With temperatures warming and no fresh snow for more than a week, a feeling of expectation hung in the air. Spring, with its turbulent breakup, was imminent, as was the arrival of Anna’s baby. Life seemed to be all about waiting.
One morning after Erik had gone to check his trap line, Anna stepped outside and studied the sky. Gray, but no threat of rain or snow. The air felt almost balmy. She moved back indoors. “Iya, it is time for a walk. We will look in the woods for new grasses. Maybe we will find a flower.”
Iya’s face lit up. “I would like that.” Her expression turned slightly somber as she stared at Anna. “Can you walk in snow?”
“Yes.” Anna took her boots to the table and sat down. Feeling awkward and clumsy, she struggled to pull them on.
Maybe Iya had reason to worry about her. She could barely reach over her belly to get her shoes on.
A dull pain settled across her lower back, then reached around her sides and across her abdomen. Her stomach tightened, then released as the pain faded, just as it had for many days. Although this one was sharper than the others, she was not alarmed. She stood and pulled her parka over her head.
Iya laid her doll in the cradle and took her coat down from its hook. Before slipping it on, she asked, “You are sure?”
Anna nodded and opened the door. Even if the pain signaled the beginning of something more, a walk would be good.
The snow was still fairly deep, but after the experience with the wolverine, Erik had been careful to keep it tamped down around the house and the cache. Plus, with no new snow, his recent trips to the trap line had left a good path, making it easy to follow.
At first they walked in Erik’s tracks, but soon Iya marched off in another direction, careful to lay a trail for Anna. She’d move ahead, whirl around to look at Anna and then run back to her. Several times she stiffened her body and fell backward into the snow. She would lie there giggling, then jump up and do it again. One time, she lay there quietly staring up at the gray sky. “Will spring come soon?”
“Soon,” Anna answered breathlessly, as she caught up to her sister. The idea of lying down was appealing, but it would be difficult to get back up, so Anna refrained. Breathing in fresh air, she noticed it no longer burned her lungs but instead felt cool and invigorating.
Again, cramping wrapped itself around Anna, this time stronger than before.
Disguising her discomfort, she waited for it to pass. She braced her lower back with her hands as if to relieve the gnawing pressure that remained. This is not the same as before.
It would not be long before Kinauquak’s child was born.
“It is time to return.” Anna headed back the way they’d come.
Quieter now and no longer dashing about, Iya clasped Anna’s hand in hers and walked beside her.
A strange sound carried on the air and echoed across the forest.
“What is it?” Iya asked.
The noise grew louder. It sounded like cackling coming from above. A great flock of geese approached from the south, a large assemblage of geese flying in formation.
“The birds return!”
“Where do they go?”
“In summer they live in the North.” Anna gave Iya’s hand a squeeze. “Spring will come soon.”
The birds blocked out a portion of the sky as they moved over them and on to their destination north.
What would it be like where they were heading? An unfamiliar longing to see more of the world stirred within Anna.
“Anna, do you know what it is like to have a baby?”
She smiled down at her sister. “I know only what I have seen. It is hard, but is a very good thing—only women can bring life into the world.” She tapped down a pang of fear. “I help Mama birth little ones when she was called by women in the village. I know what to do.”
“Can I help?”
Anna shook her head. “This is not for little girls.”
Concern touched Iya’s eyes. “Then who will help you?”
“I am strong. I can do it.”
Another contraction, this one more painful than the last.
She breathed and waited for it to pass.
“Are you all right?” Iya rested a hand on Anna’s arm.
Anna nodded and waited for the pain to ease. She took a deep breath. “I am fine. The baby is busy today, that is all.” She moved slowly down the trail.
Anna spotted a familiar-looking plant. “Look.” She stopped. “Surah.” She trudged off the trail and reached for a dead-looking branch and stroked soft, green pods that emerged on the stem.
Iya touched the fuzzy blooms. “Soft,” she said in a hushed tone. She stroked her cheek with the plant’s furry petals. “Can we take it home?”
Anna answered by breaking off the shoot along with two others. “We will surprise Erik. This is sure sign of spring. Soon there will be flowers, too.”
Once more the pain came, interrupting Anna’s revelry. Like the others, it began in the small of her back and grew stronger as it reached around her waist.
It has not been long since the last one. She willed herself to remain standing and not double over.
The seconds passed slowly. This one was much worse than any previous.
She breathed slowly and remained relaxed, but beads of perspiration formed on her face.
Finally, the pain peaked and subsided.
“We must go now.” Anna took Iya’s hand and walked heavily toward the cabin. Twice more she was forced to stop. As a painful contraction ended, she said, “I think Kinauquak’s baby will be born today.”
Iya’s eyes grew wide. “Today?”
Anna nodded.
Iya pulled on Anna’s hand. “We need to hurry.”
“It is all right. The baby will not be born out here. It will take many hours.”
Erik had still not returned when Anna and Iya reached the cabin. Iya seemed infused with energy as she went from task to task, helping Anna. After she had the fire burning brightly and a fresh pot of coffee heating over the fire, she told Anna, “You should lie down.”
“No. I am fine.” Anna searched her mind for something more Iya could do. She held up the willows. “I need water for these.”
Iya grabbed an empty jar, poured water into it, and set it on the table.
“Thank you,” Anna said calmly. She was prepared for what lay ahead. She took the precious willows, stood them up in the jar, and placed the jar in the middle of the table. She stood back to admire them. “Pretty. Erik will like these, I think.” After drinking a cup of coffee, Anna started thinking about making herself a place to labor and birth her child. In her village, she would have labored in a private hut, but here she had no such comfort.
She gathered several pelts and spread them on the floor in a corner of the room. Then she laid a birthing blanket over the pelts. Finally, she strung a rope across the corner—wall to wall, and draped skins over it.
Contractions came often now, rolling through her with terrible force.
When she had everything readied, she surveyed her work. She needed one more thing. “I will be back,” she told Iya as she threw her cloak over her shoulders and walked outside.
Iya followed. “What are you doing?”
“I will need a strong branch.” She scanned the ground.
“Why?”
Anna gently placed her hands on Iya’s shoulders. “When it is time, there will be much pain.”
Iya’s brow furrowed.
“Do not be afraid. The hurting is how it is meant to be ... and only for a little while. If I bite on a branch, it will help my pain.” Iya still looked frightened, so Anna hugged her tightly and said, “I will be all right. And so will the baby.”
With Iya’s help Anna finally found just the right limb. As she walked toward the cabin, she was hit by another painful spasm. She waited for it to pass.
When they pushed open the cabin door, the smell of coffee greeted Anna. She hung both cloaks on their hooks and sat heavily in a chair.
Iya poured them each a cup of coffee.
“Thank you.” Anna took the drink. She sipped the steaming liquid and tried to relax.
Another pain jolted her.
She closed her eyes, involuntarily tensing her muscles. After it had gone, she said with satisfaction, “The pains grow stronger.”
With tears brimming, Iya asked, “Will it hurt bad?”
“Yes. But the gods make me strong. And the baby is worth it.” Anna wiped sweat from her face with a piece of cloth.
The sound of boots stomping free of snow came from outside.
When Erik opened the door, a cold breeze blew in with him. He looked tired but satisfied. He hung his parka on a hook. “Did good today. Come spring we should have enough furs to pay for anything we need.” His gaze moved to the skins hanging in the corner of the room. “What’s going on?” His voice wobbled.
“Anna is having her baby!”
“Right now?”
“The baby will come today,” Anna said, trying to sound confident.
“Is there anything you need? Anything I can do?”
“No.” Erik’s concern touched her. It felt good to have him here with her.
Erik poked at the fire with a piece of wood until it flamed brighter. He added more wood, poured himself a cup of coffee, and sat down at the table. He tipped the cup on edge and stared at its contents. With a tremor of apprehension in his voice, he asked, “What if you need help?”
“I will need no help to bear Kinauquak’s son.”
Erik gave her a look that said he wasn’t so sure she was right, then took a drink of his coffee and said nothing more.
Anna insisted on preparing the evening meal, claiming that she was feeling well enough. After serving Iya and Erik bowls of soup and bread, she joined them at the table. She didn’t feel hungry, but to gain strength in the hours to come, she managed to eat a little.
Erik pulled a piece of bread in half. “Where did the willows come from?”
“Anna found them,” Iya said.
“We walked a little today.”
“Pussy willows are a sure sign of spring.” Erik touched one of the soft buds.
“Pussy willows?” Anna asked.
“Sure. See the soft petals? They feel like a cat’s paw.”
Anna gave him a blank stare.
Erik laughed. “You don’t know what a cat is.”
“No.” Another painful contraction swept through her. When it ebbed away, she stood and started to clear the table.
“Enough’s enough.” Erik took a plate out of her hand. “No more work for you. You’ve got to save your energy. I want you to sit down.”
Anna was tempted to argue but he was right. She gratefully sank back into her chair.
Erik brought her a cup of coffee.
Anna only sipped it—anxiety mounted and the coffee had lost its appeal.
Iya rested her arms on the table and yawned. “Will it take a long time?”
“I do not know. Maybe many hours. You go to sleep. When the baby comes, I will wake you.”
Iya nodded, slipped down from her chair, and after giving Anna a hug, snuggled into her bed. Despite her excitement about the baby, she was soon asleep.
Although Anna’s contractions had been increasing in strength and duration, she remained calm and in control. But when one stronger than all the others ripped through her, she shuddered and moaned.
Erik looked at her, eyes full of worry. Abruptly he rose from the table and refilled his cup.
As soon as the pain passed, Anna pushed herself up from the table. “I rest now.” Feeling heavy and ungainly like a walrus on land, Anna made her way across the room to her birthing bed behind the partition.
Erik stoked the fire, then move across the room. “I think I’ll work on my rifle. It needs cleaning. If you need me, I’ll be here.”
Anna lay down and tried to rest, but the painful spasms came again and again, until she let out a cry.
“Are you all right? Do you need anything?”
“I am all right. Can you get me a drink of water?” Worn out already, she wished the end of her laboring would come soon. She’d seen women bring children into the world, but had never fully understood how severe the pain could be.
Erik filled a cup with water and stood outside the temporary wall. “Can I come in?”
“Yes.”
He peeked in, obviously feeling awkward and uncertain of just what to do.
Anna pushed herself up so she was sitting against the wall and smiled slightly.
Erik handed her the water and she drank it down.
She returned the cup to him.
“More?”
“No. I think it will not be long now.”
Erik’s blue eyes were pools of compassion. “I want to help. Is there anything I can do?”
“No. This is for women only.” Another contraction built. “Go. Leave me.”
Erik didn’t move, but bowed his head instead, praying.
“Your God cannot help me. Go away.”
“I will continue to pray,” he said and left Anna alone.
The pain intensified and became agony as one contraction followed another. It would be soon.
Anna longed for her mother’s gentle touch and brushed away tears at how different things might have been. Instead of being cloistered in the corner of this cabin, alone, she would have been attended by capable women while Kinauquak waited with the men, anxious for news of his son’s arrival. Instead, he knew nothing of his child. He knew only the other world.
As another contraction grabbed hold of her, she whispered, “Mama.” The pain was so powerful, it was as if nothing else existed. The contraction sawed through her. When she thought she could stand no more, it eased away and released her. Panting now, she rolled to her side and rested for the next contraction that would come too soon.
She stared at the wall and thought of her mother and of Kinauquak. If only he could have seen him. Tears filled her eyes, brimmed over, and slid down her cheeks.
Another contraction surged and Anna braced herself. Biting down on the stick, she forced herself not to cry out. It would do no good.
How long? How long will this agony go on?
She wanted to scream, and then she was overtaken by a powerful need to push. She could not deny it. She grabbed hold of the chinking in the wall and squatted as the urge engulfed her. She bore down and tried to expel the child. Her son would soon be in her arms.
She breathed in deeply and rested during a short respite, but was soon shaken by another contraction, then another and another.
Was there no end to the torture?
I’m going to die. The all-too-familiar pressure built again and she pushed, biting hard on the stick, and groaning as she strained to bring forth her child. She waited, leaning against the wall, eyes closed, heart focused on what she must do. Again it came and once more Anna pushed.
With one final effort she delivered a plump, red infant into her own hands. She lifted the child and laid it over her arm, patting it gently on the back. A wail rose and filled the cabin.
“Is the baby all right?” Erik asked.
“Yes. Wait.” Anna tied two pieces of string around the cord about a hand’s-breadth apart, then took her knife and sliced the cord that fixed the child to her. She wiped her daughter’s face clean as she gazed at her. An outpouring of love overwhelmed her. She would never be free again. She would forever be tied to this child.
Though it was a fearsome thing, she was glad that it was so.
Anna swaddled the infant in a finely tanned skin, then expelled the afterbirth, placed it in a fur, tied it shut, and discreetly set it aside. She would bury it later when she was stronger.
The baby scrunched up its face and let out a squeaky cry.
Iya called, “He is here!” The little girl dashed inside the makeshift room. At first, she said nothing as she gazed down at the little brown bundle in Anna’s arms. “He is beautiful.”
“She is beautiful.”
Erik peeked around the draping. “Can I come in?”
“Yes, come and see,” Anna said.
Iya jumped to her feet. “It is a girl!”
Erik’s gaze moved from the baby to Anna. “Are you disappointed?”
Anna nuzzled the newborn, then held her up for Erik to see. “How can I be unhappy?”
Heavy black hair framed the baby’s round, golden face. She sucked on her fist and had her eyes closed tightly, not yet aware of her new surroundings.
“Do you want to hold her?”
“Me?” Erik took a step back.
Anna nodded and held out her daughter.
Erik moved closer and clumsily took the little girl into his arms.
“Hold her head up like this.” Anna cupped the infant’s head in her palm.
Stiffly, Erik cuddled the newborn close to his chest. He stared at the little girl and whispered, “She’s so tiny—a miracle.”
The baby let out a small cry, and Erik immediately returned her to Anna.
She settled back against the wall and suckled the infant at her breast.
Erik looked away and quickly retreated. From the other side of the pelt wall, he asked, “Would you like a cup of coffee? Are you hungry?”
“Coffee is good. And I am hungry.”
Iya came out a few minutes later, her face beaming. “Sh. She is asleep.”
“Anna?” Erik asked.
“No. The baby.” She sounded slightly annoyed, as if he ought to know that babies slept a lot.
Erik worked in the kitchen and a few minutes later he appeared at the edge of the fur drapings. He didn’t look at her. “I have your breakfast.”
“Thank you. Come in.” She took a cup of coffee and a piece of fried bread that he offered.
The baby slept next to her in the cradle Erik had made. Gazing at the little girl, she said, “She is beautiful. Kinauquak would be proud.”
“Yes. He would be.”
Anna took a bite of bread. “Will you sit with me?”
Erik folded his long legs beneath him and sat down next to the sleeping child. “What are you going to name her?”
“I have thought on that. My mother’s name is good. She will be Luba. Her last name will be Kinauquak’s—Omau.
“Luba Omau.” Erik tested the sound of it. “It’s a good name.”
Anna glanced at Erik, but quickly looked away. She whispered, “That is not her whole name.” She met Erik’s gaze. “I will also call her Engstrom.”
“Engstrom? You mean after me?”
“Yes. You are the reason she is here. We could not have lived if you had left us on beach.” Anna’s eyes searched Erik’s. “I thank you, Erik Engstrom.” Her feelings so powerful she didn’t know what to do with them, Anna looked away. “So this is Luba Engstrom Omau.”
“That’s an awful big name for someone so little, but I think it’s a very good one.” Erik sounded as if he were about to cry.
Anna nodded and returned the half-finished coffee to Erik. “I need sleep.”
“Of course.” Erik left the enclosure and blew out the lamp.
Iya had already returned to her pallet and was asleep.
Peace spread through the hushed cabin.
Anna rocked the cradle gently and marveled at the little girl who had so recently been hidden from her.
Kinauquak would have wanted a son.
Exhaustion finally forced Anna to set her ponderings aside. Her last thought, before falling asleep, was of Erik. He would love any child—boy or girl.