years of my adulthood consumed in hunger and lust. I hungered for Marianne, the woman I couldn’t have. I worked to fulfill my lust for a snazzy car and fancy clothes. I gave in to the physical desire Flo conjured within me. My selfish needs consumed my life, leaving me with nothing but regret and turmoil in my soul.
I vowed to change my ways and live for my family. I would make life better for Mother and the girls, my newborn son and Flo. I took pride in my newborn son. The idea of taking care of Flo and the boy fulfilled me. I would lead an honorable and productive life as a husband and father. Flo and the babe were so small and frail that they couldn’t survive without me. Flo made me feel needed; now she and our son needed me more than ever.
Mustering up my strength, I put my shoes back on and headed to the house. As I walked, I began to think of a name for my son. Michael, for my father and me, and Lewis – Michael Lewis MacDonald, I nodded, pleased with my decision. I decided that when he’s old enough, I would share my secret place with him like my father did with me.
I slipped through the brush to see Mother and Doc James standing next to his black Ford. They didn’t see me until I was almost upon them. The skin on Mother’s face stretched taut with tension and sadness.
“ Mickey. Where have you been?”
Her pause didn’t give me time to answer. “Son, your baby is dead.”
The news fell like a dead weight on my soul. I stared at the packed red dirt under my feet. A tremor of grief trickled over my face. The hopes and dreams of a meaningful life born at the creek were washed away with my son’s death.
Doc James’s hand gently rocked my shoulder. “I’m sorry, Son. He was just too small to eat. He probably wouldn’t have made it even if his mama had been awake.”
I kept my eyes on the ground to hide the shame and guilt written on my face. “How is she?”
The doctor moved his hand to his pocket. “Her pulse is steady. If she doesn’t come around in the next few days, I think we should take her over to Grady for observation. I’ll be back day after tomorrow. If she’s the same, I’ll order an ambulance to take her into Atlanta.”
I finally looked up and faced the doctor. “Why is she sleeping like that?”
Doc James shook his head. “I don’t know. I wish I did.”
***
I took a week off from work to attend to my family. Mother, Lewis, Miss Sara, and I watched the gravedigger bury Michael Lewis MacDonald near my father on the family plot. In those days, tiny tombstones topped with angels were common. Mother chose the angel marker, and I paid for it. Mother grieved hard over her grandson’s death. She’d gotten attached to the babe, and she was in an awful state.
Flo missed the death and burial of her firstborn child. She woke up the next day, fine as could be. She looked alert and refreshed after her five-day rest.
Sophia’s voice rang through the house. “She’s up. Mother, she’s awake.”
Mother and I joined Sophia at Flo’s bedside. She sat up, wide-eyed as if she was seeing the world for the first time. Sophia cooed at Flo gently, as if she might break.
“ Flo, how do you feel?”
Flo looked around the room and said, “Awright, I reckon. Where’s my baby?”
I stepped forward and sat on the bed next to her. “Um, the little fella didn’t make it, Flo. Doc James said that he was just too little to eat.”
Flo looked at my feet or the floor beside the bed. I couldn’t see what she looked for. She didn’t cry or do anything I expected. Flo was strange that way; you never knew what would come next. After about a minute, she looked at me curiously.
“ It was a boy? What was his name?”
I felt proud repeating the fine name I’d given my son. “Michael Lewis MacDonald.”
Flo’s big blue eyes popped wider. “You named my baby after a darkie?”
Mother leaned over Flo. “You look here, Missy. I just buried my grandson, and I’m in no mood
I vowed to change my ways and live for my family. I would make life better for Mother and the girls, my newborn son and Flo. I took pride in my newborn son. The idea of taking care of Flo and the boy fulfilled me. I would lead an honorable and productive life as a husband and father. Flo and the babe were so small and frail that they couldn’t survive without me. Flo made me feel needed; now she and our son needed me more than ever.
Mustering up my strength, I put my shoes back on and headed to the house. As I walked, I began to think of a name for my son. Michael, for my father and me, and Lewis – Michael Lewis MacDonald, I nodded, pleased with my decision. I decided that when he’s old enough, I would share my secret place with him like my father did with me.
I slipped through the brush to see Mother and Doc James standing next to his black Ford. They didn’t see me until I was almost upon them. The skin on Mother’s face stretched taut with tension and sadness.
“ Mickey. Where have you been?”
Her pause didn’t give me time to answer. “Son, your baby is dead.”
The news fell like a dead weight on my soul. I stared at the packed red dirt under my feet. A tremor of grief trickled over my face. The hopes and dreams of a meaningful life born at the creek were washed away with my son’s death.
Doc James’s hand gently rocked my shoulder. “I’m sorry, Son. He was just too small to eat. He probably wouldn’t have made it even if his mama had been awake.”
I kept my eyes on the ground to hide the shame and guilt written on my face. “How is she?”
The doctor moved his hand to his pocket. “Her pulse is steady. If she doesn’t come around in the next few days, I think we should take her over to Grady for observation. I’ll be back day after tomorrow. If she’s the same, I’ll order an ambulance to take her into Atlanta.”
I finally looked up and faced the doctor. “Why is she sleeping like that?”
Doc James shook his head. “I don’t know. I wish I did.”
***
I took a week off from work to attend to my family. Mother, Lewis, Miss Sara, and I watched the gravedigger bury Michael Lewis MacDonald near my father on the family plot. In those days, tiny tombstones topped with angels were common. Mother chose the angel marker, and I paid for it. Mother grieved hard over her grandson’s death. She’d gotten attached to the babe, and she was in an awful state.
Flo missed the death and burial of her firstborn child. She woke up the next day, fine as could be. She looked alert and refreshed after her five-day rest.
Sophia’s voice rang through the house. “She’s up. Mother, she’s awake.”
Mother and I joined Sophia at Flo’s bedside. She sat up, wide-eyed as if she was seeing the world for the first time. Sophia cooed at Flo gently, as if she might break.
“ Flo, how do you feel?”
Flo looked around the room and said, “Awright, I reckon. Where’s my baby?”
I stepped forward and sat on the bed next to her. “Um, the little fella didn’t make it, Flo. Doc James said that he was just too little to eat.”
Flo looked at my feet or the floor beside the bed. I couldn’t see what she looked for. She didn’t cry or do anything I expected. Flo was strange that way; you never knew what would come next. After about a minute, she looked at me curiously.
“ It was a boy? What was his name?”
I felt proud repeating the fine name I’d given my son. “Michael Lewis MacDonald.”
Flo’s big blue eyes popped wider. “You named my baby after a darkie?”
Mother leaned over Flo. “You look here, Missy. I just buried my grandson, and I’m in no mood
Similar Books
