Chapter 3 – Of Angels and Babes
May 1885
He was running through a park, blurring past emerald shrubs as fast as his legs would take him, aiming for his Mam where she lay on a blanket in the shade of a tree. She was propped against its trunk with her legs outstretched and a book in her hand.
Making sure not to hit Micah where he lay sleeping, Aidan flew to her side and sat propped on his heels, laughing. At the sound of his laughter, Dora looked up. Her eyes, as pale a blue as his, regarded him carefully, and seeing the flush of excitement in his cheeks and eyes, and no sign of injury, smiled. It was as though a secret sun had come out of hiding. Her cheeks glowed profusely, her long blond hair waved in the gentle summer breeze.
"Mammy…" Aidan whispered in awe, looking at her carefully. "You look like an angel."
Her cream colored dress laid out around her, it was evident how slender Dora was, even now with the beginnings of a bump showing on her abdomen.
"Oh hush," she laughed, "I'm no angel. I'm just yer Mam. Perhaps one day I'll be an angel, but not now. Not when I've got my wee ones to care for." She motioned with her right hand to the sleeping toddler at her side. Already tanned enough to match his father, a halo of dark curls surrounded the boys face, resting on his plump cheeks.
"Mammy…" Aidan pouted. "I can take care of Micah. I'm big."
Dora reached out and stroked the side of his chubby face, "I know doll. And that's why Mam's going to need some help soon. It's a job for a big boy, so I don't know if you're ready yet." She feigned pausing thoughtfully. "Perhaps I should ask Frankie instead…"
Thrilled with the idea of getting to do a job, and a big boy job no less, Aidan bounced up and down at her side. "No Mam. No. I'm bigger than Frankie. I can do it. I can help you."
"Are you ready then? You'll have to listen closely."
Aidan nodded again.
"Alright." Dora adjusted herself on the ground, and pulled Aidan's small hand and put it onto her stomach. "Do you remember how Micah came here?" she asked.
"He was in your tummy. And then he came out."
"That's right. And do you know what's in Mammy's tummy right now?" she asked, eyebrows arched gently.
"Another Micah?" Aidan offered, looking skeptical.
"Almost." She laughed. "Another baby. But this one isn't going to be a Micah."
Aidan's face fell. "Oh. Well, what is it going to be?"
"I don't know yet. Maybe another handsome wee boy for me to bring up to be a gentleman. Or perhaps a wee girl for me to teach to be a lady." Dora closed her eyes for a moment when the baby kicked, and then smiled down at her son. "If it's a boy we'll name him Clarence, after your Grandpa, and if it's a lass –" she paused. "Well, what do you think we should name her?"
Aidan scrunched his face up thoughtfully, thinking hard and careful. He looked around the park, at the birds flying, and opened up his mouth carefully.
"We are not naming a girl Finch." she said, delicately placing her finger on the tip of his nose. Aidan grinned. "I've been thinking about Clara, after your Grammy…" she offered. "What do you think about that?"
He wasn't listening too closely. Aidan's eyes were back on the birds as they flew down into the birdbath. "Bird bath, bird bath." He chanted, rocking side to side, before stopping suddenly. "Beth."
"Beth?" Dora repeated slowly, as though trying out the word on her tongue. "Beth Conlon…" she made a face, and was quiet for a minute. "Maybe we can choose that one if your Da will let us."
"Mammy?" Aidan said, after a moment's pause. "Why do we have to chose only one? Couldn't we make it two names? Like your name! Diary Anne."
A smile cracked on Dora's face as she laughed. "Dora-Ann, dear. My name is Dora-Ann. And that's a wonderful idea. We could call her Clara-Beth." She looked down at Aidan. "What do you think about that?"
"Clara-Beth Conlon?" Aidan repeated. He was quiet for a moment, thoughtful, and then grinned widely. "It sounds like a fairy name."
Dora laughed again. "And she'll be every bit the fairy princess, but ours of course."
"I'll have to protect her!" Aidan cried, springing to his feet.
"Shhh!"
Dora motioned to Micah, still sleeping at her side.
Aidan giggled quietly behind his hand. He picked a stick up, and then whispered loudly. "I'll have to protect the fairy princess, or the king will try to come and take her away to Tir Nan Og!"
"That's right. And you know, whether this baby is a boy or a girl, that's just what you're going to have to do. Because you might be all the baby has. And as a big brother, and a big boy, you need to make sure that nobody hurts the baby, or Micah. No matter what, this is Mam's job for you. Alright?" Her fingers clenched the chain she always wore around her neck, a silver chain with a silver key dangling on it.
Aidan nodded. For a few moments he played with the hem of her skirt as she watched, and then stopped.
"Mammy…? Is being a big brother fun?"
Dora looked at him sweetly. "It can be. It will be hard. Micah and the other'n will make you very upset sometimes, but you need to remember that you love them. And they love you. You can't let your anger get in the way of that. Your family is everything, and you are everything to your family."
He smiled up at her and settled down at her side, lying his head on her lap.
September 14, 1885
Aidan opened his eyes and looked around the room. Micah was asleep in his cot a few feet away, and the door was closed. It was illuminated fully by sunlight, which only ever happened just before lunchtime. Curious, he sat up, and peeked out the window. Mammy wasn't in the garden.
Pushing back the covers, Aidan climbed out of bed, and went quietly to the door. He turned the knob, and pulled it open, before slipping through it and out into the dark hallway. For a moment he stood there, listening to the quiet of the house, before moving down the passage towards the kitchen.
Bright in comparison to the hall, it was clean, and empty. The sun was filtering in through the curtains, and settling on every inch of unoccupied space.
"Mam…?" he whispered, as though afraid to break the silence.
His voice, quiet as it was, echoed back to him hollowly. After waiting a moment, Aidan then turned towards the front living area. He was just crossing the threshold when a knock on the front door surprised him so that he jumped into the air, and squeaked.
Aidan stood for a moment, staring transfixed at the door, and the shadow he could see on the curtain. Then he moved, painstakingly slow, unlocked the door, and turned the handle.
On the front step, with her hat tied beneath her chin, Mrs. O'Grady stood looking expectant. Her long black hair was curled around her shoulders, and her dark blue eyes peered down at him as her expression changed to one of confusion.
"Where's your Mam, boy?" she asked.
He paused, silent for a moment. "I don't know."
Mrs. O'Grady continued speaking over his murmured lack of knowledge, as she tried to see past him into the house. "She asked me to call on account of some cans of jelly she'd made for the church auction tomorrow morning."
She finally stopped, seeing his worry, and asked once again, though more gently. "Where's your Mam?"
"I don't know Miss." He said gently.
She pushed the door open further and entered. While she closed the door behind her, she reassured him. "I'm sure she's around somewhere, love. Did you check the bedroom?"
Aidan shook his head. He hadn't had the chance to get there yet when she'd knocked.
"Then check there, alright?" Mrs. O'Grady was undoing the tie on her hat, and set it on the back of Mam's rocking chair.
He didn't move.
"Well…?" she said, eyebrows arched delicately. "Are ye going to look?"
Just then, his stomach growled loudly, and he looked down at it. Her eyes followed, and the question on her face dissolved into calm understanding.
"Go check the bedroom, and any other places you haven't looked, alright? I'll put some tea on and make you some porridge." She headed into the kitchen, and when she disappeared around the corner, he turned and headed towards his Mam's room.
The door was closed as well, so he knocked softly, afraid to enter. He remembered her being upset one day when he'd entered and she'd been in her nightgown. There was no response, so after another moment of silent waiting, he turned the handle and went in.
Mam was in her bed, her golden curls splayed out around her head on her pillow. Her eyes were closed, and her cheeks were pink, and as he crept towards her, he could see her lips were pale. Carefully, he raised his right hand, his index finger outstretched to touch her hand and maybe wake her.
"Oh!" From the door, Mrs. O'Grady exclaimed quietly, and Aidan turned to see her with one hand on the door, the other covering her mouth. "Okay boy, let's you leave her be. Go sit in the kitchen. I'll be there in a moment."
Aidan backed away from his mother and moved towards the door when Mrs. O'Grady shooed him away from his mother. She then turned back to the still body, not knowing that Aidan was watching silently from the door.
Mrs. O'Grady moved to where Aidan had been only a few moments earlier. For a moment she stood there, observing quietly the gentle rise and fall of her chest, and the gently pulsing vein in her exposed neck. She reached out, and gingerly laid her hand on Dora's, rubbing it softly in an attempt to stir her.
Dora's eyes blinked slowly open, and moved to sit, looking confused. But a throbbing pain from her abdomen shocked her and she lay back against the pillows, her hands moving quickly to her large stomach.
"Is it the baby?" Mrs. O'Grady asked hurriedly, eyes wide.
Dora smiled weakly and shook her head. "No, just aching. Probably just gas of the stomach. I'll be fine." At the look from Mrs. O'Grady, she gave her a pointed look. "I don't believe it to be labor. Besides, there's a lot more must be done before the harvest."
Mrs. O'Grady looked at her carefully, at the pallor of her face, and then tutted quietly. "If it's labor, it's labor. You can't decide when it will come, and you can't stop it."
"I'm not trying to stop it, but I'm not going to encourage it, neither." Dora snapped, and then her face softened apologetically. "I'm just going to sleep it off. I'm sure I'll feel better."
There was a moment of tense silence; Dora was trying to keep her face composed through the pain radiating through her abdomen, and Mrs. O'Grady trying to find the pain and decide how to go about things. She finally came to a decision.
"Alright, Dora dear." She said, fluffing the pillows and fixing the blankets. "If you're so determined, then you sleep. But I'm going to get the midwife, and once I come back, I'm not leaving until your fit, or your Reece gets home. Your boys need someone to take care of them while you're confined to bed, and I daresay you'll need some caretaking as well." As though to emphasize the point, Mrs. O'Grady picked up the empty glass of water on the nightstand. She turned to retrieve Aidan from the kitchen, but stopped herself when she saw him at the door.
"Oh! Well then, if you're already here –" Mrs. O'Grady turned back to Dora. "Aidan will get you everything you need until I return. Don't worry. I shan't be gone more than two hours, as I'll have to get Madeleine to watch Curtis and the younger boys."
Dora protested weakly from the bed. "Mrs. O'Grady, I'm sure everything's fine. You don't have to –"
"Don't have to." Mrs. O'Grady agreed. "But I should. Two boys, and you bedridden? And with Reece and most of the working men way in the fields out south, there's none else to help you." When Dora opened her mouth again to speak, Mrs. O'Grady shushed her quickly and then backed towards the door, leaving Aidan inside the room. "I'll dress and feed your youngest, and take him with me to town. I will return."
With that, Mrs. O'Grady turned from the room and went down the hall. There was some murmuring, a few muffled comments from Micah, and then the noise moved temporarily to the kitchen, before disappearing with a bang from the front door.
Aidan hadn't moved.
Dora looked at her son, and smiled gently. "Will you get me some tea love?" she asked, adjusting her position on the bed with a wince. While he ran off down the hall, the urge to use the washroom overwhelmed her, and she swung her legs out of the bed.
Aidan returned just as she did, and held the cup of tea out to her. However, Dora didn't seem to be reaching for it. She was bent slightly over, hands on her hips and lower back, breathing loudly and funny.
"Mammy?" Aidan asked. "Are you alright?"
She laughed, forcefully, and nodded. "Just sit – set the tea down on the table – yes, just there – and sit." She watched him climb up onto the kitchen chair in the corner, and caught his frightened eyes.
"Is the baby coming now?"
With another laugh, Dora shook her head. "No, I'm sure it's just some ailment." She forced herself to straighten slowly as a show of strength, offering "See?" to her young son. But almost immediately after she'd become completely straight, she had to bend in half again as the pain returned, accompanied by a rush of liquid from between her legs.
For a moment all either Dora or Aidan could do was stare, and then Dora started talking. "The baby." She caught Aidan's eyes, and then looked back down at the mess on the floor. "Get some towels dear. Wipe up that mess. And I'll need you to put the kettle on, and gather Mammy a few buckets of water from the pump."
"And an empty bucket!" she added as an afterthought.
Aidan disappeared for a moment, and then returned to Dora, who was completely unaware of his being there as she fought the screams that threatened. She could not scare her boy, or he'd not be able to help her the way she needed.
Aidan threw the towels on the floor and then left, banging the back door shut as he headed to the pump.
Every few minutes, the aching in Dora's abdomen grew, until she found her self on her hands and knees because of the level of pain. It was all she could do to just breathe through the surges, as though she were being assaulted by the winds of a hurricane with no warning. Eventually, she felt, rather than saw, Aidan next to her, trying to hold her hand.
"Mammy." He asked, voice brave. "What do you need?"
She couldn't ask him to stay. In fact, she should probably tell him to leave. He shouldn't be there while she was giving birth, but she couldn't see any way to avoid it.
"Aidan." Dora whispered, voice as soft as possible. "Mammy's going to be hurting. She might cry, or scream, and she might scare you. But you need to do what she says. And don't leave Mammy alone. Alright?"
"Yes Mammy."
"Get one of the buckets, and a rag." She heard his footsteps leave, and come racing back almost instantly. "Now wet a cloth, and wipe my face. It doesn't matter if I get wet. Just keep my face and neck wet with cold water."
It seemed like hours. Her palms and knees began to ache from being on them, but Dora had not the energy to move to the bed or the bathroom. With each surge of pain from within, a thousand thoughts came with it. 'Where are Mrs. O'Grady and the midwife? … Is the baby okay? … Am I going to die? No. She wouldn't leave her children behind. …Where was Micah? With Mrs. O'Grady, that's right. And Aidan's here. He mustn't be scared. I need him to be strong.' The only solace she could fathom was the pattern of cool refreshment that was no longer exclusive on her head and neck, but also on the bits of her arms and legs that were accessible.
When the pain began to cross a threshold she didn't know possible, Dora was filled with the irresistible urge to push, and despite having nobody but her five year old son, she did, crying out between each one. "Ahhhh! … Aidan… Back, put your hands …" A scream. "Put them near the floor … between …" A gasp for breath. "Between my knees."
There were a few moments of scuffling as Aidan moved to find the right spot. Dora's cries were muffled by the pursing of her lips until it was finally too difficult to suppress them and she gave a final loud shriek.
Into Aidan's hands something wet fell. He couldn't see, because of the folds of his mother's once-white nightgown.
Just then there was a clamoring at the door, and Mrs. O'Grady and the midwife walked in. The shock on their face was obvious. Facing them, the elegant and reputedly beautiful Dora Conlon, on her hands and knees, soaking wet, and shaking. And behind her, a five-year-old boy with his mother's eyes and hair, with a little goo-covered thing in his hands, smudges of red on his arms, and his little blue pajamas soaked.
Aidan was immediately relieved by Mrs. O'Grady who took him to the bathroom to bathe him quickly, before making him dress and sitting him down at the kitchen with Micah for a meal of toast and porridge. When the frizzy red haired lady told Mrs. O'Grady the boys could come back in, it had been almost two hours.
Afraid to see his mother again after the way she'd been screaming, Aidan was tentative as he went around the corner into the bedroom. But his mother was smiling. Her hair was combed, she was in a new nightgown, and the mess of buckets and towels had disappeared. When he finally had the courage to look at her face, the tear streaks were gone, and she was smiling at him, and holding out her left hand, as the right had something in it.
It was all the invitation he needed. Aidan climbed up onto the bed next to her, and crawled over.
Her words to him were simple. "My little man. You're so grown up." Dora whispered to him. She kissed his cheeks and pulled him to her for a one armed hug. When he settled back down cross-legged, she held out the bundle in her arms. "Would you like to see your new baby sister?" she asked.
Aidan's eyes lit up as he looked at her. "Clara-Beth?" His voice was hushed, as she nodded and deposited the tiny bundle onto his lap.
He looked down, knowing already what he wanted to say to this new little baby, his little sister.
"Clara-Beth, you are a treasure in a treasure box, inside a safe box in my heart." He paused, thoughtful, and looked at his mother. "I will love you, always and forever."
May 1897, New York City
It was bright. Much too bright. Micah must've left the curtains open the night before when he came in from looking at the stars from the fire escape. He groaned, and rolled over to adjust his pillow over his head, but when he moved, he realized there was no softness to his pillow; There were only lumps, bumpy bits, and hard objects. He was not in bed. And the sounds were not of cooking or movement in the apartment, but that of horses hooves, and carts.
Aidan opened his eyes, sat up, and looked around him. Across the street, at a restaurant called O'Malley's, a man was staring at him. So he looked down at himself.
He was sitting on a park bench, on the edge of Central Park, if he was correct. He must be, as he and Micah had been to this very location numerous times. So had he fallen asleep? Aidan pressed his hand to his temple, groaning at the headache. He strained to recall the events of the night before, but could not seem to remember.
He was in his brown trousers, he noticed. So no special event. And wearing a plain white shirt beneath a plaid button up. Normal clothing. His pillow, Aidan realized, was his pack. It seemed bursting at the seams, pressing out in odd ways and barely staying closed, despite the knot it was tied shut by. Why he'd be carrying this, let alone sleeping on it, he had no idea, and even less idea about how it got so full. He knew for certain that he could never fill it more than halfway. He'd have to go through it, though not at this location, or time.
Aidan reached into his pockets subconsciously, but brought out a package wrapped in brown paper and string. Furrowing his eyebrows, Aidan undid the knots, and unfolded it carefully. He had to force his face to stay calm, and his hands not to drop it, as he realized that, yes, every single piece of his mother's jewelry (her wedding ring, Claddagh ring, mother's pendant, little silver cross on a silver chain, and all her odds and ends jewelry bits) were in the package.
Carefully looking around to see if anybody had been watching him, Aidan closed the package, tied it, and tucked it neatly into his waistband.
He needed to go home, surely. Mother would want her jewels back from the cleaners, where he realized he'd taken it a week before, if he remembered correctly. So Aidan stood up, hoisted his pack onto his back, and began to walk.
He didn't get far before he realized what would've woken him had the sun not. Aidan's stomach gave a very audible growl, and so he stopped at a fruit vendor down the street to buy an apple with some change he found in his pocket.
Just before turning back down the street, Aidan caught sight of himself in the reflection on the windows, and couldn't help but stare. He hadn't seen himself in so long.
He was taller now, almost as tall as his father, which wasn't saying much, and a little slimmer than him as well. His limbs seemed almost lanky, though the muscle was evident beneath his thin clothing. Aidan's eyes were truly his mother's. So pale a blue that they nearly seemed white, while still being green. And his hair, also his mother's hay color, was shaggy and in tousled disarray. No longer a little boy, he thought, proud to be seventeen.
Aidan jutted his jaw without thinking, and resolutely turned away from the window, one hand holding the apple, the other unconsciously going to the chain around his neck on which hung his mother's key.