TDTLBU Chapter Five

"I can't believe how much I've lost the knack for cooking since we've been married," Rob frowned as he entered Myra's room with a tray laden with Emma's supper. "But then… I never really had it in the first place. I sort of just survived on bacon and canned peaches… and ate out as much as I could."

"Bacon and canned peaches!" Myra cried. "I should have come back to Jefferson years earlier."

"I wish," Rob smiled as he sat down on the edge of the bed. "I brought up mine too so we can have supper together. And I didn't burn it! Are you feeling alright?"

"Better than I have," Myra smiled faintly. "Thank the Lord for Emma! I've needed her so much. If I could ever have a daughter… I'd want her to be just the same…" her voice trailed away and she hung her head. Although she tried so hard to hold them back, the tears just wouldn't stop from coming. The supper forgotten for the time being, Rob moved closer to put his arms around her, holding her close while she cried. Determined to have it out once and for all, she buried her face in his shoulder and let herself sob, shoulders shaking violently. When at last she felt she could speak, she lifted her face to his.

"Emma said something today… something that I've been thinking… and praying about… all day."

"What is it?"

"Rob… what if we… adopted a baby?"

✯✯✯

Rob considered it a great inconvenience that there was still no telephone installed at the farm. Myra considered it a blessing. If there was anything she hated, it was "modern contraptions". She resented them somehow… often expressing her longing to have been born in a long-ago time.

"But still in the same place," she had clarified, "because I couldn't dream of living anywhere but Jefferson."

Myra had recovered surprisingly quickly and was on her feet days before the doctor had predicted. Her eyes still held a sort of hollow sadness, but she smiled more. The idea of adopting a baby had been hashed out back and forth, inside out and upside down for days now, and they had made up their minds. In a state of feverish excitement, they drove down one evening to the Jefferson general store to put in a call to the Cincinnati Children's Home.

"Are we agreed on a boy?" Rob asked for what must have been the hundreth time as he pulled up in front of the store.

"Yes," Myra smiled. "While I have Emma running over at all times of the day, I don't need a daughter… yet. And boys are so much fun. I should know, I had three brothers! Besides, I want you to have a son."

"Sweetheart," Rob grinned as he leaned over and kissed her cheek.

"Rob!" Myra cried, pretending to be horrified. "Not in public!"

"Shall we go in, milady?" he extended a hand gallantly as he helped her from the car.

The phone call was duly made while Myra paced nervously in the background, biting her lip, as she listened to the brief exchange.

"My name is Robert Hayes. I and my wife Myra are interested in adoption… yes. No, no other children… Jefferson… Jefferson, Ohio… We have a farm… Yes… a boy… Are there any available for adoption? Oh my word… really? Um, just a minute." pulling the receiver from his ear, he turned to Myra.

"They have a boy they will let go this weekend, if we're ready by that time. Thirteen months old."

"Yes, yes!" Myra cried eagerly, clasping her hands in her nervousness. Rob nodded as he turned back to the phone.

"Yes, I think we'll take him… when can we come? Saturday at one? That sounds perfectly fine, Sir. Thank you!" Hanging up the phone, he stood in silence a moment, then turned to Myra, his eyes alight with excitement.

"It looks like we have a son, Myra!" And she laughed with pure joy, remembering the verse Emma had pointed out to her.

"Weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning. It's been a long night… but I do believe the sun is rising on our morning!"

✯✯✯

"I wonder what he looks like?" Myra danced around the kitchen as she once used to, heedless of the doctor's warning, as Rob sat at the kitchen table, grinning at her over his paper. "Perhaps he has big round blue eyes and soft golden curls, with a dimple in his chin! Or… or maybe deep brown eyes with dark hair. Or suppose… Rob! What if he has red hair?"

"Is that a problem?" Rob raised an eyebrow, trying to stifle his laughter.

"No, of course not!" Myra cried indignantly. "He'd be like… like Anne. Oh Rob, I'll never forgive you for not asking his name!"

Rob shrugged helplessly. The name was the least of his worries. But to Myra, apparently, it was rather important.

"What if he has a dreadful name? Like… like Jehoshaphat or Hezekiah?"

"Well… I suppose he's young enough that we could always change his name. You wanted the name Joshua, didn't you?"

"Yes… Joshua. Did you know that means "God is deliverance"? It's such a beautiful name… and he ought to be named after a hero anyway."

"A perfect name. I like the sound of it… Joshua Hayes…" Rob broke off and turned toward the window. "There's Donna coming up the lane now. Suppose I'd better get myself off to the living room or you two will talk my ears off." Accordingly, he got up and went, while Myra hurried to the door to throw it open wide in welcome.

"Donna Stewart… it's been far too long since you've stopped by!" she cried in mock reproach as her friend shifted a heavy basket to her other arm to give her a quick hug.

"I'll say," Donna replied, laughing. "Nearly four days!"

"And four days is much too long, I say," Myra shook her head. "Especially when you live just across the orchard. Come now, Donna, what's your excuse?"

"Laundry," Donna answered promptly. "And dirty dishes, sticky floors, and several scraped knees and dirty little faces. Not to mention no end of tomatoes and zucchinis. No matter what I say, Jim always plants far too many zucchinis. I feel as if I see another one, I'll scream!"

"Then don't look at my counters," Myra warned. "Rob is annoyed enough with our gabbing, what would he do if we started screaming? Just keep your eyes on the table. No zucchinis there… yet." she added with a regretful sigh. "Didn't Emma come along?"

"No," Donna laughed. "Haven't been able to tear her from the house for the past couple of days. She says she's making something special for the baby. In fact, all the kids are. Even Mickey. He came with me, but I'm afraid he got sidetracked by those kittens you have on the porch." Turning back toward the door, which still stood open, she called for him. He appeared in the doorway then, his beloved and battered cowboy hat perched on the back of his blond head, a kitten clutched in each chubby arm.

"There you are," Donna smiled maternally. "Say hi to Mrs. Hayes,"

"Hi," Mickey said obediently. Anne Cordelia, struggling under his left arm, suddenly broke free with a squeak and Darcy tumbled after her, both kittens darting for the front door and freedom. Mickey stared after them, unconcerned, then turned back to the two women.

"See my gun?" he produced a popgun pistol from his pocket. "I'm gonna go and shoot the buffalo. Where's Mister Hayes?"

"In the living room," Myra nodded in the proper direction, smiling in amusement as the little boy made a beeline for the doorway.

"How are the preparations coming along?" Donna asked, moving her basket to the table. "Anything I can help with? I've brought some of my old things… I don't think Jim and I will be needing them anymore. Four children is as many as I can handle!" So saying, she began to lift supplies from the basket… cloth diapers, neatly folded, along with a jar of safety pins; little rompers and rubber spoons, a few small toys.

"I would appreciate all the help I can get," Myra sighed. "I know nothing of caring for a baby."

"Well that's what I'm here for." Donna pulled Katie's doll from the basket and plopped it in Myra's arms. "It's a poor substitute, I'm afraid, and your baby will certainly be bigger, but it will work."

"Work for what?"

"You're going to learn to change a diaper," Donna grinned at Myra's startled expression. "Yes, even children of thirteen months still wear diapers."

"What about bottles?"

"I'm sure he's eating solid foods now. But I'll show you how to fix a bottle, just in case. Babies need them for comfort sometimes, and it could be helpful in adjusting him to his new surroundings."

"Seems strange, doesn't it?" Myra smiled softly. "After all these years… I'm really going to be a mother. In a sense," she added, her eyes clouding over.

"Do you remember when we were in the second grade and promised to always live close to each other so our children could be best friends?" Donna laughed. "We made a solemn pact that day."

"How could I forget it?" Myra answered, smiling again. "It was in the little hollow behind my old house. Remember how we called it Idlewild? Anne of Green Gables had just been published and we were wild about it."

"And the other girls called us 'Anne and Diana' because we were always together…"

"Remember how you were so in love with Gilbert Dawson? Just because his name was Gilbert. You once said you wished your hair was red so he would call you carrots."

"His name wasn't the only reason," Donna laughed. "He was the handsomest boy in school then. And now he's grown fat and bald!"

"He wasn't the very handsomest," Myra smiled reminiscently.

"You always were in love with Rob, weren't you?"

"Since the first grade," Myra answered. "He was in the third grade then. I was attacked and robbed of my lunch on the second day of school… and he got it back for me. Remember? And he told me that if I ever got in trouble again just to find him and he'd help me. That melted my seven year old heart. And I guess I never got over him."

A terrific crash and a howl issued forth at that very moment from the living room. Pausing only long enough to exchange horrified glances, the two women rushed into the other room. Rob was down on all fours, doing his best imitation of a horse as Mickey proudly sat on his back, firing his pistol into the air with his best imitation of gunshots, punctuated by "giddyaps" and "yee-haws". The rocking chair lying capsized accounted for the crash and Mickey for the howl. Rob rose to his knees when Myra and Donna came in, Mickey promptly sliding to the floor with a thump. The cowboy picked himself up indignantly, dusting the front of his shirt with an air of importance. The horse had to be helped to his feet with a great show of grunting and groaning.

"You're getting too old for that kind of… literal horseplay," Myra laughed as Rob sank onto the couch, red-faced and panting.

"I am not," he protested. "I'm as young and spry as I ever was. Oh c'mon, Myra, you gotta let boys have their fun."

“Now you’re making me nervous,” Myra grinned wryly. “However am I supposed to cope with two boys in the house? At least one of them will be small.”