When Darkness Loves Us

It all looked different. There were squished beer cans on the coffee table, leftover soup still on the stove. She thought to scramble some eggs for Leon’s breakfast, and went to the refrigerator. Something was really different. Had she ever noticed how dirty it was? There was dust and dirt in the little egg cups, old rotten food in dishes, dirty marks all over the front. She felt a little faint, pulled out a kitchen chair, and sat down heavily. Something was happening to her mind. She looked around the room again. It was shabby, terrible. Something broke inside her chest, some constricting band was suddenly cut loose. She inhaled a great breath and the dizziness faded. Things were so clear.

Automatically, fingers went to her nose, a longtime habit. She went to the mirror in the bathroom and looked at herself. Her twisted nose was still there, the scars were still there, but her lips were even and straight. She picked up a brush and began to brush her hair back from her face; then she stopped and stared. Her eyes. They were a light green-brown, with little flecks of black and gold, and so pretty. They sparkled in the faint light of the dawn that was sliding up over the windowsill. As she watched, the whites reddened, little veins standing out. Tears filled the lower lid and spilled down her cheek. They were beautiful; her eyes were so beautiful.

CHAPTER 10

Fern was exhausted. As soon as the train pulled out of the station, she laid the sleeping baby on the empty seat next to her. Thank God we’re finally on our way. She took a last quick check around her, made sure her things were secure, propped a pillow next to Martha so she wouldn’t roll out of the seat, checked the white gauze patch that covered most of her face but kept the dust from her nose, and then really relaxed.

She stretched her legs under the seat in front and crossed her ankles. Now she could take a quick nap. The train trip would be most of the day to Chicago; then she had to find whoever was to meet her and go directly to the hospital. Bless Doc Pearson. He arranged everything so carefully.

She missed Harry already. They said their good-byes at breakfast; then Harry went to work and Dave McRae picked her and Martha up and took them to the station. Harry needed to get the fields plowed while the spring weather was just right. As they drove off in the buckboard, Fern waved, trying to catch his attention, but he was concentrating on his work.

He’d been concentrating a lot lately, and none of it was on her or the baby. It had been so difficult. Having a baby was hard work, especially one who needed special care. Fern was constantly changing the gauze patch, swabbing out the cavity, making sure no bath water got inside, in addition to all the other demands a baby made. Harry was no help at all. He barely even looked at the child, which broke Fern’s heart.

Whenever Fern took Martha to the bedroom to nurse, she would lay her hand over the child’s nose and wait for the healing power to course through her, that familiar feeling, contact with the energies that would help her. But none came. It didn’t really surprise her—there was no disease, there was no sickness, and really, growing a new nose was quite out of her realm. The baby was perfectly happy, perfectly normal, and when this doctor in Chicago was finished, she would look normal, too.

This operation would make it all better, she thought. She and Harry and Martha would make a wonderful little family, until there was a little Harry Junior. They would be happy and laugh and play games and love each other.

The wheels rocked an easy rhythm, and soon Fern was asleep.

Chicago was a smelly, noisy place. The train crept through endless miles of tracks that seemed to go nowhere except through an awful stench. She looked out the window and saw nothing but ugliness. Then the tunnel closed about them, and the train stopped. She gathered their things and disembarked with the help of the conductor and walked into the station. She located the clock and went to stand under it, as she had been told. A man waited for her.

“Mrs. Mannes?”

“Yes.” Fern took in his young, dark looks and was pleased. He had a nice face.

“I’m Doctor Goldman.”

“Oh! Oh, well, I didn’t really expect . . .”

“Didn’t expect me to meet you here myself? It just happened that my schedule opened up this afternoon, and I thought I could meet you and Martha personally. May I?” He lifted the corner of the baby blanket.

“Of course.” Fern shifted her bundle so Dr. Goldman could get a full view of Martha’s face.

“Yes, well, can’t see too much here. Let’s get her over to the hospital where we can really take a look.” He picked up Fern’s suitcase. “My car’s just outside.”