Read Online Down from the Mountain by Elizabeth Fixmer - Free Book Online
Authors: Elizabeth Fixmer
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it’s a knife wound or something.
“Out!” Rachel says. “You’ll get blood all over our jewelry.”
I race to the kitchen where the Band-Aids are kept. In the dining room, a solitary figure sits at a table. Miracle of miracles, it’s Mother nursing a glass of milk. Alone, finally.
When she sees me, she holds out her arms. I practically leap to get the hug I’ve wanted for so long. I hope no one comes around because I hug her for a long time, drinking in her love.
“You’re bleeding!” she says. I stick my finger in my mouth and plop down on the chair next to her.
“It’s nothing. A pinprick. The important thing is how are you ? I never see you anymore—not even at mealtime.”
“Hurry and take care of that finger, then we’ll talk, God permitting.”
I stay put. “Tell me.”
“I’m supposed to be on bed rest.”
“Why?”
“To keep the baby healthy, Mother Martha says.”
She’s hiding something. It makes me so mad. “I’m not a little girl anymore. I’ll be fifteen in May. Please tell me what’s going on.”
“Okay, honey.” She sighs. “I started bleeding several days ago. It could mean that I am having a miscarriage. But with bed rest, I have a better chance of keeping it.”
“So, why aren’t you in bed?”
In answer she holds up the glass of milk. “I can’t get enough of it.”
“But, Mother, even before you started bleeding, you didn’t seem happy about the baby. I know the doctor said you couldn’t get pregnant again, so this is a miracle, right?” I notice the dark circles under her eyes, and it seems that her face, even her fingers, are puffy.
“No, Eva, the doctor didn’t say I couldn’t get pregnant again. He said I shouldn’t because my body can’t handle it. It’s dangerous for me.”
“But Reverend Ezekiel said it’s a miracle,” I say.
“Yes,” she says. “It’s a miracle because with all these wives, no one has been able to bring a baby to term. And God told Ezekiel that I will have this baby.” After a few seconds she puts a smile on and gives my shoulder a quick squeeze. “We’ll just have to trust that if God wants me to have this baby, he’ll keep me safe, won’t we?”
I nod. Please God, please keep her safe.
“I heard that Ezekiel pulled you out of school. It makes me sad.”
The way she avoids my eyes doesn’t look like sadness, though. It looks and feels like guilt—as if there is something she should be able to do to change Ezekiel’s mind.
“I know, but I get to go to Boulder and make pretty things.”
She looks around to make sure no one is listening. “Eva, don’t ever let anyone know that you like going to Boulder. You know better. It’s like saying, ‘I like being around heathens and temptations toward evil.’”
“I know !”
“I wish …” she begins.
We both hear it at the same time—footsteps in the hall. I grab Mother’s empty milk glass and head to the sink so that we’re not together when the person comes in or passes by. I pull the Band-Aids from the top shelf above the sink, though my finger stopped bleeding a while ago.
The intruder is Mother MaryAnne, here to begin the evening meal. We each greet her casually, and she doesn’t seem at all concerned that we’re together, especially after Mother explains her need for milk and I wave the finger I’ve just bandaged in front of her.
“You can have as much milk as you want,” Mother MaryAnne says, winking at Mother Martha.
When MaryAnne begins to take out pots and pans, I sneak a quick kiss on Mother’s forehead. I try to make my face say that everything is going to be all right. But I’m not convinced of it myself, and I know she’s not either.
When I get outside, I find that Annie and Jacob have gathered enough wood for three fires. But we keep gathering anyway because it’s fun to be out on this sunny day and special for me to have time with them again. I try to forget my conversation with Mother Martha and enjoy the moment. But
“Out!” Rachel says. “You’ll get blood all over our jewelry.”
I race to the kitchen where the Band-Aids are kept. In the dining room, a solitary figure sits at a table. Miracle of miracles, it’s Mother nursing a glass of milk. Alone, finally.
When she sees me, she holds out her arms. I practically leap to get the hug I’ve wanted for so long. I hope no one comes around because I hug her for a long time, drinking in her love.
“You’re bleeding!” she says. I stick my finger in my mouth and plop down on the chair next to her.
“It’s nothing. A pinprick. The important thing is how are you ? I never see you anymore—not even at mealtime.”
“Hurry and take care of that finger, then we’ll talk, God permitting.”
I stay put. “Tell me.”
“I’m supposed to be on bed rest.”
“Why?”
“To keep the baby healthy, Mother Martha says.”
She’s hiding something. It makes me so mad. “I’m not a little girl anymore. I’ll be fifteen in May. Please tell me what’s going on.”
“Okay, honey.” She sighs. “I started bleeding several days ago. It could mean that I am having a miscarriage. But with bed rest, I have a better chance of keeping it.”
“So, why aren’t you in bed?”
In answer she holds up the glass of milk. “I can’t get enough of it.”
“But, Mother, even before you started bleeding, you didn’t seem happy about the baby. I know the doctor said you couldn’t get pregnant again, so this is a miracle, right?” I notice the dark circles under her eyes, and it seems that her face, even her fingers, are puffy.
“No, Eva, the doctor didn’t say I couldn’t get pregnant again. He said I shouldn’t because my body can’t handle it. It’s dangerous for me.”
“But Reverend Ezekiel said it’s a miracle,” I say.
“Yes,” she says. “It’s a miracle because with all these wives, no one has been able to bring a baby to term. And God told Ezekiel that I will have this baby.” After a few seconds she puts a smile on and gives my shoulder a quick squeeze. “We’ll just have to trust that if God wants me to have this baby, he’ll keep me safe, won’t we?”
I nod. Please God, please keep her safe.
“I heard that Ezekiel pulled you out of school. It makes me sad.”
The way she avoids my eyes doesn’t look like sadness, though. It looks and feels like guilt—as if there is something she should be able to do to change Ezekiel’s mind.
“I know, but I get to go to Boulder and make pretty things.”
She looks around to make sure no one is listening. “Eva, don’t ever let anyone know that you like going to Boulder. You know better. It’s like saying, ‘I like being around heathens and temptations toward evil.’”
“I know !”
“I wish …” she begins.
We both hear it at the same time—footsteps in the hall. I grab Mother’s empty milk glass and head to the sink so that we’re not together when the person comes in or passes by. I pull the Band-Aids from the top shelf above the sink, though my finger stopped bleeding a while ago.
The intruder is Mother MaryAnne, here to begin the evening meal. We each greet her casually, and she doesn’t seem at all concerned that we’re together, especially after Mother explains her need for milk and I wave the finger I’ve just bandaged in front of her.
“You can have as much milk as you want,” Mother MaryAnne says, winking at Mother Martha.
When MaryAnne begins to take out pots and pans, I sneak a quick kiss on Mother’s forehead. I try to make my face say that everything is going to be all right. But I’m not convinced of it myself, and I know she’s not either.
When I get outside, I find that Annie and Jacob have gathered enough wood for three fires. But we keep gathering anyway because it’s fun to be out on this sunny day and special for me to have time with them again. I try to forget my conversation with Mother Martha and enjoy the moment. But
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