Part Three:
Bruna
March 1976

Once home, Arvil was as easy to care for as he’d been to bring into the world. The rare times he fussed, Izora quickly soothed him by humming Christmas carols, even after winter turned into spring. When their son was barely five months old, Emm suggested to his wife that they start on baby number two.

Rocking in the chair that Mrs. Benbow had used to nurse Emm and his siblings, Izora planted her feet on the fraying braided rug. “I’m just getting to know Arvil. What’s the rush?”

“A hundred thousand dollars. Maybe hundreds of thousands by the time the contest ends.” Articles about the Stork Derby had stopped appearing a month after it was announced. Emm was confident that most families had forgotten it, increasing their odds of winning.

“We have to wait until Arvil is weaned before I can get pregnant again.”

“Wean him now.” Emm gently pulled the baby off his wife’s breast. Arvil sucked air but didn’t cry at the interruption. His dark blue eyes studied his father’s face. Emm hefted the baby in his hands. “Look how big our son is already. He’ll be fine.”

“I don’t know that I will.” Izora said she’d miss the tug of Arvil’s soft lips at her nipples. “Even if I gave up nursing now, it could still take a while before I get my monthlies again.”

“All the more reason to get started as soon as possible.” Emm felt the baby’s wet bottom and handed him back to his mother. “I kept my part of the bargain.”

Izora held Arvil close and entwined her fingers in his curls. “What do you mean? We made a deal to enter the baby contest, and I’ve done my part by starting us off with this marvelous little boy.” She cooed at Arvil, who gurgled back and kicked his chubby legs.

“I put down a deposit on a house last week. A three-bedroom bungalow on the edge of town with a garden in back. The lot is big enough to build extra rooms when we’re ready.” Emm waited for his wife to beam with excitement. She’d always wanted a house of her own, but her parents couldn’t afford one. Nor did they see the need for more space with only two children.

Izora’s brief smile quickly gave way to nervous dismay. “How far is it from the markets? Is the street safe for children to play outdoors?” Arvil rooted at her breast and she began to feed him again. “We ... I don’t want to fill up the house too quickly. Or add on too many rooms.”

“Come on, Izora.” Emm wrapped his arms around her and the baby. “My folks agree that going for the prize is a good idea. They’re willing to help out until the ten years are up.”

“What about after that?”

“Don’t you trust their judgment? And mine?”

Izora conceded that the Benbows were sensible people, with lots of experience raising children. Also, that Emm worked hard at being a good provider. She buried her lips in the folds of Arvil’s belly until he giggled and grabbed her hair. “Okay,” she said at last, “it’s a deal.”

Emm kissed her and left for his parents’ house. While he helped his father install some shelves in the basement, his mother went to Emm and Izora’s apartment armed with baby bottles and tins of sugared, diluted cow’s milk. She announced that she would feed Arvil and sent Izora to bed “to build up her strength for the next one.”

It was weeks before Izora could rest properly, her breasts swollen and aching. The baby, on the other hand, seemed unperturbed. He snuggled against whoever fed him, including Emm, who gave him the bottle now and then so his wife could take a nap. “See,” he told her, “Even Arvil agrees it’s time for us to make him a brother or sister.”

As if to affirm what he said, two months after Izora’s periods resumed, she was pregnant again. It was another easy labor when their daughter was born on April 10, 1928. They brought her home to their new house. Izora called the baby Bruna on account of her brown eyes, a name sufficiently odd to satisfy Emm. Unlike her big brother’s outgoing personality, however, Bruna was a quiet, serious child, slow to warm up. Rather than smile and giggle when her mother sang, Bruna watched as if to inquire, “What am I to make of this?” When Arvil toddled past or poked at this new creature, she didn’t cry out, merely observed to see what he would do next.

Only once did Bruna cry loudly. Izora, busy bandaging Arvil’s knee after a tumble, was late nursing her. When Bruna whimpered, Emm picked her up until Izora was free, but the infant, soon frantic with hunger, sobbed and flailed. Nothing Emm did could soothe her. He thrust her into her mother’s arms when Izora finally rushed over. After that, Emm didn’t trust himself to take care of his daughter, and the child became as wary of him as he was of her.