Hold On

“Oh... okay. O-kay. Baby, I think we need to go to the hospital.”

      I groaned and rolled over, smacking the digital clock to turn on the light. That baby had to wait till 3:24 in the morning to come. It felt like I’d only slept for two minutes since Janna and I fell asleep after our fight.

      I'd sworn yesterday that the drive to see her attorney about the divorce would be the last time I'd ever take her someplace. But now Janna was in no position to drive herself anywhere, so I growled an answer to her pleas and jumped out of bed, throwing my pants on.

      As she tried to lift herself and her heavy belly off the bed, she moved more like a seventy-five-year-old woman instead of the girl of 23 she was.

      “Aaron... hurry,” she whispered.

      I pulled our hospital-trip bags out of the closet, snapping out in my frustration, “I’m doing the best I can; can’t you see that?” 

      “...Yes... I’m sorry. Thank you, honey. I’m not trying to be demanding.”

      ...It’s not you; it’s the baby who’s being demanding, I wanted to tell her. How I longed to apologize for what I said. But I didn’t want to let down my act. She’d think me weak.

      Wait a minute... why should I care what she thinks?

      You care! I argued. Of course you care. You care what everyone thinks.

      I am not about to let anyone see that and ridicule me.

      Maybe that’s the problem. You try to act proud of yourself, but really, you’re an insecure, pathetic loser. You’re afraid of being shamed for having a wife more caring and patient than you are. You get angry with someone, and then she starts looking for the good qualities of that person, just trying to get your mind off it, but you’re sick of it. You fell in love with her because of all this. But now... Now you hate her for her quiet strength. 

      “Aaron, I don’t want to nag—”

      “All right, all right! Let’s just get out the door!”

We drove the twenty-some-odd miles to the hospital in almost complete silence, with an occasional muffled groan from Janna.

      I gave in a bit. “You’re ... doing all right? ...I mean, you know, you’re not gonna need to give birth in the car?”

      She turned from the open window to look at me, smiling a grateful smile. “Thank God, no, baby.”

      For a moment there I felt a pang of regret, as I glanced at her sweet face and ginger hair lit at intervals by the amber highway lights. What are you doing, man? How can you be leaving your poor girl, and soon your own child, just because you can’t stand the thought that perhaps she’s stronger than you? This self-induced inferiority-phobia is ruining your life, and hers.

      “I’m sorry about all this, baby,” she said at last.

      My angry argument reassumed its place in the center of my emotions. You should be. Always trying to be above me. Making me look weak in front of everyone.

      “I’m sorry it had to happen now,” she said, softer. “Now of all times.”

      I didn’t want to answer, but I looked over at her, expecting her to be crying. In fact, I hoped she’d be crying.

      She caught me by surprise. She had her eyes closed, and mouthed words slowly. She’s praying. Then she opened her eyes and gave the calmest, most beautiful smile I’d ever seen. I couldn’t speak after that.

By 4:30 AM we were in Labor & Delivery, in a large room with one long window.

      I sat, aloof, on a chair in the corner of the room, looking out the window into the darkness. Poor lonesome Janna lay on her cot. Why do I have to be so cruel?

      An Asian woman in purple scrubs entered, cutting off my tangled thoughts.

      “Hi... My name is Aisha, and I’ll be taking care of you for now. How are things, sweetie?” she said, checking the monitors briefly.

      Janna attempted a smile. “Good so far, thank you.”

      She motioned to us. “Is this your first?”

      “Yes,” said Janna, a hint of sadness behind her voice, as if she, like me, thought, And our last.

      “How long have you been married?” she continued the normal, casual conversation, but it felt like an interrogation. 

      “Two years, but we’re getting a divorce,” I said. My voice as I said that final word felt sharp, cutting the still air of the room with unwarranted force.

      “Oh... dear, I’m so sorry.” She went to Janna and gave her hand a squeeze. “I’ll be praying for you, sweetie.” 

      She went to go, but then turned and said to me, “I don’t know the circumstances, and I won’t tell you what to do, sweetie, but I will tell you this: ‘forever’ isn’t ‘as long as you can stand each other’. These troubles are here to teach you to hold on tighter to what you have.”

      To Janna, she said, “We’ll be back to check on you in a few minutes, sweetie. Call us if you need anything.”

After an hour, Janna’s contractions were still a little irregular. All I could do – or, rather, wanted to do — was sit in my corner, neglectful and proud of it somehow. 

      Close to six she called the nurse in. I’d slipped into a doze, and woke with a lurch when I heard voices other than Janna’s. I stood up, slurring in my half-sleep, “What’s going on? What’re you doing?” Then I realized we weren’t at home, and that the nurses probably weren’t anything to worry about, so I slumped back down into my chair, hoping no one heard me.

      “You’re fully dilated, honey,” said one of the nurses to Janna.

      “And your contractions are coming more regularly now,” said Aisha.

      “I know,” Janna whispered. “Am I ready? I’m ready.”

      “Let’s try, honey.”

Janna pushed for twenty minutes, and nothing. Another twenty, and nothing. 

      “Oh, Aaron, please,” she wept between pushes. “Pray. Pray for this baby.”

      I still sat alone in my shadowy chair, trying not to watch. Still I couldn’t help but see the tears run off her face. I can’t believe she can stand this. I could never stand this.

      ...I am tearing her apart, like this... but inside. 

      I couldn’t hide anymore. I couldn’t fake it. I began to weep. My Janna! What have I done to my Janna! Here she is, suffering alone, and all I can think about is how I feel? Oh God, give me strength to comfort her... you gave her enough to withstand me. To smile in all this. I need strength like hers. 

      I stood up, shaking, and went to her side. Her eyes were clamped shut as the next contractions came sharply, and she whimpered a little as the nurses told her, “Okay, honey, time to push!”

      I kneeled close to her ear. “Janna.”

      Her eyes opened and she relaxed a little.

      “No, no, honey, keep pushing! Push!” Aisha coaxed.

      She began again, but I knew she was trying harder than ever.

      Another push and the top of the head appeared. A nurse exclaimed, “Come on, sweetie, the baby’s almost here!”

      Janna cried out, “Aaron!”

      My hand reached and gripped hers, and our baby came. 

p.s. I'm sorry for taking so long with the other story... working on it...

Pain hit him first.

      It throbbed through his being, pounding in his head, down through his limbs. Made him want to scream. But he couldn’t. His mouth was so dry his breathing hurt. He must no longer be under the water....

      Through half-crusted eyes he saw darkness, a burst of light, then a faint glow. Something flashed past him. His first reflex was to duck, but all he could manage was a heavy jerk of his head.

      “Here now, lad, don’t try it. You’ll hurt yourself again,” cooed a soft voice. Something flew by him again.

      God, am I dreaming? Where am I? Why can’t I move? This is the oddest dream I’ve had yet.   

      “Wa—” he croaked.

      He felt something at his mouth. On his cracked lips there came something cool, hard, smooth. He realized what it was, and lifted his head the best he could muster. Water met his thirsty mouth, and he drank it breathlessly. The water hit his gut like an ice-cold fist, but after a few moments, the pain dulled.

      “Alright, take it slow, lad! You’ll drown.” The cool liquid was snatched away.

      “Haven’t I already?” coughed Dani.

      “No, thank heaven. But look at you, saved from the river and drowned from a cup. What am I to do with you, lad?”

      A flash of images sped through his head... the swirling water, rocks, a wooden chest, fists, the Trials...!

      Quick as the lightning outside he sat up, but the stabbing pain struck him again so suddenly, hammering in his skull like so many smithies, that he dropped back down upon the pillow.

      “Lydiwr!” he screamed, and all went black for some time.

He blinked. His eyes were somewhat clearer now, and he could see that all around him was a faint light. The torturous pain was gone; all that remained was a slight ache behind his eyes.

      When his vision steadied and he focused, he saw above him a framework of branches supporting what seemed to be thatch, or some type of reed roofing. He looked down and saw that he lying upon a very soft bed in small room with woven branch walls, furnished with quaint woven chairs and baskets. There was a door that he guessed lead out to the main part of the house, and several windows looking out directly over... the river!

      He listened. The sound of rushing, gurgling water was all around, even underneath him. That’s it. I’m aboard a houseboat. Strange, though. Neither he nor the room was moving one bit, and the river and shoreline outside the windows looked no more like it was passing him than if he’d been standing on the opposite shore.

       Suddenly came the haunting scent of black locust blossoms, and then the door opened. 

      In walked a small form: a young, pretty, female vole, clothed all in pale green homespun, and carrying a tray.

      She spoke, low and smooth. Dani recognized the voice as the one that had been soothing him throughout his delirium. “You’re awake, then.”

      Dani wasn’t in the mood for caution, but he knew it was necessary. The ache in his head made him forget his shyness for a minute. “Who are you?”

      “I’m called Eilyroa.”

      “Do you live here alone?”

      She shook her head. “My father Rigladh is a fishervole. He’s away for a fortnight with his trade.”

      Dani groaned as he attempted to sit up, but his strength was gone. He fell back with a muffled curse. “Why am I here?”

      Eilyroa walked briskly to him and set the tray down on the bureau, then sat beside him and said, “I’ve found you from the river, lad. We had an awful storm three days ago, and on the morning after the rains stopped—”

      “Did you say ‘three days ago’? I’ve been here three days?!”

      “Aye, lad. In a fever, quiverin’, convulsin’ ye were. I hurt for you, lad. In your fits, you’d cry a name... ‘Lydiwr’.” She stopped, reaching for a mug from the tray. “You must miss your mate.”   

      The statement, almost a question, made Dani’s ears turn red. He turned his head away. “I have no mate. I’m Dani, Glinnyrd’s son, of Heta Monid’s tribe. I was contesting in a Redar-Adati for... Lydiwr, when two of my rivals tossed me in the river.” The revelation sounded so foolish he wished he had not said it.

      “Oh lad!” gushed Eilyroa, in a soft tone that reminded Dani of his mother. “That’s wrong of them. My father and I... we’re not part of any tribe, but still, I know that that is worthy of banishment!”

      “I could not do anything about their actions after that. Soon after I fell in, I struck the rapids.”

      “The rapids? You’re a long way from home, lad. The rapids are a long way north of here. We’re just a few bends from the Falls.”

      Dani growled with frustration. The Falls were several days travel from camp! “I need to go! I’ve a feeling my friends are in danger. I must go, now! I’ve lost too much time.”

      Eilyroa stirred honey into the mug, then offered a spoonful of the liquid to him. “Drink this. The chamomile will help you relax.”

      “I can’t relax!” Dani never felt so anxious before, except when he found out Rys was competing for Lydiwr, and when Rys and Frys told him of their history. But now he didn’t care if it was a girl or anyone, he must get back! “I have to go back now! I must!”

      Eilyroa turned to him, and he wondered as he saw tears misting her eyes. “You can’t, Dani.”

      His heart stilled. “Why not?” His voice was very, very low.

      “Please understand, Dani: you have no strength. It will be weeks before you are up... and even then, lad, no matter how fast you came to me, it will take you yet more time to go upstream. Oh, lad, how I wish I could help ye! But after the rains we’ve had, there’s no chance for you to travel upriver!”

      She fell to weeping softly in pity, but she was weeping his tears.

Great dark-woolen clouds strangled the last hour of light as Lydiwr stood at the edge of camp, watching several creatures approach camp. Brother Erdolam, who sat nearby against a rock with some ink and reedweave paper, remarked, “Well, I suppose this means they’ve found that scoundrel Loka.”

      “You sound as if he’s run away,” laughed Lydiwr.

      “Oh, I wish he would,” chuckled Erdolam. “He’s a rascal, that lad; he needs a lady to slow him down.”

      “I suppose he’ll be of contesting age when Oghmyrod or Oladyr is ready.”

      “I pray daily for that time to come.”

      The creatures now walked up to Lydiwr and Erdolam to put down their names. Loka was with them.

      “Alright, lads, who found the rogue?”

      “I did,” said a serious young chap.

      “State your name.”

      “Yrnom, Muedon’s son.”

      “Alright, Yrnom, take your quarry to the Heta,” said Erdolam, motioning back to camp. While the victorious vole escorted Loka back to see the Heta, the other contestants came forward with their names. With them was Ellet.

      When he was done signing his name, Lydiwr motioned for him to come speak with her.

      “Have you seen Dani since this morning?” she whispered.

      “Not since we left camp, no,” Ellet said. “But he’ll probably be turning up soon. He’s probably been searching more thoroughly than any of these lads. But then... well, my only worry... Ah, ‘tis nothing.”

      “What?”

      “Well, ma’am, I suppose you’d know about how Rys and Frys are taking my attentions towards Sylar.”

      “...Yes. Sylar has told me everything.”

      “She has, has she? Ah well, anyway, I’d expect her brothers to be protective, but not—”

      “—Absolutely hostile to the idea? Don’t think I’ve not noticed. But, you’re in a difficult situation, because no one really wants to say anything towards them. They were quite generous to adopt her as a baby as they did. They most likely don’t want harm to come to her as it did her real family.”

      “But to the extent where it means harm to anyone who fancies her? It’s just not... natural.”

      “But, Ellet, what has all of this to do with Dani?”

      “Dani stood up to them, in his way. They hate him for it. And now, they’re not here, and... he’s not here. I just hope... I just hope he’s alright.”

      Lydiwr shivered. “So do I.”

An hour passed. Lydiwr kept inside for the cold, but still kept a watch out for Dani. Still no sign. She set her maidens at the task of watching for him, and went about her chores.

      When all but a few lads had returned and put their names down, the bard blew an ancient, spiraling goat’s-horn, used in most of the clan’s ceremonies. The deep, throaty bellowing echoed well past the river, dancing off each craggy rock and hillside, and the thunder answered it mournfully.

      In the next hour or two, many more of the competitors returned, and then at last, slinking up the hill, Rys and Frys... more quiet than usual. That seemed to be everyone, so Heta Monid gathered them all inside the Hall. The servants had just come to arrange the benches and tables for supper, so he let the lads rest a while on the dirt floor while he stood with Lydiwr seated next to him.

      “Lads,” said the Heta, “you’ve done well today: those of you that found Loka, and those that came very close. Now, before we prepare for the next Trial...”

      As he spoke, Ellet and Lydiwr both were glancing over the group, searching each face and shadow closely. Many of the voles were soaked with sweat, from searching all day at a full run; others were dirty enough to grow a garden from crawling along the ground, expecting to catch Loka behind every rock. One could almost tell the vole’s personality by his apparent methods of searching.

      Lydiwr felt a jolt hit her stomach. She still could not find, throughout the entire group of trackers, the personality she was looking for. Not even the face. No kind grey eyes, shy smile, or even his scarred shoulder. No gentle strength or quiet ways. Thunder cracked and tumbled right overhead.

      Normally Lydiwr would not interrupt her father for anything besides, perhaps, to inform him kindly that the hut was burning down. But this could not wait. She tugged his sleeve.

      Heta Monid turned to her, asking her, not sternly, but almost curiously, “Daughter, what is it?”

      “Dani is not with them,” she whispered, trying hard to disguise the fear in her voice as being only concern. “He did not return.”

      “Are you sure of this?”

      “I have been watching, and I can’t see him. He is not with them!”

      “I’ll see.” The Heta took some steps forward and said in a loud voice, “Dani, Glinnyrd’s son, come forward.” For he could not see Dani either, but thought that the lad might be behind another.

      Ellet shouted, “Heta Monid, he’s not here!”

      “Erdolam!” barked the Heta. “Do you have the names?”

      The vole came forward with the list. Sure enough, as Heta Monid hurriedly read the names, he could see that Dani had not come back... or else had not signed his name.

      Rys and Frys grew rather nervous, so Frys called out, “Should we form a search party, Chief?”

      Heta Monid turned to look at the duo. “‘Chief’?”

      “Er, Heta,” replied Frys, carefully.

      “We’ll search the village first,” declared the Heta. “If he’s not found, lads, you’ll have a real hunt on your paws.”

As he rose and dressed, and walked out from the hut, Dani noticed it was a bit warmer than it had been. The smell of the marsh was a bit stronger in air. He didn’t notice it as quickly now that he’d been living with it for nearly a week, but it sort of rose up from the swamp, enfolded him, and that was that. It was natural now.

      He stretched his muscles and wrapped on his leg-boots, and slipped his jerkin and overcoat on over his tunic. Then he noticed something.

      Gathered in the middle of the ring of huts was a group of lads and their families, letting out a few impatient murmurs.

      Dani went to join them. He soon found Ellet, standing with his mum and da and little sister. “What’s all this about, Ellet?”  

      “Are your mum and sisters up, Dani?”

      “…Aye, they’re long up. Why are you asking?”

      “They should be here. ‘Tis a momentous occasion.”

      Dani then realized that the crowd was waiting in front of the Heta’s Hall, and remembered. Today was the name-taking day.

      “I’ll go fetch them now.” The moths in his middle began fluttering wildly, as if they were as nervous as he was.

      After fifteen minutes, he was out again, with his mum and two sisters in his wake. It was washing day, and his sisters decided none of the right scarves were clean.

                By now, the doors of the hall were opened, and the lads stood in a line, waiting their turn to give their names, with their family looking on anxiously. Dani suddenly froze. “I can’t do it… I’ve never done something like this before!” he mumbled.

      Ellet, who stood close to the end of the line, said in a frantic whisper, “You had better, Dani! Look who’s signing his name in right now!”

      Dani looked up at the head of the line, and his legs shook.

      Wearing a great snickering grin and his finest jerkin was Rys.

By him stood his repulsive brother. Frys noticed Dani looking at him, and set his paw against his dagger hilt, slipping it out just slightly.

      Dani suddenly felt angry. The bullies! Then he felt even more frightened. How am I going to beat Rys, of anyone?

      Just then, a servant set two chairs out in the doorway of the Hall, and Heta Monid and Lydiwr came and sat to watch the name-taking. Dani saw as Rys finished signing his name he kissed her paw, and suddenly was infuriated. He marched right up to his place in the line, saying, “No matter how hard it’ll be for me, and I wager it’ll nigh kill me, I will not let Rys win this.”

      “Good!” said Ellet very earnestly. “I hope to heaven you win, Dani!”

      Dani looked at him. “Wait… why ever are you putting your name down? I thought…”

      “..Shh!” Ellet motioned to his family standing near. He looked very sad. “My mum and da hope very much that I’ll win… it’s a matter of the dowry. But I’m praying I’ll lose! Help me lose, Dani!”

      He looked longingly at Sylar. Dani nodded. “I’ll try, Ellet.”

©

Dani quickened his pace over the crunching, frosted ground. It would be completely dark soon, and this pile of beetles he had bagged in the marshlands grew no lighter on his shoulders.

      He smelled burnt swamp grass, and, as he came over the crest of the hill, saw the twinkle of the camp lights, and two bright fires right on the bog. Beacons, thought Dani, sighing. Probably for me.

      As he entered the valley, the smell of the marsh met him. It was not bad, just odd. He could see the wisdom in Heta Monid’s decision to move south towards the marshlands for the winter months, for that would certainly mean peat fuel for the fires, as well as insects and perhaps even fish upstream. But he would need to get used to it. Underneath his paws, where the frost crunched and broke, Dani could feel the marshy ground sink.

      He entered the camp. It was about suppertime, so most of the creatures were now waiting in the Hall. Dani hoped he hadn’t kept them. He headed for the kitchen door, and, opening it, tossed the bag of beetles to the head cook, Crova.

      “I’ve not kept them waiting, Crova?”

     “No, Dani, they’ve begun without you,” said Crova, inspecting the beetles. “Aye, these’ll do well for a surprise side dish. Loka,” he barked to his young assistant, “we’ll use some of those cranberries Rylglev found. Hurry it up! Before the Heta becomes full!”

Dani did not want to make a spectacle of himself by entering the Hall, becoming an object for everyone to stare at, so he quietly ate his portion of the meal in the kitchen area.

      After supper, when the bard played again, Dani slipped into the Hall and sat on the outskirts of the audience. Then he noticed that, strangely, he had sat next to Ellet, but had not recognized him. That happened because Ellet was not being cheerfully and insatiably giddy as always.  In fact, he was quite sullen.

      “My word, Ellet! What’s gotten into you?” Dani whispered.

     Ellet did not even look at him, but heaved a wretched sigh. Then he turned his head and looked to the side, and Dani looked with him. Across from them sat an equally sullen Sylar, who did not even look up.

      “Ah,” muttered Dani, shaking his head. “That Rys. He’s got to be stopped.”

      “Do you think—”

      “No, Ellet, I don’t think I could do anything about him. He’s twice as big as me, if you haven’t noticed!”

      “No, I was going to say, do you think you could… that is, would you like to go over and talk to Lydiwr for a while? Maybe?” Ellet looked up with hopeful eyes.

      “Ohhh,” said Dani, when he noticed that Sylar was sitting by her mistress, Lydiwr. The Heta’s daughter looked up, and seeing Dani, beckoned to him.

      “Lydiwr’s got it all arranged for us, Ellet,” whispered Dani, smiling. “Not to worry.” He rose with Ellet, and they met Lydiwr, Oladyr, and Sylar coming towards them. Oladyr held Sylar’s paw tightly, keeping between her and Ellet like a rock wall.

      “Good evening, Dani,” said Lydiwr, smiling a little. “I hope no trouble kept you from dinner.”

      “N-no, m’ lady,” said Dani, blushing. “I ate my supper in the kitchen. I arrived late, that’s all.”

      “Ah,” said Lydiwr. She looked at him suspiciously, which surprised Dani. “You wouldn’t have happened to see anyone coming out of my hut, would you?”

      “No, not at all,” said Dani, even more surprised. “Why do you ask? Is there something I could help you with?”

      Lydiwr looked back to make sure her maids were not listening, and then whispered, “My hut’s been robbed. Three of my finest necklaces are gone.”

      “No! The very same thing happened to my mother. Her beryl brooch from my father.”

      Lydiwr shook her head, sighing. “I’ve no idea who would do it, but it’s maddening. Those necklaces are part of my dowry. Very valuable, so I understand why. But who is another matter. I’m sorry, Dani, but I very briefly suspected you, since you came late for supper and I’d not seen you since before I discovered them missing. But I can see now it was not. Forgive me?”

      Dani cleared his throat, a little confused. “Of course!”

      Lydiwr smiled brightly, and said, “Only a little while till my father announces the Redar-Adati. Do your very best, Dani!”

      That left Dani quite red.

©