him the way he was before he became evidence of Henry Wilson’s assault. She remembers having three monthly periods before Wilson used her body that day, saying he wouldn’t hurt her…she was now having her fourth with his baby.
***
Over the next week, Emma drops by regularly, hovering over Annie, gently coaxing her to eat so she can nurse her son. Annie joylessly consents. Emma becomes increasingly concerned, as she’s seen other new mothers appear to be mildly depressed when they have girls but wanted boys, but has seen nothing as deep as Annie’s depression before, no one this sad for this long…and wonders, how did Annie even get pregnant with nice, old Reverend Wilson’s green-eyed baby, anyway?
“Annie, you need to cradle his head when he’s nursing,” Emma says, gently moving Annie’s left arm and crooking it under the baby’s head. “Make sure he latches on good so your nipples don’t get sore.”
Annie looks over the newborn’s head through an open backyard window to the rolling hills of Bethania wishing she could go outside and play again, like Abbie, closer to where she could see God.
***
Annie hastily cleans the cooking utensils from the last batch of cookies. Wilson would arrive soon to pick up his order. She is still baking from home since she has no one else to care for the baby. Now three months old, he would be awake soon, and his appetite is urgent and voracious. She prepares a quick lunch for herself – a slice of buttered bread and a cup of warm milk with honey. Emma’s right, warm milk makes mother’s milk fill her breasts every time…interesting.
There is a knock. Thinking it’s Wilson to pick up his order earlier than expected, she rushes to the door and flings it open, basket of cookies cradled in her arm, thinking of what to say to him this time, no, no need to tarry, no, he’s sleeping, goodbye…
To her surprise, it’s her neighbor William and his girls who have come for their first visit to her home.
“Annie, girl, you lookin’ all grown up!” William says, greeting her warmly. Doris, Elizabeth and Abbie stand anxiously in front of him shifting nervously from foot to foot, bursting to speak. Doris is carrying a red and white checkerboard print cloth covered pan of something. Annie notices Doris is quite tall to be only 10 years old. She’s almost as tall as Annie.
“Mr. Conrad, girls, come in,” Annie says, fussing with her unkempt hair. “It’s only November and already windy and cold out here!” She quickly ushers them inside, then places the basket of cookies in the nearby seat of a rocking chair.
Jumping at the chance to speak during the commotion, Abbie blurts out, “Miss Annie, where yo’ baby at?”
Doris, catching Abbie’s eye, shushes her silent with a big sister stare.
William says, “Annie, are you sure you’re up for a short visit?”
On cue, Doris pulls back the cloth and presents Annie with the warm pan of sugar cake.
“For me? Thank you! Yes, y’all please stay!” Annie takes off her apron, throws it over the back of the same rocker, and closes the door.
Elizabeth notices the baby bundled on the bed and whispers to no one in particular, entranced, “There he is, there’s the baby.”
William removes his hat, lays it on the kitchen table, and sits down in the only other chair across from Annie’s half eaten lunch. “Glad to see you’re taking better care of yourself, young lady. Emma had me worried.”