solomon answered, “Not yet, but I will.”

The alarm clock jolted him out of his dream. He shut it off and lay there for a moment trying to shake off his disorientation. Good grief! That was a weird dream, he thought.

He shaved and went downstairs to have breakfast with Ma.

“Morning, son,” she said spooning oatmeal into two bowls.

“How many patients are scheduled this morning?” he asked pouring a glass of milk.

“There’s three. They’re all simple prenatals...nothing complicated,” she said.

He nodded. “I had the weirdest dream last night. Have you ever heard of the Sign?”

“No, I can’t say that I have, son. What is it?”

“I don’t know,” he laughed, “some Indian maiden asked me if I had it.”

“Aaah law, son,” Ma giggled, “maybe I shouldn’t put so much spice in my spaghetti.”

Dr. Wall fidgeted with the salt shaker on the kitchen table. Solomon had been working for him four years now. It was noon, and he’d be walking in the back door any minute. Patients were filling up the waiting room. Almost all of Dr. Wall’s patients came in the afternoon now…to see Solomon. If Dr. Wall told his patients that Solomon was busy, they told him they’d wait. Dr. Wall had no idea how he could remedy this dilemma. If he got rid of Solomon, patients would just go to Patsy’s to see him anyway.

Solomon’s twenty-year-old enthusiasm still had an invigorating effect on the seventy-six-year-old doctor. He just hadn’t been prepared for how quickly his new employee learned. Nor had he expected his patients to accept Solomon so readily. Granted, the young man was handsome, sensitive, intelligent, skilled, and compassionate...all those things ad nauseum.

The fact that the old doctor had more energy than he’d felt in thirty years had not connected in his mind with the possibility that Solomon was the source of that energy. He just knew that he felt better than he’d felt in years, and he wondered why he’d ever asked the whippersnapper to come and work for him.

Then being the astute observer that he was, Dr. Wall observed that he felt jealous of his young apprentice’s youth. Yes, that was what he felt… jealous. But not just jealous of Solomon’s youth, the doctor was jealous of Solomon’s skill with patients too. While Dr. Wall was still gathering a history on a patient, Solomon would have the patient’s problem diagnosed…just by looking at him or her. Solomon could look with his hands. Patients reported that his hands felt warm right before they got better.

When Solomon came in the back door, the doctor was standing at the kitchen sink with his back to him. “How are things going today, Dr. Wall?” Solomon asked.

Dr. Wall ignored him.

Solomon went to the dispensary, put on his white coat, and stuffed his stethoscope into his pocket. He went back to the kitchen where Dr. Wall puttered over the sink. Solomon asked, “What would you like me to do today?”

Dr. Wall turned around and glared at Solomon. “There are seven patients in the waiting room, and they’re ALL waiting for you!” The doctor’s face was turning red. “They’ve forgotten that I’m the doctor, and you’re a twenty-year-old kid with no degree to your name! They’ve forgotten that I run this clinic!”

“I haven’t forgotten, Dr. Wall,” Solomon said calmly. “I haven’t forgotten that you are my mentor. I haven’t forgotten that I owe it all to you.” Solomon knew that was a slight stretch of the truth. If anyone, he owed it all to Ma. But making Dr. Wall feel better was the issue at hand.

“Just look at you!” Dr. Wall sputtered. “It’s only noon, and you’ve got a five o’clock shadow already. Why don’t you clean yourself up before you come to work?”

"I'm sorry,” Solomon responded, “I’ll go shave.”

Solomon headed off to the bathroom beside the dispensary. He kept a razor in there, and everyday he shaved when he came in to work, whether he needed it or not. Dr. Wall’s daily repetition of this scene indicated that his mentor was sinking deeper into senile dementia. A few weeks ago, Dr. Wall had come into the kitchen in his bare feet. They were blue with the tiny purple veins of peripheral vascular disease. Solomon knew that if his cardiovascular system was compromised in his feet, it was also compromised in his brain.

Solomon shaved, and then he went back to the kitchen. “Is that better, Dr. Wall?”

Dr. Wall grunted and poured a cup of coffee for himself. Solomon shut the icebox door that Dr. Wall had left open. He didn’t point these things out to the doctor. He just went behind him and put things in order. Solomon knew that his old friend couldn’t help forgetting things. The only time it became a problem for Solomon was with patient care. He had to be more aggressive when Dr. Wall forgot something or tried to do a procedure the wrong way. The patients were well aware of this. That’s why they waited for Solomon to get to the clinic. Solomon tried to be tactful with Dr. Wall concerning patient care. He didn’t want to hurt the aging doctor’s feelings. He knew that even though his memory was failing, his feelings were more sensitive than ever.

“Dr. Wall, is Alice Moriah coming over on Sunday?” Solomon wanted to talk to the doctor’s daughter about her father’s health.

“Well, I suppose she is,” Dr. Wall snapped, “doesn’t she come over here everyday?”

Solomon knew it had been almost two decades since Alice Moriah visited her father everyday. That was when her mother was dying of cancer. Now that Solomon worked at the clinic, she came on the weekends when the doctor was alone. I’ll call her in the morning, Solomon thought.

Screams from the waiting room jolted Solomon and Dr. Wall. “Solomon! Solomon!” They heard shouts and what sounded like chairs scattering. A female voice punctuated the melee, “Oh God, help!”

Solomon ran into the waiting room to find three men man-handling a teenaged boy, who was in the throes of the clonic-tonic phase of a grand mal seizure. “Put him on the floor,” Solomon shouted. The men laid the boy down leaving a trail of urine as the boy’s bladder released its contents. Solomon knelt down and rolled him over to one side. He held his head while it jerked uncontrollably. His eyes rolled back and bloody sputum frothed around his mouth where he’d chewed his tongue and cheeks.

“I need a bite stick and phenobarbital,” Solomon said to the doctor. Dr. Wall staggered backwards, and then he left the room. Solomon wasn’t sure that the old doctor would return with what he needed. He said, “Melanie, go with him…a bite stick and phenobarbital.”

A man offered Solomon a spoon. “Here’s a spoon to keep Tater from swallerin’ his tongue. I’m his daddy.”

Solomon said, “He can’t swallow his tongue. It’s attached to his mouth. When Tater has a seizure, roll him on his side. That clears his airway. Just keep him from hurting himself. Put something soft in his mouth to keep him from biting, but don’t put anything in there that would break his teeth.”

Tater’s daddy looked surprised.

Dr. Wall and Melanie appeared at Solomon’s side with the bite stick, a hypodermic syringe loaded with phenobarbital, and a towel. He handed Solomon the bite stick and the towel.

Solomon wiped the boy’s face and tossed the towel into the pool of urine. He didn’t want anyone to slip in it. Then he forced the bite stick between Tater’s back teeth so he couldn’t bite.

Dr. Wall gave Tater the shot. He was still pretty good with skills he’d done all his life. He still knew what common conditions needed which medications and treatments. But if you asked him what he had for lunch, he couldn’t tell you.

Solomon sat down on the floor beside the boy carefully avoiding the puddle of pee. The seizures had slowed. Solomon put the boy’s head on his knee and stroked his forehead. “You’re okay, Tater.”

Tater moaned and looked around the room. He looked bewildered.

Solomon asked Tater’s father, “Do you give Tater the capsules Dr. Wall gave him?”

“Yeah, but we missed a few. My brother says hit’s the devil makes people have fits like this.”

“It’s the devil?” Solomon raised his eyebrows. He didn’t want to get into that right now.

“Mortimer Demon’s come back to the holler,” Tater’s daddy said, “we’s under attack.”

Over supper Solomon said to Ma, “Today at the clinic somebody said the Mortimer Demon is back. Do you know what they’re talking about?”

“Mortimer Demon?” Ma chuckled, “Land a mercy, that was fifty years ago. I was just a girl. Everybody in Rooster Cove was scared to death of it. People wouldn’t go out after dark. They said it carried off chickens and dogs and cats. And some folks said it killed a baby.”

Solomon asked, “Did they ever find out what it was?”

“Not that I know of,” Ma said. “Some folks said they seen it. It was supposed to be big and hairy and stank like rotten meat. They said it could jump from the ground up on to the roof of a house.”

“Are any of the folks that saw it still around the cove?” Solomon asked.

“None in their right mind,” Ma chuckled. “Alfred Hicks over in Mortimer Holler says his grandpa died when he seen it.”

“If he died when he saw it,” Solomon said, “then somebody had to be there and live to tell the story.”

Ma grinned, “Yep, you’d think that. You’ll have to go ask Alfred what he knows about it.”

Copyright © 2008 by Robbin Renee Bridges
Coping with Grief through Afterlife Communication
http://www.spirit-sanctuary.org

Chapter 5 - Amour and a Miracle

2008-10-14T10:19:00.000-07:00

December 1947

The week before Christmas, Alice Hope arrived home from the University in Ohio where she was a freshman. She had gone there to get away from the smothering influence of her mother, Alice Moriah. She wasn’t too excited about the prospect of being away from her friends at school, but that’s the way these holidays went. You just had to get through them. The only person in the area that she was remotely interested in spending time with was Solomon, the guy that worked at her grandfather’s clinic. She thought he was handsome enough to be a movie star, but he was too shy to suit her. She’d flirted with him for years, but he’d ignored her like he thought she was a child. When she asked him why, he’d told her that he didn’t think it would be appropriate for him to date his employer’s granddaughter. “You’re a fuddy duddy just like Grandfather,” Alice Hope had said to him.

Alice Moriah came out of the kitchen where she’d been preparing dinner. “Alice Hope, I think you should go caroling with the folks at church tonight,” she said, “and I think you should ask Solomon to go with you.” Alice Hope’s mother wasn’t trying to initiate anything between her daughter and Solomon. She was just thinking about her daughter's being out after dark in Black Fort. She knew that Solomon would protect her.

Alice Hope thought about it for a minute. “That might be fun,” she said. She picked up the phone and called the clinic. Actually she was thinking that it might be fun to mess Solomon. I wonder what it would take to get his attention, she grinned mischievously.

Solomon answered, “Dr. Wall’s office.”

“Hi Solomon, this is Alice Hope,” she said playing with the phone cord.

“Heeeyyy! Welcome home, Alice.”

“Thanks Solomon.” She took a deep breath. “I have a proposition for you. Mother wants me to go caroling tonight, and she wants you to go with me. I suppose to protect her precious daughter.”

Solomon laughed, “Well, you are precious, Alice Hope.”

“I’m not a child,” she said.

“Okay, what’s your proposition?” he asked. He sounded like a big brother, which was the way he felt about her.

She lowered her voice. “I’ll agree to go, if you’ll agree not to tell anybody that I smoke.”

Solomon laughed heartily. “Do you really think they don’t know? There’s nothing more pungent than the smell of tobacco smoke to a non-smoker.”

“Your attitude pisses me off.” She slammed the phone down.

Solomon smiled and hung up the phone. I’ll give her five minutes before she calls back, he thought.

It didn’t take that long. “Alice Hope, I’d be happy to accompany you to the caroling tonight,” he said.

She was at the clinic as soon as the last patient left. She sat down at the kitchen table with her grandfather. Solomon stuck his head in the door and said, “I’ll be ready in fifteen minutes.”

Dr. Wall listened to Alice Hope’s stories about college. She had him wrapped around her little finger, and she knew it.

When Solomon came back into the kitchen, Dr. Wall handed him the keys to the Cadillac and a ten-dollar bill saying, “You young folks have supper on me, and Solomon, you have her back here by ten o’clock.”

“Yes, sir, I’ll do that,” he said.

Alice Hope looked Solomon over. He had on chocolate brown wool pants with a pale blue oxford shirt and brown wingtips. He looks good, she thought, but that pea coat’s got to go. “Grandfather,” she crooned, “could Solomon wear your cashmere coat?”

“Alice!” Solomon said.

“Anything you want, precious,” Dr. Wall replied.

“Alice pulled the caramel colored cashmere coat out of the hall closet. She held it over one arm and stroked it. “This is so pretty. Come on, Solomon, try it on. You’re as tall as Grandfather.”

Solomon did what she asked.

She smiled real big. “Now you look like someone, who could take me out to dinner.” She twirled around the kitchen sashaying her hips, “How do you think I look?”

Sexually active, Solomon thought to himself. Her pink cashmere sweater stretched tightly across her ample eighteen-year-old breasts. Her rouged cheeks with eyelashes fluttering under theatrical make-up and a pouty pink mouth suggested her availability. “You look beautiful, Alice,” he said instead. “Your pink sweater brings out the pink in your cheeks and the strawberry blonde of your hair.”

Dr. Wall put one hand over his eyes. Peeking through two fingers he said, “You’re scaring your old granddaddy. When did you become a woman?”

Alice Hope beamed.

When they were out of sight of the clinic, Alice slid to the middle of the Cadillac’s front seat and put her hand on Solomon’s leg. “Do you think I look like a woman?” She watched his face as she lightly traced figure eights on the inside of his thigh.

“As a matter of fact, you do, Alice.” He tried not to show the effect her fingertips were having on him. He felt her little finger stretching higher up his thigh getting dangerously close to his manhood. His breathe came deeper and faster.

Alice watched his nostrils flare and his mouth grow slack. “Do I have your attention now?” she purred.

“You definitely have my attention,” he said as his erection pushed against his zipper.

“Mmmm good,” she pressed the back of her hand against it. “Oooh yes, I do have your attention, don’t I?” She stretched up to his neck and gently sucked.

“Your grandfather will know if you give me a hickey,” he whispered through a raspy throat.

“You’re right,” she said moving her hand from his groin to his biceps. She smiled and put her head on his shoulder. She knew she could have him. That made her happy.

As they drove into Black Fort, he asked, “Where do you want to eat?”

“I feel like a steak,” she said grinning, “and you look like you could use some red meat.”

Solomon pulled the Cadillac into the steak house parking lot. He got out, walked around the car, and opened her door. She pulled her skirt up showing off the garter belt that held up her silk stockings. She smiled when she saw him looking at her legs. He offered his hand, and she pulled herself out of the car.

The steak house was dark inside. A fat candle lit every table. Alice Hope asked for one of the circular booths. Solomon helped with her coat and hung it with his on the hook beside the booth. They sat down and Alice slid all the way around the table until she was inches from him.

“What subjects are you taking at the university?” Solomon asked.

“Regular freshman subjects,” she said turning towards him. She put her leg up on the seat with her knee lying on his thigh—a perfect position for his hand to easily reach her where she wanted him to touch her. He could see the top of her silk stockings.

“Uh, are you doing in a dorm? I...I mean, do you live in a dorm?” he stammered.

Alice Hope grinned. She was enjoying his awkward discomfort. She put her hand on the back of his neck and ran her fingers through his hair. She leaned closer so that her breast was touching his arm. She moved it slowly and deliberately. “How many women have you been with?” she asked in a sultry voice.

“Alice Hope, the people over there are watching you.” He cut his eyes toward a table near them.

“Why do you care?” she asked.

“I care,” he whispered firmly. “I’m not into public displays of...of...sex.”

“Alright, alright,” she said putting both her hands on the table and sitting up straight.

“Alice,” he said, “you’re a beautiful and desirable woman. Do you know what you do to a man?”

She sounded annoyed. “I’ve had sex with lots of guys. Don’t make this a big deal.”

Solomon looked concerned. He touched her chin and turned her face to his. “Do you use protection?”

She smiled impishly. “Yeah, I got a diaphragm. I’m not stupid.” She leaned close to him again and said, “I put it in before I left home. I put my diaphragm in and left my panties at home, and you spoiled my surprise.” She turned her head in a mock pout.

Solomon said, “I’m glad you’re not stupid.” He leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. “You better not let your mother find your diaphragm.”

“You’re telling me!” She winked and said, “I can’t believe you turned down the best sex you ever had.”

“Let’s just say I postponed it,” he said touching the tip of her nose. “Anticipation makes sex better.”

As they pulled into the church parking lot, people were bundling their coats around them and hurrying into the fellowship hall. The wind had picked up making the twenty-five degree temperature feel like zero. Solomon laughed and said to Alice, “You’re going to freeze your butt off…literally.”

She giggled. She was glad he’d remembered that she wasn’t wearing panties.

Confusion reigned inside the fellowship hall. A five-year-old boy was missing. His frantic parents paced and wrung their hands. Solomon got bits and pieces of the story. The child had been playing with siblings. The older ones had gotten cold and had come into the fellowship hall to warm up. That’s when the mother first missed five-year-old Charlie. It had been an hour ago, and they still hadn’t found the boy. Hope had faded, and gut-wrenching grief had taken over. The wails of the family stood out over the crowd’s judgments, “Why were they not watchin’ that young’un?”

The boy’s uncle burst through the door screaming, “They fount Charlie floatin’ face down on the north side of the pond!” He threw his arms around the boy’s father and sobbed, “He’s dead, Charles. Your boy is dead.”

Solomon was instantly alert to the situation. He remembered resuscitating animals after they’d apparently drowned in cold water, and he had a feeling that the child wasn’t dead. Dr. Wall’s cashmere coat flapped in the wind as Solomon hurried down the hill to the pond where men were pulling the boy out of the icy water. They flopped him up on the beach. The child’s face was blue and ice crystals clung to his hair.

“Don’t move him!” Solomon ordered.

The men didn’t know who Solomon was, but his sound of authority stunned them into compliance. They backed away. Solomon took off Dr. Wall’s coat and laid it over the child. He touched the boy’s cheek with the back of his hand and detected a weak electric current between the hair on his hand and the boy’s icy face. “He’s alive,” he said, “get a plank to carry him on.”

The child’s parents ran towards Solomon and the boy. Solomon put his arms out to slow them down. “Don’t move him!” he shouted as he blocked them. He knew that when the blood in an extremity was not circulating, like when a tourniquet was on it, poisons built up in the stagnant blood. He reasoned that if the boy was moved quickly, the poisons would go to his heart and brain.

The child’s mother looked at Solomon with pleading eyes. “Is he alive?” She gasped as she looked at his blue face. “Oh no, he’s dead,” she cried as she dropped to the ground.

“He’s alive. Trust me.” Solomon said it with such conviction that she believed him.

She carefully put her hand on her son’s forehead and said, “Oh God, he’s so cold.”

“I know,” Solomon said, “we’re going to fix that.”

When the men arrived with the plank, Solomon gently slid the boy onto it. He put Dr. Wall’s coat over the child and stood up with the boy and the board in his arms. Solomon’s foot skidded on the ice. “Steady me, fellas,” he said, “don’t let me fall.” They walked up the hill beside Solomon and his precious cargo.

In the fellowship hall, Solomon laid the board and the boy on a table.

A rotund middle-aged man introduced himself as Pastor Hall. “What can I do?” he asked anxiously.

“I need scissors and warm blankets,” Solomon said

A heavy-set woman stood watching with her hands over her mouth. Solomon said to her, “Ma’am, warm some towels in the oven and bring them to me.” She hurried off.

Another woman handed him scissors.

He cut the boy’s clothes off underneath Dr. Wall’s coat and threw the pieces of cold, wet material on the floor. He looked towards the kitchen and shouted, “I need those warm towels!”

The ice in the boy’s hair had melted, and his skin was pale but no longer blue. Solomon saw that the boy’s chest was beginning to move. The mother tenderly stroked her son’s forehead as Solomon said, “You’re doing good, Mama. Breathe your love on your son.”

Solomon put his fingertip against the child’s carotid artery. He felt a small bump from it. He placed a finger under the boy’s chin and slowly lifted it opening his airway. He showed the boy’s mother how to blow very small puffs of air from her own lungs into her son’s. “Blow slowly so he doesn’t start coughing, and then let the air just flow out of Charlie’s lungs.”

Solomon threw Dr. Wall’s wet and muddy cashmere coat on the floor and replaced it with layers of warm towels and wool blankets. He was unaware of a roomful of people standing around him silently witnessing what they considered a miracle. Whispers spread around the room. “He’s brangin’ Charlie back to life.” “I drug that child outta them icy waters. He was dead as a hammer.” “It’s a miracle.”

The boy’s eye’s fluttered as his face turned pink. His mother’s tears dropped onto his face. She wiped them away with her fingertip. She looked at Solomon and said, “Thank you, and God bless you.”

As the crowd pressed closer, Solomon motioned them to back away with a wave of his hand.

An older gentleman with a doctor’s bag came over to the table in time to see the child open his eyes and recognize his mother. The boy’s weak voice trembled, “Mommy?”

Dr. Jones from Black Fort had been called by one of the church members. The preacher said, “Doc, this is Solomon Sepaugh from Rooster Cove. This child was pulled from the icy waters of the duck pond after being under that water for at least an hour. He was dead, and now he is risen. Like Lazarus, this child is risen.”

Dr. Jones cut his eyes at Solomon. Solomon shrugged and raised his eyebrows. Dr. Jones obviously didn’t know what to make of the situation. Solomon said, “The child was severely hypothermic. His bodily functions were so minimal that he appeared dead. We’ve gently warmed him. I believe he needs to be kept warm and rehydrated with intravenous dextrose and water.”

The doctor seemed grateful for information that he could deal with.

“The child shouldn’t be moved until his core temperature is closer to normal,” Solomon added, “and I’m sure he has some acidosis due to the pooling of his blood.”

Dr. Jones nodded as he took over the boy’s treatment.

Solomon picked up Dr. Wall’s muddy cashmere coat. He saw Alice Hope across the room and waved her to him. She hurried over. “Let’s get out of here,” he whispered.

She followed him into the kitchen where they could escape out the back door. They managed to get into the Cadillac without anyone seeing them. Solomon started the engine and waited for the motor to warm up.

Alice Hope was staring at him. He looked at her and grinned. He raised his eyebrows and said, “What?”

“That was amazing. You were amazing,” she said.

“I’m happy it worked out for little Charlie,” Solomon said looking in the rear view mirror.

Alice Hope moved closer. She stuck her arm through his and put her head on his shoulder. He drove out of the parking lot before anyone noticed they were gone. Alice didn’t move on the way home. She was so quiet that Solomon wondered if she was asleep. She wasn’t. She was thinking about what Solomon had done.

Solomon drove the Cadillac into the clinic parking lot and looked at his watch…eight-thirty. They were back early. He remembered the doctor’s muddy cashmere coat with dread.

“Trade places,” Alice said, “I’ll drive you home, and I’ll come back and tell Grandfather about tonight. I’ll have his coat cleaned tomorrow.”

She drove the short half-mile to Ma Patsy’s. She pulled into the driveway and put the car in park. “This was quite an evening,” she said.

Solomon felt awkward. Should I kiss her goodnight?

“You never told me how many women you’ve been with,” she said playfully.

Solomon looked at his hands like he was counting, and then he grinned, “None,” he said.

“None?” she gawked. “I guess you get disgusted with all the gross female stuff you see.”

“No, that’s not it. I’ve just been so busy that I haven’t had the time to give to a woman...you know to romance her and all that.”

“I wanted to be with you when we were in high school,” she said, “but you never noticed me.”

“Oh, I noticed you. I just thought your grandfather would kill me if he thought I was interested in you.” He put his hand on her shoulder and squeezed. “Yeah, I noticed you for sure.”

She put her cheek on his hand and turned and kissed it. She nuzzled it until his finger was in her mouth. Her eyes locked on his as he watched her curl her tongue around the end of his finger. He closed his eyes for a moment savoring the heat rising in his loins. He ran his hand under her hair and caressed her neck. Then he pulled her towards him.

He meant it to be a simple kiss, but he lingered with it, and sensuously moving his mouth on hers, he closed his eyes. The warmth and softness of her lips started a flood of heat cascading from his loins. His tongue slowly explored her lips, which she parted obligingly for him. He touched her breast and felt her softness through the cashmere sweater. She sucked in her breath in response to his caressing her nipple. It grew hard under his fingertips. Solomon wanted to bury himself in her softness. He pulled her out of the driver’s seat and into his arms. He kissed her deeply, probing with his tongue.

Alice hit the gearshift with her knee as she twisted her body towards him. Solomon reached over her and turned off the ignition and the headlights. He ran his hands over her legs relishing the smooth feel of the silk stockings on her legs. He fondled the naked skin above the stockings, first on the outside of her thigh, and then he moved his sensitive fingertips around the top of her stockings to the inside. He followed her garter belt…until he felt her coarse pubic hair. He watched her face while he explored her. His knowledgeable fingers followed her contour until his middle finger sank into her. Her half-closed eyes fluttered. Her jaw relaxed and her tongue was visible between her parted lips. Her head rolled back, and she groaned a guttural sound in the back of her throat.

With his hand on the small of her back, Solomon pulled her forward. She lay back on the car seat. Without her knowing, he checked to make certain that her diaphragm was still in place on her cervix. Then his finger found the swollen roughness of the vaginal wall on the underside of her clitoris. He cupped his hand so that he applied pressure to her clitoris with his palm while his middle finger was planted inside beneath it. He pleasured her inside and outside. She moved her hips with the primal rhythm of sexual excitement as his massage took up the rhythm she was showing him. She rode a crest of pleasure until…her eyes squeezed shut and her mouth pulled taunt. She stiffened the muscles in her legs and feet. Solomon felt her vaginal muscles grasping and releasing around his fingers in their orgasmic dance.

When the contractions slowed, he unzipped his pants and freed himself. He picked her up. She was as relaxed and limp as a rag doll. When she realized what he was doing, she guided him into her. She was hot and swollen inside and wet with slick secretions. She buried him deeply inside, and then she ground herself into him in slow voluptuous circles. Solomon took her face into his hands and kissed her tenderly, and then passionately. Her orgasmic contractions surrounded him…massaged him as the firmness of the roots of her clitoral erection encircled his organ. He was so close to ejaculating that he dared not move lest this paradise end.

Alice put her hands on his shoulders and then around his neck. She whispered to him, “Move my hips the way it feels good to you.” With his hands around her waist, he moved her up and down. She felt his pleasure as his thighs grew hard. He pushed his hips up out of the seat. He exploded inside her again and again until he relaxed and sank back into the seat. They sat coupled together relaxing into bliss.

Solomon was the first to move when he looked at his watch. “Nine-thirty,” he said.

Alice Hope slowly raised her head from his shoulder and looked at him.

He smiled and whispered, “You look like you’ve just had sex.”

She smiled at him and said, “Yes, I sure have.”

“Come in my house and freshen up before you go to the clinic,” Solomon said to her. “Your grandfather will know what we’ve been doing. I can promise you that.”

Solomon opened the car door. They both climbed out on the same side. When Alice stood up, she grimaced, “Oh crap, bring a towel next time.”

Solomon laughed and pulled her to him. He teased, “Can I help you in the bathroom?”

“I think you’ve helped me enough tonight,” she grinned and winked at him.

Alice Hope came out of the bathroom looking perfect again. Solomon walked her back to the Cadillac, kissed her on the cheek, and watched her drive out of sight. He bounded up the front porch steps taking them three at a time. He couldn’t remember ever feeling so happy…or so satisfied.

Copyright © 2008 by Robbin Renee Bridges
Coping with Grief through Afterlife Communication
http://www.spirit-sanctuary.org/

Chapter 6 - A Miscarriage Matters

2008-10-13T20:01:00.000-07:00

December 1947

Solomon walked in the back door of the clinic hoping to see Alice Hope sitting with her grandfather, but no such luck. Dr. Wall was in a better mood than usual. Alice must have done a good job of convincing him that his cashmere coat had been soiled for good reason. The old doctor didn’t say anything about it, or the so-called miracle resuscitation of little Charlie.

Solomon put on his white coat, stuffed his stethoscope into his pocket, and walked into the waiting room. Three patients were there. Mrs. Collins was in for her B12 shot. Jared Fox needed to have his blood pressure checked, and Clara Cash had brought little Henry to get his most recent stitches taken out. He’d cracked his head open this time on a swing set at school. Solomon hadn’t seen Clara in several months. She had looked anemic for years, actually since her last miscarriage. “Clara,” Solomon said to her, “why don’t you let me draw some blood on you while you’re here.”

“I’m fine, Solomon. I can’t afford doctoring on myself.”

“You can pay with one of your apple pies,” he said.

“Naw thanks,” she said.

“Okay,” he smiled, “but the offer’s good when you want it.”

Solomon decided to make a quick call to Alice Hope before he got started with patients.

“Hello?” Alice Hope’s mother answered.

“Afternoon, Miz Wells, is Alice Hope around?”

“Oh hello, Solomon. No, she’s gone to Gatlinburg with some friends from the Country Club. She’ll be back home tomorrow,” she said. “By the way, Solomon, I want to thank you for accompanying her to the church last night. She told me about the little boy you saved. I’m real proud of you.”

“Oh, thank you, Miz Wells. We were in the right place at the right time. I hope the boy doesn’t have any permanent damage from the hypothermia.”

Alice Moriah laughed, “You sound just like my father, Solomon.”

“Oh, okay,” he laughed, “would you tell Alice Hope that I called?”

“I sure will. Did you want her to call you?”

“Uh…no, just tell her I called.” It’s strange how sex makes a man feel possessive, Solomon thought. I wonder why she didn’t mention her out of town trip to me last night. When Solomon thought about last night in the car, he started to feel aroused again. Get a grip, man, he said to himself.

“Solomon, I need you,” Dr. Wall shouted.

Solomon left the swivel chair spinning. Dr. Wall’s voice sounded urgent.

A young woman stood in the waiting room holding a bloody towel between her legs. Dr. Wall reached for it and blood clots the size of his fist dropped to the floor and splattered on the linoleum. The woman moaned and bent over holding her abdomen. An older woman carrying a baby on her hip tried to help. “She be pregnant,” the woman said. “She commenced to bleedin’ come morning, but we had to wait ‘til her brother got home with the truck to brang her over here.”

Holding her by the arm Solomon asked, “Can you walk a few more feet?” She left a trail of blood as he led her into the examining room. He helped her get up on the exam table, and then he got a quick set of vitals.

“What’s your name little lady?” Dr. Wall asked as he put two fingers up against her cervix and palpated her abdomen for the top of her uterus.

“Kelly Craven,” she answered.

He said to Solomon, “She’s dilated about a centimeter.”

Solomon spread a sheet over her and said, “Raise your hips, Kelly. Let’s get this dress off.” He helped her sit up so he could pull the bloody dress over her head. He held an exam gown in front of her. Her face twisted with nauseating cramps, and she groaned as he helped her lie back and get her feet into the stirrups.

Dr. Wall pulled the lamp down to spotlight her perineum, and then he inserted a speculum. The stainless steel duck-billed instrument exposed her cervix. “Do you have any kids, Kelly?”

“Yes, sir, I got four,” she answered.

“Has this ever happened to you before?” Dr. Wall asked.

She shook her head no.

Solomon drew up morphine sulfate in a hypodermic. He pinched up the muscle on the side of her hip. “You’re going to feel a sting.” He said it automatically. He knew that the little sting was a non-issue when she was being body-slammed by cramps. “It will help with your pain,” he told her.

Dr. Wall squinted as he peered at her cervix through the opening in the speculum. “The fetus hasn’t been expelled yet,” he said. “How far along is your pregnancy, Kelly?”

She had a blank look on her face.

When was your last period?” Solomon asked.

“Early October,” she said.

“I need to get some blood, Kelly,” Solomon said as he wiped her finger with an alcohol-soaked cotton ball. He squeezed it and then hit it with the lancet. A bead of blood popped up. He touched a slide to it. Then he tied a tourniquet above her elbow. He wiped the vein with the alcohol cotton ball and held the needle over it. He turned the needle until it was bevel up, and then he stuck the vein being careful not to go through the backside of it. He pulled the plunger back sucking blood into the glass tube. He released the tourniquet with a snap.

Dr. Wall said, “Hon, I think we can pass on the ether. It will be over in a minute. This way you won’t be throwing up.”

Solomon remembered that he’d ordered lidocaine that they would be able to use in the future for D & C’s. It could be injected right into the cervix to numb it before dilation. Solomon kept up with the new medicine and the new techniques in the medical journals.

Dr. Wall inserted a dilator into Kelly’s cervix to make certain it was one centimeter. That’s how much room he needed to pass the curette through her cervix. The old doctor picked up the stainless steel, sharp-edged, spoon-shaped instrument and carefully inserted it into Kelly’s uterus.

Solomon started the lab tests on her blood. His back was to the exam table as he looked at the blood under the microscope. Kelly’s groans and grunts accelerated. Solomon turned around on the lab stool. Dr. Wall was sweating. He frowned as he peered though the hole in the speculum. The doctor cut his eyes toward Solomon and realized that he was watching him. He pulled the curette through the speculum and threw it on the floor.

Solomon slid off the stool and walked over to Dr. Wall. The old doctor wiped his forehead with a sleeve and stood up. He stepped back indicating to Solomon that he should sit down. Solomon straddled the stool. He was eye level with the hole in the speculum. He peered through it, and then he picked up a small square of sterile gauze with forceps. He pulled up on the tenaculum that Dr. Wall had clamped to Kelly’s cervix. He wiped her cervix with the gauze. Bright red blood oozed out of it.

The blood from Kelly’s miscarriage was dark and thick from its exposure to oxygen. Solomon knew that the bright red blood indicated arterial blood from a new source. It could be something simple like a cut on the uterine wall from the curette, or it could be more serious like a perforation through the wall.

Solomon looked up at Dr. Wall. The doctor was annoyed as he said, “I perforated it. I felt the curette go through the wall.” He backed up and sat down in a chair beside the counter.

Solomon asked, “How far had you gotten?”

“I was on the right side. I didn’t get to the left side yet,” he said.

Solomon eyed the small bowl containing the tissues that Dr. Wall had pulled through Kelly’s cervix. He put on sterile gloves and picked up a clean curette. He began to scrape the inside of the uterus. He listened for the gritty sound the curette made when he touched the wall. As he pulled out the curette, a tiny foot protruded through the cervix. This was the part of a D & C that he hated. He reached for it with small forceps, and then he placed the foot in the bowl. He would examine all the pieces later. When he finished, he turned to the doctor and said, “It clotted off. It was a minor perforation.”

The old doctor sighed and leaned his head back against the wall.

Solomon unclamped the tenaculum used to stabilize Kelly’s cervix during the procedure and pulled the speculum out of her vagina. He put the towels and instruments into the sink. He placed a towel over the “products of conception” and put them on the counter.

Dr. Wall got up and walked out of the room.

Solomon said, “Kelly, we need to keep you here tonight.” They didn’t usually do that for a D & C, but he was concerned about the perforation. He wanted to make sure that she didn’t hemorrhage during the night.

The clinic had one hospital-type room for patients. When a patient was in the room, Solomon stayed at the clinic so Dr. Wall wouldn’t have to do night duty. The old doctor’s balance was worse at night, and Solomon feared he might fall getting up for a patient.

Solomon fixed a bowl of warm soapy water. He got a clean wash cloth and towel and a bed pan out of a cabinet. He asked the old woman with the baby if she would help Kelly clean up. She shook her head no and backed out of the room. What the...? Solomon thought. At times like this he wished they had a female working at the clinic. Doing personal care for women didn’t bother him, but he could tell it bothered the patients. He tried to respect their modesty as much as possible, but sometimes there was no choice. He had to do what he had to do.

He washed Kelly’s perineum and thighs where the blood had dried and pressed a sanitary napkin against her. He lowered the hem of her gown and pulled out the exam table’s extension. “You can get out of the stirrups, Kelly,” he said.

He drew up penicillin in a hypodermic and gave her a shot of it in the hip. “This will keep you from getting an infection,” he said. It was another precaution because of the perforation.

Solomon grabbed a gurney from the back wall and rolled it beside Kelly. He patted it and said, “Can you scoot over here?” He held her hand as she leveraged his arm to scoot over. Solomon covered her with a sheet and rolled her into the room where she would spend the night.

The whole procedure had taken less than an hour. On his way back to clean up the exam room, he stopped by the kitchen where the doctor sat at the table. The old man looked glum with his hands neatly folded on the table. Solomon said, “She’s fine, Dr. Wall. She’s just fine.”

Dr. Wall said, “Thank you, Solomon.” He didn’t look up from his hands.

“I’ll clean up the exam room,” Solomon said, “and then we can talk, okay?”

Solomon pushed the gurney back into the exam room. He uncovered the small bowl with the “products of conception.” It was like a macabre jigsaw puzzle. He put the body parts on a napkin in the appropriate positions ... two arms, two legs, one torso, and one head. As much as he disliked this he needed to know that the complete fetus had been removed. Tissue left inside a uterus could lead to infection. As he worked, Solomon talked to the tiny three-inch long fetus. “Little baby girl, your body died before you could be born into our world. You’re in the Light World now. You don’t need this fragile flesh. You have your spirit body, and it’s beautiful.” It was Solomon’s way of having a funeral for her before he took her to the incinerator.

When Solomon returned to the kitchen, Dr. Wall wasn’t there. He looked into the doctor’s bedroom and saw that he was sleeping. He covered him with the quilt at the foot of the bed.

He looked in on Kelly. She was sleeping peacefully too. He felt for her radial pulse. Its rhythm and rate felt normal. He didn’t have to count to know that.

It was getting close to suppertime. Solomon found some ground-up steak in the icebox and some potatoes in the pantry. He found canned green beans in the pantry too. That would make a good meal for them.

Dr. Wall appeared at the kitchen door. “I need to talk to you, Solomon,” he said.

“Okay,” Solomon replied, “did I wake you?”

Dr. Wall sat down at the table. Solomon checked the food that he was cooking, and then he sat down too. He waited for the doctor to speak. When he didn’t, Solomon said, “Dr. Wall, you know as well as I do that a perforated uterus is rarely a problem. They heal on their own.”

Dr. Wall’s hands were folded neatly on the table again. He was looking at them when he said, “Son, these hands can’t do the things they used to do. They shake when I want them to be still, and they’re still when I need them to move. If you hadn’t come to work for me four years ago, I would have had to close the clinic by now.”

Solomon said, “Rooster Cove needs this clinic, Dr. Wall. It can never be closed.”

“Oh, I know the needs of Rooster Cove,” the doctor said. “Before you came to work for me, I tried to get a young doctor to take over my practice. Couldn’t find one interested. When I found you, I didn’t need another doctor. You became my failing eyes, my failing hands, and my failing mind.”

Solomon said, “Dr. Wall you’ve taught me more than I could learn in a decade of medical school.”

“That’s another thing that bothers me,” the doctor said. “You should be in college now, but I don’t know what will happen to the folks in the cove when you go off to college. What will they do for medical care? I’m not knocking what Patsy does, but you do so much more.”

Solomon said, “We have to find a way to meet the medical needs of the cove before I leave for school.”

“I don’t know the answer,” the old doctor said sadly. He got up from the table and looked at supper cooking on the stove. He took the potatoes off and drained them into the sink.

Solomon said, “I’ll go check on Kelly. She should come eat with us.”

Kelly was awake when he went into her room. He felt for her pulse. It was normal. He pulled a chair over to her bedside and sat down, “Are you cramping bad?” he asked her.

“It’s tolerable,” she said.

He took her hand in his and studied her face a moment. “How do you feel about what happened to you?”

“I don’t know,” she said, “I guess I feel a little sad.”

“I know you do. Losing a baby is sad,” he said. “She was part of you, and she is still part of you.”

Kelly’s eyes welled up with tears. “It was a girl?”

“Yes,” he said. He sat with her in silence for several minutes holding her hand between his hands. Then he said, “You’ll have some bleeding that will taper off in a day or two. If you have any pain, you call me.” He paused to give her a chance to speak. “Do you have any questions?”

She nodded no.

“You should have a period in four to seven weeks,” he said. “If you don’t, you call me. Okay?”

She nodded yes.

“Do you feel like you could eat something?” he asked.

“It smells good,” she said.

Solomon stood up. “Good,” he said, “let me check your pad to see how much you’re bleeding.”

She nodded, and then she shut her eyes.

He smiled and thought … She shut her eyes. If she doesn’t look at me, it’s like I’m not looking at her. He pulled back the sheet and looked at the pad. A spot the size of a silver dollar was on it. He covered her up and said, “You’re doing fine.” He walked to the water closet in the room and turned a light on. “There are more pads on this table. And there are towels, wash clothes, and a robe hanging in here. They’re for you. Go ahead and clean up and come to the kitchen for supper.”

She said, “Thank ye, doctor.”

Solomon grinned. It sounded nice to be called doctor. He went into the kitchen where Dr. Wall was taking the hamburger steaks off the stove. “Kelly’s having supper with us. She’s doing fine.”

“I’m glad,” the doctor said. Then he said, “Solomon, my granddaughter seems to be quite fond of you.”

“Does she?” Solomon responded. He wasn’t sure of that since she hadn’t bothered to tell him that she was going out of town with her country club buddies.

“Yes,” the doctor said, “and I was just thinking. If you feel the same way about her…I mean…if in the future you both should decide to become more than friends…uh, if you two were to marry, I would be happy to pay for your college and medical school.” He looked at Solomon for his reaction.

Solomon said, “Well, that could be in the future, I suppose. Alice Hope and I have been friends for so long that I don’t know if we could ever be anything more than just friends. But it’s a pleasant thought to consider.”

Dr. Wall said, “She’s a woman. I hadn’t noticed that until last night. I think a young man like you would be good for her. She’s immature about a lot of things, but she’ll be looking for a husband soon. I can see that her hormones are stirring.” He smiled about his statement.

The fact that he’d noticed it too was the last thing Solomon wanted to relay to Dr. Wall. “She’s eighteen years old. You’re probably right,” he said.

After supper, Solomon went into the dispensary and sank back into the big chair with the ottoman. He held a book in his lap, but his mind was on Alice Hope. She’d told him that she’d had sex with a lot of men. Is she with a man tonight?

Copyright © 2008 by Robbin Renee Bridges
Coping with Grief through Afterlife Communication
http://www.spirit-sanctuary.org

Chapter 7 - The Transfiguration Chamber

2008-10-13T18:09:00.000-07:00

March 1948

Springtime in Rooster Cove is a blessing, Solomon thought. Walking home from the clinic today, he counted blessings. It was a little game that he and Ma played over supper. He’d count off all the blessings he could think of, and then Ma would count hers. The walk home from work was always a blessing. It was time to commune with nature, to celebrate the forest creatures, to delight in the wild flowers, to marvel at the ancient folds in the mountains, to wonder at the handiwork of God.

The clinic and all that he’d learned in it was a blessing. Dr. Wall was a lot more pleasant to him since he and Alice were dating. That was a blessing. The sex was great and most definitely a blessing.

When he walked in the house, Ma said, “Solomon, yer great-great grandmother wants to meet with ye.”

Solomon’s mind snapped to attention. He knew that Ma was talking about Sarah O’Hara.

Sarah had spent her youth in County Limerick in the River Shannon’s tidal basin in the heart of southwest Ireland. She was of the Scot-Irish Ulster lineage, and she had been raised on stories of the new land across the sea.

In 1736, Sarah’s great-aunt Hazel had arrived in Pennsylvania and traveled through the Cumberland Gap to Tennessee. Hazel wrote to her sister, Sarah’s grandmother, of the beauty of the Appalachians and of the religious and political freedom she’d found there. Sarah O’Hara knew that when she grew up, she would go there too.

When Sarah was twenty-one, she bought her passage to America. She traveled with a shipload of Ulster Presbyterians. Sarah was not Presbyterian like the others. She followed the old ways of her Celtic ancestors for she had grown up in the meadows of the stone circles of Lock Gur.

In 1792, Sarah’s ship arrived in Charleston, South Carolina. By 1796, she had made her way to a cove in the mountains of East Tennessee. She declared it to be her home. The blue Appalachians reminded her of the Slieve Bloom Mountains and the Ballyhouras of her homeland.

It was there that she fell in love with a ruggedly handsome frontier man named Joseph. His family, descendants of Spanish conquistadors, had settled in the Tennessee Valley two hundred years before the first Irish immigrants came. He was of a proud race called the Melungeons. Ma Patsy and Solomon had the large eyes and the full sensuous lips of their Mediterranean heritage.

Sarah handed down her woodland medicines and her Celtic spiritualism to her daughters and to her daughter’s daughters. She passed down the knowledge of the transfiguration chamber. She instructed her daughters in how to bridge what seemed to be a gaping abyss between this world and the afterlife…so that the chasm was no more…but in its place the Light World—closer than a life vein—beat within the seeker’s breast. Solomon would be the first man-child of Sarah’s offspring to receive her wisdom.

The chamber was simply a small nine-foot square room in the center of the house—a cube. It had no windows. Its walls and ceiling were covered with plush black velvet. The only door to the chamber was also covered on the inside with black velvet. When the door was closed, there appeared to be no exit from the cube.

A Persian rug of the Bakhtiari tribe covered the floor. Sarah had brought the carpet with her across the Atlantic. Opposite the door, a large mirror leaned against the wall. If one sat on the floor in the middle of the room facing the mirror, it was impossible to see one’s reflection in it. The image in the mirror was of the wall behind and of the ceiling. The black velvet in the near darkness left no demarcation between the wall and the ceiling. The blackness seemed to float into infinity. A delicate wind chime hung above the mirror. Its brass and silver segments were as thin as paper and as tiny as a postage stamp. The smallest breeze set it tinkling.

When Ma entered the room, she called herself a seeker. Behind the seeker a small ceramic incense burner sat on a tripod. Ma Patsy made her incense pellets just as Sarah O’Hara had done. They smelled of vanilla, a fragrance reminiscent of mother’s milk. Behind the incense burner, a beeswax candle inside a blackened and shaded glass lantern flickered. After the seeker’s eyes adjusted to the darkness, the lantern gave the room a diffuse glow with subtle moving shadows.

Solomon was lost in his thoughts. Ma asked him again, “Will ye go into the chamber to meet with yer great-great grandmother?”

“Aye,” he said unaware that he had taken the Irish response from Sarah. Solomon had wanted this since he was a child. When he’d asked to go in, Ma had always told him that it wasn’t time yet.

“When we go inside,” Ma said, “I’ll say a prayer, and then we wait. Look into the mirror. At first ye will only see smoke from the incense. Soon it will look like a mist is swirling in the smoke, and a figure will begin to take shape. The figure will become clearer as ye watch it. Eventually ye will see the face of yer great-great grandmother, Sarah O’Hara.”

“Since this is yer first time,” Ma added, “I don’t know how clearly she will appear to ye. I don’t know how long it will take for ye to see her. I only know that she told me it was time to meet.” Ma touched his hand and said, “There is nothing to fear.”

Solomon nodded and said, “Okay.”

Both Ma and Solomon were quiet during supper. He felt that he on the brink of a momentous change. It wasn’t the beginning of the end; it was the beginning of the beginning. Ma was apprehensive. She knew that he would not be the same after tonight. Solomon sensed her uneasiness about the approaching metamorphosis. He would walk into the chamber a man-child. He would walk out a wayfarer journeying through a world of dust with his eyes fixed on his eternal destination…the Light World.

The cove was silent. Solomon had never known it to be so quiet. He heard no birds, no insects... nothing. He watched the sun go behind Bear Cave Mountain to the west. It sank into the trees on top of the ridge. Suddenly a ray of sunlight flashed through the tree branches. He closed his eyes. The after-image of a skeleton key floated before him. It jerked in response to his eye movements. A soft female voice said, “The universe is preparing thee for what thou wilt receive.” He looked at Ma. Her head was leaned back against the rocker. It wasn’t Ma’s voice, and she didn’t appear to have heard it.

The sounds of the forest took up again. The cicadas screeched. Crickets chirped, and a whip-o-will sang nearby. Solomon saw his first firefly of the season.

Ma raised her head and said, “Are ye ready, son?”

“Yes,” he murmured.

They went into the house as the rocking chairs continued to rock. Ma opened the door to the chamber and motioned for Solomon to come in. His heart pounded. He had wanted to do this for so long. She led him to the center of the room. “Sit here,” she said. He sat down Indian-style. The wind chime jingled in the draft of the open door. Ma closed the door and sat on the floor beside him.

His pupils dilated in the darkness. The chime stopped making any sound, but its shiny surfaces still moved and reflected the candlelight. It cast hypnotic patterns on the black walls and ceiling. It reminded him of the mirrored balls used in dance halls except that the light was more random. As it settled, the tiny lights grew still.

Solomon gazed into the mirror and waited. In the quiet darkness, he was alert to everything. He could hear Ma breathing. He could hear his own breathing. He heard the blood swooshing through his ears as his heart beat. Suddenly he felt as if the carpet beneath him moved! He became disoriented and dizzy.

“Slow ye breathing down, son,” Ma said softly.

“O Thou kind Lord,” she began, “O Thou, who art the Creator of all things, we humbly beseech Thy blessings upon all who assemble in this chamber. Thou knowest our hearts. We pray for Thy protection and for Thy guidance in both this world and the world to come. Thou art the Merciful, Thou art the All-Knowing.”

Shadow figures moved around the chamber in the flickering candlelight. Solomon tried to watch it all.

“Look into the mirror,” Ma whispered, “stay with the mirror.”

This isn’t working, he thought. He watched the shadowy figures in the mirror as they cavorted in smoke spiraling up from the incense. The wind chimes moved slightly. The sound gave Solomon goose bumps. It was moving in the stillness! Ma had told him to stay with the mirror, so he fixed his gaze on it again. The smoke spirals and the flickering shadow figures seemed to move in concert now. It was as if they were communicating with each other. The shadow figures paralleled the smoke’s spiral, mimicking the maneuvers. Intelligence is behind the movement! Solomon thought.

Within the smoke a mist emerged linking parts of the formation together. An amorphous shape expanded and contracted inside it. Solomon was mesmerized by what he was seeing. As he stared, the formless took on form. It metamorphosed into the shape of a woman...a beautiful woman. Transparency gave way to what seemed to be a solid form floating in the darkness and reflected in the mirror. Solomon watched her slowly descend out of range of the mirror. He looked behind, and there she stood! The most ravishingly beautiful creature he could ever have imagined was standing behind him. He could see her every feature. She glowed with a light from inside. She lit up the chamber. He twisted around so he could see her better.

She slowly raised her head and her eyes locked on Solomon’s eyes. They were the greenest eyes he’d ever seen. The woman’s long auburn hair fell in ringlets around her face. Part of her hair was swept up by a mass of white primroses gathered with small, white ribbons. Random knots were tied along the ribbon’s length. Her face shone with the color of youth. Her lips had the glossy velvet look of a red rose petal. A crimson skirt brushed the tops of her bare feet. One side was gathered up with ribbons. White petticoats of Irish lace showed at the gathering. A white peasant blouse was tucked in at the waist by a black bodice. It was the tiniest waist that Solomon had ever seen on a woman. Plump, ivory mounds rose above her low-cut blouse. A small Celtic cross lay in the cleavage of her breasts. She was a petite woman…no more than five feet three inches tall.

“Ye would be Solomon,” she said with a lilting Irish accent.

“Yes,” he said smiling, “and who are you?”

“I would be Sarah O’Hara,” she said.

A surprised Solomon said, “Sarah O’Hara! I thought you’d look older.”

“I can if ye’d like.” She tilted her pretty head.

“No, no, I like the way you look. It’s just hard to think of you as my great-great grandmother.”

Sarah walked around Ma. It was amazing. Instead of casting a shadow, she cast light where she walked. She said to Ma, “Thank ye, Patsy fer bringin’ yer man-child to meet me.”

Ma Patsy nodded and smiled.

Sarah sat cross-legged on the floor in front of Solomon and asked, “Do ye know how special ye are?”

“Special?” He shrugged his shoulders, “I’m not special.”

Sarah grinned, “Do ye know why ye’re here?”

“I’m going to be a doctor for Rooster Cove,” he said.

“Aye, that’s what ye’ll do everyday while ye’re goin’ about yer purpose,” she said.

“I guess I don’t understand your question,” he said.

Sarah leaned forward with her hands on her knees. Her elbows jutted out to the sides. “Ye’re here on earth for a fleeting moment, Solomon. Compared to yer eternity of existence, ye’re here only for an instant.” Leaning even closer she said, “But…it’s a bloody important instant.”

“Well, it definitely feels important to me,” Solomon chuckled.

Sarah straightened up. “Every soul has a purpose,” she said. “Ye see, God emits souls.” She bobbed her head. “That’s right, He gives off souls all the time…yer soul, my soul, Patsy’s soul, souls on the other side of the universe.”

Solomon knit his brows and frowned like he still didn’t understand.

“Think of it this way. God breathes out souls just like He breathes out His Spirit, and He wants to breathe all these souls back into Hisself.” She drew a circle in the air. “But…before He can breathe a soul back into Hisself, it has to be purified. It’s been out in the world,” she spread her arms in front of her, “and it has to be purified to return to Him.” She drew her hands to her breast.

Solomon said, “What do you mean by purified? Sounds like it could be painful.”

She smiled. “Aye, it can be. God has specific qualities, ye see. And each soul that returns to him has to have those qualities.”

“Do you have a list?” Solomon chuckled, and then he blushed. “I’m sorry,” he said.

Sarah smiled at him and winked at Ma Patsy.

“Actually, there is a list,” she said. “Moses gave ye the list, and then Jesus gave ye the list.

Solomon sat thinking. “Okay, I guess you’re saying that we have to keep the Ten Commandments and be like Jesus.”

“Well,” Sarah said with a twinkle in her green eyes, “if ye live in Arabia, then be like Mohammed. He gave ye the list too.” She smiled at the bewildered look on Solomon’s face. “And if ye live in India, well...Krishna gave the list too.” She hesitated to make sure he was following her. “The list—the qualities of God—is the same everywhere.”

“Oooooh, okay,” he said. He raised his eyebrows and looked at Ma.

“God’s a lot bigger than ye realize,” Ma said. “No matter what ye call Him, we all pray to the same God.”

“There’s something else, Solomon,” Sarah continued.

“I was afraid you’d say that,” he said.

“Ye have been chosen for something so important that ye canna begin to understand it right now.”

He raised his eyebrows and blinked. He was feeling more and more confused.

Ma looked puzzled too.

Sarah said, “Solomon, ye have been chosen to receive the Sign.”

He looked surprised. “I dreamed about that,” he said quickly, “but I don’t know what it is.”

“In the Light World it will appear as a bright beacon emanatin’ from ye,” Sarah said. “It’s like the floodlight of a lighthouse. It will flood the realms surrounding ye with light. Ye’ll attract lost souls that be needin’ yer help, and ye’ll attract other souls that just want to be near ye.” Sarah put the palms of her hands together under her chin and bowed towards Solomon. “It’s me profound honor and blessing to be kin to ye.”

“I don’t understand,” he said.

“Ye must pass five spiritual tests,” she said. “Each test is a key. When ye receive the fifth key, the encryption will unravel, and the Sign will be embedded in ye...for eternity.”

Solomon looked perplexed. Sarah knew he’d had more than enough for his first time in the chamber. “I’ll be leavin’ ye now. Ye have a lot to ponder, Solomon.”

“When can I see you again?” He looked worried.

“Think of me. It’s that easy,” she answered.

Solomon reached out his hand to her. She extended her hand towards him. His hand passed through hers. He laughed so loud that it echoed through the house. “That’s amazing,” he said to Ma.

Then Sarah O’Hara vanished into thin air.

Copyright © 2008 by Robbin Renee Bridges
Coping with Grief through Afterlife Communication
http://www.spirit-sanctuary.org

Chapter 8 - Ruby and the Red-Light District

2008-10-13T14:01:00.000-07:00

March 1948

Solomon had expected the chamber to be interesting, but he found it to be miraculous and mystifying. Ma had never shared with him the things that happened in there. It was something you had to experience, and even then, it was hard to believe.

After Ma went to bed, Solomon sat alone in the dark stillness. As his rocking chair squeaked, a mocking bird answered. The telephone rang at ten thirty-five. Solomon ran in the house trying to catch it before it woke Ma. “Solomon here,” he answered.

A woman on the other end said, “This here’s Ruby Dawson. I’m Pearl McGee’s granddaughter. I hate to bother ye, but…I’m hurt, and…,” she hesitated, “I need to git home. If’n ye can hep me, I’d be beholden to ye.”

“Where are you?” he asked.

“In front of the pool hall on Trade Street in Black Fort,” she said.

“I’m on the way. I’ll be in a blue pick-up.”

“Thank ye, sir. I’ll be a waitin’ on ye.”

Ma came down stairs to find out what the late phone call was all about.

Solomon told her, “It was Ruby Dawson. What do you know about her?”

“Ruby would be in her early twenties, I suspect,” Ma said. “She’s Frankie’s girl. You know, Pearl’s boy that moved to Memphis. I heard that she dropped out of school and married some criminal when she was fifteen. I think his name was Duke Dawson. They had two kids afore he got sent to prison for robbin’ a fancy house in Memphis. Ruby left their two kids with Duke’s folks. Then she got pregnant agin, and she come back to Rooster Cove fer her grandma to fix it. That was a couple months ago.”

Solomon grabbed the truck keys and said, “She needs a ride home. Don’t wait up for me.” If Black Fort had a red-light district, Trade Street would be it. From police reports in the newspaper, shootings, stabbings, and rapes were regular near the pool hall.

Solomon didn’t remember ever meeting Ruby. He knew that her Grandma Pearl had had eight children, and they’d all had big families. One or the other of them lived with Pearl all the time. Two would move in, and one would move out. That kind of math meant that the McGee place was crowded most of the time.

When Solomon pulled up in front of the pool hall, Ruby was standing on the sidewalk with another woman. They both looked like prostitutes. Ruby limped over to the truck. Her spiked high heels made walking a challenge. A little white purse banged against her knees as she walked. Her white halter-top emphasized her large breasts, and her thin red short shorts left nothing to the imagination.

Solomon got out of the truck and went over to her. There was dried blood in her hair and road-rash down her left side. Her left cheek was puffing up and turning blue. A bruise on her thigh had turned deep purple as blood accumulated under the skin.

“What happened?” Solomon asked.

“I fell,” she sneered.

“It looks like you fell out of a car, or was it a motorcycle?

“It wuz a car,” she said, “and I don’t wanna talk about it.”

Solomon lifted her long black hair and touched her cervical spine. He walked his fingertips down the length of her spine. No deformity, he thought. He turned her so he could see her eyes in the light over the pool hall. Her pupils were dilated. “What have you taken?” he asked her.

“I ain’t took nothing,” she snapped at him.

“Well, your pupils are dilated from drugs or a head injury. Which one is it?”

“Okay, okay, I’m a little high,” she said, “git off my ass.”

“You called me to come help, remember?” Solomon opened the truck door for her. He grabbed an old sheet and tore off two pieces. “I’ll be right back,” he said heading for the pool hall for some ice to make ice packs for her. The woman on the street winked at him as he walked past her.

They were halfway to Rooster Cove, when Ruby sat up and rolled the window down. She stuck her face into the wind.

“Feeling sick?” he asked.

She nodded yes.

Solomon hurriedly pulled over to the shoulder of the road. Don’t you puke in my truck, he thought.

Ruby opened the door and got out. She teeter-tottered on the spiked high heels and then bent over with her hands on her knees. She vomited in waves. When it seemed that she’d stopped, Solomon said, “Ready to go?”

“Yeah,” she said climbing back in the truck. She leaned over on the door frame and slept the rest of the way to Rooster Cove.

Solomon drove the truck up the old logging road to Deer Lick Hollow as far as he could go. Driving over the ruts woke Ruby. They were still a quarter mile from her house when he parked the truck in front of Jerry Banks’ cabin. It was past midnight, but the lights were on in the cabin. Jerry was a paraplegic. He’d been injured on Omaha Beach in the Battle of Normandy during World War II.

Ruby sat up and opened her door. “Ye don’t have to go any further,” she said.

“I know,” he said following her, “I intend to see you home safe.”

As they neared the house, Solomon saw a dim light in an upstairs bedroom. Someone was still up. The power lines didn’t go this far up the hollow. Pearl used kerosene lamps at night.

Ruby said to him, “Go on now. I don’t want Grandma to see ye.”

Solomon watched her hobble across the yard and up the front steps. Pearl’s dogs came out from under the house. They barked briefly until they saw it was Ruby.

Solomon blinked his eyes. “What the...?” In the moonlight a shining filament stretched from him all the way over to Ruby on the front porch. He squinted trying to make out what the strange phenomenon was. There was more than one filament. It was more like a pure white silk ribbon between them. Moonlight glinted off ribbons of the same diaphanous material reaching up to the second story window.

As Ruby opened the front door, the fabric folded back on itself. It appeared to be caught when the door slammed shut, but the fibers quickly worked their way to the center of the door apparently passing through the molecules of the door.

Solomon reached for the ribbon of fibers extending from the middle of his chest. They were attached at his solar plexus. His fingers passed through it. He turned around so the moonlight shown directly on the source. That was when he realized how far-reaching the fibers spread. They spun off in all directions. At the same time, an extensive network of them flowed into him. They entered somewhere near the base of his skull.

He smiled at this revelation. We’re all connected, he thought to himself.

The sound of a man’s voice filled his head. Ethereal music accompanied the words he heard. “Yes, Solomon, we are all connected. Mankind is one. The unity of the human race is not something to be attained. Our oneness already exists.”

“We are one,” Solomon repeated softly.

“Yes,” the voice replied, “we are one. This, Solomon, is your first key. Rejoice!”

The moon was brilliant tonight as Solomon walked back down the path. Occasionally he’d see the eyes of some critter staring at him from the dark woods. Pearl’s dogs had disturbed all the dogs in the hollow. A cacophony of barks, yelps, yaps, and howls echoed through the hollows.

“We are one,” Solomon repeated to the critters.

Lights were off in Jerry’s cabin when Solomon passed it again, but he observed that a gossamer ribbon delicately twined from him through the trees and into Jerry’s cabin. Solomon smiled as he thought, we are one.

It was half past one when Solomon walked into his house. He tried to be quiet so he wouldn’t wake Ma. He felt dusty so he ran a tub of bath water. He slipped into the water and watched the steam rise off it. The sound of the dripping faucet echoed in the bathroom. His mind swirled with thoughts about what he’d seen in the chamber tonight and on the hillside in Deer Lick Hollow. He slid down immersing himself in the water, and then he sat up. I baptize thee, he thought.

Copyright © 2008 by Robbin Renee Bridges
Coping with Grief through Afterlife Communication
http://www.spirit-sanctuary.org

Chapter 9 - Beth's Breech Baby

2008-10-13T13:11:00.000-07:00

July 1948

In the four months since Solomon had met Sarah O’Hara, he’d found that if he needed her, all he had to do was think of her. At other times she’d just appear to him. He felt as if he could talk to her about anything just like he could talk to Ma about anything.

This morning he shaved, dressed, and went downstairs as usual. He got Beth Terry’s chart out of the filing cabinet to read through it while he ate breakfast. Ma had asked him to help with her appointment this morning. Beth was expecting a baby in August, and it was in the breech position. Ma had tried to turn it last week but hadn’t been successful. and she hoped that Solomon might be able to get the baby into position for delivery.

Beth’s chart said that she was twenty-four years old, and it was her second pregnancy. The first pregnancy was a normal vaginal birth with no complications. The baby had weighed six pounds and twelve ounces. Today she was in her thirty-eighth week.

Solomon had never met Beth. She wasn’t from Rooster Cove, but she’d married a boy from the cove named Calvin Terry. Calvin was a few years older than Solomon. Solomon remembered him from high school. He’d played quarterback on their football team. He played pretty well as Solomon remembered.

Last week when Ma had told Beth that she wanted Solomon to examine her, Beth had balked. She’d said that he was too young and that it would be embarrassing. Ma convinced Beth that, rather than outright refusing, she should meet Solomon first. Ma felt like Solomon’s bedside manner would win her over. At least she hoped that would be the case. She felt uneasy about this breech. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but something didn’t feel right about it. If Beth refused to let Solomon help, Ma was thinking about suggesting that Cal take her to the hospital in Knoxville for delivery.

Ma came into the kitchen where Solomon was eating breakfast and reading Beth’s chart.

He said, “This looks pretty straight forward, Ma.”

“I know it does. I just want ye to look at her, if she’ll let ye.” Ma had already told Solomon about her concerns. Ma had delivered plenty of breech babies, as had Solomon, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was amiss with this one.

“If you feel uneasy about this, there’s a reason,” he said. “I trust your judgment. And if turning the baby makes Beth go into labor, I’ll stay with you. Dr. Wall will understand.”

“Thank ye, son,” Ma said.

Solomon added as he brushed toast crumbs off his shirt, “Ask Beth to empty her bladder before the inversion and get a urine specimen too. I’ll take it to the clinic to check for protein and glucose.”

“That’s a good idea,” Ma said. She saw that he was wearing a faded old shirt. “Son, will ye put on yer doctor’s coat? It will make Beth more comfortable.”

“Sure,” he said. Solomon usually only wore the white coat at the clinic. But Ma was right; it probably would look more professional since Beth was already worried about his being too young.

The screen door screeched when Beth opened it. “Hey Beth, come on in,” Ma said. She followed Ma Patsy into the exam room. Ma motioned to the chair across from her desk, “Have a seat, hon.”

“Thanks,” Beth said taking a seat.

“Have you had any changes since last week?” Ma asked.

“Jest that it’s gittin’ harder to breathe,” Beth said. “It feels like my baby’s wedged up under my ribcage.”

Ma was checking Beth’s blood pressure when Solomon knocked lightly and came into the room. He wanted to meet Beth before she was in the vulnerable position of being on the exam table in a gown. He knew she’d be more comfortable meeting him sitting in a chair with her clothes on. He put out his hand to her and said, “I’m Solomon Sepaugh, and you must be Miz Terry.” He was wearing his white coat as Ma had suggested. His stethoscope was stuffed into his pocket, and he was carrying a book.

Beth took his hand and said, “Pleased to meet ya.” She looked at him briefly, and then dropped her head in shyness. She thought, Oh God, why did you have to make him so handsome?

Solomon pulled up a chair and sat down beside her. He opened the book and said, “Miz Terry, I want to show you a picture of a breech baby.” It was a pen and ink drawing of a uterus with a baby in the breech position.

Beth gasped, “Is that what I look like inside?”

“Yes,” he said, “your baby is in this position.” Solomon flipped over a few pages and showed Beth another picture. It was another pen and ink drawing of a uterus with a baby in the correct head-down position. He said, “We need the baby turned like this so the head comes out first.”

Beth said, “That’s what Ma Patsy tried to do last week, right?”

“Right,” he said, “Ma asked me to try this week because my hands are bigger.” He held his hands out to show her. “I’ll put one hand on the baby’s bottom and one hand on the back of his head.” He moved his hands like he was turning the baby. “And I’ll get him to turn a somersault.”

Solomon and Ma were quiet while Beth considered it. She thought, Calvin will have a fit if this glamour boy lays a finger on me. On the other hand, he’ll just be touching the outside of my belly. Finally, she shrugged and said, “Okay, you can do it.”

Solomon stood up and said, “That’s good. I’ll be back in a few minutes.” He wanted to give Ma a chance to prepare Beth and get her on the exam table.

Beth looked at Ma Patsy and took a deep breath.

Ma Patsy smiled at her, “Ye’ll be fine.” She handed Beth an exam gown and said, “Take off all yer clothes and put this gown on. Let it open in the front,” Ma directed her to the bathroom saying, “I need ye to empty yer bladder and give me a specimen in this here cup.”

Beth took the gown and the cup. She came out of the bathroom holding the gown tightly around her belly. She handed the urine to Ma Patsy. She stepped up on the stool at the foot of the table and sat down. Beth was so nervous that she was trembling. Ma Patsy helped her lie back, and then she spread a sheet over her. Ma tied the two ribbons at the top of the gown and reassured, “It’s not gonna be as bad as ye’re thinking. I promise.”

Solomon came into the room. He took his stethoscope out of his pocket and hung it around his neck. Beth had a “deer in the headlights” look on her face. She wouldn’t look at him. Her hands lay on her big belly just under her breasts. Solomon gently put one hand on top of her hands, and he put his other hand on her shoulder. “Try to relax,” he said softly. “When you’re tense, your baby’s tense. I need you both to be relaxed.”

“I’ll try,” she said.

“There’s no hurry. Just let the tension flow out of you.” He looked at Ma and asked, “Would you get a blanket for her?”

“Of course,” she said spreading a white flannel blanket over Beth. “How’s that, hon?”

Solomon’s hand still rested on Beth’s hands under the blanket. He didn’t move for what seemed like a long time. His hands were warm and the blanket made Beth feel safe. When he did move, it was to lift the blanket and sheet just enough to slip both of his hands on top of her abdomen. One hand was high on her belly where it rose from under her breasts. The other was low where it rose up from her pubic hairline. Beth’s feelings startled her. His strong hands on her naked belly felt warm and sensual. A flush of emotion spread over her.

Solomon kept still. He wanted Beth to get accustomed to his touch. His hands radiated serenity. Sarah O’Hara had taught him how to control this gift. Beth shut her eyes and relaxed into serenity.

Ma watched the transformation of Beth. She’d always been amazed when Solomon worked with a patient. It was as if he healed a patient spiritually first.

Solomon leaned close and whispered to Beth, “You’re carrying a little girl.”

Her eyes lit up, “We wanted it to be a girl.”

“I need to listen to her heart beat,” he said. He wanted to let Beth know before he did anything. He knew that he had her trust now. He put the ear tips in his ears and held the stethoscope’s diaphragm against his palm to warm it. Then he slipped it under the blanket and onto her belly. He moved it over her abdomen. He was searching for the best place to hear the baby’s heart beat. When he found it, he lowered his head, closed his eyes, and listened.

Solomon straightened up and pulled the stethoscope out from under the blanket. “Now then,” he said, “let’s see if we can get her to turn a somersault. Do you have a name for her yet?”

“We’ll name her, Maria, after my mother,” she said.

Solomon placed one hand high on Beth’s abdomen and said, “Here’s Maria’s head.” He moved that hand from the top of her abdomen down around her right side. “Here’s her back.” He wedged the side of his other hand between Beth’s belly and the top of her pubic bone. “And here’s Maria’s bottom.” He rubbed back and forth across Beth’s hairline. “I’m going to push Maria’s bottom up and out of your pelvic cradle. This won’t hurt either of you.” He paused a second, “Are you ready?”

Beth nodded yes.

Solomon applied a firm rocking motion to Beth’s lower abdomen. With his other hand, he began to push high on her belly. His hand was behind the baby’s upper back and head. He continued the rocking and pushing motion until he felt the baby begin to turn, and then he helped Maria complete her somersault.

Beth squealed with delight. She knew that Solomon had been successful.

Solomon put a lubricated glove on his right hand as he said, “I need to find out how far down in your pelvis Maria’s head is.” He slipped his hand under the blanket and put two fingers into Beth’s vagina. Her eyes widened as she tightened around his fingers. He said softly, “Just relax.” With his other hand on top of the blanket, he lifted Beth’s left knee and rotated it outward slightly to get further into her vagina. “Try to relax,” he said again.

Beth was staring wide-eyed at his face, but he didn’t make eye contact. He stared at Ma’s desk instead. Solomon knew instinctively when to make eye contact with patients and when not to. It was one of the things that made patients comfortable with him. He removed his fingers and stripped off the glove. He said to Ma, “The head’s engaged now. Beth’s completely effaced, and she’s dilated a fingertip.”

“Great,” Ma said.

Beth looked worried.

Solomon said to her, “That means Maria’s ready to be born.” He put the stethoscope to Beth’s abdomen again. “She sounds happy,” he said. He continued to listen until the baby settled down from having been turned.

“That’s it,” he said helping Beth to sit up. He got another gown out of the cabinet and put Beth’s shoes in front of her. He held the second gown up. “Slip you arms in here,” he said. At this point Beth would have obeyed any command he gave. He tied the second gown behind her neck. The two gowns assured her modesty.

“Now, we need you to work a little.” He held her hands as she stepped down. “I want you to walk around the house for about an hour. Go anywhere you want. Every few minutes, I want you to squat down like this,” he demonstrated by squatting down on his haunches, “and bounce a few times.” He bounced like he wanted Beth to do. “This will help Maria settle into your pelvis,” he said.

“If you feel anything different,” he added, “let me know. Sometimes a cephalic inversion starts labor.”

Ma and Solomon left Beth to walk and squat all through the house—from the living room, the dining room, and back to the kitchen and exam room. Ma went into the kitchen and made a peach pie for supper. She loved peach pie when the peaches were fresh off the tree. Solomon sorted the clinic’s mail at Ma’s desk. There were bills to pay and supplies to order.

As Beth passed through the kitchen or the exam room, Ma or Solomon occasionally looked up to ask, “Are you doing okay?” She would nod yes. Once as she passed through the kitchen, she said to Ma, “I need to go to the bathroom.”

“Hep yerself, hon.” Ma said.

Beth went into the exam room. That was the only bathroom that she knew about. Actually there was another one upstairs. Pa Shiver’s working for TVA had enabled him to upgrade and modernize the whole house. Solomon looked up when he saw Beth go into the bathroom. She looked like it embarrassed her that he’d noticed her. He looked at his watch. It had been almost an hour. He got up and went into the kitchen. “Are you at a stopping place, Ma?” he asked.

“Beth’s been walking for about an hour.”

“Sure thing,” Ma said.

When Beth came out of the bathroom, Ma led her over to the examining table. “Hop up here again, hon,” Ma said. Beth stepped up on the stool and sat on the table. Ma helped her lie back and covered her with the blanket.

Solomon smiled real big as he came into the room. “Are you in labor yet?”

“No, but I’m tired from all the walking,” she said.

Solomon adjusted the blanket and gown so he could see her abdomen as he put both hands on it. He felt for the baby’s position. “Maria’s still where she’s supposed to be,” he said taking his stethoscope out. He put the diaphragm against Beth’s abdomen and listened. “She’s doing great,” he said.

Ma said, “Beth, I need to see if ye’re gonna have this baby today.” She put Beth’s feet in the stirrups and dropped the leaf on the table. She felt for the cervix. “Yep, she’s a hundred percent effaced,” Ma said to Solomon. “I can feel little Maria’s head right here just ready to pop out and meet us, and she’s dilated a fingertip.”

Solomon touched Beth’s shoulder as he said, “You may go into labor tonight, or it may be two more weeks. You know how it felt when Maria turned. If you feel anything like that again, you call, okay?” He helped her to sit up. “And if you go into labor, call about that too,” he laughed.

Copyright © 2008 by Robbin Renee Bridges
Coping with Grief through Afterlife Communication
http://www.spirit-sanctuary.org

Chapter 10 - Dr. Wall Dies

2008-10-12T20:27:00.000-07:00

July 1948

The July heat beat down as Solomon began the half-mile walk to the clinic. He had barely gotten started when Sarah appeared on the road in front of him. He smiled at her. She was always a welcome sight. I’ve got the most beautiful great-great grandmother on earth, he thought. “To what do I owe this honor, beautiful ghost?” He bowed chivalrously.

Sarah laughed, “I’ll bet old Mr. Cash thinks ye’re crazy a bowin’ to that old tree. He’s watchin’ ye.”

Solomon looked over his shoulder. Sure enough old Mr. Cash was watching and wondering why he was talking to himself like that. Solomon shrugged his shoulders, “Oops.”

Sarah fell in beside Solomon in his walk, “Dr. Wall detached from his body last night,” she said.

“What?” Solomon’s eyes widened.

“His family doesn’t know yet,” Sarah said. “Ye’ll have to call them when ye get to the clinic.”

“I knew this would happen,” he said, “but I’m not ready for it. What will happen to the patients that depend on the clinic for their medicine? What will the diabetics do? And the hypertensive patients...what will they all do?”

“Solomon,” Sarah said, “ye’re not to worry about that. Dr. Wall told me that ye have enough medicine to last more than a year. Ye’ll have a solution before ye run out. Trust me.”

Solomon looked seriously at her and asked, “Is Dr. Wall alright?”

“Aye, he’s alright,” she said. “He’s a wee bit confused. He’s meetin’ folks he was sure had gone to the fiery pits of hell,” she giggled. “By the way, Alice Hope won’t be takin’ her grandfather’s passing very well.”

Solomon knew that Sarah could remember the future as easily as she could remember the past. That was one of those mind-boggling things about the Light World that he hadn’t been able to wrap his brain around.

“Remember, I’m with ye,” she said as she disappeared.

Solomon trotted the rest of the way to the clinic. Its doors were always open, and he could hear patients talking in the waiting room. He opened the door to Dr. Wall’s bedroom. The old doctor looked as if he’d gone peacefully in his sleep. Solomon was thankful for that.

Dr. Wall’s face was gray. Solomon touched the cheek. It was cool and hard. He picked up the edge of the blanket and looked at the doctor’s body. He had maximum lividity on the underside. Solomon tried to move the doctor’s finger. It was frozen in place. Full-blown rigor mortis with lividity meant that the doctor had died ten to twelve hours ago…in the middle of the night.

Solomon passed the waiting room on the way to the dispensary. “I’ll be with you in a few minutes,” he told the patients. He didn’t want to say anything to them until he’d had a chance to call Alice Moriah.

She answered the phone, “Hello?”

“Miz Wells, this is Solomon,” he started, “I have some bad news.”

“Oh no, it’s my daddy, isn’t it? What’s happened to him?”

“He passed away in the night,” he said. “I found him a few minutes ago when I came in to work.”

She was quiet.

Solomon said, “I’m so sorry.”

“Thank you, Solomon. I’m just trying to figure out where to begin. I’ll be over there in a few minutes.”

“Okay, Miz Wells,” he said, “I’ll take care of the patients.” He hung up the phone and went into the waiting room. The patients looked at each other wondering what was going on. “I’ve got bad news,” he said. “Dr. Wall passed away last night.” They sat glumly. One cried quietly.

Solomon had seen several patients by the time Alice Hope burst through the back door. “Where is he?” She was frantic. She ran down the hall and into her grandfather’s bedroom. Solomon could hear her sobbing. He found her kneeling on the floor beside her grandfather.

“Alice Hope,” he said.

She turned around and sat on the floor. She leaned back against the bed. Solomon sat beside her. He put his arm around her and pulled her to his chest. She was inconsolable so he just held her.

“Why? Why?” she cried.

Alice Moriah stood in the doorway a minute. Alice Hope didn’t look up. Alice Moriah walked over to her father and touched him. Tears sparkled in her eyes. Then she went to his closet and started looking through his clothes. She’d need something to give to the funeral home. “I’ve called the funeral home in Black Fort,” she said.

“Okay,” Solomon responded. He still held on to Alice Hope. She whimpered occasionally. They all sat silently in the doctor’s bedroom. When the funeral home crew knocked at the back door, Alice Moriah got up to let them in and show them where her father was.

Solomon said, “Come on Alice Hope, we’ve got to get up. We’re in the way.”

She stood up with him, but she clung tighter to his chest. “Don’t let me go, please.”

“I won’t,” he said.

He held on to her as he walked her into the kitchen. He put his other arm around Alice Moriah and said, “Let’s stay in the kitchen. We’ll just be in the way back there.” Solomon wanted to spare them the sight of moving the doctor’s body. They didn’t need to see the purple lividity on the underside. They didn’t need to hear his joints crack. One of the doctor’s arms lay straight out on the bed. That shoulder joint would pop when the men forced it down beside the body. And Solomon could tell from the sickly sweet smell of death that the doctor’s bowels and bladder had released in the bed.

Like a robot, Solomon stripped the sheets off the doctor’s bed and put them in the washing machine. The clinic seemed so quiet. He sank into the dispensary’s overstuffed chair and put his head back. He shut his eyes. I wonder how it feels to die, he thought.

“It feels like a bird that’s finally set free of its cage,” Sarah said softly.

Solomon opened his eyes and looked around, “Sarah?”

“Aye, I’m here,” she answered as she materialized. “There’s na’ a moment of unconsciousness. Yer soul is conscious even if yer brain is in a coma. Dyin’ is like gettin’ outside the cage that held yer soul back from soarin’. Ye’ll love it when yer time comes.”

“When did Dr. Wall know he’d died?” Solomon asked.

Sarah giggled, “Ye ask strange questions, Solomon Sepaugh, Say Paw.” She mimicked the childhood ditty. “The doctor knew immediately. Consciousness is part of yer soul. Leavin’ the physical world and enterin’ the Light World is like walking from one room into another room. It’s that simple.”

“Can Dr. Wall appear to me like you do?” he asked her.

“No, he would need help,” she answered.

Solomon sat up straight in the chair. “What kind of help?” he asked.

“Ye could go into the transfiguration chamber and help him to materialize if ye wanted to.”

“How would I do that?” he asked.

“Ye do it the way Ma Patsy showed ye. Ye concentrate yer psychic energy on the doctor. The mirror and the smoke are just tools. Yer concentration is what the doctor can use to make hisself visible...if ye wanted to.”

“Why wouldn’t I want to contact him? I might need to ask him about some medical condition.”

“Oh would ye now? And how long has it been since ye asked him about a medical condition?”

Solomon thought about it and smiled, “It’s been a while.”

“Aye, it’s been a while,” Sarah said.

“So not everybody in the Light World can show themselves like you do.” Solomon said.

“Merciful heavens, no,” she said, “strong healthy souls can do it, but souls that have some growin’ to do... well, they can’t do it without help.”

He still had so many questions, not only about his future and the clinic’s future, but about the afterlife, and the mysterious keys, and the Sign...whatever that was. He knew the answers were available, and he knew he was supposed to find them. He knew this as surely as he knew the sun would rise tomorrow. It was his destiny.

Copyright © 2008 by Robbin Renee Bridges
Coping with Grief through Afterlife Communication
http://www.spirit-sanctuary.org

Chapter 11 - Imagine a World

2008-10-12T18:18:00.000-07:00

August 1948

At Dr. Wall’s funeral last month, Alice Moriah had asked Solomon to continue seeing her father’s patients until she could make other arrangements. She wanted to set up a foundation, the Hezekiah Wall Foundation, as a memorial to her father, and then she would donate the clinic to the Foundation. She planned to hire a doctor to work at the clinic. As soon as the doctor was settled in, the Foundation would pay for Solomon to go to college and medical school. She felt sure that was what her father would have wanted.

Solomon was in the clinic early this morning. Alice Hope had volunteered to help out. He’d taught her how to start a chart on a patient and how to get a set of vitals. She stood in the dispensary doorway. “Grady Watson’s out here with his boy. He says the boy was attacked by a demon.”

Solomon raised one eyebrow and said, “Oh really?” He was aware of the rampant superstition in the area. The fundamentalist preachers had fanned it into a major issue. If I believed what some of these folks believe, he thought, I’d be scared to death. “Okay,” he said as he got up and followed her down the hallway. Solomon watched the way she was doing that sashay thing with her hips. Wonder if she’d like to hang around after work again, he smiled as he thought about it.

Grady’s boy, Jacob, was ten years old. His blond hair looked like his daddy had put a bowl on his head and cut around the edge of it. The child was terrified. Solomon sat down on a stool in front of the boy and said, “What happened, Jake?”

“Demon left his mark on me,” Jake said. “I ain’t gonna die, am I?”

“Can I see it?” Solomon asked.

Grady pulled his son’s tee shirt up. “Hit’s the demon mark. See, hit’s a dog’s head.”

Solomon looked at the purple mark. It took a stretch of the imagination to see a dog’s head.

Grady pointed, “See thar’s ears, and that thar’s a nose.”

Solomon wondered if the child might have been kicked. “Come here, Jake,” he said, “let me get a better look at this.” Solomon pulled the shirt over Jake’s head. “Skin the cat,” he said. The purple welt was about three inches in diameter, and it had an irregular border. Solomon palpated it checking for broken ribs. “Does this hurt?”

“Naw, hit don’t hurt a tall,” Jake said. “Hit pumped up thar like a risen.”

“Does it itch?” Solomon asked.

Jake shook his head, no.

Grady said, “Hit wuz the Mortimer Demon.”

Solomon raised one eyebrow and said, “I don’t know what that is.”

Grady responded, “Then ye’s lucky. Hit’s the offsprang of Satan.”

“Where did it come from?” Solomon asked. He tried not to seem patronizing. He really wanted to understand what could cause this much fear.

“It come from the unholy union of Satan and a woman,” Grady said.

“You mean like an incubus?” Solomon asked. He’d read about that folklore.

“Don’t know ‘bout no incubee. I jest know what Alfred Hicks granddaddy seen.”

“Tell me about it,” Solomon said.

“Alfred Hicks’ grandma got raped by the demon.” Grady flourished his arms as he talked. “Hit got on her and Alfred said she screamed like hit wuz a killin’ her.” Grady stuck a fresh chaw of tobacco in his cheek. “Then his grandma, her belly blowed up like she wuz about to doff off a young’un. Alfred’s grandpa knowed hit tweren’t his’n ‘cause he hadn’t bedded her in over a month a Sundys.”

Grady spat in his spit cup and went on, “Alfred’s grandpa tried ever thang he knowed, but hit wudden die. When hit come outta her,” Grady shuttered, “Alfred said hit crawled around the floor like a dog. Hit wuz hunched up with a tail twix hits legs. His grandpa smacked it with a shovel.” Grady flailed his arms to illustrate. “He got the thang on the back, and hit let out a holler like nobody ever heered. He said hit wuz worsen a banshee howl. Then hit jumped thu a winder and run off.” Grady wiped his mouth with the back of his wrist. “Alfred, he said hit looked like a dog, but hit had hands whar paws wuz sposed ta be. Purdy soon Alfred’s grandpa died. And his grandma...well, she wuttin never in her right mind adder it.”

Solomon sat listening without saying anything. He was considering possible natural causes. He’d read about hypertrichosis, sometimes called the werewolf disease. It was genetic and caused a person to have excessive body hair. As for the dog with human hands, that has to be nonsense. It’s genetically impossible for humans and dogs to mate, he thought, and babies have been born with tails, but they don’t jump through windows.

Grady said, “Doc?”

Solomon looked up, “I’m sorry, Grady. I don’t know what to say.”

Jake said, “I ain’t gonna die, am I?” There were tears in his eyes.

Solomon put Jake’s tee shirt back on and shook his head no. “You’re not going to die,” he said. “Grady, this is a rash like hives. It’s from Jake’s nerves. You’re scaring him to death with your stories.”

Grady grabbed Jake by the arm and pulled him towards the door. “Never ye mind. Ye’ll see, Solomon Sepaugh. Mark my words, ye’ll see.”

Solomon relaxed into his favorite chair and thought, Sarah, tell me about the Mortimer Demon.

When she appeared, she was sitting on the compounding table. “This is hard to explain because I don’t really understand it meself,” she said.

“Sarah,” he teased, “I thought you understood everything from your perspective in the afterlife.”

As she pulled her feet up on the table, one foot uneventfully passed through a jug of water.

Solomon noticed, but he didn’t say anything. He was getting used to her abilities.

“Oh no, the afterlife is a lot like this life,” she said. “We have different capacities and knowledge.” She began her explanation. “The earth world is like a three dimensional motion picture show with the projector in the afterlife, the Light World. Scientists are working on this kind of light show right now. They’ll call it a hologram.”

Solomon leaned forward in his chair and studied her. She’s remembering the future again, he thought.

“Now ye see...the projector is God’s mind.” She hopped off the table and just leaned against it. “Okay now, remember that God made man in His own image. So the projector can also be yer mind, and my mind, and Grady’s mind. Human minds can project their reality on the earth world sort of like God does ... because the earth world is an illusion anyway. Eastern philosophers have taught that for thousands of years, and they’re right.”

“I don’t know, Sarah,” he said shaking his head, “it seems awfully real to me.”

“Aye, it does, but that’s because ye’ve never seen the real world. Ye know that even the image ye see is upside down.”

"Yeah, you’re right. I hadn’t thought about it that way,” he said.

“Yer physical senses detect the illusion, and they project it to yer mind. Think of it another way.” Sarah put her hand on the table she had been sitting on. “Put yer hand on this table.”

Solomon put his hand on it.

“Is it solid?” she asked.

“It feels solid,” he said.

“That’s right, it feels solid, but it’s not solid. It’s made of atoms,” she said, “and an atom is like yer solar system. The nucleus is like yer sun, and the electrons are like yer planets. There are huge distances between the planets, and there are huge distances between the nucleus and electrons...and what’s in between?”

“Space,” Solomon said.

“Aye, lots of space,” she said. “So ye see, yer physical senses were designed by God to give ye the illusion of something solid.”

“Okay,” he said, “but what’s this got to do with the Mortimer Demon?”

“It’s an illusion,” she said. “A long time ago, folks got it in their minds that something big and hairy and mean lived in the woods. People’s minds created the Mortimer Demon.”

“Well, can it hurt anyone?” he asked.

“No, people’s fear is what hurts them,” she said. “They break out in hives and bruises. They overload their hearts. They fall and break a bone. They shoot a man when they were aiming to shoot the illusion. The Mortimer Demon has only as much power as folks give it.”

Solomon thought about that, and then he asked, “Well, when God creates a bear, it can maul a man, and yet you say it’s an illusion. So when a man creates a demon, why can’t it hurt a man?”

“When God imagines a bear,” she said, “it becomes part of His creation. It’s made up of atoms in a specific pattern ordained by God, and sure enough it can maul a man. But when a man imagines a demon, it has no atomic pattern. Only God’s imagination creates an image with atomic patterns in the physical world.”

“God uses His imagination to create His worlds,” Sarah continued, “and humans use their imagination to create their world. Before ye can create anything in the world, ye have to imagine it...just like before ye can be a doctor, ye have to imagine it.” She went on, “The folks that can see the demon are the folks who project its image with their minds. They could put their hand through it, if they dared to get so close. Like ye say, it’s not solid.”

“Oh wow!” Solomon said, “Like you…you’re an illusion.”

“Aye,” she said. “I’m an illusion. Ye created it with yer imagination.”

Solomon looked confused, “If I created you, how do you know things that I don’t know?”

“Solomon!” Sarah said, “Ye didn’t create me mind or me soul. Ye only created the vehicle that helps ye to see me. God created me soul and me mind. And God made me a body for the Light World, but it’s too beautiful for ye to see.”

Solomon sat quietly absorbing what he could.

“Have ye na’ ever wondered why ye and Ma can see me, but nobody else can?” She laughed and said, “And if ye ask Ma Patsy what I look like, she’ll tell ye a different story.”

Solomon was shocked, “You mean you look different to Ma?”

Sarah smiled real big and said with a lilting laugh, “Aye, that’s right, me bonnie lad.”

With that she disappeared. Solomon sat back in the big chair. He put his feet up on the ottoman and smiled to himself. That’s amazing, simply amazing.

Copyright © 2008 by Robbin Renee Bridges
Coping with Grief through Afterlife Communication
http://www.spirit-sanctuary.org/

Chapter 12 - Induce Labor...Naturally

2008-10-12T17:01:00.000-07:00

August 1948

Solomon tossed in bed wrestling with his sheet. In his dream a storm bore down on the cove. Gray thunderheads piled up and churned in the sky. Trees whipped and twisted; some uprooted and fell. People scattered looking for shelter. Pandemonium reigned. Solomon tried to help but people ignored him in their panic.

Ma tapped on his bedroom door. “Solomon,” she said, “Solomon, wake up.”

He opened his eyes and saw Ma standing in the doorway. His clock said four-thirty in the morning. He raised his head off the pillow. “What is it?” he said trying to shake off the dream.

“Beth’s husband called. He says she’s bleeding.”

“Oh no,” Solomon said pressing his palms into his eyes.

He threw off the sheet and was in his shirt and pants in thirty seconds. He stepped into his sandals, went into the bathroom, and peed. He looked at the mirror as he washed his hands. His scruffy five o’clock shadow was twelve hours older.

He ran down the stairs taking two steps at a time, grabbed the box that he and Ma had prepared for Beth’s delivery, and carried it out to the truck. They’d tried to include everything they could possibly need. Ma met him at the truck.

“Did Cal say how much she’s bleeding?” Solomon asked.

“He didn’t know,” she said.

Solomon blinked his eyes and shook his head. “Okay,” he muttered.

Beth and Calvin lived four miles up Rooster Cove Road. From Cal’s phone call until Ma and Solomon arrived didn’t take ten minutes. The front porch light was on and Cal was standing out on the stoop.

Cal and Beth’s house was one of those shotgun houses. The name referred to the fact that a man could open the front and back doors and fire a gun straight through the house without hitting anything. All the rooms ran off a hallway in the middle. Beth was in the back bedroom where Ma Patsy had delivered her last child. Solomon had never been in the house. When Beth went into labor with her son two years ago, Cal had told Ma that he didn’t want no man, meaning Solomon, looking at his wife’s privates.

Solomon maneuvered his way through the door with the box in his arms. He nodded at Cal as he passed him in the living room. Solomon followed Ma into the bedroom where Beth was. Ma sat down on the bed and touched Beth’s forehead. She was sweating in the August heat. A fan whirred on the dresser. Solomon pulled the chain for the overhead light. Beth’s color looked good, so he knew she wasn’t bleeding bad…at least not yet.

Solomon handed Ma the blood pressure cuff as he felt for a radial pulse. He could tell from the way it was bounding that her blood pressure was high. He asked her, “Do you hurt anywhere?”

She shook her head, no.

He put his hand high on her abdomen and pressed. “How about here?”

She shook her head no again.

“That’s good,” he said. He was ruling out placental abruption as the cause of her bleeding.

He drew up magnesium sulfate in a hypodermic syringe. It would keep Beth from having a seizure.

Ma said to him, “Her pressure’s a hundred and fifty-eight over ninety-eight.”

Solomon pinched up the muscle on Beth’s upper arm and stabbed the needle into it. She winced and said, “I hate needles.”

Solomon smiled, “I don’t like them either, but sometimes they’re necessary.”

Ma pulled Beth’s sheet back as she said, “Cal said ye’re bleeding, hon. I need to see how much.”

As if Cal were waiting for his cue to take Solomon by the arm and lead him out of the room, he did exactly that. Rather than resist in front of Beth, Solomon went with Cal out into the hallway. Cal said, “I don’t mind you helping your mama some, but you need to stay out when she’s doing stuff that would embarrass my wife.”

Solomon smelled liquor on Cal’s breath.

Ma stepped into the hallway too. She was mad as a wet hen. She got up in Cal’s face and whispered, “Calvin Terry, don’t ye be acting like no fool.” Ma’s hot breath almost fogged his glasses. “The last time I wuz here to deliver yer son, Beth didn’t have the complications she has this time.” She wagged her finger in his face as he backed up. “My son knows more about complicated deliveries than I’ll ever know. He knows how to do stuff that I don’t know how to do. I’ll deliver Beth’s baby if’n I can, but if’n I can’t, you’d best stay outta the way.”

Cal spit tobacco juice into a tin can. He looked like he was about to argue with Ma.

Ma got up in his face again and backed him into the kitchen. It was hard for Solomon not to laugh at such a tiny little woman backing that husky twenty-four-year-old ex-football player into a corner of his kitchen. But Solomon knew he had to keep his composure. He wouldn’t have spoiled this moment for anything.

“Don’t even think about arguin’ with me, Calvin Terry. If I hear one more word outta ye, I’m leavin’ here, and I’m callin’ the law to come back with me. I ain’t lettin’ ye git away with this. Do ye understand me, boy? Say!”

Cal sat down at the table and put his head on his arms like a schoolboy.

“And stay outta that liquor bottle. Ye need to be sober today,” she added as she stormed out of the kitchen.

Solomon followed Ma. He dared not say a word. He hadn’t seen Ma that mad since he’d let the neighbor’s pig in the house when he was eleven years old. He was trying to save it from slaughtering.

Ma said to Beth, “I’m sorry, hon. Cal got my dander up.” As she checked Beth, Ma said, “Ye’re not bleedin’ bad. I’m more worried about yer blood pressure. Ye have preeclampsia. That means ye need to go ahead and have this baby before ye have a seizure. That shot Solomon gave ye will keep ye from having one, but it’ll wear off in five or six hours. I’d like to see ye in labor before noon.”

Solomon was unpacking the supplies they’d brought, and he had his back turned to what was going on with Ma’s examination. He figured he’d keep the peace with Cal if he could.

Ma said to Solomon, “The head’s still down in her pelvis. I’m glad ye managed to get it turned last week.” She looked up at Solomon as she stripped off the glove. “But she’s still dilated just a fingertip,” she said to him.

Cal was listening to their exchange. He didn’t want to think about what Solomon apparently did to his wife last week. He had the disturbing vision of Solomon’s arm inside his wife up to the elbow.

Solomon nodded. He had cleaned off a low chest and laid out several packs of sterile instruments. There were forceps, scalpels, and two pairs of scissors. One was for cutting the umbilical cord, and the other was in case Beth needed an episiotomy. Next to the scissors were clamps and suturing supplies. There was a bulb for suctioning out the baby’s nose and mouth. There was a large white rubber sheet that would go under Beth during delivery. He set out a small bottle of silver nitrate, a bottle of iodine solution, an enema bag that Ma would use on Beth sometime this morning, a box of rubber gloves, and a dozen maternity pads.

Ma leaned close to Beth and whispered, “When have you had sex with Cal?”

Beth blinked her eyes in surprise. “Uh, it’s been a couple of months.”

“A couple of months!” Ma leaned close to her again and said, “A man’s semen is full of prostaglandins. They can hep with birthin’ yer baby.”

Beth laughed nervously, “You’re joshing me.”

“Nope, it’s the honest to God truth, hon,” Ma said.

Solomon had his back to the conversation, but he could tell that Ma was suggesting that Beth and Cal have sex this morning. It was one of those midwifery secrets. Solomon knew that Dr. Wall never suggested sex to induce labor, and he didn’t figure the hospital in Knoxville did either. Nevertheless, the fact was that sex could induce labor. Cal was leaned over Beth and Ma taking in the conversation. He was grinning like he approved of Ma’s suggestion.

“Solomon, take Cal into the kitchen and tell him what to do and what not to do,” Ma said.

Solomon thought, Oh boy! Cal’s not happy about me being here in the first place. How’s he going to take to me telling him how to have sex with his wife? He put on his serious professional face hoping that he looked older than his twenty-one years. “Sure,” he said.

Solomon followed Cal into the kitchen. “I’ve never heard of such,” Cal said, “but if Ma Patsy says it works, it must work.”

Solomon pulled a chair away from the table and sat down. “Yes, it works in several ways,” he said. “Semen is full of prostaglandins. They soften a woman’s cervix and allow it to dilate. In addition to that, a woman’s orgasm releases oxytocin, and oxytocin triggers uterine contractions.”

Cal said, “Oh man! We ain’t had sex in a couple a months. I’m plumb backed up to my ears.” He snorted and grinned as he stood up and started pacing. He adjusted his crotch for comfort.

Solomon said, “Another way to get a woman to release oxytocin is to stimulate her nipples.”

Cal started for the bedroom door. Solomon grabbed him and said, “Slow down, man. Remember, this is about gettin’ Beth’s labor started.” Cal was already breathing heavy. This might not be such a good idea, Solomon thought. Will this jock be able to control himself enough to do this without hurting Beth?

Cal asked, “Okay, what do I need to do?”

Solomon said, “To start with it’s important for Beth to be comfortable. The best position for her this morning would be spooning.” Solomon handed Cal a small tube of lubricant. “Put this on yourself.”

Cal took the tube and said, “Thanks,” as he unzipped his pants.

“Whoa! Not now,” Solomon said.

Cal laughed nervously. “Sorry,” he said.

“You need to concentrate on getting Beth aroused,” Solomon said. “Women warm up a lot slower than men do. The first place a woman gets aroused is in her head. Be gentle, talk to her, love on her, and kiss her. Do anything to Beth that you know she likes. Rub her back and her legs. Snuggle and kiss the back of her neck. When you get an erection, park it inside of her. Don’t go in too far, just an inch or two past her labia.”

Cal said, “Huh?”

Solomon dropped his head and ran his fingers through his hair. Trying to talk to Cal was frustrating. “After you penetrate her,” he said, “quit moving in and out. Just be still and make love to her by caressing her. Concentrate on her pleasure.”

“Take a lot of time with her breasts,” Solomon continued, “but be especially gentle because they’re swollen and tender right now. Cup them in your hands. Don’t squeeze. Hold her nipple between your thumb and fingertips and very delicately roll it while you’re nuzzling her back and neck. Keep your touch light as a feather. Her nerve endings are more sensitive now that she’s pregnant.”

“Rub all around her belly,” he said. “It’s tight and itchy, and rubbing it will feel good to her.”

Solomon asked him, “Do you know where Beth’s clitoris is?”

“Yeah, of course I do,” Cal said.

“Okay, don’t stimulate it directly. The glans is so sensitive that Mother Nature put a hood over it to protect it. A massaging motion keeps the hood moving and tugging on the clitoris. That’s what triggers an orgasm in a woman. Move your hand in circles. Tell Beth to play with her nipples while you do it. Get a good slow rhythm going, then massage fast for ten or fifteen seconds. Then slow down again, then fast again. Be an observer. Listen and watch for Beth’s signals for when it feels good. Before she has an orgasm, you’ll start to feel her contracting around your penis.”

“No shit?” Cal said.

Solomon chuckled at Cal’s expressiveness. “No shit,” he replied.

“You can’t see a woman’s erection like you can see a man’s, but you can feel it. The roots of a woman’s clitoris are about eleven centimeters from top to bottom. It encircles the vagina. If you’re inside her, you can feel her erection tighten around you. If you listen to her, you’ll know when you have the right rhythm. If she says, ‘Don’t stop,’ you’ve got it right, and she’ll have an orgasm, or maybe five or ten orgasms.”

“Okay,” Cal said. He looked like he was ready to bolt for the door.

Solomon sighed and said, “Will you please settle down, man? You can’t go in there until Ma’s finished with her, so listen to me.” He paused to let Cal settle down. “When you ejaculate, you’ll bathe Beth’s cervix with the prostaglandins in your semen. They will soften her cervix and allow it to dilate so the baby’s head can get through it. And don’t withdraw; just let yourself go soft inside of her. Hopefully you’ll get another erection. The more orgasms both of you have, the better it will be for Beth’s labor.”

Cal said, “I don’t think that will be a problem. I told you I’m backed up to my ears.” Then he laughed. “Where’d you learn all this stuff, man? I don’t remember you being a ladies’ man in high school.”

“No,” Solomon said, “it’s anatomy and physiology. That’s all.”

Ma came into the kitchen and said, “I’m gonna fix some breakfast. Cal, git in there with yer wife. I don’t want to see ye again until Beth’s in labor.”

Beth was in labor before noon. Solomon played babysitter for the two-year-old during the delivery. The labor only lasted two hours, and Ma delivered a baby girl, Maria. She weighed eight pounds and three ounces and was the healthiest baby Ma or Solomon had seen in a long time.

Copyright © 2008 by Robbin Renee Bridges
Coping with Grief through Afterlife Communication
http://www.spirit-sanctuary.org/

Chapter 13 - Turtle Hicks

2008-10-12T12:46:00.000-07:00

August 1948

Turtle Hicks was beyond pissed. His imbecile sister had found his white liquor and his nudie magazines. He’d hidden them in a hollow log that had washed down the creek back in the spring when the cove had flooded from snow melt and three days of rain.

A man needs some entertainment when he’s in the mood to git liquored up, Turtle fumed.

Mama had taken one look at the liquor and the books, and she knew they belonged to Turtle. “Them thangs is the devil’s work,” she’d said. “You gonna burn in hell.” She’d smashed the moonshine jar on the rocks, slung the sack of books over her shoulder, and marched back to the house. She hit the front door raisin’ hell.

Turtle thought, I hate that sanctimonious bitch. She don’t bust up Pa’s liquor. What right does that Bible thumpin’ bitch have destroyin’ my property?

Mama ranted, “God’s gonna git ye, Turtle, if’n ye don’t quit yer sinnin’ ways.”

“Shit,” he said as he stomped out of the house. He retreated to his drinkin’ spot and sat on his favorite rock overlooking the creek. It made him madder than hell to think about how his possessions had been ransacked. I ain’t got nothin’ to calm my nerves thanks to Mama and my retarded nasty ass sister. Why in the hell did I come back here?

It was pretty obvious why he had come back. Ma and Pa let him freeload. He’d run off to Knoxville when he was fourteen because they stayed on his butt all the time. He wanted some excitement, and he hated the God-forsaken hollers. He’d been in Knoxville for six weeks when he got into a brawl at the pool hall. Since Prohibition, you couldn’t buy liquor in there, but it could be had if you knew the right people, and Turtle’s crowd always knew the right people.

That fat boy shouldn’t a run his mouth at me, Turtle thought. When I sliced his big ole lily white belly, that sombitch didn’t hardly bleed. Cottage-cheese-looking shit wuz a hangin’ outta his gut. Turtle laughed out loud thinking about the look on the fat boy’s face. You’d a thunk I sliced his pecker off. That’s what I should a done. I should a sliced his little pudgy-boy pecker off. I spent a year and a half in prison. Slicin’ off his pecker might a made it worthwhile. Yeah, that’s what I should a done.

Speakin’ of peckers, he thought, my favorite girlie books had cum stains. He lay back on the old log and pulled out his manhood. I stroke it like I’m in love with it…which I am…ain’t all men? He chuckled to himself as he pictured a favorite model in his mind. She had a fanger in her mouth and another in her coochie. He stroked faster, and then he relaxed.

Rachael’s got shit for brains. I used to like her until she got to stankin’ so bad. She got that “issue of blood” like that woman in the Bible. That woman had demons and Jesus thowed ‘um out and slung ‘um into some pigs. Mama says Rachael‘s got a demon like that. Turtle got a hollow-eyed grin on his face. I’ll warsh her nasty ass off in the crick, and I’ll show that stupid bitch sister what happens when ye mess with Turtle Hicks.

Turtle had another little sister named Ruth. She was ten years old. He’d tried to mess with her, but Ruth had told him that she’d tell Mama if he didn’t leave her alone. He smacked her around thinking he could scare her into being quiet, but she just screamed louder that she “wuz gonna tell Mama.” It was easier to leave her alone.

Ruth was in fourth grade at Rooster Cove School. Ruth’s teacher, Mrs. Hamilton, had asked the class to draw pictures of their family. Ruth had drawn a picture of her house. In front of the house stood Mama, Pa, Grandma, and six brothers and sisters. Five of the children stood with their parents, but one of the girls was off to herself. That sister was standing on a red splash of color with red dots leading up to her crotch. When Mrs. Hamilton asked about it, Ruth said, “That’s Rachel. She’s retarded. She’s got a issue a blood like the woman in the Bible.”

Her teacher asked, “But why is she over by herself?”

Ruth said, “Because she stinks, and nobody wants to be close to her.”

The more Mrs. Hamilton questioned, the more horrified she became with the story of Rachel. It seemed that Rachel slept on the back porch with the dogs when the weather was warm. She was allowed to sleep in the house by the back door when it was cold. She was never allowed to eat with the family because she smeared food on herself and anybody near her. She could talk, but she sounded like a six-year-old.

Ruth said, “Turtle’s messin’ with her. He told me so.”

“What on earth do you mean, Ruth?”

“Turtle tried to touch me on my private parts, but I told him I’d tell Ma and Pa if he did it.”

“That was a good thing to say. You’re a smart girl, Ruth,” her teacher said.

“That’s when he told me he messes with Rachael,” Ruth said. “Turtle says she likes it.”

“Dear God, child! Do your parents know what he’s doing to her?”

“It’s doubtful,” Ruth said.

“How old is Rachael?”

Ruth said, “Fourteen.”

“And how old is Turtle?” Mrs. Hamilton asked.

“Eighteen,” Ruth responded.

Mrs. Hamilton decided that after school she’d call on Ma Patsy and tell her what Ruth had told her. If Rooster Cove had a “village elder,” it was Ma Patsy. Whether it was a sick baby or a wife beater, all information flowed past Ma Patsy. If she didn’t know what to do, she knew someone who did.

Turtle sat brooding. He passed his time thinking of ways he could punish Rachel for the fact that all his stuff was gone. He watched her on the porch with disgust. She was curled up in a ball with one arm over a hound. She’s so nasty with crusty blood. She stanks worsen the dogs, he thought. I wudden touch ‘er if I wutten aimin’ to teach her a lesson.

Turtle clicked his tongue at the dogs. He didn’t want to startle them and set them to barking at him. He used one swift motion to pick up his sister. He slammed his hand over her mouth and grabbed her around the waist at the same time. Piece a cake, he thought. Rachael struggled, kicking her legs and trying to pull his hand off her mouth. She clamped her teeth down on his palm. He shoved her ear to his mouth and bit down on it. “If you bite my hand, stupid, I’ll bite ya damned ear off.”

When he got out of earshot, he took his hand off her mouth and grabbed a fistful of matted hair. Rachael knew she’d lost, so she quit struggling. He dropped her in the creek and said, “Warsh your nasty ass.”

She rubbed the caked blood off her legs with creek water. She flapped her gown tail to rinse it out. A crimson streak in the water flowed away from her.

A limb snapped behind Turtle. He turned around thinking Pa must have heard him take Rachel, but he didn’t see Pa. Rachel heard it too. She searched the woods with wide-eyed panic. That worried Turtle. Rachael knew the woods critters better than he did. And if it scared her, there was a reason.

As Rachel climbed out of the creek, Turtle grabbed her. If it’s a mountain lion or a bear, I’ll give her to it, so I can git away. It will serve her right. She was staring into the woods. She sees something, he thought. She’s standin’ still as a telephone pole. Turtle moved behind her and pulled her arms back so he could use her as a shield.

“Whatcha see, Rachael?” he whispered.

She didn’t move or speak. Like a wild animal, she stood frozen in the face her predator.

Turtle felt Rachael trembling. They were both sweating, and the stench rose off her like a greasy fog. Turtle didn’t want this to be his last experience on earth. Then he saw it move! He froze. Running was out of the question. The creature would be on him in a split second. He wanted to make sure it got Rachel and not him.

In the moonlight the beast lurked in the bushes with the glow-in-the-dark eyes of a predator. Oh God, what’s it waitin’ on? His mind was crazy with fear. Come on, show yourself. Sombitch is playing with me, he thought.

With eyes riveted on the thing in the woods, Turtle thought, Oh God! Don’t let me pee and give it my scent. Hit must be ten feet tall! Turtle was shaking so bad that he was about to puke. He pulled Rachael’s arms back tighter and closer to him. What is that thang? It’s gotta be some kind a demon. It’s got horns, and it’s pawin’ the dirt like a bull!

The beast moved out of the woods. Oh my God! It’s got a head and a body like a man with huge muscles. And…and…it’s got a hard on! That’s the biggest cock I ever seen! Turtle inched backwards holding Rachael in front of him. Holy shit! The thang’s got the legs of a goat! They got a quare shape and meaty thighs covered with fur and little ankles with split hoofs.

The beast moved closer to Turtle and Rachael.

“S…Sir, I…I brought you a present here,” Turtle was trembling when shoved Rachel out at arm’s length. He didn’t let her go. He needed to make sure that this beast knew she was a gift from him. Maybe he’d take mercy on him since he’d brought him a present.

Rachel tried to squirm loose, but she couldn’t get away from Turtle. She squealed.

“See, she squeals. She’s a female you can mate with.” Turtle showed his merchandise. “I…I want you to know how much I respect you, sir. I know you can make use of this here girl. You can show her what a real man feels like,” Turtle said.

“SHUT UP!” the beast bellowed.

“Yessir,” Turtle said as he buried his head in his shoulders…true to his nickname.

Pee mixed with blood ran down Rachael’s legs.

The goat man moved across the clearing. He walked with jerky movements on his cloven hoofs. His erect penis swayed as his powerful thighs moved. His arrogant face sneered at the two cowering children. Large pointed ears pushed through his long bushy hair. His eyebrows looked like diagonal exclamation points over his leathery nose. He put his head down and snorted like a bull ready to charge. Puffs of smoke came out of his nostrils. Black holes took the place of eyeballs. The fires of hell were visible in them. Flames writhed and spit out embers that dropped to the ground and smoked in the dry grass.

The beast’s Herculean muscles glistened in the moonlight. They rippled when he reached for Rachael. She whimpered as he snatched her up. The goat-man held her under one arm and carried her into the woods.

Turtle took several sidesteps making sure that the beast didn’t turn around, and then he took off for home as fast he his legs could carry him.

Above the beast’s fur covered buttocks, a short tail twitched with excitement. Climbing the cliffs, his goat feet allowed sure-footed purchase. Dangling over his arm, Rachael put her hands on his thighs and pushed herself up so she could see where he was taking her. His wiry goat hair gave her something to hold on to as he climbed higher and higher to his lair. The valley below them was hidden in the steel-blue fog of the Smokies.

Turtle didn’t slow down until he got back to the house. He tiptoed into the bedroom he shared with his two brothers. He dropped down on his bed panting in the darkness. His heart pounded in his ears. Serves her right, he said to himself. In his mind he could see his sister hanging limp over the arm of the goat-man. She orta fought him, Turtle thought. A creature like that would like a woman to fight him. As he lay in bed, his sick mind explored the possibilities of Rachael’s fate. Thinking about it gave him a hard-on. He masturbated while he fantasized about the beast taking his sister as she struggled.

Copyright © 2008 by Robbin Renee Bridges
Coping with Grief through Afterlife Communication
http://www.spirit-sanctuary.org

Chapter 14 - Rachael and Redemption

2008-10-12T11:33:00.000-07:00

August 1948

The cove woke up slowly on Saturday mornings. Solomon and Ma sat on the porch after breakfast as friends, neighbors, and patients visited a while and then left. Some stopped for an informal consult, but most just wanted to shoot the breeze. The phone rang, and Ma went inside to answer. Solomon sat in a rocking chair watching a neighbor deadhead the petunias along his sidewalk.

Ma came back outside and said, “That was Mrs. Hamilton.” Mrs. Hamilton had taught fourth, fifth, and sixth grades at Rooster Cove School for more than twenty years. Solomon had fond memories of the years he’d spent in her classroom.

“Do ye remember Ora Hicks’ girl, Rachel?” Ma asked him.

“The fifteen year old?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she said, “she’s fourteen. She’s the one that’s retarded. Mrs. Hamilton is on the way over to talk to us about her.”

“The only time I’ve ever seen her is when we’ve delivered Ora’s babies.” He thought about it a while and said, “Come to think of it, I didn’t see her last year when Ora had the girl. The last time I saw Rachael must have been what...four years ago when the boy was born? She seemed to be a sweet child. She was shy.”

“Yeah, that’s the last time I seen her too,” Ma said. “I remember deliverin’ her. It was a normal birth and the little girl wuz fine. Then when she wuz eighteen months old, she got diphtheria. I went with Doc Wall to help out with her. Her fever was so high she wuz havin’ seizures. It left her with brain damage. After that, Doc Wall and me went all around in the hollers to vaccinate kids for diphtheria.”

Mrs. Hamilton drove up in the yard and parked her car. She had gained quite a few pounds since Solomon had been in her class. She held on to the banister to pull herself up the front steps. She smiled real big, “Morning, Patsy…Solomon, how’s this hot weather treatin’ you?”

Ma and Solomon stood up to greet her. She hugged Ma Patsy, and then she got up on her tiptoes and hugged Solomon. She remembered the day that he’d predicted the birth of her son, Homer. That was her first experience with his psychic abilities. He was ten years old that day and just a little squirt. He’d put his little hands on her belly and said, “You’ll have a boy in the spring.” And what a shocker that was. He was right! She hadn’t even missed her period yet, and here’s this child predicting her son’s birth. Eleven years later she had to stand on her tiptoes to hug him. He was one of her all time favorite students.

Solomon offered Mrs. Hamilton his rocker as he moved over to the porch swing.

Mrs. Hamilton carried a folder in her hand. She dropped into the rocker and said, “I can’t remember when I’ve been so disturbed about something.” She took out the picture that Ruth had drawn of her family. Solomon got up to look over Ma’s shoulder. Mrs. Hamilton pointed to the girl standing on the red splash of paint. “Ruth Hicks drew this picture. She told me that her eighteen year old brother, Turtle, is sexually abusing this child.”

Ma looked surprised. “She said that?”

“Well, she said that he was messin’ with Rachael. It was after he’d tried to touch Ruth down there, and she’d told him not to do it. He told her that Rachael liked it.” Mrs. Hamilton seemed disgusted with her words.

“Oooh no,” Ma said, “bless her heart.”

Solomon clinched his teeth. His jaw muscles quivered.

Ma Patsy pointed to the red splash of color, “Is this supposed to be blood?”

Mrs. Hamilton said, “Yes, Ruth said that the child has an ‘issue of blood’ like the woman in the Bible.”

Ma Patsy said, “She’s fourteen. I’d expect her to be havin’ periods”

Mrs. Hamilton said, “Now her sister Ruth’s only ten years old, so she may not know what she’s talking about, but she told me it’s not like ‘the curse.’ That’s what she called it. She said Rachael bleeds all the time and the family can’t stand to be around her because she stinks. They make her sleep on the back porch with the dogs.”

Ma Patsy gasped, “That’s awful!”

“That’s what I thought too,” Mrs. Hamilton said, “and she’ll be pregnant if her brother’s messing with her like that, if she’s not already.” She looked at Solomon for his reactions.

He was staring off beyond the mountains. He cut his eyes at his old teacher when he sensed that she was watching him. “I’ll go talk to Alfred and Ora about her,” he said. “I need to see her, and I’ll get Turtle off alone and talk to him. I’ll find out what’s going on.”

“Please don’t let Turtle know that Ruth is behind this. I just don’t trust him. Even when he was in my class, he was a hateful child,” Mrs. Hamilton warned.

“I’ll be careful not to let him know,” Solomon said.

Solomon was raised in Rooster Cove. He knew how independent people were, especially those that lived in the hollows. They stayed to themselves because they liked things that way. They didn’t care to have people coming around asking about their personal business. They didn’t mind telling anybody to mind their own business, and they didn’t mind pointing a shotgun at an unwelcome visitor either.

Ever since Grady Watson had come to the clinic talking about the Mortimer Demon, Solomon had been meaning to find out more about it. Turtle would probably be happy to tell the story, and Solomon figured he could make up some excuse to talk to Turtle’s mother. Maybe he could see Rachael. He’d be able to tell a lot about what was going on with her just by being in her presence. He knew things about people. They didn’t have to tell him.

Rachael sat squatting in the cave with her arms wrapped around her legs. She rocked back and forth watching the beast. The goat-man had carried her to his lair and put her down against the back wall. His back was to her as he aimlessly toyed with the glowing coals of a fire that he’d built in the center of the cave. Its flames cast writhing shadows on the walls. The beast occasionally turned to look at Rachael. Sadness lurked in his face.

Rachael’s eyes scanned the darkness for a way out. She saw none. Her six-year-old mind made it impossible for her to fathom the evil in the minds of others. She was accustomed to indifference from her family and cruelty from Turtle, but she didn’t understand any of it. She’d learned to keep to herself. Her friends were the family dogs and the animals she played with in the woods. She had an uncanny rapport with them. She respected the predators. She knew to stay back from them. But the others, the deer, the squirrels, rabbits, birds, chipmunks, all of those…had no fear of Rachael. She could walk right up to any of them and touch them.

Rachael felt confused about the goat-man. He was part animal. He had cloven hoofs. She didn’t know of any animals with cloven hoofs that killed to eat meat. Did that mean she could trust him? It was the human part of him that frightened her. And yet the human part of him seemed so sad that she felt sorry for him. Tears welled up in her eyes, and her tummy growled from hunger. Her lower lip quivered. She closed her eyes and cried silently.

“Raaachaeeel," a female voice crooned.

Rachael’s eyes snapped open. There before her…hovering above the floor of the cave was a glowing creature of light with wings partially extended. Downy white feathers seesawed as they floated to the floor of the cave. Rachael picked up a feather and smiled twisting it between her fingers.

The goat-man stumbled backwards away from the creature of light. He tilted his head in curiosity. The beautiful winged being ignored him.

Rachael eyes lit up, “Are ye a angel?”

The lovely creature settled down on the cavern floor. She bent over and placed a fingertip under Rachael’s chin. The angelic being pursed her lips and blew a powder pink cloud out of her mouth into Rachael’s face. Tiny pink tendrils entered Rachael’s nostrils and her mouth, which dropped open as if she were in a deep sleep. A transparent form arose out of Rachael’s body. It hovered for a moment still attached to her by a silvery cord. Then Rachael’s magnificent spirit body stood up.

The angelic creature dropped to her knees before Rachael’s spirit and said, “Behold an innocent one.”

Rachael’s spirit placed a hand on the angelic creature’s head and said, “Arise, Sarah.”

Sarah O’Hara stood up. The luminosity and beauty of Rachael’s spirit body astounded her. “But I am not worthy of thy presence,” Sarah said.

Rachael’s spirit said, “You guide Solomon and his mother. Your work is important. Your blessings and growth will be in keeping with your work and your compassion.”

The goat-man quivered as he tried to hide himself in the crevasses of the stone walls. He saw the two shining creatures. He knew they would not acknowledge the presence of a low life brute like himself. He longed to be able to speak to them, but he knew it was not permitted.

Rachael’s spirit body glided across the cave to where the goat-man cowered. It was as if she were on a cushion of air. The silvery cord floated behind her. It was attached to the back of the neck of the child sleeping on the floor of the cave. She stood over the goat-man.

He was trembling when he blurted out, “I’m sorry. I…I didn’t know who the girl was. I’m a wretched beast, and I’m not very smart.”

“Never underestimate the station of the innocent ones,” Rachael’s spirit said to him. “Why were you hanging around Turtle?”

“Uh…uh…because he makes me think of myself before I died,” the goat-man said. “I watch him.”

“And why do you watch him?” she asked.

“I don’t know. I can see his evil rule him,” the goat-man said. “I can’t stop him, but I can see his dirty, ugly thoughts like a black cloud dripping on him and everything and everybody around him. I figure I had the same nasty black cloud around me before I died.”

Rachael’s radiant spirit said, “Yes, you injured your soul many times while you were attached to your earth body. Would you like to atone for some of the things you did?”

“More than anything in all of God’s worlds,” he responded.

She scooped something out of the air with her hand. She opened her hand and blew sparkling green dust over the goat-man. It settled in his hair and glistened on his skin. He smiled for the first time since long before he had died. She said, “From henceforth, you shall be the protector of my earth body. And you know the rules, you may scare Turtle, but you may not harm him.”

“Oh yes, thank you, thank you. How can I ever begin to thank you?” he said.

“Don’t thank me, thank God,” she responded.

Solomon drove his truck up the logging road to Mortimer Hollow. He parked at the end and walked up the path to Alfred Hicks’ place. Chickens scattered as he neared the house. The hound dogs caught his scent and barked. There was no sign of life. How can nine people live here with no sign of any of them? He thought to himself.

“Alfred!” Solomon shouted, “Anybody home?”

Four hounds circled him sniffing at his legs. Wagging tails let him know they were friendly. Ora came out on the porch. “Morning, Solomon,” she said. She looked annoyed.

“Morning Ora, I was beginning to think nobody was home.”

“We home,” she replied.

She’s on guard about something, Solomon thought.

Ora sat down on the steps, and Solomon sat down with her. “How’s the new baby?

“She’s fine.”

Ruth Hicks came to the screen door and stood watching Solomon. “Whatcha doing out here, Solomon?”

“Oh, just visiting,” he said.

“Seems strange, I never seen you visit ceptin’ if Mama’s havin’ a baby,” Ruth said. “You ain’t havin’ no baby, is ye Mama?”

Ora glared at Ruth.

Solomon said, “To tell you the truth, I heard a story about the Mortimer Demon from a patient a while back, and Ma said you folks might know something about it.”

The baby cried inside the house, and Solomon asked, “Ora, can I have a drink of water?” He figured that would get him into the house where he might see Rachael.

She said, “Yeah, come on in.”

Solomon followed Ora into her kitchen. Della, Alfred’s mother, sat at the kitchen table shelling peas. “How are you, Miz Della?”

“Fine as frog hair,” she replied.

He smiled and nodded, “That’s good. That’s good.”

One year old Carrie was in a playpen. She had pulled herself up and was crying to be picked up. She looked fat and healthy. Her rosy cheeks glistened with the tears streaming down her face. A glob of snot rolled down her upper lip and disappeared into her mouth. Two little white teeth stuck out of her bottom gums. Ora handed Solomon a cup of water and said, “Have a seat.”

Ora picked up her baby and pulled a chair away from the table. She pulled up her blouse and unbuttoned the flap on her nursing brassiere. Baby Carrie eagerly latched on to her nipple. Ora held her blouse away from Carrie’s face while she suckled. She pressed her forearm against her other breast as she felt her milk let down. Carrie’s tiny fingers played with Ora’ nursing bra as her mouth tugged on the nipple.

Ora’s two boys came running down the stairs. The little one fussed because he couldn’t keep up with his brother. Sam was seven years old and Tom was four. Solomon had helped Ma birth Ora’s last three babies. She had been a witness to the maturing of Solomon’s midwifery techniques.

“Where’s Turtle and Rachael?” Solomon asked.

Sam said, “Rachael’s gone,” before Ora could stop him.

Solomon repeated, “She’s gone! Where’d she go?”

Ora interrupted quickly, “Sam, shut yer mouth. You don’t know what yer talkin’ about.”

Sam sulked off. “I do too,” he said.

Ora looked at Solomon and said, “Alfred and Turtle is looking for her. She run off last night.”

“Do they have any idea where she got to?” Solomon asked. He felt a dreadful concern for her. He had sensed that something was wrong as soon as he’d gotten to the house half an hour ago.

Della looked up from her shelling, “I told ‘um to leave her be. She’s got a demon like Jesus cast out. She acts like my grandma adder the demon got thu with her.”

“What are you talking about?” Solomon asked.

“I knowed the demon been messin’ with her when she got a issue a blood. That’s what it done to my grandma too,” Della said.

“Della, I’ve never heard of anything like that in the Bible,” Solomon said to her.

“I can’t read, but it be in Mark Chapter Five,” Della said. “Preacher Moss read it to me. Jesus cast out that woman’s demons and thowed ‘um into pigs.” Della had put two stories together to create her own story.

“Does Preacher Moss think Rachael has a demon?” Solomon asked.

Della said, “He hain’t seen her yet. He said he’d come pray fer her, but we got to find her first.”

“Has she ever gone off like this before?” Solomon asked.

“She does it reg’lar,” Ora responded.

“When you say Rachael has an issue of blood, are you talking about menstruation?” Solomon asked.

Ora shook her head, “No, she got the curse when she was twelve. It ain’t like that. It don’t stop.”

Solomon felt annoyed. “Don’t you think it might have been a good idea to have her examined?”

“Twern’t no use. Hit’s a demon…like in the Bible,” Della said.

Solomon tried to appeal to Rachael’s mother. “Ora, there are a lot of things it could be, and I don’t think a demon is one of them. Who was the last one to see Rachael?”

“Turtle seen her up at the crick yesterdy,” Ora said. “Do ye know where Bristle Crick waterfall is?”

Solomon said, “Yes.”

“Right below the waterfall is where Turtle hangs out. He seen her there yesterdy.”

Solomon shuttered to think what Turtle had been doing there with Rachael. Solomon put his hands in his pockets so he could clinch his fists without anybody seeing that he was about to burst with anger. He said, “I think I’ll walk up there and see if I run into Alfred and Turtle. Maybe I can help them look for Rachael.”

“That’s mighty nice of ye, Solomon,” Della said sourly.

Solomon knew these mountains like he knew the back of his hand. He knew exactly where Turtle had taken Rachael. As he walked the path to Bristle Creek waterfall, Solomon sensed Rachael’s fear. He was like a bloodhound on the scent of rasp, sniffing out the epidermal cells and oils that a person shed. The grass Solomon crushed beneath his feet testified to the torment she had suffered. He walked faster sending out tendrils of psychic energy searching for the lost girl.

He heard voices ahead of him on the trail. Keep cool, he said to himself. He knew it would be hard to keep from throttling Turtle for what he’d done to Rachael. He stopped in his tracks and waited for Alfred and Turtle to get to him.

They weren’t paying attention. Turtle told a joke and Alfred’s guffaw echoed down the trail. They were almost on him before they saw him. “Son of a bitch man, what you doing out here?” Alfred blurted out.

Turtle yapped like a dog and staggered backwards. He said, “Shit man, ye skeered the piss outta me.”

Solomon stood in the middle of the path looking down at what he considered trash. He didn’t smile. “I’m looking for Rachael,” he said.

Turtle said, “She ain’t up there, man. We already looked.”

“I’ll look again,” Solomon said.

“Suit yerself,” Alfred said.

As Alfred and Turtle passed him on the trail, Solomon heard Turtle mutter under his breath, “Knock yerself out, shit for brains.”

Alfred and Turtle hadn’t gone far up the trail. They wanted Ora to think they’d been looking for Rachael. Turtle knew that he didn’t want to run up on that goat-man ever again. He told his dad about how he’d seen it carry Rachael off. Alfred was content to let the beast have her.

Copyright © 2008 by Robbin Renee Bridges
Coping with Grief through Afterlife Communication
http://www.spirit-sanctuary.org/

Chapter 15 - Gift of the Grotto

2008-10-11T18:47:00.000-07:00

August 1948

Solomon covered the rest of the trail to Bristle Creek waterfall quickly. He looked inside the hollow log and stood on the boulder beside the creek searching for signs of Rachael. He found two sets of footprints on the shore of the creek. One was of boots, and the other was barefoot. They had to be Turtle and Rachael’s. He jumped down to follow the barefoot prints. They disappeared about twenty yards from the creek bank where the boot prints appeared to back up. It didn’t make sense.

Solomon spoke, “Sarah, where are you? Help me find Rachael.”

He heard her voice, “Use yer powers, Solomon.”

He spun around in the sand. “What powers? What powers, Sarah?” She was nowhere to be seen. He closed his eyes and concentrated. What powers? Tell me what powers!

Frustrated, he scooped up a handful of sand out of Rachael’s footprint. He examined it and smelled of it...nothing. He closed his eyes and squeezed it between his palms. Suddenly, in his mind he saw a creature carrying her away. He followed the vision with his mind. The creature looked like the mythological satyr, half man and half goat, a creature that had lived in man’s imagination for thousands of years.

Following the residual ghosts playing in his mind, Solomon began climbing the cliffs above Bristle Creek. He hugged the rock wall of a narrow ledge. Straining for safe footing on the mossy edges, his progress was measured in inches. He pushed his fingers into crevasses between boulders. The ledge appeared to end as it rounded a large rocky outcropping, but as he inched around the rocks, it became wider.

The ledge made another quick turn between two boulders. Solomon felt the cool spray of a waterfall coming from above. It wasn’t a thunderous waterfall; it whispered as it cascaded over the boulders. The dampness gave the place the look and feel of a rain forest. It was one wide step from the ledge onto an ascending passageway between the boulders.

Solomon held onto tree roots as he stepped across the chasm. Violets grew between the rocks, and mountain laurel bushes spilled lushly over the pathway. The intoxicating fragrance of honeysuckle drew him to where the vines formed a delicate arbor. He stepped through the arbor and onto another passageway. The rocks of the path formed a staircase leading to a grassy plateau in front of a steeply terraced hillside.

I’ve never seen this place. I just thought I knew these hills. I feel like I’m walking into the Elysian Fields. According to Greek mythology, that was where the heroes and the virtuous went in the afterlife. This was surely where a gentle soul like Rachael deserved to go. He wondered if he might have died back there on the trail and had just not figured it out yet. Sarah, you’d tell me if I were dead, wouldn’t you?

He stepped into the soft grass. Wildflowers dotted the lush green expanse. Purple mountain thrift, violets, and red clover carpeted sections of the plateau. A hound dog bounded across the grass. Its ears waved as it frolicked. Solomon followed the dog to a cavern half way up the terraced hillside.

He stood at the entrance letting his eyes adjust to the darkness, and then he stepped inside. The walls sparkled with mica and milk quartz studded with emeralds, rubies, and sapphires. Veins of gold spun their way through rose quartz. Phosphorescent minerals glowed. Rays of sunlight penetrated the ceiling of the cavern setting off fireworks of color on the walls and floor. A stream flowed from deep inside the cave. It ended in a clear pool where gold fish circled like koi in a pond.

Suddenly, Solomon saw her! He hadn’t seen her in four years, but he knew that it was Rachael. Her simple white dress had lace around the hem. Her dark hair fell straight and silky around her shoulders. One thin blue ribbon that matched the color of her eyes tied her hair over to the side. Her sparkling blue eyes, rosy cheeks, and ruby lips were the picture of health. She was barefoot, and a white ribbon circled one ankle.

Rachael played in the sparkling dust of the grotto. She danced to music only she could hear. When she saw Solomon, she continued to dance in circles around and around him. He turned to watch her dizzying spins. She was breathtaking. Her laughter echoed in the grotto.

She sat down in front of Solomon sending a billowing cloud of glittering dust in all directions.

Solomon sat down with her. “Hello, Rachael, my name is Solomon.”

“I know, the angel told me you were coming.” She pushed her dress tail over her knees and folded her hands in her lap. She had the high pitched juvenile voice of a six-year-old.

“How did you get up here?” Solomon asked.

“My friend brought me,” she responded.

“Which friend?” he asked.

“The one with furry legs and pointy ears,” she giggled.

That’s got to be the satyr, Solomon thought. “He seems like a nice friend.”

“Yes,” she said twisting her arms around to lock at the elbows like a shy six-year-old.

“And where is your friend now?”

She turned around and then looked back at Solomon, “I don’t know.” She answered in a sing song fashion.

“Well, where’s the angel?” Solomon asked smiling.

Rachael turned around again. “There she is,” she said pointing towards the entrance to the grotto.

Solomon looked. “Sarah,” he said standing up, “are you Rachael’s angel?”

“That’s how she sees me.” Sarah turned to Rachael and said, “I have curly red hair, a white robe, and very large wings. Isn’t that right, Rachael?”

Rachael grinned real big and enthusiastically nodded yes.

“I’ve always thought you were an angel,” Solomon chuckled, “and this confirms it.”

A look of worry spread over his face. “Rachael can’t go back to her family. She was living in horrible conditions. Her family believes that she has a demon.”

Sarah said, “Oh, she’ll be fine with her family. I assure ye things will be very different for her when ye take her home.” Sarah had a mischievous look on her face.

“Really?” Solomon was curious.

“Aye, she’ll be takin’ her furry friend back with her. He’ll be keepin’ the whole family in line. It will be good for their spiritual growth,” Sarah laughed at the thought.

A slow grin spread over Solomon’s face. He raised his eyebrows as his grin turned into a toothy smile, and he nodded, “That’s good.” He looked back at Rachael and said, “I’ve heard stories about a bleeding problem. Do you know anything about that?”

“Aye, Rachael was able to heal herself,” Sarah said. “I helped her earth body suspend animation so her soul could do the healing. Turtle gave her syphilis and gonorrhea, but it’s gone now. The world sees Rachael through her mental disability, but her soul is whole and healthy. It is pure and beautiful. She has already attained greatness in the spiritual world. We are blessed to be in her presence.”

Solomon stared at Rachael. “How...how did...” he stammered.

Sarah smiled, “Ye know that yer spirit body already exists in the Light World, right?”

Solomon nodded, “Yes, I remember you said that.”

Sarah continued as Solomon watched Rachael dance, “Yer soul is attached to two bodies. Ye have a temporary physical body and an eternal spirit body. During spiritual healing, the imperfect physical body aligns with the perfect spirit body. Rachael’s spirit healed her of the disease that Turtle gave her. Her mental disability is another matter. The innocent ones who suffer have sacrificed themselves for others. The sacrifice is made in the Light World by the spirit body.”

“I have wondered why God allows the innocent ones to suffer,” Solomon said.

“It is a mystery of God,” Sarah said. “Only souls with great spiritual capacity can make the sacrifice for others. The decision is made in the Light World,” Sarah said. “It is between God and the innocent one. The innocent one beseeches God to allow them to become a sacrifice. In these cases we can never know the reason on the earth side of the veil.”

Solomon looked down at his hands and said, “Sometimes my patients are healed. How does that happen?”

Sarah said, “Ye’re not always privy to the actions and decisions of yer soul. Yer soul can do things without yer knowing what it’s doing...just like yer soul makes yer heart beat without yer knowing that. Ye are a healer, Solomon. It’s not something ye do; it’s something ye are. Ye’re a channel for healing.”

Solomon stood up and walked around the cavern in thought. He touched the blue ribbon in Rachael’s hair. “And Turtle won’t be able to hurt her again?” he asked.

“Absolutely not,” Sarah said. “Ye saw her friend in yer vision. He will never leave her side as long as she’s on earth. Because of her unselfish suffering, God will use her to bless others. She will live the rest of her days in happiness until her physical body grows old and releases her soul to soar in the highest heaven of holiness. There she will bless all the worlds of God for all eternity.

Solomon sat silently watching Rachael play with the hound. He’d never seen such joy and purity.

Sarah said, “Now then, take Rachael and go. Take her back to her family.”

The startling sound of trumpet blasts reverberated off the grotto walls. Solomon ducked his head. Then he looked at Rachael and Sarah. Rachael was oblivious to it, but Sarah had dropped to her knees and bowed her head. An ethereal voice rang out in the cavern. It was the one that he’d heard the night that he saw ribbons of silk connecting him to everyone. “Solomon, in the Name of God, the Most High, thy soul is adorned with the second key. The divine secret of healing is thine.”

Solomon turned round and round as the voice echoed from the grotto’s dazzling walls.

Sarah’s face was ablaze with ecstasy. She appeared as the luminous winged creature that Rachael had seen. Tears of joy glistened in her eyes as her wings expanded and shivered with excitement. Oh Solomon, it is the voice of the Pure One.

He heard Sarah’s unspoken words in his head. I don’t know who that is, he thought.

"Ye will know soon,” she responded.

She’s a graceful creature, Solomon thought as Rachael stepped up on a log lying across the trail. She stretched out her arms and walked it like a balance beam. At the end she spun around and walked back in the other direction. Solomon took her hand and said, “It will be dark soon. Let’s keep walking, Rachael.”

“Okay,” she said happily.

The grassy meadows seemed so far away from Mortimer Hollow, yet within minutes they were passing the Watson’s homestead. As they neared the Hicks’ property, the hound dogs ran out to greet Rachael. She stooped over for doggie kisses. Ruth saw them from upstairs. She didn’t recognize Rachael at first. She ran downstairs and across the yard. She stopped twenty feet from them.

“Hi Ruth,” Solomon said.

“Hey,” she responded. She was staring at Rachael. “What happened to her?”

“Doesn’t she look pretty?” Solomon said.

“Yeah, how’d you clean her up so good?”

Solomon didn’t respond to the question. “I want you to let Rachael sleep with you tonight, okay?

And tomorrow, I want you to take her to school with you. Will you do that?”

Ruth said, “Yeah, if Mama will let me.”

Mama and Grandma Della stood on the front porch. Solomon walked up on the porch and said, “I’ve told Ruth to let Rachael sleep with her tonight, and she’s going to take her to school with her tomorrow.”

Since Solomon hadn’t posed that as a question, there was nothing to say. Ora nodded in agreement.

“Where’s Turtle?” Solomon asked.

“He’s gone with his daddy,” Ora answered.

Solomon spoke sternly to Ora and Della. “The so-called issue of blood is gone. Turtle raped Rachael and gave her a venereal disease. Do you know what that is?”

Ora’s mouth dropped open. Della put her head down and went back in the house.

“Good, I take it that you both know what that is,” Solomon said. “It won’t happen again, right?

Ora shook her head no.

Rachael and Ruth ran past them into the house and up the stairs to the girl’s bedroom.

“Tell Turtle he’s got syphilis and gonorrhea,” Solomon said. “Tell him to get up with me. I’ll give him a shot to kill it.” He turned and walked away. He didn’t feel like being congenial with them.

Copyright © 2008 by Robbin Renee Bridges
Coping with Grief through Afterlife Communication
http://www.spirit-sanctuary.org/

Chapter 16 - Cleaning Up a Dirty Abortion

2008-10-11T15:55:00.000-07:00

September 1948

Not many things spiced up the conversation of the boys hanging around the post office as much as a pretty girl, especially one that was brand new to the cove.

Harold Reed had seen her when she’d asked for directions to Deer Lick Hollow. Harold worked at Martin’s Gas Station out on Black Fort Highway. “She’s the purdiest thang I ever seen in my whole life,” he said to his buddies, “and I tell you she is built like a brick shithouse. She asked me if I knowed where Deer Lick Holler was, and I swear to God, my mouth wouldn’t work. Hot damn!” he said stomping his foot on the sidewalk. “She was drivin’ a red convertible with white leather upholstery.” Harold flopped down on the bench and held his chest like he was having a heart attack. “Whew doggie!”

Elroy Hopper leaned over and spit tobacco juice on the holly bush behind him. “How come she’s askin’ about Deer Lick?”

“Damned if I know,” said Harold.

Billy Case came out of the post office looking cocky. “Okay I got the scoop,” he said. “Preacher Moss says she come in here.”

Preacher Moss was also the postmaster. He’d said, “She’s Jerry Banks niece. Her name is Becky Banks.”

Solomon walked up with a package balanced on his shoulder. Ma was sending it back to a supplier in Maine. “Morning fellas,” he said. They were so engrossed in their discussion that they didn’t hear him. Their guffaws almost drowned out the sound of a passing dump truck.

Solomon went inside. Preacher Moss was sorting mail behind the counter. “Morning, Solomon,” he said.

“Morning Preacher, Ma wants to send this back to Herb Growers in Maine. How much money you need?”

Preacher Moss put the package on his scale. “That’s twenty-four cents, Solomon,” he said taking stamps out of the drawer. “Are those bench jockeys still out there talking about the new girl?”

“I don’t know what they’re talking about, but they’re rowdier than Saturday night at the pool hall,” Solomon laughed.

“Well, she is a pretty little thing. That’s for sure,” Preacher Moss said.

“Who is?” Solomon asked.

“Jerry Banks niece,” he said. “She’s staying with him. I invited her to church. She would definitely increase the attendance of men in church,” the preacher cackled.

Solomon smiled and stepped outside to watch Harold’s performance.

He was demonstrating how the new girl walked. He put one hand on his head and one on his hip as he strutted in a circle. “Rooster Cove’s never seen nothing like her,” he said. “She’s got prudy red hair she wears real sexy.” He put a finger to his temple, “What’s my wife call that hairdo? Oh yeah...she calls it the fuck-me-look!”

“Ooooweee!” Billy Case hollered.

“Yeah, them red curls,” Harold continued, “they’s hangin’ over one eye, and when she got into that red convertible, she slung ‘um back. And I tell you...she’s got some mighty fine melons.” He held his hands in front of his chest like he was holding two cantaloupes.

Solomon grinned and shook his head, “You ain’t right, Harold.”

“I’d be right if she’d let me sample them melons,” Harold howled at himself.

As soon as Solomon walked in the house, Ma said, “Son, there’s a sandwich on the table. Eat it quick. We got to git over to Pearl McGee’s. She sent word that Ruby’s havin’ a miscarriage and burning up with fever.”

Solomon poured a glass of milk. “I’ll bet Pearl’s done one of her abortions on her.”

“Yeah, that’s what I figure,” Ma said. “Get up the doctoring stuff ye’ll need.”

Solomon shoved the last bite of his sandwich into his mouth as he walked out of the kitchen. He packed disinfectant, bundles of sterile instruments for a D & C, hypodermic syringes and needles, antibiotic, and some lidocaine he’d ordered before Dr. Wall died. He checked the light on his surgical headlamp and put in a few extra batteries. Ma added an armful of clean towels and sheets.

“Is that it?” she asked.

“I think so,” Solomon said carrying the box out to the truck.

Rooster Cove’s main drag dead ended at the old logging road into Deer Lick Hollow. Jerry Banks’ cabin sat where the logging road turned into a path. Solomon parked his truck behind the tomato red convertible.

“Whose car is that?” Ma asked.

“It belongs to Jerry’s niece,” Solomon answered.

“I’ve never met her,” Ma said.

“Me either,” he said.

Solomon got the heaviest things out of the truck and gave Ma a few light ones. It was a quarter mile hike up to Pearl’s house. He wasn’t sure how much longer Ma would feel like hiking in the mountains.

“Are you going to be okay?” he asked.

She nodded yes as she grabbed her walking stick out of the back of the truck.

The smell of putrefying blood hit Solomon in the face when he walked through the door. Warm blood always made him want to heave, but the addition of death and decay in the hot cabin made him hold his breath until he felt dizzy.

Ma followed him in. She caught a whiff and walked back out on the porch. She took a deep breath and went back into the cabin leaving the front door open.

In a back bedroom, Ruby lay on a four poster bed that sagged in the middle. She was buried under mounds of quilts. The room was dark. The only window in it backed up to the mountain, and a curtain was drawn over it. Solomon pulled back the curtain and raised the window. He hoped to create a cross draft.

Ma said, “Pearl, clean off the kitchen table and wash it down with lye soap. Wash out some of them pots and boil water in that big one.” She pointed to a big blue-spackled enamel pot.

Solomon pulled the quilts away from Ruby’s face and touched her cheeks and forehead with the back of his hand. She was burning hot. Her eyes had sunk back in their sockets, and her skin was dry and flaky. She’s dehydrated, he thought reaching for her wrist. Her pulse was bounding.

“Where do you hurt, Ruby?” he asked.

“Got a powerful hurt in my female parts,” she answered, “but I hurt all over though.” Her breathing was labored and wet sounding. It reminded him of death rattles. She was worse off than he’d expected her to be. She needed to be in a hospital.

“I ain’t goin’ to no hospital, Solomon,” she said.

Solomon smiled at her. “You reading my mind, Ruby?”

She managed a weak smile. “Just tellin’ ye that to start.”

Ma Patsy came in with a wet wash rag and a basin of soapy water. She wiped Ruby’s face and neck with the wet rag.

“That feels good,” Ruby said.

I figured it would,” Ma said to her.

“Let me get some of these quilts off,” Solomon said as he peeled them away. These were some of Widow Pearl’s older quilts. She’d made one a year ever since she was a girl. When Solomon pulled back the last one, the stench made his eyes water. He clamped his teeth together and held his breath like that might protect him from the warm fetid cloud. He could see that the bedding under Ruby was soiled with bloody pus and rags were pressed between her legs.

Ruby looked embarrassed. “I’m sorry. I know I stank.”

Ma Patsy said, “Don’t you worry about that, hon.” She reached for Ruby’s shoulder and pulled her towards the edge of the bed. “Come on over here. Let’s get you out of this mess.” Ruby scooted over to the edge of the bed leaving the bloody rags in the middle. Ma whispered to Solomon, “Go hep Pearl. I’ll git Ruby cleaned up.”

Pearl was busy cleaning the table and boiling water. Solomon went out and sat on the front porch steps. He took a deep breath of fresh air. The sun had already gone behind the mountain. Dark comes early in the hollows. He hadn’t been back out here since that night four months ago when he’d brought Ruby home from the bootlegger’s joint. This was where he’d first seen the silken ribbons connecting everyone.

Ma hollered, “Pearl, I chunked those bloody sheets out the back winder. Ye might want to do something with ‘um before some animal carries ‘um off.”

Pearl had water boiling on the cook stove. Solomon didn’t really need it. His instruments were already sterile, but he could toss the dirty ones into it after he’d finished with them. He pumped water into a basin in the kitchen sink. He took his watch off, put it in his pocket, and washed his hands.

He opened a pack of sterile sheets and spread two of them out on the table. He opened a bundle of towels and folded three together to make a cushion for Ruby’s hips. He placed it at the end of the table. It would elevate her pelvis and rotate it into a better position for the procedure.

He ripped open the bags of sterile surgical instruments and laid them on a towel on a small table that he’d pulled up to the kitchen table. He set up the portable stirrups Pa Shiver had made for Ma to use on house calls. They were older than Solomon, but they still did the trick. He put his low stool at the end of the table.

“Pearl,” Solomon asked, “how far along was Ruby’s pregnancy?”

“Three months maybe,” she answered. She wouldn’t look at him. She had a jagged scar on her right cheek from a dog bite when she was ten years old. If she was upset, the scar turned red…like it was now.

“Pearl, I’m not judging you,” he said.

“Solomon, ye know I hepped a lots a girls that wuz in trouble.” Tears welled up in her eyes.

“Nothin’ like this ever happened. That’s a God’s truth. You know I hain’t never hurt none a my girls.”

“I know that Pearl.” He knew she meant well. “Will you show me what you used?”

She reached into her apron pocket and pulled out a piece of heavy duty wire about six inches long. One end was curled into a loop. The other end was rounded. “See, it ain’t even sharp.”

“Yes, I see. How long has it been since you used it on Ruby?” he asked.

“Two days,” she answered.

“I want to give you something to use that’s safer than the wire,” he said pulling a small amber bottle out of his shirt pocket. He opened it and let her look inside. It looked like a thin twig about two inches long. There was a small disc on one end with a string attached at the disc. He put the top back on the bottle and handed it to her.

She grinned as she held the little bottle up to the light of a kerosene lantern. “Well, I’ll be.”

“Keep it in the bottle so it stays clean,” he said. “It’s called laminaria. It’s been used to induce abortions for thousands of years. It’s dried seaweed. You insert it into the cervix up to the disc and leave the string hanging out. It gradually absorbs water and swells up. It’s a painless way to dilate a cervix. Let it stay a day or so, and then pull it out by the string. When you dilate a woman’s cervix, it starts contractions, and whatever’s inside is expelled. Now don’t use it if a woman’s past her tenth week,” he cautioned. “The further along a pregnancy is, the more a woman bleeds.”

“I understand,” she said. “I shorely do apreeshate this.” She smiled so big her dentures clicked.

“You’re welcome, Pearl. It can only be used once,” he said. “Let me know when you need another.”

Solomon unpacked the hypodermic syringes and took two little vials out of his bag. One contained penicillin powder, and the other had distilled water. He drew up the water into the glass chamber and injected it into the vial with the penicillin powder. Then he shook it until he had a milky suspension. He pulled it back into the glass chamber of the hypodermic. He dipped gauze into alcohol and wrapped it around the needle. In a second hypodermic with an extra long needle, he drew up lidocaine.

Solomon walked into the bedroom where Ma had managed to clean up both Ruby and the bed. He was holding up the hypodermic with penicillin. Ruby grimaced.

“You need this, hon.” Ma helped her roll over and exposed her hip. Solomon swiped the muscle above Ruby’s buttock with alcohol. Then he stabbed the needle into her injecting the life-saving penicillin.

Solomon held Ruby’s arm and slowly walked her to the kitchen.

“Pull up your gown and sit here at the end of the table,” he said patting the towels.

She sat on the table first with one hip and then the other. Using her hands, she scooted back.

“That’s good,” he said. “I need you to lie back and put your feet in these stirrups.”

“Damn good thing I’m not modest,” she said.

Solomon didn’t respond to her comment. He held one of her hands and put his other hand between her shoulder blades. “Relax and let me help you.” He knew she was hurting even though she still joked about things. She relaxed and let him do it for her.

Solomon adjusted the stirrups to a comfortable height for her. “Hon, scoot down towards the end of the table,” he said. She tried, but it was too painful. He pulled her hips towards him. “All the way to the end,” he said moving the towels to increase the angle of her hips for surgery. Then he draped her legs with sterile sheets.

He strapped the surgical headlamp on and turned on the light. He moved the reflector so that it would shine directly on Ruby’s bottom. He sat down on his stool and pulled on a pair of gloves.

Foul bloody discharge oozed out of her. Solomon picked up the large rubber bulb with a long glass nozzle. It was filled with an iodine solution. He pushed the nozzle high into Ruby’s vagina and squeezed forcing the reddish-brown solution into her. As it washed out of her, he caught it in a small kidney shaped basin that he held against her. The pungent smell of iodine and the nauseating smell of blood and pus caught in the back of his throat. He heaved as his eyes watered.

Solomon doubted he’d ever get over his reaction to smells. He could look at absolutely anything without any reaction, but smells got to him every time. He stood up to insert his right index and middle fingers into Ruby. He pushed against her cervix as he palpated her abdomen with his left hand.

Ruby sucked in her breath, “Oh God that hurts.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I need to know the size and position of your uterus. A uterus can tilt forward or backwards. Yours tilts backwards.”

“Is that bad?” she asked.

“No, it’s fine. I just needed to know before I start the D & C.”

He sat down and painted Ruby’s perineum with iodine. He spread her labia and carefully inserted the steel speculum into her. He locked it in position for a clear view of her cervix, a donut-shaped muscle at the entrance of her uterus. The iodine had stained it reddish-brown.

Solomon picked up the hypodermic containing the lidocaine. “Ruby, you’re going to feel a stick,” he said just before he pushed the needle into the tight surface of her cervix. It formed a dimple, and then it popped through. Ruby squeezed the edge of the table until her knuckles turned white. Her toes curled under, and her legs trembled uncontrollably. Solomon nodded to Ma and Pearl, “Rub her legs to relax them.” Pearl looked pale. She was staring at the long needle. “Pearl, don’t look at it,” he said.

Solomon stuck Ruby’s cervix several times. “Are you alright?” he asked.

She said, “I…I guess so.”

Solomon waited for her cervix to numb, and then he carefully passed his tenaculum through the hole in the speculum. He grasped Ruby’s cervix with it and locked it so it wouldn’t slip. The instrument had pinchers like a lobster claw. He pulled it forward and up which brought the cervix into position to access its opening. He inserted a uterine sound to measure the depth of her uterus.

Ma Patsy grinned admiring Solomon’s proficiency with the surgical instruments. Pearl was astonished with the whole procedure.

Solomon looked up at Ruby as he inserted the first dilator. He said, “You’ll feel some pressure now, and you’ll have some cramping like when you have your period.”

“Okay,” she nodded.

Solomon inserted larger and larger dilators until finally he said, “I can start scraping inside your uterus now. While I’m scraping, I’ll be listening for a gritty sound. That’s how I’ll know when everything’s cleaned off,” he said. “I need everybody to be real quiet so I can hear what I’m doing.”

During the procedure, you could have heard a pin drop. It became a meditation for Solomon as he placed the products of conception into the basin one by one. A tiny hand held on to an ankle. Solomon knew that it was a random electrical response of the fetal muscles, but he felt a jolt in his stomach as he removed it. He could see that the sight of it bothered Pearl. She’d never seen her handiwork from this perspective.

When he finished, he chunked the last of the instruments into the water and pressed a maternity pad against Ruby. “I’ll leave enough of these pads to get you through a few days,” he said, “and I’ll be back out here tomorrow afternoon to give you another shot of penicillin.” He glanced at Ma, and she helped him slide Ruby up the table. They were so used to working together that they appeared to read each other’s mind. In unison they pulled the sheet up. Solomon said, “There now, you can relax your legs.”

He took the pot of dirty instruments and needles out back and drained the water off being careful not to lose anything. Pearl and Ruby talked while Solomon and Ma Patsy packed up. When they had finished, Solomon said, “Ruby, I need to see how much you’re bleeding before we get you off the table.” He lifted the sheet and peeled back the pad. There was a bloodstain about the size of a silver dollar on it. “That looks good.”

“Are you flirtin’ with me, Solomon?” Ruby flashed a mischievous smile at him.

“I’m sorry,” he blushed, “I didn’t’ think about how that sounded.”

“I’m just joshin’ ye,” Ruby said. She sat up laughing and swung her legs off the table. A wave of nausea and dizziness swept over her. “Ooooh,” she moaned.

“Wait a minute,” Solomon said reaching for her, “I’ll carry you to your bed. Then he whispered to Pearl, “If she gets to bleeding heavy, send somebody to get me.”

Ruby shut her eyes and grunted when he picked her up. “That tenderness should ease up tomorrow,” he told her. When he laid her on the bed, he touched her cheek and said, “I’ll see you tomorrow evening.”

The hike back to the truck made Ma pant. Solomon slowed his pace. Through the trees, they could see that lights were still on in Jerry’s cabin. Unlike Widow Pearl, Jerry had electric power. Twelve bar blues floated over the hillside from a record player. On a bedroom shade, the silhouette of a curvaceous woman undulated to the music.

Ma said, “Jerry’s niece must like to dance.”

Solomon stumbled over a rock. “Well, she’s got my attention,” he said.

“Yeah, I noticed,” Ma said laughing.

Copyright © 2008 by Robbin Renee Bridges
Coping with Grief through Afterlife Communication
http://www.spirit-sanctuary.org/

Chapter 17 - An Aborted Baby's Afterlife

2008-10-11T13:55:00.000-07:00

September 1948

Solomon parked in front of Jerry Banks’ cabin for the second day in a row. A pink and orange afternoon sky spotlighted the fact that the leaves were beginning to turn their colors. In another month the hillside would be blazing with reds, oranges and yellows. The dogwoods in Jerry’s yard were already turning burgundy. Solomon had hoped the new girl would be outside, but she wasn’t. He was anxious to get a look at this beauty.

As he set off up the path to Pearl’s, he said, “Sarah, do you have time to walk with me?”

“Do hoppy toads jump?” she joked.

“Aah good,” he smiled.

“I heard ye wondering about the aborted baby’s soul,” Sarah said. “I figured I’d let you get to a quiet spot in yer day before I answered ye.” She sighed real big and said, “Okay now, ye know that God emits souls, right?”

“I’ve heard you say that.” He looked sheepishly. “I guess I understand.”

“All souls come from God,” she said. “God gives off souls.”

Solomon looked perplexed. “I’m sorry I’m so slow.”

“Think of it this way,” she said. “Humans breathe air out, and they breathe air in.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Yes and...?”

“God breathes souls out, and He breathes souls in.” Sarah smiled and waited.

“Okay,” he said nodding.

She continued, “At the moment of conception when a sperm penetrates an egg, a pinpoint of light and energy is released. It’s detectable only to the soul preordained for that body.”

“So we don’t choose the body we have?” he questioned.

“No,” Sarah said, “God does the choosing.” She paused again to make sure that he was still following her. “The soul and its body are attracted to each other like two strong magnets.”

Solomon stopped walking and looked up at the sky through the treetops. “Since God does the choosing, I imagine he gets angry at people like me and Ma and Pearl and Ruby.”

“Anger is not part of the equation,” she said. “Before Ruby had the abortion, God knew that she would have it. He knows the future. He also knows the years of confusion and hardship that led Ruby to her decision. God wanted her to triumph over her obstacles, but she didn’t…at least not yet. But God still loves her, and He still wants her to use her freewill to overcome her difficulties. God is patience. He is compassionate. He is merciful. God is love.”

“And as for the soul of the fetus,” Sarah continued, “it is completely happy. It couldn’t care less that its physical body was destroyed. It has a perfect spirit body that’s beautiful and healthy. And because of its innocence, the soul of the fetus immediately returns to God, which is the final destination for all souls.”

“And by the way,” she added, “the soul of every fetus feels an attachment to its mother. The spirit body of Ruby’s fetus will lovingly enfold her and Pearl for the rest of their days on earth, and it will greet them when they pass into the afterlife. Their reunion will be happy and joyful.”

The voice of the Pure One penetrated the veil between heaven and earth. “Glad tidings, Solomon.” The words seemed to echo off every tree in the forest. “Thy soul hath been graced with the third key. Thine is the knowledge of the origin and destiny of the soul.”

Sarah stood transfixed by the voice and by a being that she alone could see. She raised her face and her hands to the sky and listened with tears in her eyes. She dropped to her knees and said, “Yes, Pure One.” She had answered a question heard only by her.

Ruby sat on the front steps and watched Solomon walk up the pathway. He smiled at her from way down the path. “How ya feeling today?” he shouted.

“Feeling fine,” she shouted back at him grinning. And what a fine specimen of a man you are, she thought.

Ruby’s hair and clothes were clean, and she smelled of perfumed soap. Her cheeks had a rosy glow. Solomon sat down on the steps with her. “Yes, I can tell you’re feeling much better,” he smiled.

“Thanks to you,” she said. “Solomon, you are the kindest man I’ve ever met in my life. The woman you fall in love with will be very, very lucky.”

He smiled and dropped his head in modesty as he loaded the hypodermic with penicillin. “Thank you, Ruby. That’s a sweet thing to say.” He pinched her upper arm, “Little stick,” he said. “Are you cramping or bleeding much today?” he asked as he put everything away.

“Naw,” she said, “it's about gone.”

“That’s good,” he said. “After your next period, I want you to come to the office and let Ma or me fit you with a diaphragm. Abortions and D & C’s are two things you don’t want to have if you can keep from it.”

“It wasn’t too bad,” she said. “I just waited too long. I didn’t want Grandma to call you, but I’m sure glad she did.”

“I’m glad she did too,” he said, “but you need to avoid an unwanted pregnancy to start with. Use a condom or a diaphragm. The diaphragm is something you have total control over. A man doesn’t even have to know you have it in. Unwanted pregnancies are hard on a woman,” he continued, “and abortions and D & C’s have their own risks. For instance, that D & C last night could give you problems with placental attachment in the future.”

She looked puzzled.

“D & C’s put you at a higher risk for placenta previa,” he said.

“I don’t know what that is, but it sounds bad,” she said.

Solomon raised his eyebrows, “It can be,” he said, “and abortions have their own set of problems. When a woman gets pregnant, her body makes huge hormone shifts as it prepares to support the fetus. Then when an abortion suddenly stops the process, all those hormone enriched organs are left floundering. Eventually they’re more vulnerable to cancer.”

Ruby’s eyes widened and her head bobbed backwards.

“The solution is not to be in the situation to start with. Think smart about your body, Ruby. Don’t just react to the moment with a man. Be prepared to take care of yourself.”

“Are you telling me that I might get cancer from my abortion?”

“I just want to caution you that it’s not as simple as it seems,” he said. “I honestly don’t imagine you’ll ever have any problems from the abortion, but I want to impress on you the importance of protecting yourself from ever being in the situation again.”

“Okay, I’ll come get a diaphragm next week,” she said.

“No, not next week, go through a complete menstrual cycle,” he said. “Come in after your next period.”

“That’s right. I remember you said that. Okay, I will,” she said, “I promise.”

“And no sex for six weeks,” he added.

“What? You got to be kidding!”

He grinned and shook his no. “I’m not kidding.”

Ruby rolled her eyes and said, “Good grief!”

Copyright © 2008 by Robbin Renee Bridges
Coping with Grief through Afterlife Communication
http://www.spirit-sanctuary.org/

Chapter 18 - Solomon Meets Becky

2008-10-11T11:51:00.000-07:00

September 1948

When Solomon got back to his truck, the new girl was sitting outside on the front steps. She wanted to find out whose truck had been parked at the end of the logging road for the past two evenings.

Be still my heart, Solomon thought as he stared at her. She was every bit the vision of loveliness that Harold Reed had suggested. She was wearing pink short shorts and a matching halter-top with a bow-tie in the back. She got up and walked down the pathway to his truck.

He stuck his hand out, “Solomon Sepaugh,” he said.

“Becky Banks,” she said, “pleased to meetcha.”

Solomon concentrated on not letting his eyes rest on her cleavage. Look at her eyes. Look at her beautiful green eyes, he thought. “Nice car,” he said.

“Thanks, my parents gave it to me when I went off to college.”

“Really nice,” he said bending down to look inside. The ragtop was up.

“I like it,” she said.

For a second there was the familiar lull in conversation common when two strangers meet. Then Solomon asked, “Where do you go to college?”

“I go to State Teacher’s College over in Boone,” she responded.

“That’s good,” he said, “but it’s September already. I guess you don’t plan to stay long.”

“Oh, I’m taking this semester off.” She hesitated a moment. “I needed a change of scenery for right now.” She nervously put her foot on a log and scraped the moss with her sandal. Her pink toenail polish matched her shorts. “I’m staying for a while with Uncle Jerry.”

Becky looked up at him. Her long, auburn mane covered one of her incredible green eyes. A toss of her head uncovered it. She seemed to blink her eyes in slow motion. She has bedroom eyes, Solomon thought.

“I see,” he said, but he didn’t really see. He wondered what the change of scenery was for. He could tell she was anxious about something. She fidgeted with a pencil and an eraser cap while they talked. “What do you enjoy doing?” he asked. “There are some real pretty places around here. Do you like to hike to waterfalls?”

“That sounds fun,” she said. “I haven’t done much hiking, but I’d like to try it.” She bent over to swat a bug off her leg, and the weight of her breasts shifted. When she stood up, her cleavage was more pronounced.

Solomon’s eyes rested on her breasts a second too long. She noticed and demurely lowered her head as she cut her eyes up at him and smiled. Being coy was part of her femininity.

Solomon asked her, “How’s your uncle doing?”

“Oh, he does real well. There’s not much he can’t do for himself,” she said.

Sergeant Jerry Banks was thirty years old when he came home from the war as a paraplegic. He’d been in Europe only two months, when he took enemy fire on Omaha Beach in the Battle of Normandy. That was June 6, 1944. His floating tank had swamped in the surf, and he had to get out or drown. He took two enemy rounds before he reached the shore. The surf washed him up on the beach with paralyzed legs. He dragged himself out of the water with his elbows. For hours the battle raged around him. He expected to die every second. Eventually, medics carried him to safety. He was awarded the Purple Heart, and he went home with a wheel chair and a colostomy bag.

Jerry had first come to Rooster Cove when he’d worked for the W. P. A. He’d helped to build the post office and to pave six miles of road into the cove. He called it God’s Place. He liked the isolation and the quiet. The fishing was good, and the hunting was better. After he left the hospital in Washington, D. C., Jerry sent his brother, Horace Banks, Becky’s father, to Rooster Cove to buy some land and to hire a contractor to build his cabin in the woods. He had it specially equipped for his disability.

Jerry kept to himself mostly. The folks of Rooster Cove rarely saw him. He routinely went to the V. A. Hospital for his health care, so he didn’t know anything about the medical system in the cove or who was responsible for it.

Folks would occasionally hear him target practicing with his rifle. While he was in service, his buddies called him a Tennessee sharpshooter. He was good with his rifle, no doubt about that. He had a hunting stand that he’d rigged with a pulley that would take him from the wheelchair up to a platform in the tree. If he got anything big like a deer, he’d telephone some of his neighbors to come get it and butcher it. He never killed anything that somebody didn’t get to eat. Most often, he just sat in his tree stand and watched the wildlife around his cabin.

“Jerry’s in there fixing supper right now,” Becky said. “He’s a real good cook.”

“I’m sure he enjoys your company,” Solomon said.

“Would you like to come in for a glass of tea?” Becky asked. “I know Uncle Jerry’s peeking out the windows trying to figure out who I’m talking to.”

“Sure,” Solomon replied as he followed her up the pathway. She is a knock out, he thought. The pink halter-top accentuated her pretty back as it narrowed to her waist. Her perfect bottom moved under her pink short shorts as she climbed the front porch steps. She had deliberately walked ahead of him. Her combination of seduction and shyness drew men like a magnet. Yet she had an aloofness that let men know she was off limits. She was just to look at…not to touch. She wasn’t forward enough to be a tease. She was provocative but unavailable.

Jerry was taking cornbread out of the oven as they came in the door. “It smells good, Uncle Jerry.”

He put the cornbread on a trivet on the table. “You must be the owner of the mystery truck.” He reached out his hand to Solomon and said, “Jerry Banks here.”

“Solomon Sepaugh,” he said as they shook hands.

Becky poured a glass of sweet tea for Solomon.

They exchanged the usual amenities. Jerry had never heard of Ma Patsy. Solomon told them that he lived with his grandmother and that he had no other family in the area. He wanted Becky to know that he was an eligible bachelor without coming right out and saying it. No questions were asked about his personal life, or his education, or his job. Jerry wasn’t one to pry.

Jerry did ask Solomon, “How old are you?” He was sizing him up as a possible suitor for his pretty and recently brokenhearted niece.

“I’m twenty-one,” Solomon answered.

“So am I,” Becky said smiling.

“Stay for supper?” Jerry asked.

“Thanks, but I’m sure Ma’s got supper waiting on me,” he said, “but I appreciate the invitation.” Solomon looked at Becky and said, “I’d best be getting back. Thanks for the tea.”

When they walked out on the porch, he asked her, “Did you know there’s a lake over the ridge behind Jerry’s cabin?”

“No, I didn’t know that,” she replied.

“If you’d like to see it, I could come back on Saturday,” he said, “and we could hike over there.”

“Yeah, that would be fun. I’ll pack a picnic lunch,” she offered.

“That sounds good. What time?” he asked.

“Ten o’clock?” she said.

“I’ll be here.” Solomon trotted down the path and got into his truck. He looked back at her standing there on the porch. God, she is gorgeous, he thought, and she has an uncanny resemblance to Sarah O’Hara.

Back in the cabin, Uncle Jerry said, “He seems like a nice enough fellow.”

“Yes he does,” Becky said.

Jerry teased, “The two of you make a good looking couple. He’s about as handsome as you are beautiful.”

She wagged her finger at her uncle. “I think I’ve got enough to worry about right now without complicating it with a beau. Besides, I still hope Robbie will come to his senses.” She began setting the supper table. “Solomon asked me to walk to some lake with him. He’s coming back Saturday at ten o’clock.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” Jerry nodded approvingly.

Solomon sat down at the supper table. He loaded his plate with broccoli and cheese casserole. He was grinning…but not talking. Ma kept watching him.

He laughed, “What?”

“That’s my question,” she said.

“I’m just eating my supper.” Dimples dotted his grin.

“What’s her name?” Ma asked.

“Becky Banks,” he said

“Well, tell me about her,” she prodded.

“I thought you’d never ask,” he said.

Copyright © 2008 by Robbin Renee Bridges
Coping with Grief through Afterlife Communication
http://www.spirit-sanctuary.org/

Chapter 19 - If the Truth Be Told

2008-10-11T09:53:00.000-07:00

September 1948

On Saturday morning Solomon was up at the crack of dawn. He woke thinking about spending the day with Becky. It was a perfect fall day. The air was crisp and dry. He showered, shaved, and went downstairs. Ma was still sleeping in so he started breakfast.

When she smelled the coffee brewing, she came downstairs. “Ye’re bright-eyed and bushy-tailed this morning,” she said.

“It’s too pretty outside to lie in bed,” he said taking the toast out of the oven. He grabbed the honey out of the cabinet and put it on the table.

Ma helped herself to some cheese omelet. “Be careful in them woods, and remember the old mine on Buzzard Mountain. Don’t be messin’ around it.”

“Ma, I’m twenty-one,” he laughed.

“I know, son. I say things like that for myself.”

“Just don’t worry,” he said smiling.

Solomon cleaned up breakfast dishes and put a few more items into his backpack. Girls need toilet paper in the woods, he thought as he added it.

He parked his truck behind Becky’s car and walked up the path to Jerry’s cabin.

Becky stepped out on the porch in denim pants and a white middy blouse. She’d left the top buttons undone. A white silk scarf was tied around one wrist. She planned to use it to pull her hair up if she got too warm. “Morning,” she said.

Solomon grinned and said, “Good morning.”

“I have a thermos of iced tea and sandwiches and apples,” she said. “Is there room in your backpack?”

“Sure,” he said. Solomon set the toilet paper on the kitchen table to make room in his backpack for the thermos of tea. He put in the two bags of food, and then he put the toilet paper back on top.

He didn’t think anything about it, but Becky thought, I’d hold it all day before I’d ask him for toilet paper.

There was no path. Not many people went over Buzzard Mountain on the way to Lake Blarney, but it was a short cut from Jerry’s cabin. Solomon had walked these hills since he was little. He’d walked them with Pa Shiver, and then he’d walked them alone after Pa died. It was fun to be able to share them with Becky.

“Lake Blarney’s on the other side of Buzzard Mountain,” he said pointing to the hill behind Jerry’s cabin. “Lot’s of folks from the cove go there to fish. And in the summertime, it’s good for swimming. The climb on this side is steeper than the other side,” he said. “We’re taking the short cut this morning.”

“Shortcuts are good,” she said already sounding out of breath.

Solomon smiled at her and said, “Holler at me if I get to walking too fast.” He offered his hand as she climbed over a fallen log.

Halfway up the mountain, Solomon stopped at a rock outcropping that overlooked Rooster Cove. “Let’s sit here for a spell,” he said putting down the backpack and pulling out a jar of water.

Becky’s face was flushed and red, and she was panting. “Thanks,” she said, “nice view.”

Solomon swung his leg over a rock so that he was facing her. I like this view better, he thought.

“You can tell I’m not used to doing this sort of thing,” she said finally catching her breath.

“I’m sorry,” he said, “I was going too fast, wasn’t I?”

“No, it’s fine. I need the exercise,” she said pulling her hair into a ponytail with the white scarf. Raising her arms exposed her navel.

It was hard not to stare at her. She really was the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen. “You can see my house from here,” he said pointing to a white two-story frame house.

“Oh,” she said, “I’ve noticed that house. It always looks so clean and neat, and the flowers in the yard are so pretty. You said you live with your grandmother. Where are your parents, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“My father passed away when I was two years old, and my mother didn’t feel that she could raise me alone, so she gave me to my grandparents to raise.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she said, “was your father sick?”

“No, he was hit by a car in Knoxville,” he answered.

“Oh, that’s tragic,” she said.

“How about you?” Solomon asked. “Where do your parents live?”

“They live in Greensboro,” she said. “My dad’s an accountant and my mother’s a fifth grade school teacher. I don’t have any brothers or sisters.”

“You’re a long way from home,” he said.

“Yes, I guess I am.” She looked off into the distance. “I uh…” She cut her eyes at Solomon, and then she looked off again. “My boyfriend and I had some problems, and I just needed to get away for a while.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m a good listener, if you want to talk.” Solomon knew that self-disclosure was an indication that she liked him and felt comfortable with him. He was glad about that.

“It does help to talk,” she said. “Uncle Jerry’s a good listener too.”

“Where’s your boyfriend?” Solomon asked.

“We were in school together at Boone,” she said. “He transferred to law school at Chapel Hill this year.”

“I see,” he said, “you’re a long way from Chapel Hill for sure.”

“Yes,” she gazed into the distance again.

Solomon allowed the silence. He was curious, but he didn’t want to push her.

After a while, she said, “I wanted to go to Chapel Hill with him, but he didn’t want me to come with him. So I came to stay with Uncle Jerry.”

“Your boyfriend must be crazy,” he said smiling.

“I understand how he feels. He’s got three years of law school. He doesn’t need to be saddled to a wife.” She looked up at Solomon. Something else was on the tip of her tongue, but she held back.

She was so quiet that he finally said, “Ready to go on to the top?”

“Okay,” she said.

Solomon stood up and held out his hand to help her off the rock. She was having trouble figuring out where to put her foot. He stretched his arms out and asked, “Can I help?”

“Okay,” she said reaching for his shoulders.

He put his hands around her waist and lifted her off the rocks. The knowledge that she was pregnant with a little boy flashed through his mind. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t want to spook her. She might not even know she’s pregnant, he thought.

“Thanks,” she said.

It took another thirty minutes to get to the top of Buzzard Mountain. It was difficult to see the panorama because of the trees, but Becky could see Lake Blarney sparkling below. “Oh my...that is...beautiful!” Her chest heaved as she struggled to catch her breath. Her face was flushed again. She was wet with perspiration this time.

She’s getting dehydrated, he thought. He looked at his watch. “It’s almost noon. I think we’ve gone far enough for today. Let’s find a shady spot to rest and have lunch.”

She nodded in agreement.

Solomon found a spot under an oak tree where a carpet of leaves had accumulated. He spread a blanket on top of them, and they both sat down. He got the water out of the backpack and handed it to Becky. She drank almost half of it. She poured water into her hand and splashed her face. Then she lay back and put her knees up taking the pressure off the small of her back. Her chest and abdomen rose and fell forcefully as her body attempted to recover.

Solomon lay down on his side and propped up on his elbow watching her.

“I didn’t know…I was so…out of shape,” she said struggling to talk.

He smiled, “You’re a good sport to try. I hadn’t thought about how difficult the climb could be.” Lying on her back like that, Solomon could see her belly button again. Will I ever know her well enough to kiss it, he wondered?

Becky put one hand behind her head and turned to look at Solomon. “Are you in college?” Her breasts bulged over of the top of her lacy bra.

In his work, Solomon had seen everything about a woman’s body. He’d seen every nook and cranny and cleavage from every possible angle without feeling any sexual attraction. But everything about Becky aroused him. “Not yet,” he said, “I’ve been saving money to go.”

She turned on her side and propped her head up with her hand. “Where do you plan to go?” The change in position caused the top breast to pile up on the lower one.

“I’ll go to the university in Knoxville for three years,” he said, “and then I plan to go to medical school.”

Becky smiled and nodded. “I’m impressed. When will you have enough money saved?”

Solomon had been saving for five years now, and he had the money. He was waiting on the Hezekiah Wall Foundation to hire a doctor. Solomon was treating all the patients towards the end of the doctor’s life. He had been running the clinic under Dr. Wall’s medical license, but the doctor had been dead now for two months.

“It’s complicated,” he said. “I hope to start by this time next year.”

She smiled at him, “Being a doctor is a big responsibility. You hold people’s lives in your hands.”

Solomon smiled at her.

“Where do you work now?” she asked.

“I work at the clinic out on the highway, and I work for my grandmother.”

Oh crap, I hate to hear that, she thought as she smiled at him. “I guess working at the clinic has let you know whether or not you can take being a doctor,” she said.

“I guess so,” he chuckled raising his eyebrows as he nodded.

“How long have you worked there?” she asked.

“Five years,” he said.

“I’ll bet you’ve seen a little bit of everything in five years.”

“Pretty much,” he said.

Becky was fretting. If I go to that clinic about my pregnancy, he’ll know. She sat up and curled her feet under one hip. A serious look spread over her face.

Solomon sat up too. He unpacked their lunch bags and the thermos of iced tea. Becky had made ham and tomato sandwiches with apples and peanut butter cookies for dessert.

“What days do you work there?” She hoped to sound nonchalant as she tried to figure out when she could go without running into him. Privacy was important to her.

“Every week day,” he said.

Oh double crap, she thought. “What’s the doctor’s name at the clinic?” she asked.

“It was Hezekiah Wall,” Solomon said, “but he passed away two months ago.”

She looked confused. “But...what happens if someone needs a doctor now?”

“That’s the complication that I mentioned,” he said smiling. “The Hezekiah Wall Foundation is looking for a doctor, but they haven’t found one yet.”

She stammered, “But…but...what do folks do if they need a doctor? I mean...who do they see now?”

Solomon felt Becky’s anxiety rising. He didn’t want to, but he was going to have to tell her that he was practicing medicine without a license. He took a deep breath and said, “They see me. During the last years of Dr. Wall’s life, I took care of his patients. I worked under his medical license. Whenever the Foundation finds a doctor, I’ll go to college and to medical school.”

“Oh my goodness,” she said putting her hands to her cheeks, “you do have a big responsibility.”

“It’s rewarding,” he said.

She looked down at the blanket. She hated to ask him what was really on her mind, but she couldn’t think of any way around it. “Well...what do the women of Rooster Cove do if they’re expecting a baby?” She quickly cut her eyes up at him.

“Some use the clinic,” he said, “and some call my grandmother. She’s a midwife.”

“And…and you said that you work for her too,” she sighed as a powerless resignation began to sink in, “and I suppose you deliver babies as well,” she said.

“Yes, I do,” he answered. He wished he could make this easier for her, but for now he could only let the situation play itself out.

Becky could think of no way out of this distressing predicament. Her body language indicated that she felt nauseous.

Solomon poured water into a napkin and handed it to her. “I’ve been training with Ma since I was twelve years old,” he said. “I am...a midwife.”

Becky took the wet napkin and held it against her throat. “Well, I might as well tell you right now. I’m expecting a baby.” She said it quickly.

“Okay,” he responded and waited. He didn’t know where she wanted to go with this conversation.

“Say something!” She was on the verge of panic.

He reached across the picnic spread and touched her hand. “It will be alright, Becky. Everything will be just fine.” His touch infused her with serenity. He gave her his strength like Sarah had taught him. Becky actually felt it flowing into her hand and up her arm. When the warmth of his touch reached her neck, it spread in all directions following her central nervous system. She looked into his peaceful blue eyes and wondered how he was able to do that to her. She had felt something like this once before when she had her tonsils removed. A tranquilizer shot had made her feel the same way. How on earth could he do that by simply touching me? she wondered.

She said calmly, “I don’t want you to deliver my baby. It would be too embarrassing.”

“I understand,” he said, “Ma can deliver your baby.” His smile showed his dimples. “I’ll bring flowers.”

“Oh, that would be wonderful.” She looked genuinely relieved.

“I told you everything will be just fine.”

“Yes you did, didn’t you?” Becky said.

“Does your boyfriend know about the baby?”

“Yes, he knows. He feels that he can’t have a family right now with law school and all,” she said. “He wanted me to have an abortion.”

“But you didn’t want to?” Solomon asked.

“No, I just couldn’t do it,” she said. “I don’t know why. I just couldn’t do it.”

“There are a lot of reasons to support not having an abortion,” he said.

“Yeah,” she said, “it’s illegal!”

“There’s more to it than that,” he said. “When a woman becomes pregnant, all her hormones have one goal—to support the pregnancy. Her body undergoes a lot of changes. It’s more than an end to menstruation.”

Becky winced at the personal nature of his words. It was disconcerting to her that this handsome man her own age knew so much about how her body worked.

Solomon hesitated when he saw her squirming, but then he continued, “Milk glands in a pregnant woman’s breasts become active. Nipples get dark with melanin, and their oil glands become active to prevent cracking. The network of arteries and veins to the breasts and uterus becomes extensive. The woman is flooded with hormones that cause her endometrial lining to thicken and grow in her uterus. If she has an abortion, those hormones are abandoned in her organs. Studies show higher rates of cancer in women who’ve had abortions.”

“I didn’t know that,” she gasped. “Have any women in the cove had abortions…that you know of?”

“Oh gosh, yes,” he said, “a lot are done by granny women. I see them when something goes wrong.”

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“Some bad infections happen with dirty abortions,” he said, “and sometimes there’s hemorrhaging.”

“Sounds bad,” she said.

“It can be,” he said. “Do your parents know about the baby?”

“Yes,” she said, “they’re pretty upset about it. When they found out that Robbie, that’s my baby’s father, didn’t want to get married, they set it up for me to come and stay with Uncle Jerry until the baby’s born. That’s so none of their friends will know about it…and none of mine either.”

“Then they want you to give the baby up for adoption,” he said.

“Yes,” she responded.

“And what do you want to do?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” she said smoothing out her napkin on her thigh. “I guess I’ll give it up for adoption.” She looked up at Solomon and said, “I really love Robbie. I hope we can get back together next year.”

Solomon nodded. “Have you seen a doctor yet?”

“No,” she said.

“Promise me that you’ll see my grandmother next week.”

“Okay,” she said.

Solomon packed up the lunch bags and the blanket. He put the trash in his backpack. He noticed the toilet paper, took it out, and offered it to Becky.

“No thanks,” she said smiling.

The hike down Buzzard Mountain was easier. They got back to Jerry’s cabin a little after three o’clock.

Becky asked, “How do I get an appointment to see your grandmother?”

“What day would you like to come?”

“Would Monday be okay?” she asked.

“Monday would be fine,” he said, “between nine and eleven.”

“I’d like you to be there too,” she said, “just to introduce us.”

Solomon left and Becky went inside the cabin. Jerry was in his favorite overstuffed chair. “How’d it go?”

“It went okay,” she said. She took off her shoes and flopped down on the sofa. She twisted her mouth to one side in frustration and rolled her eyes. “He’s a midwife,” she sighed.

Jerry looked over his glasses and chuckled, “Fancy that.”

Ma Patsy was outside working in her flower beds when Solomon drove up in the yard. She stopped and watched him get out of the truck. He’s not exactly walking on air, she thought.

“How’d it go?”

“Fine,” he said.

“Just fine?” she asked.

He laid his backpack down and stooped to pull a few weeds out of the moist soil. “She’s pregnant,” he said. “She’s coming to see you on Monday. She’s got a boyfriend, but he doesn’t want her to keep the baby. She has a lot going on in her life right now.”

Ma nodded her head, “I see.”

Copyright © 2008 by Robbin Renee Bridges
Coping with Grief through Afterlife Communication
http://www.spirit-sanctuary.org/

Chapter 20 - Why They Call It Labor

2008-10-10T22:58:00.000-07:00

September 17, 1948

Monday morning at eight-fifty, Becky pulled her convertible up in the yard and parked it behind Solomon’s truck. He walked out on the front porch. “Morning,” he said smiling.

“Good morning, Solomon,” she responded soberly. In contrast to her distraught behavior on the mountain two days ago, Becky’s manner communicated aloofness and self-restraint. Her formal attire attested to her reserve. She wore a prim, navy blue suit over a lacy white blouse. Nylons with navy pumps, a matching handbag, and navy leather gloves completed her ensemble. Becky had studied the subtle nuances that clothing revealed about a woman, and her planning was meticulous.

Solomon held open the front door, “Come on in,” he said cheerfully.

"Thank you,” Becky said as she strolled into the living room looking around. It was a warm and comfortable room. The furniture was overstuffed with crocheted antimacassars draped over the backs. Victorian tables with ornate lamps, doilies, and doodads separated the chairs. A large fern commanded one whole corner of the room. Lacy curtains covered the windows leaving delicate patterns of light around the room. An oriental carpet covered most of the hardwood floors. A Bible and various magazines lay on a coffee table. The living room was the waiting room.

A very pregnant woman was sitting in a straight-backed chair. Ma Patsy had placed several of those around the room. The overstuffed ones were difficult for a pregnant woman to get out of.

Solomon said, “Hi Nellie, I didn’t know you’d come in already.”

The woman ignored his greeting as she awkwardly stood up and moved across the room. She had one hand on the small of her back with an elbow jutting out to the side. “Hope ye don’t have any plans fer tonight, Solomon. I don’t figer this baby’s gonna make it another day.”

Solomon chuckled, “You think?”

Nellie shuffled over to the examination room. She had on bedroom slippers because her feet were too swollen for her shoes. She opened the door and waddled inside.

Solomon watched her, “Where ya going, Nellie?”

“I got to pee,” she said.

“Wait a minute,” he said as he followed her into the examining room. “Let me give you a cup for a specimen.”

Becky’s face showed an artificial half-smile about the exchange she’d just witnessed.

Solomon grinned awkwardly and motioned Becky to a chair. “Sorry about that,” he said, “you may as well have a seat; I think Nellie beat you to Ma.”

“That’s fine,” Becky said.

Solomon handed her a clipboard. Blue yarn secured a pencil to it. “Ma will want you to fill out this medical history,” he said. He left the room while she filled out the form. He figured she wouldn’t want him hanging over her shoulder for all the personal questions.

She crossed her ankles, which was the proper way for a refined lady to sit. She squirmed uncomfortably as she filled in the blanks and checked boxes where applicable. The fact that the handsome young man would have access to her personal information was particularly worrisome to her. The date of her last menstrual period was something she didn’t even discuss with her mother.

When she finished, Solomon went into the waiting room to sit with her. “I’m sorry about the confusion this morning,” he said. “Ma will have Nellie settled in a few minutes.”

“I understand,” she said as she nervously twisted her leather gloves.

Ma came into the waiting room. “Solomon, would ye go examine Nellie? She says she’s gonna deliver tonight. See what ye think.”

Becky’s mouth hung half open. Nellie and Ma’s casual acceptance of Solomon in this setting confirmed his comfort and experience in obstetrical and gynecological situations. I feel trapped, she thought.

Solomon jumped up, “Ma, I want you the meet Becky Banks. She’s Jerry Banks niece.”

Ma put out her hand to Becky and said, “Land a mercy, ye are a pretty little thing.”

Becky blushed and said, “Thank you.”

Ma’s cherubic face and sparkling blue eyes immediately put her patients at ease. Ringlets of curly salt and pepper hair framed her forehead and her rosy cheeks. She wore a simple calico dress that fell in an A-line over her hips. She was a petite woman. She weighed a smidgen over a hundred pounds. It was impossible to be in her presence and not smile. Now Becky understood why Solomon was so kind. He was raised with kindness.

Ma sat down beside Becky and scanned the questionnaire. Becky wasn’t particularly knowledgeable about her family’s medical history. Ma knew that usually meant they were pretty healthy. Sickly families knew about disease and medical tests.

Ma stood up and said, “Come on in here with me, hon.” She opened the door to the examining room to find Nellie lying on the exam table with her feet in stirrups. Solomon looked up from his position on the stool between Nellie’s legs. Oh no, Ma, don’t bring Becky in here right now, he thought. He looked frustrated as he worked to clean up a mess. “Nellie’s water broke as soon as she got on the table. It’s all over me.” His medium blue shirt had dark blue wet splotches down the front.

Becky was shocked beyond words. She’d never seen anything like this. She couldn’t have been more embarrassed if she’d interrupted a man in bed with a woman.

Nellie twisted her head around to see Ma Patsy. With a snaggle-toothed smile, she laughed and snorted, “Ma Patsy, my water’s broke.”

Nellie was mentally impaired, but not so much that she wasn’t able to function as a wife and mother. She had three kids already, and she was only nineteen years old. She’d lost her front teeth in a motorcycle accident. She could best be described as jovial. Solomon remembered what Sarah had said about the purity of the souls of people with mental impairment. He knew that this relatively hard to control, extremely excitable woman had a highly developed soul that was already functioning in the afterlife.

Solomon pushed a towel over the floor with his foot to wipe up the puddle of amniotic fluid. He could see Becky’s distress, but he couldn’t do anything about it right now. He stood up between Nellie’s legs and did a bimanual exam. “She’s completely effaced,” he said to Ma, “and she’s dilated six centimeters.”

Becky was flabbergasted by the sight of Solomon’s fingers buried inside the woman. She couldn’t fathom that this cute twenty-one year old guy she’d climbed the mountain with…well, she just couldn’t believe what he was doing. Feelings of respect for his knowledge and discomfort in her prudish modesty created a paradoxical predicament for her.

Ma Patsy said, “Land a mercy, Nellie. Ye’re gonna have this baby before suppertime.”

Nellie laughed like a banshee. She kicked one leg up slinging her bedroom slipper. Solomon dodged it as it flew past his head. “Nellie, please calm down,” he said putting her foot back into the stirrup of Ma’s new exam table. After Dr. Wall died, Solomon had moved this exam table into Ma’s office. It was a spare just sitting in the storage room at the clinic, and it was much more serviceable than the one that Pa Shiver had made for Ma.

Becky stood beside Ma’s desk with her hands on her chest. She had a look of horrified fascination. Ma was at the sink behind her desk preparing a warm water and soapsuds enema for Nellie. Becky watched her but didn’t have a clue what was happening. Ma turned and said, “Solomon, it’s ready.”

Oh God, I need to get Becky out of here, he thought. But it was too late. Ma was already positioned over Nellie waiting on him to help.

“Okay, Nellie, turn over for me,” Ma said.

Nellie started to climb off the table. “No, no, not that way Nellie,” Solomon said stopping her, “just roll over on your side,” he said. He loosely held her top knee up to her chest. He wasn’t restraining her, just encouraging her to maintain the position. He spoke softly to her, “Calm down, Nellie. Just relax, Nellie. You’re okay, Nellie.”

Ma Patsy inserted the nozzle into Nellie. She bucked slightly, but then she relaxed with Solomon’s coaching. “I got to do number two,” Nellie said.

“It’s almost over, Nellie,” Solomon said as he eyed the bag.

When Ma finished, Solomon turned Nellie loose. She used him as leverage to get herself off the table. She padded over to the bathroom in one slipper.

Solomon looked sheepishly at Becky as he pulled his shirt away from his chest with two fingers. He said, “I need to clean up. I’ll be right back.” Looking back at her, he added, “I’ll hurry.” He was back downstairs in two minutes wearing a white surgical smock. It wrapped in the back and tied in the front. He cringed as he overheard Ma encouraging Becky to stay for Nellie’s delivery.

“Have ye ever seen a baby being born?” Ma asked her.

She quickly shook her head, no.

“Ye can watch if you want,” Ma said pulling supplies out of a cabinet. “Nellie won’t care.”

Becky had a bewildered look on her face. Her mouth was slightly open and pouty. “I...I might watch,” she said hesitantly as her eyes darted around the room.

Solomon said to Becky, “This might not be anything you want to watch. Nellie’s delivery won’t be typical at all.” He tried to discourage her from staying. “Nellie prefers to deliver in the knee-chest position. Ma and I try to accommodate a mother’s preference. The lithotomy position with feet in stirrups is popular in the hospitals because it’s the most convenient position for the doctor, but it doesn’t really facilitate labor and delivery. Actually, the best position is a squatting position.” Solomon stopped talking when he realized that his anxiety was showing in his wordiness.

Becky nodded politely. That is really more than I care to know, she thought. She still had her handbag over her arm and her gloves in one hand.

My son’s gone ga-ga over this pretty gal, Ma thought. “Becky, ye can put yer handbag and gloves over on my desk if ye want to stay,” she said.

“Uh, I’ll just hold on to them. I’m not sure I should stay. Even the smell in here makes me feel queasy.”

Solomon looked up from the instrument tray he was organizing at the foot of the cot. “Yeah, this probably isn’t a good idea for today,” he said.

Land a mercy, son, git a grip, Ma thought as she got two hospital gowns out of a cabinet and knocked on the bathroom door. “Nellie, it’s Ma Patsy.” She opened the door and closed it behind her. She shouted through the door, “Solomon, Nellie’s in labor.”

“Okay,” he answered. Becky had taken a seat in the patient’s chair at Ma’s desk. Solomon looked concerned as he asked her, “Are you sure about this?

“I’ll be fine,” she said. “Did you deliver Nellie’s other babies?”

“I delivered the last two,” he said. “Nellie’s hard for Ma to handle. She weighs a hundred pounds more than Ma does, and she has her own special way of birthing her babies.

Nellie came out of the bathroom with the two hospital gowns on. One opened in the back, and the other opened in the front. She walked for a few minutes, and then she squatted down and bounced for a few seconds. Solomon said, “Nellie knows the drill.” He turned to Becky and explained, “She’s helping her baby move down into the birth canal.”

Every few minutes Nellie would stop walking and pant holding the underside of her distended belly. Between contractions Solomon occasionally put his hand in the small of Nellie’s back as he palpated her abdomen with his other hand. Sometimes he’d put his stethoscope to her abdomen to listen to the baby’s heartbeat. “You’re doing great, Nellie.” During one stop, Solomon motioned to Becky. “Come feel this,” he said.

She looked like she was afraid to touch Nellie so Solomon covered her hand with his. Becky’s mouth dropped open. “Good heavens! It’s so hard,” she said.

Eventually, Solomon said to Nellie, “Come over to your cot so I can examine you, hon.”

She waddled over to the cot and climbed on it on her hands and knees. Solomon pulled on a rubber glove as Nellie rocked back and forth. “Wait a minute, Nellie,” he said pushing her gown up over her buttocks. Putting one hand on the small of her back, he inserted two fingers into her vagina. He closed his eyes to concentrate on what he was feeling. “You’re ready to start pushing, Nellie.”

“I know, she said.

“It’s time for you to get out of these gowns,” he said helping her stand up on her knees. “They’d just be in the way now.” He untied the bow at the back of her neck, and Ma got the one in the front. Nellie dropped her arms and the gowns fell off. Ma scooped them up. Nellie didn’t know the meaning of modesty. Everything Nellie had was out there in plain sight. Nobody cared but Becky, who turned her head, but not quickly enough to miss the sight.

Nellie dropped back to her hands and knees and began rocking. “You can push, hon,” Solomon reminded her.

“I know,” she said.

During contractions, Nellie stayed on her hands and knees and rocked and pushed. Between them she’d drop her hips down and sink back on her heels. That’s when Solomon massaged the muscles across the small of her back and around the sides of her hips. “You’re doing so good, Nellie,” he encouraged. “You’re almost there.”

Becky watched in amazement.

Solomon said to Becky, “Now you see why they call it labor.”

Becky took a deep breath and nodded.

After a while, Ma Patsy motioned for Becky to come and stand beside her. Solomon was too busy to notice. Nellie was in hard labor now. The only sounds she made were guttural groans and grunts.

Nellie’s perineum bulged with a little bald-headed baby. Her rectum looked like it was turning inside out. Solomon kept a hand over the baby’s head to control its exit. With a fingertip he circled the vaginal entrance helping it to stretch over the baby’s head.

Ma whispered to Becky, “He’s doing that so she doesn’t tear. If the skin gits stretched too tight, he’ll cut it. It’s called an episiotomy. A cut with stitches is better than a ragged tear.”

Becky had seen all she could bear. A wave of nausea rose up in her throat, and she began to salivate. She ran for the bathroom.

Over Nellie’s groans, Solomon could hear Becky retching and gagging. When she came out of the bathroom, she walked straight for the front porch without looking up. She breathed a sigh of relief when she got outside. The smells and sounds of labor and delivery were overwhelmingly offensive to her. And God forbid that she should ever again have to see anything like her last sight of Nellie’s behind! It was unspeakable!

After delivering a healthy baby girl, Solomon was in a bind for time. It was way past one o’clock…about two hours past it. He could imagine a waiting room full of patients at the clinic. He said to Ma, “I’ve got to get a bath. I’m sticky with amniotic fluid.” He left the room and immediately came back. “I feel terrible about upsetting Becky.”

Ma said, “Ye had to focus on Nellie and her baby. Don’t expect so much out of yerself.”

“I know, but she’s a sensitive girl.”

“Yes,” Ma said, “she’s a sensitive girl, and she’s had a rude awakening about what’s in store for her.”

Copyright © 2008 by Robbin Renee Bridges
Coping with Grief through Afterlife Communication
http://www.spirit-sanctuary.org

Chapter 21 - A Spirit Body's Heart

2008-10-10T21:53:00.000-07:00

September 17, 1948

Solomon was three hours late to the clinic when he spoke to the patients in the waiting room. “I’m sorry folks. One of Ma’s patients had her baby in the office,” he explained, “and I couldn’t leave.”

They understood. “No problem, man.”

Solomon asked, “Who’s first?”

An older man said, “Take Mary. She sounds like she got the pneumonee.”

As soon as possible, Solomon went to the dispensary and rang Jerry Banks’ telephone.

Jerry answered, “Hello?”

“Hello, Jerry, this is Solomon Sepaugh. May I speak with Becky?”

“Let me get her,” Jerry said. She was standing beside him so he clapped his hand over the phone’s transmitter and waited for her to respond to his offer of the phone.

“I don’t want to talk to him,” she said. “Today was so upsetting. I just wish I could move somewhere else to have this baby.”

Jerry didn’t say anything. He just held the phone out to her.

Solomon doodled on a piece of paper. It seemed to take forever for Becky to get to the phone.

“Hello,” she finally said.

“Hello, Becky, I wanted to apologize to you about what happened today. Ma didn’t realize it would upset you, and I was so preoccupied with Nellie that I couldn’t...”

“You don’t have to apologize,” she interrupted. “I understood,” she said, “was it a girl or a boy?”

“Oh, it was a little girl,” he said, “and mother and daughter are both fine.”

“I’m glad,” she said.

“I was…uh…I was wondering if you’d mind if I came over after supper tonight,” he said. “I promise not to talk about anything that could possibly make you uncomfortable. I’m just beginning to realize how sensitive you are about these things.”

She hesitated a second, and then she said, “Well…I guess it would be okay for you come over.”

“Would seven-thirty be okay?” Solomon asked.

“Yes,” she said.

Solomon was relieved that Becky had agreed to see him. When he got home from the clinic, Ma was sitting at the desk in her office. He sat in the patient’s chair across from her. “I’m going over to talk to Becky at seven-thirty. Do you have any suggestions?”

Ma shook her head, no, and handed him Becky’s medical history.

He reached for it saying, “She wouldn’t want me to see this.”

“Prob’ly not,” Ma said as she waited for him to read it.

“It looks good. Her last period was June seventeenth.” Counting in his head he said, “Back three months and add seven days…she’s due March twenty-fourth.”

Solomon walked up on the front porch as Becky was coming outside. He wasn’t usually one to notice clothes, but he always noticed what Becky wore. In her hair was a pink ribbon with a bow at the ten o’clock position. She had on a floral halter-top sundress with material gathered across each breast. It had a cummerbund waist, which still fit her.

Jerry had a front porch swing just like Ma’s. Solomon sat down leaving room for Becky. She leaned against the porch banister briefly, and then she sat down beside him. He pushed off with his feet, and then he held them up to let gravity swing them like a pendulum. The rusty hooks squeaked with the movement of the swing.

Becky looked up at them, “Think they’ll hold?” she asked.

“Oh yeah,” he said. Solomon reasoned that it was okay to sit in silence. He could feel the warmth of her arm against his arm. Yes, this is good enough, he thought. I’ll encourage her to go back to Ma another day.

As Solomon left, he felt satisfied that Becky was okay in spite of the morning’s insult to her sensitivities. On the truck radio an evangelist droned on about man’s sinful nature. He shut it off as he made a three-point turn and headed back to his house. His life felt full and happy. What did I do to deserve it?

Sarah appeared in the seat beside him. “God ordained that ye be raised in a family that is close to the spirit world. That was God’s gift to ye. What ye do with yer life is yer gift to God.”

“Sarah,” Solomon said, “I’m glad to see you. I’ve been wondering about something. That voice I heard; you called it the Pure One. Who is he? And what’s all that stuff about those keys?”

“It’s about yer spiritual growth on the earth plane,” she said. “I canna tell ye about the Pure One. He’s from a plane far above me. I canna comprehend him anymore than an earthworm can comprehend ye. I can only tell ye that he’s magnificent.”

“And as for the five keys, they’re levels of yer spiritual growth. They’re questions that yer soul must ask on the earth plane. As ye receive the answers, the powers of yer soul increase. The answers to the questions are the five keys. When ye have received them all, the Sign will be upon yer soul. Physical eyes won’t be able to see it, but it will shine like a beacon in the Light World. And then yer spiritual powers and yer control over yer environment will be…well, they will be supernatural.”

“I don’t want supernatural powers,” he said.

“Maybe that’s why ye’re gettin’ them,” she smiled.

“Well,” he said, “what if I ask the wrong questions?”

“Well then, ye wouldn’t be gettin’ the Sign, I suppose,” she said, “but don’t ye be worrying. God rewards sincere seekers, Solomon. He rewards them who hunger and thirst after righteousness. God is big enough to guide each soul. All, who reach out to Him, will be rewarded.”

“Ma’s never heard of the five keys...or the Sign,” he said, “so why me?

Sarah said, “I wasn’t chosen for the Sign in my earth life either. I was an ordinary woman. I loved God and my family. Ye have been chosen,” she said, “and only God knows the reason.”

Solomon pulled the truck into his yard. He looked exasperated, as he thought…chosen? He spit out the word...“Chosen!” He felt frustrated because he didn’t understand.

“I don’t know why,” Sarah said. “I don’t know what ye’ve done or what ye will do in the Light World that caused God to single ye out for this bounty. I don’t know why God has led the Pure One to guide ye through the five keys. Surely ye know that ye’re different from others. Surely ye know ye have a destiny not like others.”

“But I still don’t understand,” he said.

“Aye, and ye won’t understand,” she added, “until ye detach from yer physical body and all the veils that surround it. Do ye remember how the Bible says that ye see through a glass darkly?”

“Solomon, what question do you have for me?” The voice of the Pure One thundered this time. The atmosphere around Solomon glowed fiery red. Eddies of orange and yellow swirled around him. The smell of sulfur wafted over him. He stepped out of the truck. Sarah followed and dropped to her knees. She fell prostrate before…before what? Solomon couldn’t say.

“Am I in hell?” he asked. He looked down at his feet. It looks like lava, but it’s not hot, he thought.

The Pure One laughed and said, “No, Solomon, this atmosphere is governed by your emotions. You’re angry because you have unanswered questions.”

Solomon dropped his head. “I’m sorry,” he said.

The voice responded, “Anger is a fine emotion when it’s justified. Anger is an attribute of God.”

As Solomon began to calm down, the atmosphere softened with rosy currents. He spun around looking for the Pure One. “Who are you, and why won’t you show yourself to me?”

“For the same reason that God and heaven are concealed from you,” the Pure One said.

“Are you going to answer me?” Solomon raised his voice. He twirled around again, “Or...are you playing with me?” The atmosphere blazed red again. Sparks flew in every direction. Solomon tried to calm himself. I’m not used to having my emotions so obvious to others, he thought.

“I’m going to answer you, Solomon,” the Pure One said. “I would never play with you. My love for you is unconditional.” The ethereal scene went through several shades of purple and then lavender before a soft powder blue became predominant. The Pure One said, “If God and heaven were not concealed from your eyes, Solomon, you would not be able to develop faith. Faith is a quality that is required for you to function in the afterlife.”

“It is?” Solomon looked puzzled.

“Yes, it is. Like you need a heart to function in the earth life, in the same way, you need faith to function in the afterlife. Without faith you would be sickly and handicapped in the afterlife. This is impossible for you to comprehend right now, but your spirit body has organs too. Faith in God is the heart of your spirit body.

Solomon laughed out loud. “Is it that simple? I can understand that.”

The Pure One laughed too, “Yes, it’s that simple.”

“What else does my spirit body need?” Solomon asked. “What are its other organs made of?”

“That’s simple too,” the Pure One said. “Your spirit body’s requirements are the attributes of God—love, mercy, kindness, courage, patience, forgiveness. Shall I go on? These are the organs of your spirit body. That’s what the Messenger, Jesus Christ, tried to show to the world.”

“I think I understand,” Solomon said. He felt peace and contentment as billows of light blue mingled with fluffy pink cloud-like formations.

“And this, Solomon, is your fourth key.”

A bright light popped like a flashbulb inside Solomon’s head. He was suddenly standing alone in the clear autumn night in front of his house. The crickets chirped and the fireflies twinkled on and off. An owl hooted in the distance. Solomon bounded up the front steps. He ran into Ma in the living room. “Come outside with me,” he said. “Let’s sit on the porch. I have something amazing to tell you.”

Copyright © 2008 by Robbin Renee Bridges
Coping with Grief through Afterlife Communication
http://www.spirit-sanctuary.org/

Chapter 22 - A Peeping Tom

2008-10-10T21:02:00.000-07:00

September 20, 1948

“Ma, ride with me to Jerry’s tonight. We’ll all sit on the porch and visit.”

“Son, I’m happy as a hog in slop jest knowin’ that yer gettin’ to know that sweet girl. I’ll go with ye another day,” she said, “by the way, when do ye think she’ll come back in for a check up?”

“I don’t know, Ma. She won’t even talk to me about it,” he said.

Ma handed him a bottle of prenatal vitamins. “Then see if she’ll start takin’ these.”

Solomon had the bottle in his hand when he walked up on the porch. Becky was sitting in the swing. He sat down beside her and handed her the bottle. The label said PRENATAL VITAMINS. Take one a day.

“Take it with lunch or supper,” he said. “It might make you sick in the mornings.”

Becky rolled her eyes. He can bring up the most disgusting subjects without even trying, she thought.

Jerry rolled up to the screened window, “Why don’t you kids go up in my tree stand and watch the sunset.”

Becky’s eyes brightened, “That’s a great idea!”

“Solomon,” Jerry said, “it’s a block and tackle pulley. Send Becky up, and then pull yourself up.”

The tree stand was on a knoll about five hundred feet behind Jerry’s cabin. A pathway, graded to accommodate the wheelchair, led to it from the cabin. In the winter you could see over a hundred miles as Buzzard Mountain rose out of the Cutter Range and ancient folded mountains lay one upon the other in gradually muting shades of lavender. How far you could see depended on the amount of humidity in the air. On dry days you could see the Cumberland peaks in Virginia.

On this first day of fall, Becky was still wearing short shorts. They were light gray, and she had a soft gray cardigan buttoned down the front for a top. She’d left the top three buttons undone. Solomon imagined that Becky’s dress code intended this to provoke curiosity about what was under the fourth button.

Solomon steadied the swing-like contraption. Becky sat down on the seat, and he slowly raised her the twelve feet up to the platform. The four-foot wide platform circled the trunk of a large oak tree. Joists supported it from below. A low railing ran along its perimeter. As the swing passed through the hole in the platform, a bar allowed Jerry to pull himself off the swing and onto the platform. Becky had no trouble doing the same.

Solomon caught a glimpse of white panties as she moved over to the platform. Settle down, boy, he thought as he lowered the swing and sat in it. He hoisted himself up to the platform. Becky looked delighted as Solomon pulled himself onto it.

“This is wonderful,” she said. “I love it!”

Solomon crawled around the tree until he was beside Becky. She was still sitting beside the hole for the swing. “I want you on this side of me,” he chuckled. He held her by the waist as she climbed over him.

She scooted over and tugged on his elbow. “Come over this way,” she giggled, “you need to get away from the hole too.”

She sat facing him Indian style in her gray short shorts. He wondered if she expected him not to look, or if she expected him to look. He looked. A bit of white lace edging the crotch of her panties was visible. He knew it would be the last thing he thought of tonight, and the first thing he thought of tomorrow morning. After all, a virile twenty-one year old man had certain needs that he couldn’t ignore.

Becky put her legs through the railing and hung them over the side. She leaned on the railing and watched the sunset. The dark pink sky glowed and was festooned by pale blue clouds with silver linings. The sun had already dipped behind the mountain. Becky had a far off dreamy look on her face as she said, “It’s so beautiful.”

“Yes, it is,” Solomon agreed.

They sat in silence as they watched the colors deepen with the sun’s sinking. Solomon pointed to a notch on top of one mountain, “They call that Ghost Light Mountain, because lights rise out of that notch.”

Becky looked at him with raised eyebrows, “Lights?”

“Yes, they’ve been seen for hundreds of years,” he said. “Indian legends say that the yellow lights are the souls of warriors killed in battle. They’re the most common, but occasionally you’ll see a blue light. The legends say that it’s the soul of an Indian princess, whose lover was killed in battle. They say that she went up on the mountain and killed herself.”

“Ooooh, that’s sad,” she said.

Solomon smiled and continued, “They look like glowing balls of light. They’re about this big.” He held his hands around an imaginary basketball. “They rise out of the ground and then dissipate into the air.”

“Oh, I’d love to see that!”

“You might get to,” he said. “They’re usually seen in the fall when the weather’s humid…like before or after a rain. The air’s a little dry tonight, so I doubt that we’ll see any.”

“Do they know what causes them?”

He laughed, “Don’t you believe the legends?”

“Well, of course I believe the legends, but I’ll bet you have some scientific explanation for them,” she laughed at him.

“Actually, nobody knows. Scientists have investigated them, but they haven’t come to any conclusions. Some say that they’re gas bubbles seeping out of the mountain and that the gas lights up when ions in the air ignite it. Personally,” he said, “I prefer the legends.”

Becky leaned towards him laughing, “Me too.”

As the sky darkened and the lights of Rooster Cove gradually came on, Solomon and Becky shared special little details about their childhood and teenaged years. She was an only child, and so was he. They both did well in school. They both were voted “Most Likely to Succeed.” Solomon had been voted “Most Handsome,” and Becky had won several beauty contests. One difference was that Solomon was raised a poor mountain boy, and Becky was raised a rich city girl.

There were a lot of things they still wanted to know about each other, but both were too reserved to push for personal information yet. Solomon wanted to know about the father of Becky’s baby. Becky wanted to know if Solomon had ever been in love. Solomon wondered if Becky could be happy as a doctor’s wife in Rooster Cove. Becky wondered if Solomon thought she was trashy because she was an unwed mother.

Becky rubbed her legs. They were getting cold. “I’ll have to wear long pants next time,” she said.

“Want to do this again tomorrow?” Solomon asked.

“Yes, I’d like that. Maybe we can sit here long enough to see the ghost lights if I wear more clothes,” she said laughing.

Uncle Jerry was on the front porch when they got back to the cabin. “Your tree stand is wonderful, Uncle Jerry. I love it! You come with us next time, okay?”

“I might do that,” he said.

Solomon walked down the path to his truck. He turned and waved as he got in. He did a three-point turnaround, and drove home.

Turtle Hicks watched from the thicket about a hundred yards up the hill. Men like Turtle could be very patient. He’d been watching Becky since that day he saw her at Martin’s Gas Station. He could tell by the way she moved that she wanted a man like him. She needed him. He could help her to be a whole woman.

But first he had to figure out how they could be together. He watched Solomon’s red tail lights until they were out of sight. Then he moved out of the thicket. He kept to the woods around the cabin. Turtle knew which room belonged to Becky and which one was Jerry’s. He knew where Jerry kept his rifle. He knew that he had to stay back from Becky’s window until she pulled her shades down. He watched from the rhododendron bushes. Sometimes he could watch her for hours before she remembered to pull the shades.

After she pulled them down, he’d move up close to the house. He could see around the side of her window shade. He’d catch a peek of her when she walked by the window. And there was a good view of one side of her bed. A big oval dressing mirror cast her reflection in his direction when she stood in one particular spot in the room. Unfortunately, it wasn’t where she got undressed. But once he did see her reflection in it wearing her bra and panties. It was quick peek because she was walking across the room.

The view in the bathroom had potential. It didn’t have shades. It had curtains. On the left side, the curtain stood away from the window enough that he would be able to see her in the bathtub. Unfortunately, she’d never taken a bath at night when he could have seen her. When she sat on the toilet, he could see the top of her head.

Tonight he watched her as she sat on the side of her bed. She was wearing a nightgown. It was thin and pink and lacy. She’s wearing it for me, Turtle thought. He played with himself as she set the alarm clock on her bedside table. Her breasts moved under the thin pink nightgown. His mouth hung open, and his jaw stiffened. He stroked faster. He came just as she turned out the lamp. He lay in the darkness under her window. His heart pounded from his orgasm. He waited a few minutes, and then he got up and walked home.

Copyright © 2008 by Robbin Renee Bridges
Coping with Grief through Afterlife Communication
http://www.spirit-sanctuary.org/

Chapter 23 - Turtle's Hooch

2008-10-10T19:52:00.000-07:00

October 20, 1948

Turtle hauled the old mattress he’d found into his hooch. It was almost ready for his beloved. He’d heard soldiers back from the war describe the little hideouts the Japanese had made on the mountainsides. Turtle had dug back ten feet into the side of Ghost Light Mountain. He didn’t want to use a regular cave because everybody knew where all the caves were. He knew they’d be looking for Becky when he finally took her.

For a doorway, Turtle had made a lattice of natural branches. He’d covered the lattice with pine and holly branches to camouflage the entrance. Just looking at it, you’d never guess his hooch was there. He was as careful as he was patient. For example, he always coated his shoes with mentholated jelly when he worked around the hooch. He knew it would throw off the hounds if the sheriff sent any.

Ma watched Solomon as he got another bottle of prenatal vitamins out of the cabinet. “Do ye think she’ll come in for an exam anytime soon?” she asked. “It’s been over a month since she freaked out over Nellie’s delivery. She’s halfway through her pregnancy now.”

“She still clams up when I say anything,” he said. “I’m just glad she’s taking the vitamins. She looks healthy. Her energy levels are good. She eats well. She’s eighteen weeks now.”

Ma slipped a tape measure into his shirt pocket. “Maybe she’ll let you get a fundal height.”

“Fat chance,” he laughed.

It was almost dark by the time Solomon got to Becky’s. The fall colors are gorgeous now at sunset. We should spend some time in the tree stand this weekend, he thought.

Becky stepped out on the porch when she saw Solomon walking up the path. She sat in the swing and patted the seat beside her.

“It’s cool this evening,” she said pulling her sweater tighter around her. Solomon put one arm around her shoulder and rubbed her arm with the other. He didn’t think about it before he did it. It was an instinctive move like you’d do to a child. She was apparently comfortable with it. She continued talking without noticing. She was expounding about the advantages of being a primary school teacher over the challenges of being a high school teacher when she stopped abruptly. She put her hand on her abdomen as her eyes focused on the distant side of the yard.

“Does it feel like bubbles?” Solomon asked.

She looked up at his face and shook her head yes.

He smiled and squeezed her shoulder. “Your baby’s moving.”

Becky laid her head on his shoulder and marveled while tiny bubbles fluttered inside her. She followed them with her fingertips.

“Becky,” he said, “promise me that you’ll ask me if you’re ever worried about anything.”

Her head still rested on his shoulder. “Thank you for giving me space, Solomon. I know I need to go see your grandmother soon.”

After Solomon left, Becky felt in the mood for an aromatic oil bath. Her belly was growing, and it felt itchy most of the time. She thought the warm oil would feel good. She turned on the water and mixed it until it was above body temperature. Then she poured lavender oil into the water and swirled it around with her hand.

Turtle’s heart was beating so fast and his breathing was so deep that he worried about her hearing him. He forced his breath under control, and he watched.

Steam rose off the water as Becky slipped the white chenille robe off her shoulders and hung it on the hook on the back of the bathroom door. She stood naked by the bathtub holding her belly. Then she stepped into the tub and eased herself into the water. Smiling, she lowered her body until she was lying in the water up to her chin. She closed her eyes and laid her head back on a little pillow. She played with the water and gently massaged her abdomen.

Turtle felt a surge of anger. I ain’t stupid, he thought. The bitch’s knocked up with another man’s baby. She’s been cheatin’ on me. It’s gotta be Solomon. He’s the most meddlin’ sombitch I ever knowed. And to think, I wuz plannin’ to take care a her. I thought she cared about me, but she’s just a slut! That’s all she is. She’s a friggin’ slut!

He was so mad that he didn’t even want to watch her. He wanted to go get drunk. That’s what I’ll do, he thought. I’ll git my moonshine, and I’ll go see Sally. I ain’t seen Sally since I started watchin’ that red-headed bitch. What’s my friggin’ problem, he thought. Sally’s a hot-blooded woman that loves to party with me. I been a wastin’ all this time plannin’ on takin’ care a that ungrateful slut. “I’ll fix her,” he muttered under his breath.

He swung by his hooch and picked up his jar of moonshine. Then he cut across the meadow towards Sally Dudley’s house. Her husband’s truck was gone. That’s good, he thought. He tapped on the kitchen window. Sally looked up and saw Turtle. She smiled real big and went outside.

“Where ye been, Turtle? I missed ye,” she said batting her eyelashes at him.

“Been busy,” Turtle said. “Where’s your old man?”

“He’s gone to the pool hall in Black Fort,” she said. “Ye know he’s over there ever night.”

“I know he’s a fool,” Turtle said as he pulled Sally over to him and clamped a hand on her breast.

She grinned and asked, “Did ye brang anythang to drank?”

“Does a bear shit in the woods?” He pulled the jar out of his backpack.

He shoved his hand under her blouse and unsnapped her brassiere with his thumb and middle finger. He looked proud of himself. “Are ye my woman?” he asked pulling her tight against him.

“Ye know I am, hon.”

Turtle took a swig of moonshine and handed the jar to Sally. She turned it up and took a swallow. It burned her throat going down. “Ah, that’s good,” she said wiping her mouth on the back of her hand.

Turtle turned up the jar and took some of the liquor in his mouth. He pulled Sally hard against his mouth and squirted liquor into her mouth.

She swallowed it and giggled. She licked his mouth, “Gimme some more Turtle, please,” she whined. She put her mouth over Turtle’s, and he squirted more into her mouth. He got tickled and had to swallow.

“You jest want me for my moonshine,” he teased.

“Huh uh,” she said, “I want you for this.” She unbuckled his belt and unzipped his pants.

Turtle snorted and pushed Sally’s head down to his crotch. She played with it like it was a lollipop. He lay back to enjoy her attentions. He knew she’d drive him crazy, but she wouldn’t let him come until she was good and ready. She liked long sexual encounters.

When Turtle left Sally’s, he took four iron cow stakes from her barn. He planned to twist them into the ground at the corners of the mattress so he could keep the red-headed bitch tied down. I can’t trust the slut to be faithful to me. When I feel like a piece of her ass, I’ll go git me some, he thought.

Copyright © 2008 by Robbin Renee Bridges
Coping with Grief through Afterlife Communication
http://www.spirit-sanctuary.org/

Chapter 24 - Kidnapped!

2008-10-10T18:15:00.000-07:00

October 21, 1948

Becky’s not on the front porch, Solomon thought. She was always out there to meet him. Walking up the path he ticked off a list of possible reasons for her absence tonight. He tapped on the door and stuck his head inside, “Where is everybody?” The front door was unlocked. Mountain folks never locked their doors. They never needed to. Nobody ever bothered anybody. It was taken for granted…a code of the mountains.

Jerry sat at the kitchen table drinking coffee. He nodded for Solomon to come in.

“What’s wrong?” Solomon asked.

Jerry sighed. “Becky got a letter from her boyfriend that’s got her upset,” he said quietly. “I don’t know what it says, but I’m glad you’re here. Maybe she’ll talk to you.”

The door to Becky’s bedroom was ajar. Solomon knocked on it, and it swung open a little. He could see her sitting at her desk facing the front window. Her head was in her hands. “Becky?” he said. She didn’t answer. The door was half open now so he went on into her bedroom. She didn’t move. She just stared out the window. Solomon touched her on the shoulder. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

She shrugged away from him. He pulled up a side chair and sat down at the desk with her. She wasn’t crying. She had a blank stare. She was holding the letter and a picture in her hands.
“Can I see the picture?”

She passed it to him. It was a toga party with a dozen or more college kids hanging on each other. Two in the back were clanking beer steins together.

“Which one is Robbie?”

Becky pointed to a handsome blond Roman soldier cheek to cheek with a pretty dark-haired woman draped provocatively in a sheet and tied with shiny braid. Both were laughing.

Solomon said, “I’m sure they’re just friends. He wouldn’t have sent the picture if she meant anything to him. Now would he?”

That seemed to be a new train of thought for her. She perked up a bit. “You’re probably right,” she said as she took a deep breath and stood up. Her blue A-line housedress buttoned up the front. For the first time Solomon thought that she looked quite pregnant. He wondered if she could be further along than her last period indicated. She was beginning to waddle, and she instinctively rested her hand on top of her abdomen. Solomon knew that as a fetus grew, a woman’s pelvic bones moved and her center of gravity shifted. It made her look more fragile to him. He wanted nothing more than to protect her and take care of her. He wanted to spare her any pain, whether emotional or physical. He wanted her to have a life that made her smile…even if that meant lying to her about what he thought about Robbie’s picture.

Jerry hollered to them, “I’ve got fresh coffee and sweet rolls in here.”

Solomon and Becky sat down at the table with him and talked for a couple of hours. After Solomon left, Jerry said, “He’s a heck of a nice guy.”

“Yeah,” Becky said, “I don’t know what I’d do without him.”

Turtle watched Solomon get into his truck and drive out of sight. He crept along the perimeter of the yard so he could duck into the bushes if need be. Everything seemed normal tonight. He stood in the rhododendron bushes as usual waiting for Becky to pull her shades. She sat down at her desk and pulled out her stationery. She started her nightly letter to Robbie, “My Dearest Robbie...”

Turtle watched as Jerry came to Becky’s bedroom door and said something to her. She nodded in agreement about whatever it was. Then he saw Jerry get a towel and wash rag out of the linen closet. Could I be this lucky? Turtle thought. It looked like Jerry was going to take a bath. Turtle ran around to the bathroom window. Jerry was already running water in the bathtub. Getting Becky out of the cabin was going to be a piece of cake tonight. As soon as Jerry got himself out of the wheelchair and into the bathtub, Turtle would have plenty of time to get Becky. He’d even be able to get Jerry’s rifle out of the pantry.

Turtle watched Jerry slide into the water. He clipped the phone line to Jerry’s cabin, and then he ran around to the front of the cabin to see where Becky was. She was still at her desk writing. He tiptoed up the front steps and quietly opened the front door. The first thing he did was grab for the rifle and swing it over his shoulder by the strap.

He crept to Becky’s bedroom door and stood there just a second. He knew that he’d have to be quick and rough with her to get her away from the cabin before Jerry could get out of the bath tub. He suspected that Jerry might have a revolver somewhere in the house.

Turtle pushed the door open and ran at Becky. Shock and terror filled her eyes. Before she could scream, Turtle clamped his hand tightly over her mouth. He grabbed her under the breasts with his other arm and jerked her up out of her chair causing it to fall over backwards.

Jerry shouted from the bathtub, “Becky! Are you alright?”

Becky’s arms and legs flailed. She grabbed for the doorframe as they passed through it, but Turtle was too strong. He easily carried her outside. He stopped at the edge of the yard, picked up his backpack, and swung it over his shoulder. He had to use the hand that was over Becky’s mouth, and she immediately started screaming. “Shut up bitch!” he said as he slapped his hand over her mouth again.

He carried her until they were out of shooting range of the cabin, and then he stopped. He put a knee on her chest and held her down while he taped her mouth shut with army green duck tape. He had scratches all over his arms where she’d clawed him. He grabbed a handful of hair and yanked her head backwards. “If you don’t stop scratchin’ and fightin’, I’m gonna cut your pretty red hair off at the scalp. You understand me, bitch?”

Becky’s eyes were wide with terror.

It seemed like he’d dragged her for miles. She’d lost her bedroom slippers a long way back. Her feet and legs were scratched and bleeding from the bushes and stones. Finally, Turtle said in a sing song way, “We’re home.” He pulled back the lattice of pine and holly branches and shoved Becky inside. He shoved her so hard that she smacked into the back wall. A sharp pain stabbed her thigh as she staggered backward and fell onto the hard metal of the cow stake. In the darkness she reached for it and clung to the corkscrew object. Gravel from the hooch floor dug into her knees.

Turtle struck a match and lit the kerosene lantern. He had a lunatic grin on his face. “How do you like your new home, bitch?”

Becky tears had washed trails in the dirt on her cheeks and on the duck tape gouging into her face. She curled up in a ball on the mattress and sobbed. She knew that she was at his mercy.

Turtle sat on the floor of his hooch sadistically watching her. He knew he had plenty of time. He could go slow and enjoy every inch of her pretty body. He crawled over to her and picked up one of her hands. She started flailing, and he backhanded her. The duck tape dug into her burning cheeks. “If you fight me, I’ll hurt you,” he snarled as he climbed on top of her and pinned her to the mattress.

He pulled Becky’s arm up to the corner of the mattress and cinched it tight with rope to a cow stake. Then he tied her other arm to a stake at the other corner. He stood at the foot of the mattress to admire his trophy. She whimpered and shut her eyes.

Turtle stooped down and held her left leg with both hands. She kicked at him with the other. He put his knee on it while he tied her leg to the stake. He was too strong for her so she quit fighting. She didn’t even try to resist when he tied her other leg to the stake.

He straddled her and slowly unbuttoned her blue dress. There were twenty buttons. He counted them as he unbuttoned them one at a time. “One button, two buttons, three buttons...twenty buttons.” It was a game to Turtle. He pulled his hunting knife out of his belt and sat down on her thighs. He ran his finger along the blade of his knife. “Whatcha think I orta do with this here knife?”

Becky turned her head and shut her eyes with a pitiful wail.

Turtle grabbed her by the chin and made her look at him. “I thank I ort to cut the little bastard outta yer big ole fat belly. Whatcha think about that?”

Becky shook her head no and sobbed.

Turtle laughed at her. “I wuz joshing with ye. If I kilt ye, I couldn’t play with ye. I ain’t stupid,” he said.

He cut through the sleeves of her dress. He cut the straps of her slip, and then he slit it up the middle. He carefully pulled her clothes away from her body. He stood back and enjoyed her lying helpless in her bra and panties. He adjusted his crotch. His hard-on was about to bust his seams. “I thank I’ll git comfy,” he said as he stripped naked. He was proud of his erection. He grinned and twisted back and forth so that it slapped against his thighs.

Becky’s chest heaved in response to her terror. Her pupils were black saucers in her eyes from the adrenaline coursing through her.

Turtle cut the brassiere between her breasts, and they spilled sideways. He cut the straps, and then he pulled it away from her in pieces. He got down on one knee and sneered, “And now for the honey pot.” He cut her panties from the leg to the waist on both sides and peeled the mid section down exposing her. He ran his fingers through her pubic hair and brushed his dirty hand over her swollen belly.

Copyright © 2008 by Robbin Renee Bridges
Coping with Grief through Afterlife Communication
http://www.spirit-sanctuary.org

Chapter 25 - Rescue

2008-10-10T16:22:00.000-07:00

October 21, 1948

Solomon walked into the kitchen where Ma was standing with the ice box door open. He looked over her shoulder. “Mmmm, I see lemon meringue pie.”

“Want a slice?” she asked.

“You betcha.”

“How was Becky tonight?” Ma asked.

“She’s fine,” Solomon said between lemon pie bites.

“I saw her at the post office today. She’s definitely showing now,” Ma said.

“Yep, that she is,” Solomon replied.

A mist swirled near the back door. Sarah O’Hara appeared in it looking worried.

“Sarah!” They both said it at the same time.

“Solomon, ye got to help Becky!” she said quickly.

Solomon’s eyes widened. “What?”

“Turtle’s kidnapped Becky, and he’s taken her to his hooch on Ghost Light Mountain,” she said.

“Where?” Solomon was beginning to panic.

“Don’t panic right now,” she said, “that won’t help. I’ll show ye where the hooch is. Patsy, ye stay with Jerry and wait for Solomon to get back with Becky.”

Solomon parked his truck in the usual spot. He and Sarah jumped out and went off in one direction, and Ma went up the path to Jerry, who was on the front porch waiting for the sheriff. Jerry had used his ham radio to contact someone, who had called the sheriff for him.

Ma said to Jerry, “Solomon and Sarah are going to Turtle’s hooch to get Becky.”

Jerry said, “Sarah? I only saw Solomon.”

Ma said, “We’ll talk about that later.”

The faint glow of the kerosene lantern showed through the evergreen covered lattice at the entrance to Turtle’s hooch. Solomon felt like he couldn’t get there fast enough. He tore the lattice away from the entrance. What he saw before him let loose an animal rage in Solomon that he could never have expected. Turtle was lowering himself on top of Becky. Olive drab duck tape covered her mouth. She was naked and tied down spread-eagled on the mattress.

The woman he so tenderly and carefully protected had fallen prey to the most despicable man Solomon had ever known. Turtle jerked himself up to a standing position. His suddenly deflated penis swayed against pasty white thighs. Solomon hit him in the chest with the force of a raging bull. Turtle staggered backwards against the dirt wall of his hooch. Solomon pinned him to the wall with a strangle hold. Turtle struggled to pry Solomon’s fingers away from his throat as Solomon sank a knee into Turtle’s groin. His testicles made a squishing noise as Solomon kneed him again and again. The last time he kneed him he said, “And this one’s for your sister, Rachael.” Solomon stood up and looked down at the disgusting creature writhing at his feet.

Turtle tried to curl into a ball to relieve the pressure on his swelling scrotum. “No way,” Solomon snarled. He pulled Turtle’s arms behind his back and tied them. Then he wound the rope around Turtle’s ankles and pulled his arms and his ankles together—hog-tied.

Solomon dropped down beside Becky. He took off his flannel shirt and spread it over her to cover her nakedness. He peeled the tape away from her mouth.

“Solomon... Solomon,” she sobbed. Her shredded clothes lay in a pile beside the mattress. It hurt him to see her so vulnerable. He cut through the ropes releasing her arms and legs. She sat up clutching his shirt to her body. She was trembling and weeping. Solomon held her in his arms as he said over and over, “You’re safe. You’re safe now.”

“Please, don’t let me go,” she begged.

“I’ll never let you go, Becky.” He rocked her in his arms while she sobbed and jerked uncontrollably. “It’s okay,” he said, “you’re safe now.”

When her convulsive quivering slowed, Solomon buttoned his shirt around her. He said softly as he held out a shirt sleeve one at a time, “Put your arm in here.” It was cold in the hooch, and Solomon knew it was close to freezing outside. He stripped off his white tee shirt and pulled it over Becky’s head layering it over the flannel shirt. He wrapped her in Turtle’s wool army blanket, picked her up, and started walking towards Jerry’s cabin. She shivered as she held herself close to his chest.

As he carried her, he asked, “Becky, did he rape you?”

She nodded no. “You stopped him before he could,” she said.

Solomon’s long strides covered the ground quickly. Jerry was watching for them. “There they are!” he said.

Ma opened the door for them. “Is she okay?”

“I think so,” Solomon answered heading for Becky’s bedroom. “Pull the covers back,” he said to Ma.

She did it quickly, and Solomon laid Becky in her bed. He threw Turtle’s blanket on the floor and covered her with her blankets. Jerry watched from the doorway. Becky grabbed Solomon’s arm. “Please, don’t leave me,” she said.

He sat down on the edge of her bed and held her hand between his two hands. His wide shoulders were still naked. Powerful muscles defined his shape. Deltoids thickly wrapped his shoulders. His trapezius and latissimus dorsi narrowed to his waist. His broad chest muscles folded into his triceps around his shoulders. They were still plumped up from carrying Becky over the hills. His six-pack abdominals expanded and contracted as he breathed. He had the physique of a Greek god and the face of a movie star. At six foot three inches, he was what legends are made of.

Becky trembled under the covers. “Jerry, make her a cup of hot tea with milk and sugar,” Solomon said. Then he pulled off his boots and climbed under the covers with her. He pulled her back to his chest, and his knees tucked her into a fetal position. He pulled the quilts up to her chin and folded his arms around her. Ma knew that Solomon was warming her body with his. Becky just knew that she finally felt safe.

When her shivering stopped, Solomon said softly to her, “Could you drink some hot tea? You need fluids.”

She nodded okay.

Solomon crawled out from under the covers and helped Becky to sit up in bed. Ma put extra pillows behind her back and handed her the tea. She held it with both hands and sipped. “It’s good,” she said.

Ma tenderly washed Becky’s face with a warm wash cloth. She daubed the cuts and bruises with the corner of the cloth. “These will heal in a few days,” she said.

Jerry handed Solomon a tee shirt. “See if you can wear this, man. It’s big on me so it might fit you.”

Solomon pulled it over his head. It was white with a picture of an Indian wearing a ceremonial headdress on the back. On the front it said “Cherokee” over his heart. It was skin-tight on Solomon’s wide shoulders and biceps, and it just brushed the top of his belt. Jerry said, “I never realized how big you are.”

“Thanks, Jerry,” Solomon said, “I’ll get it back to you.”

Solomon opened his medical bag and pulled out his stethoscope. He moved the blanket so that he wasn’t sitting on it, and he sat down on the edge of the bed. “Becky, can I listen to the baby’s heartbeat?” he asked.

Fear still showed in her face, but she nodded yes.

Solomon lifted the blankets just enough to see the hem of his flannel shirt that she was still wearing. He reached under the shirt and palpated her abdomen until he felt the baby’s back under his hand. Then he pressed the stethoscope’s bell against it and listened. “He sounds good,” he said.

“The sheriff’s here,” Jerry said as he wheeled himself to the front door.

Sheriff Davis introduced himself. Jerry explained what had happened and said that he wanted to press charges for kidnapping. The sheriff stood in the doorway of Becky’s bedroom. “I’m glad you’re okay, Ma’am.” He turned to Solomon and said, “Mr. Banks said that you can show us where to find the suspect.”

“Yes,” Solomon said, “I’ll take you there.” He touched Becky’s shoulder and said, “I’ll be right back. I want to make sure that Turtle never does anything like this again.”

Solomon led the sheriff and his deputies outside. He stopped by his truck and pulled an old coat from behind the seat. He said to the sheriff, “You’ll need a stretcher to carry Turtle out of the woods.”

Sheriff Davis turned to one of his deputies and said, “Get a stretcher out of the equipment truck.” He grinned at Solomon and said, “You disabled him?”

“Something like that,” Solomon answered.

Sheriff Davis halfway expected to find Turtle dead, but he found him hog-tied and moaning…naked in the lantern light. His scrotum was dark purple, and it looked like the skin was stretched over two softballs. One of the deputies flinched when he saw Turtle’s genitals. He shuttered and said, “Looks like justice for a rapist.”

Solomon corrected him. “Castration would have been justice.”

Copyright © 2008 by Robbin Renee Bridges
Coping with Grief through Afterlife Communication
http://www.spirit-sanctuary.org

Chapter 26 - Harkening to Heaven

2008-10-09T23:21:00.000-07:00

October 22, 1948

It was after midnight when Solomon got back to Jerry’s cabin. Turtle was on his way to the jail in Black Fort. A deputy had taken Ma home, and Jerry sat alone at the kitchen table. Becky’s bedroom door stood open, and her bedside lamp was on. Solomon stood beside her bed. She was still wearing his flannel shirt. Her breathing was slow and regular like she was in a deep sleep. She looked peaceful.

Solomon sat down at the table with Jerry. “I’m surprised she’s sleeping that soundly,” he said, “after all that’s happened tonight.”

Jerry smiled and said, “I gave her a phenobarb pill. The VA gave it to me for when I can’t sleep.”

Solomon dropped his head and let out a soft growl.

“Did I do the wrong thing?” Jerry asked anxiously.

“You have to be real careful about what you give a pregnant woman,” Solomon said as he opened his bag and pulled out his stethoscope.

Solomon moved Becky’s blankets and sat on the edge of her bed. He felt for her radial pulse.

Jerry rolled up beside him. “She’s alright,” Solomon whispered to him. He touched her cheek and neck with the back of his hand. She was wet with sweat. He pulled the top quilt off of her and laid it on a chest at the foot of the bed. He warmed the bell of his stethoscope with his palm, and then he pulled the covers back. He slid the bell under the flannel shirt and listened to the baby’s heartbeat. He said, “The baby sounds fine,” as he covered her with the quilt. “When did you give her the phenobarbital?” he asked Jerry.

“It’s been about two hours.”

“Can I see the bottle?” Solomon asked.

“Sure,” Jerry said handing it to him.

“How much did you give her?”

“I only gave her one pill,” Jerry said.

“Okay,” Solomon said, “I’m going to sleep in the rocking chair. I want to be there when she wakes.”

Jerry said, “You’re a good man, Solomon.”

Solomon smiled and said, “You get some sleep too, man.”

Jerry said, “Okay. Wake me if you need anything.”

Solomon sat down in the rocking chair and rocked for a few minutes. He scooted down a bit and put his elbow on the armrest. He leaned his head over on his fist and dozed off.

Solomon woke a little before dawn and saw that Becky’s bed was empty. He stretched the stiffness out of his arms and neck. He heard the toilet flush, and then he heard the bathtub water running. He stood by the bathroom door and said, “Are you okay, Becky?”

“Yes, I’m fine, Solomon. I just want to clean up,” she answered.

Solomon rubbed his eyes and looked at his watch. It was five thirty. He’d slept three and a half hours in the chair. He went into the kitchen and made a pot of coffee. He sat at the table while it perked.

Jerry wheeled into the kitchen. “Short night, huh?”

“Yeah, it was,” Solomon said rubbing his whiskers.

“Becky can take a while when she’s in the tub,” Jerry laughed. “If you gotta pee, do it off the back porch.”

Solomon grinned and said, “I might do that,” as he walked out on the back porch. He came back into the kitchen rubbing his hands. “It’s cold out there.”

Jerry cut four big slices off a loaf of bread. He buttered them and put them on a pan while he waited for the oven to heat up. He and Solomon sat and drank coffee as they discussed how Turtle would be an old man before he got out of prison this time.

Becky came out of the bathroom in her robe and slippers. Her hair was wound up on top of her head with a fluffy blue towel. Her cheeks were rosy from the heat of the bath. “Good morning,” she said to them.

Jerry said, “Yes, it is a good morning. What a blessing it is to have you with us safe and unharmed.”

“I owe it to you, Solomon,” she said sitting down at the table. She hesitated, and then she said, “I uh…I wondered how you knew where I was.” She looked him squarely in the eyes.

He looked down at his hands. Then he looked back at her face. She was intently watching him for his answer. So was Jerry. Solomon felt his face flush. Do they think I had something to do with Turtle’s carrying her off to his hooch? “You don’t think that I…”

“I just wondered if you already knew that Turtle was building the hooch out there. That’s all I’m asking,” she said quickly.

Solomon shook his head no and said, “I…uh…I don’t know where to start with this.”

Jerry and Becky’s eyes were fixed on him.

Solomon tried to choose his words carefully, “There is a world that surrounds our world. We can’t normally see it, but it’s here, and it influences us all the time.” He stood up. “Sometimes I see things that most people can’t see. Sometimes I get messages from that world. Last night, someone from that world told me that you were in trouble, and she showed me where I could find you.”

Becky cocked her head and gave him her little half-smile. “Do what?” she said.

Jerry sounded excited, “I know that world exists, Solomon. I saw it on Omaha Beach on D-Day. All the bombs going off around me couldn’t compare to the brightness of it. I saw people rise up out of their dead bodies and float up into that world. I kept waiting for my turn, but it never came. I woke up in a field hospital.”

Becky looked at Jerry with wide eyes. “You’ve never said anything about that!”

“That’s because I didn’t want people to think I was crazy,” he said.

“Some people call that world the afterlife,” Solomon said, “but it’s really just an extension of our world. It’s a continuation of life.”

“Is it heaven?” Becky asked.

“Some people call it that,” Solomon said.

“My Sunday School teacher said that heaven is up in the sky,” she said.

Solomon smiled, “Do you believe that?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never thought about it, I guess.”

“It’s all around you,” Solomon said, “and within you...just like Jesus said.”

Becky sat silently for a while, and then she said, “And someone from that world told you where I was?”

“Yes,” he said.

“What else did that person tell you?”

“She told me that Turtle had kidnapped you and taken you to his hooch,” Solomon continued, “and she told me that she’d show me where it was.”

“That’s what Ma Patsy was talking about,” Jerry blurted out. “She said that you,” he pointed at Solomon, “and Sarah were going to Turtle’s hooch. When I told her you were the only one out there, she looked flustered and said that she’d explain it later. Is Sarah the one who told you that Becky was in trouble?”

“Yes,” Solomon said, “she’s my great-great grandmother.”

“So Ma Patsy can see that world too, right?” Jerry asked.

“Yes, she taught me how to see it and how to communicate with people in it,” Solomon answered.

Becky sighed and sat up straight, and then she squirmed a bit. “Uh...can you see that world right now?”

“I could if I wanted to,” he said, “but right now I see the same thing you and Jerry see…the kitchen.”

Jerry smiled.

“And when I die,” she said, “I’ll go to that world?”

“Well, there’s no where to go. That world is here all around you and within you,” he said.

“Oh yeah, that’s what you said before,” she said. “It’s kinda hard to picture it.”

“I know. It’s hard for me too,” Solomon said.

“And for me too,” Jerry said. “I saw it once, but I’ve never seen it again. I figured you get to see it when you die, or almost die.” Jerry leaned in closer to Solomon. “Are you saying that I could learn to see it anytime?”

“Yes,” Solomon nodded.

Jerry asked quickly, “When can you teach me?”

“Ma’s a better teacher than I am when it comes to the afterlife,” Solomon said. “She has a special room that makes contacting that world easier.”

Jerry was beside himself with eagerness. He rolled around the living room like a man pacing. “This is the most exciting thing I’ve ever heard. I’ll call Patsy today.” That’s when he remembered that his phone line had been cut. “Oh, crap! Solomon, could you call the phone company about repairing my phone line?”

Ma was just getting up when Solomon got home. “Did ye get any sleep last night?” she asked.

“Not much,” he answered. “What patient did you want me to see this morning?”

“Actually, ye have time for a nap before she gets here at ten thirty. Her name’s Bertha Elliott. She says her baby’s quit moving. I think it might be dead.”

“How far along is she?”

“Thirty-six weeks,” Ma answered.

“How long since you heard a fetal heartbeat?”

“Last week,” Ma said.

“We may need to induce her,” he said.

“That’s why I suggested ye take a nap,” she said. “Ye might be up all night again.”

“Okay, wake me at nine thirty.” He started up the stairs and remembered that he still needed to call the phone company. He came back to Ma’s office and said, “I’ve got to call about Jerry’s telephone line.”

“I’ll do it,” Ma said, “go to bed.”

Ma let Solomon sleep for three hours, and then she knocked on his bedroom door. “Time to get up, son.”

He came downstairs and found her bent over her desk going over Bertha’s chart. He stood behind her to read over her shoulder. “Does she know that her baby may be dead?”

“Yes,” Ma said.

“You know baby’s slow down when they get close to full term. There’s not room for much movement,” Solomon suggested.

“Bertha thinks her baby’s dead,” Ma said.

“Did the phone company say when they’d be out to fix Jerry’s phone?” Solomon changed the subject.

“They’ve already been there,” she said. “I saw them leave about an hour ago.”

“Good,” Solomon said, “by the way, Jerry wants to talk to you about the afterlife. He had an experience on Omaha Beach when he was shot.”

Ma nodded, “Tell him anytime’s good for me.”

“How do you feel about today? I plan to call the clinic and ask Alice Moriah to send the patients here.”

“Yeah,” Ma said, “today’s fine and dandy.”

Solomon put on his white coat and stuffed his stethoscope in his pocket. He sat down beside Bertha in the waiting room. She looked at him with sad eyes. He picked up her hand and held it between his hands as he studied her face. She looked away from him at first, but then she looked at him when she felt his kindness and his strength. When she relaxed, he asked softly, “How do you feel right now, Bertha?”

“Scared,” she said.

He concentrated on sending his psychic energy into Bertha. The amazing thing about this, he thought, is that giving psychic energy to someone else doesn’t take any away from me. It’s like tapping into a reservoir of energy and simply becoming a conduit for it.

Bertha sighed deeply and said, “I feel that, Solomon.” She sat for a few minutes with her eyes closed as Solomon’s hands held hers. He gently stoked the back of her hand with his thumb.

When she opened her eyes, Solomon whispered, “Are you ready?”

She didn’t answer, but she got up and walked towards the exam room. Bertha’s husband, Hank, walked with his arm around her shoulders. Solomon handed Bertha a paper cup and a hospital gown and said, “I need you to empty your bladder and get me a urine specimen in this cup. And let the gown open in the front, please.”

Solomon turned to Hank, “Has Bertha told you that the baby may be deceased?”

“She told me it’s dead,” Hank said.

Solomon nodded and said, “It’s good that you came with her. This is real hard on a woman. She’s already come to know and love the baby inside of her.”

Bertha came out of the bathroom and handed Solomon the paper cup. He put it on the counter beside the sink, and then he helped Bertha onto the examining table. Two ribbons kept the gown closed over Bertha’s breasts. He spread a sheet over her and folded it back to expose her belly. He opened the gown, and using both hands, he palpated her abdomen. He found the baby’s back and placed the stethoscope over it. He heard nothing. Listening was just a formality. His hands could sense that the little lump of flesh within Bertha’s uterus had been released by the baby’s soul. Baby Boy Elliott had already ascended into the Light World.

Both Bertha and Hank stared at Solomon expectantly, hopefully. He covered Bertha’s belly with the sheet. Her hands lay just below her breasts. Solomon put his hands on top of hers and said, “I’m sorry.”

Tears welled up in her eyes and Hank bent over and kissed her forehead. They already knew what Solomon was going to say, but hearing it made it real.

Solomon started an IV and set the drip to keep the vein open. He moved the IV pole with the glass bottle of saline out of Hank’s way. He helped Bertha’s feet to find the stirrups, and then he pushed the extension into the table. He used a syringe to insert prostaglandin gel into her vagina. “Bertha,” he said, “I’m putting a gel into you that will soften your cervix and help it to dilate.” He put his index and middle fingers inside to make sure the gel covered her cervix. He found that she was dilated three centimeters and that her cervix had thinned about fifty percent.

“Are you okay?” he asked her. She was staring off into space. “Bertha,” he said. She ignored him. “Bertha,” he said again. She looked at him this time. “I’m going to strip your membranes. It will sting a bit.”

She nodded okay.

Solomon firmly thrust his finger into Bertha’s cervix. He forced the membranes away from the internal os and circled the inside while he pushed.

Bertha sucked in air through clinched teeth.

“It’s done,” Solomon said pulling off his gloves. He pulled the exam table extension out so she could take her feet out of the stirrups. He handed Hank a box of tissues for her.

Solomon said, “Ma’s going to give you an enema now to get you ready for delivery. I’ve got to run a short errand, but I’ll be right back.” He rubbed her forearm and said, “Are you okay?”

She nodded yes.

He hung his white coat on the hook by the sink and left to go pick up Jerry and Becky.

Copyright © 2008 by Robbin Renee Bridges
Coping with Grief through Afterlife Communication
http://www.spirit-sanctuary.org/

Chapter 27 - Jerry and the Afterlife

2008-10-09T21:36:00.000-07:00

October 22, 1948

Solomon opened Jerry’s front door, “Hello,” he said.

Becky stepped out of the bathroom. There was a bounce in her walk.

“You look pretty and perky,” he said. “Did you get a nap this morning?”

“No, I’m just so happy to be home safe. Yesterday seems like a nightmare. It doesn’t feel real.”

Solomon looked seriously at her and said, “I hope you’ll talk about what happened. It was traumatic enough to have affected you in ways that you’re not aware of yet.”

“Maybe later,” she said with a curtsy and a giggle.

Jerry came out of his bedroom and said, “Well, I got a good nap. I’m ready to talk to my mother in heaven.”

Solomon raised his eyebrows and grinned, “Really?”

“Yep,” Jerry said, “that’s who I really want to talk to.”

Solomon smiled and nodded, “Sounds good.”

“Well, I don’t want to talk to anybody,” Becky said. “It sounds spooky to me.”

“Becky, before we go,” Solomon said, “I want you to know that Bertha Elliott is in labor over there.”

“Good grief, Solomon,” she said, “do you have to do that every day?”

He smiled, “I’m a midwife, Becky. That’s what I do.”

She flipped back her long red curls and playfully stuck her nose in the air, “Hrumph!” she huffed.

When he realized she was teasing, he teased back at her, “Don’t be too snooty, Missy. You might be needin’ my services before this is over.”

She hit him on the shoulder with her fist. “Oh, you dog! That’s not fair. You’re probably right, and that scares...me...to...death.” She slowed down to emphasize the last words of her sentence.

“Nothing to be scared about,” he said, “it’s as natural as can be.”

Becky shuddered, and then she said, “At least today, I might get to see the baby. I ran away the last time.”

“No,” Solomon said, “this time there’s not a baby. Bertha’s baby died a few days ago. I induced her labor this morning so I could deliver it this afternoon.”

“Oh no! That’s so sad,” Becky said.

Jerry rolled his wheelchair to the passenger side of the truck and waited.

Solomon nodded in agreement that it was sad as he picked up Jerry and set him up in the passenger seat. He put the wheelchair in the bed of the truck while Becky climbed in on Solomon’s side and slid to the middle.

When they got to Ma’s, Solomon carried Jerry into the living room. I need to build a ramp, he thought. Then he carried the wheelchair in and parked it near Jerry.

Becky chose one of the overstuffed chairs to sit in. “If I get stuck in this chair, will you help me get out of it?”

Ma had let Bertha move over to the cot where she could be more comfortable as her labor progressed. Solomon pulled a straight-backed chair over to where Ma and Hank were sitting with Bertha. She was lying on her side with her eyes closed. Solomon leaned towards Ma and said, “How’s she doing?”

“She’s having some mild contractions now, but nothing regular,” Ma said.

Solomon nodded and whispered to Ma, “Jerry and Becky are in the living room. Jerry wants to see you.”

“Okay,” Ma said as she got up.

Solomon moved closer to Bertha. She opened her eyes. He could tell that she was having a contraction because she was holding her breath. “Don’t hold your breath, Bertha. Try to breathe through it, hon.” He put his hand on her belly to feel the strength of her contraction.

Ma sat down in the chair closest to Jerry. She asked him to tell her about what he had seen on Normandy Beach on D-Day. She nodded as he told her about the spirit bodies and the bright lights that he’d seen when he was so close to death. Ma knelt down in front of him and put her hands on his knees, “Jerry, the part of ye that is looking at me right now,” Ma made a V with her fingers and pointed at her eyes and then at Jerry’s eyes, “it’s yer soul. Yer soul already lives in the Light World, and it has a temporary attachment to this body.” She tapped his knee with her index finger and said, “This is temporary.”

Jerry threw his head back and grinned real big.

Becky looked up from the fashion magazine and raised her eyebrows.

Ma continued, “The part of ye that’s looking at me and listening to me is eternal. It can never die…ever.”

Jerry’s eyes scanned Ma Patsy’s face. Tears were welling up in his eyes.

“This temporary body is a barrier,” she continued. “It keeps ye from being able to see the Light World, even though it’s all around ye. The Light World and the afterlife are the same. I want ye to know how easy it is to see that beautiful world.” She peeked in the exam room. “When Solomon gets a minute, I’ll ask him to help ye get into the chamber. Ye won’t be needin’ a wheelchair in there.”

Solomon pulled the cot away from the wall so he could get behind it. He needed to use his right hand to examine Bertha. He moved her sheet and sat down on the cot. He pulled a rubber glove onto one hand and squeezed lubricant on his index and middle fingers. “Bertha, put the bottoms of your feet together and let your legs relax and drop open for me.” Bertha did what he asked. He slipped his hand under the sheet and inserted two fingers into her vagina. That’s about five centimeters, he thought.

He could feel the amniotic sac bulging. “I’m going to break your water to make your labor go faster,” he said. Leaving two fingers inside her, he moved the sheet out of his way, and reached for the amniohook. Using his two fingers as a guide, he slid the instrument that looked like a crochet hook alongside his fingers until it reached the end of his fingertips which were embedded in the bag of waters. He dug the hook into the sac and pulled. A gush of clear water poured out of Bertha onto the towel beneath her.

“Things should go faster now,” he said to Bertha and Hank.

Becky had noticed that things were much quieter with Bertha’s labor and delivery than they had been with the unpredictable Nellie’s last month. Solomon said to her, “You’re welcome to sit at Ma’s desk in the exam room.” Bertha said that she doesn’t mind.

“Okay,” she said struggling to get out of the comfy chair.

Solomon smiled and reached out his hand to her. She pulled herself up belly first with his help.

He said to Jerry, “Are you ready to be amazed?”

Jerry sighed real big and said, “I can’t wait!”

Solomon scooped Jerry up out of the chair. Even thought he weighed a hundred and eighty pounds, Solomon picked him up as easily as he would a three-year-old. He carried him into the transfiguration chamber and set him on the floor in the middle of the room. Ma had already lit the candle. Smoke from the vanilla-scented incense spiraled upwards. Solomon walked out of the room and shut the door.

Becky followed Solomon into the exam room. He intended to introduce Bertha, but he saw that her teeth were clinched, and she was holding her breath again. Solomon stooped down beside the cot. “Bertha, don’t hold your breath.” She didn’t respond to him. He touched her shoulder and said, “Look at me, Bertha.”

She opened her eyes, and he said, “Take a deep breath and pant.”

She tried, but then she shut her eyes again and held her breath.

Solomon motioned for Becky to have a seat at Ma’s desk. He cleared papers out of the way for her and handed her a notepad and a pencil. “Write down any questions you have,” he said.

She looked approvingly at him. “You look good in your white doctor’s coat.”

Jerry stared into the mirror like Ma Patsy had told him to do. His eyes went slightly out of focus and his vision blurred. He concentrated on the memories of his mother. He remembered her as a rotund, happy woman. She was “soft” he’d said as a child on her lap. She’d rub his back and tell him stories of when he was a baby.

He stared so long that his eyes watered from the strain. He watched the swirling smoke rise to the ceiling of the room. It formed a puddle on the ceiling, and then it cascaded into a corner and dropped down again. He looked over at Ma Patsy. She sat Indian style on the oriental carpet. Her palms rested on her knees. Her eyes were closed. The smile on her lips indicated that she was experiencing a sublime reverie. Jerry was disappointed in himself.

He closed his eyes and tried to clear his mind. Tinkle clink. He opened his eyes and looked up at the wind chime. He was sure that he’d heard it move, but he didn’t see anything. He shut his eyes again and waited. Tinkle clink clink. He opened his eyes and looked at the chimes again. He could see them moving this time. He could also see a mist forming in the spiraling smoke. Gradually, the mist took the form of a young man.

Ma opened her eyes. She knew that they were not alone in the chamber.

Bertha was between contractions. Solomon squatted beside her and stroked her forehead. “I want you to breathe during your contractions, hon. Your body needs oxygen for your labor. He put a glove on his right hand and squeezed lubricant on his fingers. “I need to see how you’re doing since I broke your water.”

“Oh no,” she said rolling onto her back.

“I know,” he said, “I’m sorry. I need you to put the bottoms of your feet together again.”

She did what he asked, and Solomon reached under the sheet to check her for dilation.

She winced when he touched her. She looked over at her husband and reached for his hand.

“You’re there, Bertha,” Solomon said, “don’t you feel like pushing?”

“No,” she said, “I’m so tired. I can’t do it anymore.”

He had a look of concern as he straightened his back. He said, “I need to get you on the delivery table so I can help you with forceps.”

Becky watched the exchange. Her elbows were on the desk. Her hands covered her mouth and nose with her chin resting in her palms. He’s amazing, she thought. He’s so kind and gentle. He knows exactly what to do to make things better. And he cares so much about his mothers. I want him to deliver my baby, but I’d be embarrassed if he did those things to me. What should I do? Dang, I don’t know what to do.

A handsome blond young man descended to the floor of the transfiguration chamber. He stretched, and then he bent down and touched his toes. “Feels like I need to get the kinks out of my back,” he said. He was wearing typical Sunday-go-to-meeting clothes. He looked at Ma Patsy and Jerry and said, “Shucks, I’m overdressed, aren’t I?” His clothing metamorphosed into casual shirt and slacks.

Jerry’s mouth dropped open. Ma just grinned.

The young man walked around the room. He reached up and touched the wind chimes. His fingers passed through them, but they still tinkled sweetly. “Nice,” he said.

Ma stood up and said, “What’s yer name, young man?”

“Well now, Ma Patsy,” he said, “I don’t seem to have a name.”

He sounded Irish. “Are ye a friend of Sarah O’Hara’s? Ma asked.

“Who? I don’t know the lady,” he said.

“Ye’re obviously a very healthy soul,” Ma said. “Ye came without being called.”

“Yes, I feel quite well,” he responded.

Ma asked, “Is there anything we can do for ye? Why are ye here, and who are ye?”

“Oh, I see,” he said. “I understand your confusion. My physical body is dead in the next room.”

Jerry was completely lost, but fascinated. Ma was genuinely puzzled, and then it dawned on her. Her mouth dropped open. “Well, I’ll be. Ye’re Bertha’s baby!”

“That’s right,” he said. “I am the child of Hank and Bertha Elliott. They’re good people.”

Jerry said, “But…but you don’t look like a baby.”

The young man asked, “Would you like me to?”

Ma said to Jerry, “He can look anyway that he wants to look. The body that his soul was attached to died before he was born. That means that his soul is totally pure and innocent. He’s filled with the wisdom of the Light World. He’s already returned to God, which is a soul’s ultimate destination. Now he serves God as part of God’s Will. ”

“You’re words are kind, Ma Patsy,” he said, “I’m simply a servant of God, and it is my honor to serve you.”

Ma Patsy and the young man were standing while Jerry sat on the floor looking up at them in amazement. The young man said to Jerry, “Would you like to stand up too?”

Jerry said, “I would if I could. I assure you.”

“Then stand up,” the young man said as he extended his hand to Jerry.

Jerry reached for the outstretched hand. Surprisingly, it had no substance, but Jerry felt a pulse of energy as a current ran through his body. He gasped, and then he got up on his feet. “What did you do?” He felt of his legs, and then he touched the colostomy bag on his side.

The young man pointed at it, “You won’t need that anymore. Just take it out.”

Ma Patsy helped Jerry pull the catheter out of his side. The hole healed immediately leaving a small white scar.

Tears ran down Jerry’s cheeks. “Oh God,” he said, “how can I thank you?”

“You can serve God and love mankind,” the young man responded.

Ma Patsy asked, “What name can we use to call ye?”

“Call me Servant,” he said.

Copyright © 2008 by Robbin Renee Bridges
Coping with Grief through Afterlife Communication
http://www.spirit-sanctuary.org

Chapter 28 - Jerry's Miracle

2008-10-09T20:38:00.000-07:00

October 22, 1948

Solomon helped Bertha to stand up and walk. Hank trailed behind with her IV pole. She stepped up on the stool and sat on the table. Solomon put one hand on her back and another under her knees. He spun her around and laid her back. He didn’t bother with a sheet. At this stage of labor, he knew that modesty wasn’t an issue. He placed her feet in the stirrups. As he examined her, a contraction began. “Bertha, try to push,” he said.

She pushed half-heartedly. Mothers help with the birthing process because soon they will hold a new baby. Bertha had no such incentive for her labors. She was so exhausted that she couldn’t even keep her feet in the stirrups. Solomon knew she needed help immediately.

“Hank, get behind Bertha and hold her legs,” Solomon said.

Hank straddled the table behind his wife.

Solomon said, “Hold behind her knees open and back towards her chest.”

Solomon lubricated both sides of the forceps. It lay in two pieces on the sterile instrument tray. He inserted one side of the forceps until it was in position on the right side of the baby’s head. Then he inserted the other on the left. He fastened them together at the center. Grasping the handles, he pulled down on the baby’s head to help it clear Bertha’s pubic bone. He could apply firm pressure because the baby was dead. Bertha’s vagina was stretched too much. “She’s about to tear,” Solomon said picking up a pair of scissors. “Bertha, this may sting.”

Hank looked away. Solomon held the forceps with one hand and using the scissors with the other, he clipped a medio-lateral episiotomy running off to the left. After that, he could easily deliver the baby’s head. He clamped off the umbilical cord and cut it, and then he wrapped the baby in a soft white towel and laid him on the counter beside the sink.

Bertha’s placenta delivered quickly. Solomon could see that the umbilical cord had not developed properly. It had only one artery and one vein. He massaged her uterus to stop her bleeding, and then he cleaned her with a mild iodine solution. As he sutured Bertha, he caught a flash of light out of the corner of his eye from the baby. What is that? The baby was giving off a pulsing white light. Solomon couldn’t resist looking up between sutures to watch the light show.

When he finished, he hurried to the sink to examine the baby again. The thick white covering on the baby’s skin was opalescent. Solomon had never seen anything like it on a newborn. He wiped it away with a towel. Baby Boy Elliott glistened as if he had been sprinkled with diamond dust. It clung to the tiny hairs covering his body. When Solomon picked him up, the spot where he’d lain still glowed. Solomon swaddled the baby in a plush white blanket and asked Hank and Bertha, “Would you like to hold your son?”

“Yes,” Bertha said. She cradled her deceased infant in her arms. Hank wrapped his arms around Bertha and their son. Solomon lingered looking at them. They had a surreal glow. It was as if they had halos. It reminded him of renaissance paintings of the Holy Family.

Becky was still sitting at Ma’s desk. I wonder if she saw the lights around the baby, Solomon thought. “Let me clean up a few things,” he said to her, “and then we’ll go find Jerry and Ma.” Solomon put the soiled linens away. He put the instruments in the sink and poured chlorine water over them. He wiped down the countertop with disinfectant, and then he washed his hands. He turned to Becky and said, “You’ve been very patient.”

“You’re amazing to watch,” she responded.

He smiled as he led her into the back hallway. They passed the transfiguration chamber and turned left into the living room. Jerry’s empty wheelchair sat beside the sofa. “Where are they?” Becky asked. Laughter came from the front porch.

Becky and Solomon stepped out onto the porch. Jerry and Ma sat rocking. They stopped laughing and looked up. Solomon felt a surge of energy flowing through his body as he watched Jerry’s foot tap the floor while his chair rocked back and forth. He moved closer until he stood in front of Jerry, and then he backed up until he was leaning against the banister.

Jerry burst out laughing.

Becky stepped forward to stand beside Solomon. “What’s going on?” she asked.

Solomon smiled and said, “I think Jerry’s had a miracle.”

Jerry stood up and bowed deeply for his niece. She threw her arms around his neck. He lifted her feet off the floor as she asked, “How’d this happen?”

“Bertha Elliott’s baby did it,” Jerry said. “His name is Servant.”

“I don’t understand,” she said.

Solomon said, “I’ll drive you two back home, and Jerry can tell us all about it.”

Jerry was already bouncing down the front porch steps. He looked back and said, “Hang on to that wheelchair. Somebody else might need it.”

Jerry made a pot of coffee and pulled an apple pie out of the pie safe. “I made this to use up my apples, but now it’s a celebration pie.” He laughed, “It’s impossible to know how wonderful walking is until you’ve been crippled.” He put his hand on his belt buckle, “I’ve got to pee. That’s another thing you’ve got to lose to know how much you appreciate it.”

“Have you ever seen anything like this before,” Becky asked Solomon.

“I’ve seen people healed in the spirit world,” he said thinking of Rachael.

“Do you really think the Elliott baby did this to Uncle Jerry?”

“I’m sure he did,” Solomon said.

Jerry came back into the kitchen and sat down with them.

“Is the baby...a ghost?” Becky asked.

“Hmmm, I’m not sure how you’d define a ghost,” Solomon said. “Servant, or Baby Elliott, was attached to a human body, and that body died. The physical body can die, but the soul can never die. It’s eternal. When the baby’s physical body died, its soul was freed to continue its existence in the Light World.”

Jerry said, “I haven’t told you, but Servant appeared as a young man, not as a baby.”

“Really?” Becky said.

Solomon said, “Advanced souls can appear in any form they want. They usually choose to manifest as a young adult.”

Jerry said, “Ma Patsy told me that because Servant’s physical body died before he was born, he was pure enough to return to God immediately.”

“Right,” Solomon said, “a child that dies before the age of accountability immediately returns to God.”

Jerry said, “So I guess the stories about lost ghost children are nonsense, right?”

“Pure nonsense,” Solomon said. “It’s ridiculous to think that God would allow any harm to come to children in the afterlife. Horrible things happen to children at the hands of sick people, but that’s not the Will of God. In the afterlife only the Will of God exists.”

Becky gazed at the ceiling in thought. “How can the Will of God exist in hell?” She looked at Solomon.

“Hell is remoteness from God...nothing more. Even on earth you can be in hell. And that feeling of remoteness from God follows the soul into the afterlife. It feels like hell because it feels remote from God. And unfortunately, in the afterlife, the soul doesn’t have the power to change anything. There is no free will in the afterlife, only God’s Will.”

“But my preacher said that Satan can make a person do bad things. Doesn’t that mean that Satan has a will of his own?” Becky looked confused.

“God is omnipotent,” Solomon said patiently. “He’s all-powerful. Think about that word. If God has ALL power, then there is NO power opposite Him. Satan is just a word to describe the part of a soul that turns away from God. Only humans can choose to turn away from God. God gives human souls that choice because He created us in His image. God has freewill, so He gives us freewill...for a little while.”

Becky laughed and said, “Have you ever thought about being a preacher, Solomon?”

Solomon grinned and shook his head no.

“You’d be a good one,” she said, “but the deacons would probably run you off for some of your ideas.”

“They’re not my ideas,” he objected.

“You know what I mean,” she said.

Jerry said, “You know, I think I want to climb up in my tree stand and contemplate my navel for a while. I need to let some of this sink in before I add anything to it.”

“I don’t blame you,” Becky said, “this conversation’s gettin’ too heavy for me too. I’ll start supper for us. Can I talk you into staying, Solomon?”

“Sure,” he said, “I’ll help you with it.”

“You mean you can cook too?” she teased.

He chuckled, “I said I’d help. I’m not making any promises about my cooking skills.”

Becky squatted down so she could see what was in the icebox. She reached into the back, “I know there’s more butter in here,” she said. “If my belly weren’t so big, I could see what I’m doing.”

“Let me get it,” Solomon said.

“You’re an angel,” she said as she peeled potatoes into a bowl in the sink. She took a deep breath and said, “Solomon, would you promise not to go all weird on me if I ask you some questions?”

“About what?” he asked standing up.

“Just promise me you won’t get all concerned and weird,” she said.

Solomon put the butter on the table and stood watching her.

She looked around at him. “See there, you’re getting weird already.”

He laughed, “Becky, I’m not acting weird.”

She kept peeling potatoes with her back to him.

He leaned around in front of her and chuckled, “What’s on your mind? Spit it out.”

“I just wanted to ask some questions about my pregnancy, but I don’t want you to feel like you’re supposed to take care of me or anything.”

“You can ask me anything, Becky.”

“Well, there’s so much that I don’t know,” she said, “like...I don’t even know when my baby’s due.”

“That’s easy, when was your last period?” He said it nonchalantly as if he didn’t already know.

She wouldn’t look at him. I should have known he’d get too personal. “June seventeenth,” she answered.

“Then your baby’s due March twenty-fourth.”

“That was quick,” she said.

“From the last period, you count back three months,” he said, “and then you count forward seven days. That’s how it’s figured.”

“Oh golly,” she said, “I’ve got a long way to go.”

“You’re half way there. By the way,” he said casually, “when are you going to let Ma examine you?”

“I don’t know,” she said, “sometime soon, I guess.”

“Well, the sooner the better,” he said.

“Why, what will she do to me?”

“She can tell you what to expect with your baby and with your own body as the weeks go by. She’ll take measurements to make sure your baby’s growing like it should,” he said. “She’ll check your urine to make sure you’re not getting too much sugar or protein in your system.”

Becky laughed, “I wondered why you keep passing out cups.”

“She’ll keep check on your blood pressure,” he continued. “She’ll check you more often as you get close to your due date. She’ll make sure your baby is in the right position and that your pelvic bones are moving to accommodate delivery.”

Becky turned around and looked up at Solomon. “Do you do all those things too?”

“Yes, of course I do,” he said.

“I’m not worried about the pain. I just think the whole thing is humiliating and embarrassing. The sounds and smells and sights are disgusting. I don’t want anybody to see me that way. Can you understand that?”

“I think of it as a miracle,” he said.

She took a deep breath and held it as she turned back to her potatoes. She slowly let it out and said, “What if...I’d rather have you for my midwife?”

“I would be honored, Becky,” he said. “I just want you to be comfortable.”

“After all,” she laughed, “you already saw me naked in the hooch…as disgusting as that was.”

Solomon looked shocked by her words. “Becky, surely you know how beautiful you are!”

“I don’t think so,” she said. “I feel ugly, especially now.”

Solomon stood beside her at the sink. He wanted so badly to hold her in his arms, but she was still so reserved with him. He wondered what had happened to her to cause such alienation. It was as if she were afraid of touching and of being touched. And why was her self-esteem so compromised?

She put down the knife she was using on the potatoes. She turned and looked up at him again. She looked like she was going to cry. “Would you please hold me? When you held me in bed, I felt so safe,” she said.

Solomon folded his arms around her and held her to his chest. As he gently rubbed her back, the roundness of her belly and her breasts pressed against him. He buried his face in her sweet-scented auburn curls and closed his eyes. I must be in heaven, he thought.

Copyright © 2008 by Robbin Renee Bridges
Coping with Grief through Afterlife Communication
http://www.spirit-sanctuary.org

Chapter 29 - All about Abortions

2008-10-09T19:03:00.000-07:00

November 20, 1948

Jerry was raking leaves when Solomon got there. “We missed you yesterday,” he said leaning on his rake.

“Ma and I had a set of twins to deliver across Black Fort Highway,” Solomon said. “Where’s Becky?”

Jerry rolled his eyes. “She’s been holding up in her bedroom since yesterday,” he said. “I guess it’s something Robbie did again. He keeps her tore up half the time.”

“I’ll go talk to her,” Solomon said.

“Come on in,” she said as he knocked on her bedroom door.

The room was dark in the late afternoon shadows. She had pulled the shades down already. “It’s so dark in here,” he said, “were you napping?”

“No,” she said quietly.

Solomon stood beside her, and she looked up at him. “You’ve been crying,” he said touching her cheek. “What’s wrong?”

“Robbie’s got a girlfriend,” she said.

“Are you sure?”

She handed Robbie’s letter to him. It was a short letter. It said that he felt their separation had caused them to grow apart. He’d been seeing a mutual friend, Claire Burton, and he wanted Becky to know that he would understand if she wanted to date that guy that she wrote about sometimes.

Solomon handed the letter back to Becky. “I don’t like him,” he said. “He sent you away because you were pregnant with his baby…a baby that he didn’t want. He’s never come here to visit you. He’s telling you that he’s dating someone, and he’s giving you permission to date me. I think he’s a self-centered, manipulative prick.”

Becky grinned at him. “I’ve never seen this side of you,” she said.

Solomon paced for a minute, and then he said, “I want you to take a walk with me.”

She grabbed a coat and followed him outside. “Where are we going?”

“I don’t know…just out.” He put his arm around her and started up the path to the tree stand.

“I didn’t expect you to get mad about this,” she said.

“It makes me mad that he jerks you around.”

“You don’t have to feel like you need to defend my honor,” she said, “when Robbie went off to law school and told me that he didn’t want me to go with him, I knew in my heart that it was over.”

Solomon stared into the woods with his hands in his pockets. “He wanted you to have an abortion,” he said.

“Yes,” she responded, “but I didn’t feel that I could do that.”

Solomon pointed to a fallen log, “Let’s sit.” He hunched over with his elbows on his knees. His dark curls fell over his forehead. He reached between his legs and picked up some pebbles. He fidgeted with them turning them over and over in his hands.

“Solomon, do you ever do abortions?” Becky asked.

Solomon studied her face. “Becky, you’re too far along,” he said.

She laughed at him, “Lighten up, Solomon. I’m just curious about what you think about abortion.”

He cut his eyes over at her. He felt uneasy talking about this…seeing that abortion was illegal. He knew that there was only one correct answer for a doctor or a midwife in the state of Tennessee. He turned over a few pebbles at his feet looking for the right one to add to the collection in his hand. He remembered the day on Buzzard Mountain when Becky had gotten him to admit that he was practicing medicine without a license. He sighed at his dilemma. She’s doing it again, he thought. “It should be a decision between a woman and her doctor, or midwife,” he answered.

“Are you saying that you would do an abortion?” she asked.

“If a patient comes to me saying she’s missed her period...and she doesn’t want to be pregnant,” Solomon watched Becky for a reaction, “I have an abortifacient suppository that usually keeps the egg from implanting. Within a few days cramps start in and the uterus expels whatever’s in there. The endometrial lining sloughs off and carries the fertilized egg with it.”

“Oh,” she said grimacing, “I might have been willing to do that. I should have asked you what my options were when I found out what you do for a living.”

Solomon turned back to the stones in his hands. “You were too far along for that when you moved here.” He cleaned off a garnet that was embedded in a piece of quartz. “And then there’s something called laminaria,” he continued, “it’s been used by midwives for thousands of years. It’s made of seaweed. It looks like a matchstick with a string on the end of it. It’s inserted into the cervix, where it swells up to the size of a cigarette. Opening the cervix like that causes a miscarriage.”

Becky’s mouth dropped open. “I’ve never heard of any such thing,” she said, “do you have any?”

Solomon grinned. “You ask too many questions,” he said.

She bumped him with her shoulder, “Smarty.”

“Another early procedure is called menstrual extraction,” he said.

“Good grief,” she said, “that sounds disgusting!”

“You use plastic tubing and a mason jar with a rubber stopper and a syringe to create a vacuum in the jar.”

“Solomon, stop! I don’t even want to think about that,” she whined.

“Sorry,” he said chuckling, “it’s actually less invasive than a D & C. I managed to get Dr. Wall to replace some D & C’s with it.”

Becky squeezed her eyes shut and shuddered. She leaned back with her hands on the back of the log, which pushed her belly up and out. “At school I heard about this doctor that does abortions. The woman leaves her money in an envelope at the door, and then she’s supposed to lie down on a table and pull this curtain so the doctor can’t see her face, and she can’t see his. He does the abortion, and then she cleans up and goes on about her business. Robbie said he’d go with me, but I just couldn’t do it.”

Solomon put his hand on top of her belly and said, “I’m glad you didn’t go to that doctor.”

She laughed like he’d tickled her and sat up straight. “How’s an abortion done anyway?” she asked. “Can a woman have an abortion and just get up like that and leave?”

“It depends,” he said.

“On what?” she asked.

“Well, it depends on how far along the pregnancy is...how the mother’s health is. It depends on a lot of things,” he said. “Actually an abortion and a D & C are about the same procedure. With an abortion the fetus is alive, and with a D & C the fetus is dead. I’ve done the procedure a lot of times,” he said.

“You have?” She seemed surprised.

“Yeah, after I started working for Dr. Wall five years ago, he asked me to do most of his D & C’s,” Solomon said. “He didn’t see well, and his hands shook when he got tired. It’s a simple procedure.”

“It is? I don’t really know what it is.”

“Dilation and curettage,” he said, “the cervix is dilated with instruments that gradually increase in size. Larger and larger dilators are inserted until the cervix is open about this much,” he held up his little finger, “and then the uterine walls are scraped with a sharp spoon-shaped instrument called a curette.”

“Sounds like it would hurt,” she said.

Solomon shrugged, “It hurts some. I numb the cervix with lidocaine.”

Becky made a face about that. “I remember you said that a soul attaches to a physical body at conception.”

“That’s right,” Solomon nodded.

She looked at him seriously, “I was just thinking. Isn’t abortion like murder then? I mean...it kills a baby."

Solomon said, “God knows a mother’s heart. He knows when a mother is doing the best that she can do, and He’s merciful.”

Becky sat quietly for a moment, and then she said, “Do you think the souls of aborted fetuses could come back as angry ghosts?”

Solomon smiled, “No, the soul of an aborted fetus immediately returns to God. It’s certainly not angry. In fact, it has a loving concern for its parents. There’s an eternal bond between them. The fetus understands what sad circumstances brought its mother to decide on an abortion.”

Becky laid her head on Solomon’s shoulder. He kissed the top of it and said, “I’m sorry Robbie hurt you.”

She snuggled closer. “He hurt my feelings some, but I haven’t felt attached to him in a while. Sometimes absence makes the heart grow fonder for someone else.”

Copyright © 2008 by Robbin Renee Bridges
Coping with Grief through Afterlife Communication
http://www.spirit-sanctuary.org/

Chapter 30 - The First Time

2008-10-09T17:48:00.000-07:00

November 20, 1948

After supper, Jerry fluffed up the pillows on the couch, put his feet up, and settled in with the newspaper. Becky and Solomon usually sat and talked at the kitchen table or on the front porch until Solomon left for home. Tonight, Becky took Solomon’s hand and led him into her bedroom. She shut the door behind them and locked it.

Jerry looked up and raised his eyebrows. Hmmm, that’s different, he thought as he smiled and went back to reading his paper.

Becky kicked off her shoes and lay down on her bed. She rolled over on her side and propped her head on her hand. She smiled at Solomon as she patted the bed beside her.

Solomon thought, I don’t know what’s going on, but I like it. He pulled his shoes off and stretched out beside of her.

She scooted closer and put her head on his chest. “I feel safe when you hold me,” she said.

“It makes me feel safe too,” he said as he put his arm around her and pulled her to him.

She laughed at him, “Yeah, right.”

“Seriously, it makes me feel emotionally safe,” he said.

“Oh, okay,” she giggled.

Solomon pushed an auburn curl behind her ear and allowed the ends of it to wrap around his finger. “You are so beautiful. Do you know that?”

“Not really,” she said.

He rolled over towards her. His eyes scanned her face as he slowly moved closer. Their lips touched briefly. He pulled back and hovered over her lips to give her a chance to turn away if she didn’t want him to kiss her. Her warm breath entered his mouth. He moved towards her again gently caressing the softness of her mouth with his lips. Her fingers stroked the back of his neck signaling her consent. Moving his hand to her breast, he brushed his thumb slowly back and forth over her nipple. He felt it grow hard as her lips parted. His tongue entered her and explored as she met his tongue with hers. Becky’s eyes fluttered. She groaned low in the back of her throat. Her clitoris engorged and thumped rhythmically a few times as she gasped through a smile.

Suddenly she pulled her dress up around her thighs and straddled him. She leaned forward and kissed him deeply as she ground herself into him. She gazed at him with glassy-eyed passion. Solomon no longer had any doubts about where Becky wanted him to take her.

He rubbed her thighs, and then he slipped his thumbs under the edge of her panties. One of his thumbs found its way to her mons pubis where he massaged her clitoral hood in circles. He let the hood slide rhythmically over her exquisitely sensitive clitoris. The delicious movements of his thumb took her breath away. She watched him as she unbuttoned her dress. Her pregnant breasts spilled over the top of her bra. Solomon reached behind her back and unhooked it. He cradled one of her breasts in his hand and caressed her nipple while his thumb continued its rhythmic massage. “I want you,” he said. His voice was raspy as he looked at her through eyes half-closed by passion. His thumb picked up speed.

“Oh God, I want you too,” she said hoarsely.

He put his hands under her dress to lift it over her head. She stopped him. “Wait,” she said. She climbed off of him and opened his belt. She unbuttoned his pants, and then she unzipped them. She got up on her knees, hooked her thumbs under his waistband and underwear, and pulled down. He raised his hips to help. She pulled his shirt off and studied his naked body. “You’re magnificent!” she said as she touched the drop of seminal fluid and spread it in circles around the smooth purple head. He dropped his head backwards and closed his eyes.

She slipped out of her panties and started to mount him.

He rolled both of them over as he turned on his side. “You can’t do that position right now…penetration’s too deep,” he said.

“We can make love, can’t we?” she asked.

“Yes,” he said. Still lying on his side, he scooted over in the bed until he was diagonal on it. “Lie on your back and put your legs over my hips,” he said. He pulled her to him by the hips until their bodies met perfectly. Raising up on his elbow, Solomon explored her breasts. He stroked the nakedness of her thighs and buttocks and caressed the roundness of her belly. He felt the coarseness of her pubic hair. As his fingers explored and massaged, her legs parted to accommodate his explorations. Swollen and engorged with blood her labia enfolded his fingers. He watched her face as he fondled her. He gently mouthed her nipple as he inserted two fingers inside of her. Becky’s mouth opened slightly and Solomon could see the tip of her tongue moving, reaching for pleasure. Out of habit, he noted that her cervix was normal and closed, as it should be in pregnancy. Then he guided his penis into her. Her wet softness engulfed him.

“Oh yes,” she gasped as she hooked her legs behind his buttocks and pushed the fullness deeper inside.

He braced himself to maintain control of his pleasure so he could focus on Becky’s pleasure. He planted his thumb again on her clitoral hood. Her clitoris was erect. He could feel it tighten around his organ, crowding in on him. He slowly began to move inside of her until he’d thoroughly spread her secretions, and the slick mucous covered him. He moved his thumb with the primal rhythm of sexual arousal. He knew that humans differ little in the rhythm of their strokes toward sexual satisfaction. Solomon pushed Becky to higher and higher plateaus of sensual pleasure. He alternated slow languid voluptuous timing with a quick urgent pace. Just as she was on the brink of spilling over the highest plateau of sexual peak into orgasm, Solomon slowed. He felt the body of her clitoris surrounding him as it thumped…one…two…three in a missed orgasm. “Oh God, please don’t stop,” she’d say. But he wanted her to savor the suspended animation on the edge of her sexual precipice.

His glans created suction as he slowly moved in and out of her. He watched her signals as she neared orgasm. This time when she stiffened, he continued the rhythm she craved. As he saw her falling over the edge, he rolled her nipple with his fingertips to increase the force of her orgasm. And as he felt her orgasmic contractions rhythmically squeeze and release around him, he allowed himself over the precipice too. His prostaglandin-laden semen exploded into her.

They lay in each other’s arms as their bodies came down off the euphoric high of sexual satisfaction. With heads lying on the same pillow, tiny kisses decorated their relaxation. “That was amazing,” she said. “I’ve never felt anything like that. You kept me on the edge for so long that when it finally happened, it blew me away and seemed to go on and on and on.”

Solomon just smiled at her.

“You planned it that way, didn’t you?” she said smiling.

“Who me?” he teased. And then he whispered, “I want you naked under the covers.”

“Then turn the light off,” she said with a mischievous grin.

Solomon rolled backward and reached for the lamp. Then he pulled her into his curve until his body spooned her back. He moved her long hair and kissed the nape of her neck. They both gave in to sleep.

Copyright © 2008 by Robbin Renee Bridges
Coping with Grief through Afterlife Communication
http://www.spirit-sanctuary.org/

Chapter 31 - A Precarious Pregnancy

2008-10-09T16:26:00.000-07:00

November 21, 1948

The sound of a woodpecker pecking on the log cabin competed with the whippoorwill calls. Solomon lay quietly enjoying the feeling of waking up beside Becky. He had his usual morning hard on. He nestled it into the small of her back and brought his thighs up to meet hers. A cold wetness shocked him. He touched it and looked at his fingertips. It’s blood! He threw the blankets off Becky.

She grabbed for them, “Don’t do that!”

“Becky, wake up! You’re bleeding!”

She sat up and looked around the room. She was disoriented.

Solomon dressed and said, “Where’s your gown, Becky?”

She didn’t answer. She was staring at the blood.

Solomon found a blue flannel nightgown in her chest of drawers. He pulled it over her head as if she were a child. “Arms up,” he said.

She obeyed him in her confusion.

“Jerry! Get up!” he shouted. Solomon put his socks and shoes on as he watched Becky. The dazed look on her face along with the blood loss frightened him. He put on his coat, wrapped her in a blanket, and carried her out of the bedroom. He met Jerry in the living room. “Becky’s bleeding. I’m taking her to my house where I have equipment to take care of her.”

Jerry opened the front door for Solomon. “Okay,” he said, “call me.”

“I will.” Solomon carefully walked down the front steps. They were covered with a thin glaze of frost. His breath came out in white puffs. The morning air was below freezing. The truck starter ground a few times, and then it turned over. He pumped the gas. Clouds of white smoke billowed behind the truck. He pulled Becky close to him and rubbed her shoulders. She was shivering. “Hang on, Becky,” he said.

Solomon carried Becky into the exam room and laid her on the table. He heard Ma moving around upstairs. He dreaded telling her what a stupid thing he’d done to Becky. The IV pole clanked as he pulled it over and hung a bottle of saline on it. He spiked the bottle and tied a tourniquet around Becky’s arm. He stuck her and hooked her up to the IV. She looked pale. I should have insisted that she see a doctor, he thought, now she’s in trouble. He was angry with himself. He got a set of vitals and bumped up the IV rate. He turned her face to his and said, “Becky! Do you hurt anywhere?”

She shook her head no.

Ma came into the exam room. “What’s going on?”

“Becky’s bleeding,” he answered.

“How much?” Ma asked.

“A lot,” he said. “I slept with her last night. When I woke up this morning, she was lying in a puddle of blood, and her level of consciousness sucks.”

Ma was pulling equipment out the drawers that she knew he’d need to examine Becky.

“This is my fault,” he said. “I had sex with her last night without knowing anything about her pregnancy.”

Ma cut her eyes at Solomon.

“I know, I can’t believe I was that stupid,” he said.

“Stop beatin’ yerself up, son. Concentrate on what ye got here.” She slid the metal equipment tray to the bottom of the exam table.

“I know,” he said, “you’re right.”

Solomon mixed a bowl of warm soapy water and sat down with it at the end of the exam table. He put Becky’s feet into the stirrups. She instinctively pulled her knees together.

Ma held one of Becky’s knees under her arm, and she pushed out the other knee with her extended hand to keep her from being able to close her legs again. “Let us hep ye, hon,” Ma said.

Solomon sat on the stool between Becky’s legs and cleaned her up. “It looks like she’s quit bleeding.”

Becky strained against Ma’s arms trying to bring her knees together. Her feet came out of the stirrups, but there was no table to put her feet on since Solomon had retracted the extension. Her feet danced in the air. She dug her heels into the edge of the table up against her buttocks.
Solomon looked at Ma and cut his eyes towards the door.

Ma nodded and left the room.

Solomon stood up and leaned over Becky’s torso. He held on to her hands and stroked her forehead. “Do you remember what happened?” he asked.

“I remember going to sleep with you last night.” Her voice trembled and her legs quivered.

Solomon pulled the table’s extension out so she could relax her legs. “You’ve lost a lot of blood.”

“Did I lose the baby?” she asked.

“No,” he said, “but the verdict’s still out. I need to run some tests, and I need to examine you. You probably have placenta previa, but I don’t know the extent of it. Becky, you need to understand that this has life-threatening possibilities for you. Not just for the baby, but for you too.”

“Can’t we do it tomorrow?” She was in denial about the situation and still disoriented.

Solomon shook his head no. “This cannot be put off, Becky,” he said firmly.

“I want to take a bath,” she said peeling the tape off her arm. “Can you please take this out?” Confusion had turned to aggravation. She snatched the catheter out of her vein before Solomon could stop her.

Solomon took a deep breath. “I’m worried about you, Becky,” he said pressing a cotton ball to the blood that was oozing out of her vein.

“I promise I’ll let you do whatever you need to do,” she said, “after I’ve had a bath.”

Solomon put his arm around her and helped her walk to his bathroom upstairs. He ran her bath water and gave her a clean towel and a hospital gown.

“You have to leave,” she said.

“Alright, but don’t lock the door.” He sat at the top of the stairs so he could hear if she got into trouble.

Ma stood at the foot of the stairs and said, “I’ll be outside picking persimmons. Holler if ye need me.”

When Solomon helped Becky into the exam room, she was trembling. “What do you want me to do?” she asked. She hated the way the room smelled of alcohol and disinfectant.

Solomon had put on his white coat. The stethoscope and BP cuff were in his pocket from the last time he’d worn it. The instrument tray that Ma had set out was still beside the exam table. Equipment that he’d need for measuring Becky’s pelvic cradle was on it along with a speculum still wrapped in sterile paper. Lubricant and sterile gloves were there too. He pointed to the scale beside the bathroom. “Let me get your weight first,” he said.

She stepped up on the scale clutching the flimsy gown around her belly. She let it open in the front like she’d heard him tell others. Solomon shifted the weights. “One hundred and thirty,” he said.

He helped her climb onto the exam table like she’d seen him help Nellie and Bertha. He covered her with a white flannel sheet like she’d seen him do before. It all was familiar to her, but this time it was personal. Her fear and loathing were overwhelming. Solomon’s flurry of activities blurred in her mind as she acquiesced to the inevitable.

She turned her head when he picked up a hypodermic syringe for a blood draw. He tied the tourniquet. “Make a fist,” he said, and he drew a few cc’s into the chamber. He loosened the tourniquet and injected the blood into a small sterile bottle.

“I need a fundal height,” he said as he picked up the tape measure. The tension in the room was palpable. He couldn’t give serenity to Becky when he couldn’t give it to himself. He felt that Sarah and the Pure One were disappointed in him. In his mind, he heard Sarah saying, It’s yer own guilt that’s botherin’ ye.

He pulled the sheet down exposing Becky’s belly. He said, “This is my favorite pregnant belly in the entire world.” He was trying to put her at ease. He knew how much she hated the clinical nature of a medical examination. He also knew that she was self-conscious about her body.
His comment got a smile out of her, so he bent over and kissed her belly just above the navel. He sensed that she was beginning to relax.

With the edge of his hand, Solomon found the upper limits of her uterus below her breasts. He held the tape measure at that position, and then he stretched it over the top of her abdomen down to where her belly rose out of her pubic hair. “That’s perfect for twenty-two weeks,” he said as he recorded the measurement in her chart.

“Is that how far along I am?”

He nodded, “Uh huh, twenty-two weeks.”

“Now the width of your pelvic girdle,” he said putting his thumbs on the iliac crest of her pelvic bones. He measured the distance between the two and wrote that in her chart too.

“For the next measurement,” he said smiling at her, “first I apologize, and I promise I won’t look.”

Becky rolled her eyes and said, “I’m afraid to ask.”

He said, “I need to measure the distance between the bones the baby’s head will pass through.”

“Oh God,” she said, “and how do you plan to do that?”

There was no modest way to accomplish this so Solomon just told Becky what he needed from her. “I need your feet in the stirrups,” he said helping her. Then he slid the table extension back into the table. “Relax and let your knees fall open,” he said. Surprisingly, she did what he’d asked. He pressed his thumbs into her groin and found the maximum width between the bones. Then he triangulated that measurement with his index finger to the middle of her symphysis pubis. He said, “This bone will move apart here.” He pressed his finger into the middle of her pubic bone. “It feels solid to you, but there’s actually a joint right here separated by cartilage.”

“I liked it better when your thumb was there last night.” She blushed with her out of character remark.

Solomon grinned at her. He tried to separate his sexual feelings for Becky from his clinical need to examine her. Earlier when he was afraid for her, it wasn’t a problem. But now that the crisis was over, his mind wandered back to the night before.

Becky said, “Solomon, you have to do disgusting things. How do you stand your job?”

He leaned over and whispered to her. “This is the first time I’ve ever done that without gloves. I wanted to be able to touch you. I think everything about you is beautiful.” Then he kissed her on the cheek.

She shook her head in disbelief.

“I need one more thing,” he said. “Have you ever had a pelvic exam?”

She shook her head no.

He straddled the stool between her legs and pulled the goose-necked spotlight down so that it shone on her perineum. He opened the speculum’s sterile wrap. He pulled on a sterile glove and lubricated the speculum. “This glove is sterile so I don’t get germs in you. I’m sure that your cervix is open now.” He ducked his head down so he could see. “This won’t hurt,” he said as he spread her labia and inserted the speculum's tip into her vagina.

Becky grimaced and stared at the ceiling.

Solomon locked the speculum in the open position and looked her cervix. He winced at what he saw. “Becky, are you having cramps today?” He looked up at her.

She wouldn’t look at him, but she shook her head no.

“You haven’t had any kind of contractions,” he asked, “not even Braxton-Hicks?"

She shook her head no again and finally looked at him. “Why?”

“The good news is that the placenta is not covering your cervix. From the amount of bleeding you had last night and because it was painless and without contractions, I believe that your placenta is attached low in your uterus. I’m not too concerned about that. Time will probably correct it.” He removed the speculum and pulled the exam table extension out so she could put her legs down.

“And what’s the bad news,” she asked.

He straightened the blanket over her and said, “What concerns me is the fact that your cervix is dilated two centimeters, and it’s thinned and shortened. You were not dilated or effaced at all last night.”

“What’s that mean?” Becky asked.

Solomon put his hand on top of her abdomen. “It means that you could lose the baby,” he said. He tried to look calm for her while he listened to the baby’s heartbeat, but his breathing and his worried eyes betrayed him.

“Well, I guess it’s good that we know,” she said.

He picked up her hand and held it to his lips. He kissed her palm, and then he said, “New rules…complete bed rest except to get up and eat or to go to the bathroom.”

“For how long?” she asked.

“And no lifting,” he said, “and no sex until after the baby is born.”

While Solomon was examining Becky, a woman had come into the office in labor. Ma sat with her in the waiting room and timed her contractions. The mother had requested Solomon for her delivery. He was strong for his patients when they needed him to be. When they were afraid, he comforted. When they were in pain, he showed them the way through it. He thought for them when they couldn’t think. With kindness and gentleness he carried his mothers through the most physically and emotionally demanding experience of their lives.

“All the mothers fall in love with Solomon,” Ma had said. And that was true to some extent. He knew that it was common for a woman to transfer feelings of love to her obstetrician. He also knew that pregnant women were very aware of their fertile sexuality. Their female organs were engorged with hormones and enriched with blood. A woman’s blood volume almost doubled during pregnancy. Solomon understood that, and he kept things professional with them.

It was late when Solomon got to Jerry’s. He went inside the dark cabin and looked in on Becky.

She was lying in the moonlight. “I’m still awake,” she said.

He sat down on the edge of the bed, and took off his shoes. He lay on his side and propped on his elbow. “How do you feel?” he asked as he pushed her hair away from her forehead.

“Much better now that you’re here,” she smiled.

“I want to talk to you about the new midwife’s rules,” he said. He played with a long curl lying on her shoulder. “The bleeding last night and the changes in your cervix were basically…because we had sex.”

“They were?” She sounded surprised. “How can that be?”

“Orgasm caused you to release a hormone that causes uterine contractions. My semen bathed your cervix in another hormone that caused it to soften, and so it dilated.” He took a deep breath and said, “I am so sorry, Becky. I put you and the baby in jeopardy because I let my dick do my thinking last night.”

Becky asked, “Are you saying that pregnant women shouldn’t have sex?”

“No, I’m just saying that high-risk pregnancies shouldn’t have sex, or orgasms, or have their nipples manipulated, or masturbate…” he said. He touched her cheek with the back of his hand. “I knew that you’d never been examined. I just assumed that everything was okay with your pregnancy...because I wanted you.”

“I started it, remember?” she said.

He grinned at her, “Oh yeah, I remember. The brain in my head went plumb unconscious.”

“You watched me while you made love to me,” she said.

“Yes,” he smiled, “your pleasure excites me.”

“You’re amazing,” she said laughing. “The women of Rooster Cove would pay you to teach their husbands to do what you did to me.”

“You think so?” he chuckled.

“I know so,” she said, “makes me horny just thinking about it.”

He laughed and hugged her. “Well don’t think about it…at least not until March when it’s alright for you to go into labor,” he said, “midwife’s orders.”

She shook her head and said, “Midwife’s orders...sheez...it’s going to be a long cold winter.”

Copyright © 2008 by Robbin Renee Bridges
Coping with Grief through Afterlife Communication
http://www.spirit-sanctuary.org

Chapter 32 - The Silver Cord

2008-10-09T15:26:00.000-07:00

December 1, 1948

Solomon didn’t need an alarm clock at Jerry’s. He woke to the sound of the woodpecker pecking for bugs in the cabin’s logs. Solomon rolled over and looked at Becky. He loved sleeping with her, but it was definitely an exercise in self-restraint. Solomon occasionally relieved his sexual tensions in the bathroom. He had cautioned Becky not to masturbate lest the influx of hormones start uterine contractions.

Becky stirred and stretched. Solomon moved closer and kissed her on the cheek. She opened her eyes and smiled, “Good morning.”

He rose up on his elbow so he could see her better. He eased his hand under the covers and rested it on her belly where tiny legs were curled up. A foot kicked at his palm. He smiled, “I love to feel that.”

“Grrrr,” she said climbing out of bed, “a kick on the hand might be nice, but he’s kicking my bladder.”

Solomon knew that he had three patients to see this morning. Women had been coming all the way from Black Fort since the near-drowning incident at the church last Christmas. Word had spread that Solomon, the midwife, was better than any obstetrician east of Knoxville, and consequently the patient load had more than doubled. Because of that, Ma and Solomon encouraged their mothers to plan to have their babies at the office instead of a home delivery. That decision was made the night of the full moon when three patients went into labor at the same time.

Ma felt that she was too old to drive outside Rooster Cove at night; so most night time deliveries fell to Solomon. And although he appreciated the value of midwifery and home deliveries, he had been trained in obstetrics and gynecology by Dr. Wall. He felt better having access to his medical and surgical equipment just in case.

Alice Moriah was still doing a great job for the community’s health care system. She managed somehow to keep an inventory of medical supplies and pharmaceuticals that Solomon needed to treat patients just like any doctor who’d gone to medical school. She had also pre-paid his tuition at the University in Knoxville for next fall, and she assured him that she’d have a doctor to replace him by then.

While Solomon was waking up with Becky, Wally Watson had been up for hours. He planned to bring home enough squirrels for a pot of stew. He’d staked out his position in a thicket in Mortimer Hollow. Suddenly the hair stood up on the back of his neck. The ham biscuit he was eating dropped to the ground and fell apart. His mouth had been open for the last bite when a low growl caused him to drop it. Wally was the sixteen-year-old son of Grady and Bertha Watson. They lived at the foot of Hog’s Head Mountain about a mile into the hollow.

Wally cocked his twenty-two caliber rifle and froze. Oh God, he thought, I’ve brought a squirrel rifle to a bear hunt. Heavy breathing interrupted by wet snorts sounded like the bear was only a few feet from his head. His heart pounded so loud that it almost drowned out the sounds of the creature. He slowly turned his head to look behind him. Wally knew that any quick movements could bring it down on him. Had he stumbled into a bear’s den?

The sound of twigs breaking behind him jerked Wally out of his slow motion. Oh God! He tightened the muscles of his shoulders and neck and ducked his head. Nothing happened. Ease on down the hill, he thought. If I move nice and easy, I might get away. Don’t run, he thought, don’t run. Runnin’ will bring it down on me for sure.

Wally caught movement out of the corner of his eye. He stopped, and it stopped. He moved forward. It moved forward. He estimated that it was about a hundred yards to his right. He could tell it was over six-feet tall, but it didn’t look like any bear he’d ever seen. It wasn’t a mountain lion or a wild boar because it was moving on two legs, and when it moved the branches, it moved them with what looked like human hands!

Wally’s overload of adrenaline took over his ability to reason, and he ran...nothing but heels and elbow showing. The creature followed keeping only a few feet between them. Wally saw that it was bounding on all fours like a mountain lion, but when it stopped, it stood up on two legs again. It’s had plenty of time to catch up to me, he thought. It’s playin’ with me jest like a cat plays with its prey until it’s ready for the kill.

Suddenly the creature let out a blood-curdling scream. Wally saw its head. Huge fangs glistened in the sunlight. Red eyes pierced through the bushes. Its low forehead indicated a small brain. Sparse hair on its head gave way to a sprinkling of body hair, except in the groin area where it had matted dingle berries. Its crinkled brown skin was thick like tanned rawhide. Its form was almost human except for the snout. It had a wolf’s snout.

When Wally got within earshot of the house, he started hollering, “Paw! Help! Shotgun! Shotgun!”

Grady sprang to his feet and grabbed it on the way out the door.

Wally slid into Grady’s feet in a cloud of dirt and dust. He turned around on his hands and knees. The creature had disappeared. “I swear to God, Pa, it was after me!” Wally was so out of breath that he was barely able to tell him what had happened. Grady sat quietly listening. He spit his chaw of tobacco on the ground. That demon had left its mark on his other son, Jake. Now it wuz after Wally too.

Jerry sat in his tree stand. Since he’d met Servant, he couldn’t imagine ever shooting a living creature again. Now it was just for observation. Servant had showed Jerry how all life is connected. If one person was spiritually sick, he spread the sickness to everyone he came in contact with. It spread like an infectious disease. One spiritually sick person could make the whole society sick just like a sick heart could sicken the whole body.

As depressing as that fact might be, Servant said that the opposite was even more powerful. He’d said that spiritual health was contagious. It spread its healing powers to all that it touched. To do good for another was to do good for oneself. A river of life flowed through everyone connecting all souls in the universe.

Tonight, Jerry had invited Solomon to sit with him in the tree stand while the sun set. Servant had taught Jerry to look at the world of nature with his spiritual eyes. Jerry wanted to compare notes with Solomon.

Jerry asked, “Does the world look slightly transparent to you when you use your spiritual eyes?”

“Yes,” Solomon said, “and I see particles rolling like a pot of boiling water turns over and over. Did Servant tell you to stare at something and then let your eyes go out of focus?”

“Yeah, that’s what he told me to do,” Jerry said. “He said it’s like when you start to cross your eyes, but you don’t let them go all the way crossed…just out of focus. Is that how you do it too?”

“Yes,” Solomon said leaning back against the tree trunk. He appeared to be lost in his thoughts. He said, “The range of our five senses is so narrow. We’re able to see and hear so little of what’s going on around us. We have no way of visualizing or comprehending the unseen world. We don’t have the sensory organs or the concepts that would enable us to understand it.”

Jerry said, “I know. It’s like trying to describe to an embryo how a rose smells, or it’s like trying to describe the color of the sky to a fetus. In its dark womb-world, the fetus can’t comprehend any of that. And in the same way, we can’t comprehend the stuff going on around us in the Light World.” He thought for a minute, and then he said, “I wonder if anyone can see what we see. I mean, could Becky see it if she wanted to?”

“She could if she wanted to,” Solomon said. “It’s just a matter of wanting to see it and taking the leap of faith to do it. The only physical action is letting your eyes go out of focus.”

“Okay now,” Jerry said squinting, “when I see Servant, I’m not really seeing his spirit body, right?”

“Right,” Solomon answered, “what you see comes out of your mind.” He looked off into the distance to concentrate. “But...the physical realm is a reflection of the spirit realm,” he said, “so it’s probably similar to what his spirit body looks like considering that we only have five senses to work with. I guess you could say that we see the partial spirit body. Or you could say that what we see has the simplicity of a cartoon compared to a Rembrandt Light World. Like the Bible says, we see through a glass darkly.”

“That brings up something else I’ve wondered,” said Jerry. “Where’s my soul? Is it in my body?”

Solomon said, “No, it’s not in your body. It’s just attached to your body by something that looks like a silver cord. Your soul is in the Light World. It never actually enters the physical world. It’s more like a command center for the physical body.”

Solomon heard the now familiar voice of the Pure One saying, “Solomon, you are listening to my voice with your soul.”

Solomon turned quickly to Jerry and said, “Did you hear that?”

“Hear what?” Jerry asked.

The Pure One continued, “You think with your soul. Your memories are stored in your soul. The consciousness that you experience is your soul.”

Solomon repeated to Jerry what he was hearing.

Jerry said, “What are you talking about?”

“I hear the voice of the Pure One,” Solomon said, “I’m telling you what he’s saying.”

Jerry was puzzled. “Who is the Pure One? What are you talking about?”

“I don’t know who he is,” Solomon said, “Sarah told me that’s his name.” Solomon gazed off into space as he listened to the words of the Pure One. He repeated the words for Jerry. “The silver cord is not part of the physical world, and it’s not part of the spirit world. It interfaces between these two worlds. And when your body dies, the tunnel that you see is the inside of the silver cord.”

Solomon’s eyes darted around without focusing on anything. He turned his head as if to hear better. “Oh wow!” he said standing up on the tree stand’s platform, “this is amazing!” He steadied himself with the limb above his head.

“Careful, man,” Jerry said. “What are you doing?”

“The Pure One says that the soul controls the autonomic nervous system,” Solomon said. “Do you know what that means?”

“No, I can’t say that I do,” Jerry said, “but I do wish you’d sit down.”

Solomon wasn’t paying attention to Jerry. “The Pure One says it interfaces with the central nervous system at the base of the skull. He says that’s where the soul attaches to the body.”

"What are you talking about? What’s the autonomic nervous system,” Jerry asked.

“That’s the fifth key, the location of the soul in a Light World that’s timeless and placeless,” Solomon kept repeating the words of the Pure One.

“The Light World is not a destination for us, Jerry. Our souls already exist in it right now.” Solomon put his hand on Jerry’s shoulder and said, “The part of me that’s looking at you and talking to you right now is in the Light World already, and it’s the command center for this gradually decomposing bag of bones and blood that I think of as my body.” Solomon laughed so hard at the thought that he teeter-tottered on the platform as if he were drunk.

Jerry grabbed him by the arm. “That’s enough of this! Ma Patsy already told me that. We’re gettin’ off this tree stand right now!

Wally Watson couldn’t sleep. Like a lone sentry, he stared out of his bedroom window holding on to the muzzle of Pa’s shotgun. He knew it would only be good at close range. At a long distance, the scatter pattern meant lots of little pellets spread over a wide range. At close range it would go in like a shotgun shell, but it would come out like a cannon. That’s what he planned for the creature if it dared to get close enough.

Wally watched his little brothers in the bed next to his. He was worn out from the adrenaline rush when the creature chased him out of the woods. His head bobbed a few times as he tried to keep his eyes focused out the window. Finally he dozed off. As his neck stretched back against the wall, he snored through an open mouth.

In the middle of the night, a ruckus in the hen house startled him awake. At about the same time he heard his Pa holler, “Brang the shotgun, Wally.”

Chickens clucked and squawked and scattered as dogs barked from under the house. Wally and his dad ran into each other on the stairs. Wearing the red flannels they slept in, both Wally and Grady hit the front porch ready for a fight. They got to the chicken coop in time to see the creature jump over the fence with a laying hen in one hand. Wally shot at it, but it never stopped. It stuck the chicken in its mouth and ran away on all fours. It moved like greased lightening on all fours.

Wally asked, “What we gonna do?” He bent over with the shotgun on his knees trying to catch his breath.

Grady fastened the door to the chicken coop again. “We can’t handle this alone, son.”

Copyright © 2008 by Robbin Renee Bridges
Coping with Grief through Afterlife Communication
http://www.spirit-sanctuary.org