Free Crossing by Gilbert Morris Page A

times of the seasons always come, and the spring of 1858 was glorious. The long days were delightfully warm and the nights refreshingly cool. Rain came just as and when it should. Even
    Yancy didn’t mind working the fields; the days were so pleasant and the planting was easy.
    Early in the evening of April 16, the family was gathered in the parlor. A small, comfortable fire crackled, and the last sweet rays of the sun shone strong through the large windows. Daniel and Yancy were playing checkers while Zemira and Becky quilted.
    Becky had never before been a very good seamstress, but Zemira was very skilled. Once Becky had applied herself to quilting under Zemira’s expert teaching, she had come to enjoy it.
    Leaning back, she rubbed her eyes then sat motionless for a few moments, her eyes closed.
    Zemira eyed her shrewdly. Once, when Zemira was young, she had been the best midwife in the community. But after her second stillborn daughter, she had refused to ever consider it again. Still, the founts of knowledge of men and women run deep and are hard to ignore.
    Rebecca lifted her head with a small smile. “Daniel?”
    “Yes, dearest?”
    “I think it’s time for you to go fetch Esther Raber.”
    Daniel jumped up, knocking the straight chair he was sitting in halfway across the room.
    This made Yancy jump up in alarm, and his chair fell over.
    “Stop!” Becky said, holding up one hand and laughing. “It’s no emergency, you know. This little one has taken a sweet time coming, and for all we know it may be tomorrow or the next day before he or she decides to put in an appearance. It’s fine, Daniel.”
    Zemira pursed her lips. “It’s a girl, Daniel. And I do think you might step lively to get Mrs. Raber.”
    Daniel turned and bolted from the room, followed by Yancy.
    “Just—wait! Don’t kill your silly selves!” Becky called after them. “Grandmother, why did you scare them like that? How do you know?”
    “Normally I don’t say much about what’s between a mother and her child and God. But you’re precious to me, daughter, and I have to say that I think this little girl is going to be born before midnight, even though I see you’re in real early light pains. Anyway, why don’t we go on upstairs and get you fixed up in bed? And I’ll have everything ready by the time Esther gets here. All I can say is”— she grunted a little, helping Becky rise from the straight-backed bench—”that I hope that silly, loud, little Leah Raber doesn’t insist on following Yancy over here. I declare right here and now, I think she’d kidnap him and hold him prisoner if she thought it would make him marry her.”
    “Can’t blame her,” Becky said, smiling. “He is a handsome young man.”
    “Doesn’t excuse her. She’s like a little gnat, always buzzing around him. So, daughter, what are you going to name her?”
    “I’m going to be cautious and wait until we see what it is, Grandmother, even though I have faith in you. And anyway, I think I will let Daniel make the final decision when he sees her.”
    “Her?” Zemira repeated mischievously as they struggled up the stairs.
    “Or him,” Becky added quickly then bent over with a sudden sharp pain. “All right, all right, her,” she whispered. Looking up at Zemira, she grinned. “Guess she’s going to take after me.”

    It took about an hour for Daniel and Yancy to bring Esther back to the farm, and by that time Rebecca was already in hard labor, though it was perfectly natural and normal. After an examination, Esther, a kind, gentle woman with warm, dark eyes, came out into the hallway and said, “It looks like we’re going to have a baby soon, Daniel. Please go downstairs … and don’t worry. Both Becky and the baby look very, very good.”
    “But how do you know? What do you mean? What—?”
    Esther was kind, but she could be firm when she had to be, particularly with wayward daughters like Leah and distraught fathers-to-be like Daniel.