Jessica (40 page)

The umbilical cord, once her baby's life line, floats in the clear water at her waist, the knotted blue and red veins and arteries showing clearly through the almost translucent tube. Using the sharp stone, Jessica takes a deep breath and saws at the thick cord as near to her baby's navel as she dares to go and after some time it is cut through and, together with the placenta, floats off downstream for the yellow-bellies and yabbies to feed on. Everything has to find a way to live, she thinks, watching it go.

Though they're still in the shade of the giant river gum, Jessica grows concerned about her baby's head in this heat. She tears off the short sleeve of her summer dress and, with it, fashions a little cap for the tiny infant's crown.

After crying for a few minutes her baby sleeps, his thumb stuck in his mouth. Jessica is too frightened to remove his hand, though she's worried that it might stop him breathing. But her child seems perfectly content, his breathing even, his little chest rising and falling against her breasts, which have ached for two months as they prepared to produce the milk her child will need.

The sun beats down and Jessica remains in the creek, bathing and cooling her infant from time to time, splashing water over his body and head. Jessica tries to stand, but she is still too weak. She prays that Mary will come before sundown, before the mosquitoes begin to swarm, as she and her baby will be helpless against them. Just after sundown, in the gathering dusk, the swarm gathers above the creek, blackening the warm, thick air, their whine enough to pierce the eardrums. If they come for her they will easily kill her newborn infant in a matter of hours. They will sting it until it dies of the trauma, its tiny body blackened by thousands and thousands of mosquitoes until it appears to be covered by a dark, softly vibrating fur. She knows if Mary doesn't come very soon she must somehow get into the hut and under the mosquito net.

At five o'clock, an hour before sundown and seven hours after Jessica's child is born, Mary arrives at the hut. Jessica, still seated in the water, holds up her baby. ‘See, Mary, see what Santy CIa us sent me,' she shouts, and then begins to bawl her heart out.

Mary works all night, going back to the Aboriginal camp and returning with bush medicine for Jessica. She has tied the umbilical cord and generally tidied her up. At Jessica's insistence she bathes the baby in a light solution of permanganate of potash. After this, she powders Jessica in her most tender places with boracic powder. But for the deeper, internal birth injuries she applies her own bush medicine.

‘Jessie, you had a good one that birth. When I tell the aunties they gunna say whitefella woman she done good going in the water. Where you learn that?' Jessica looks astonished.
‘You
told me, Mary.'

Mary is surprised, not remembering the conversation. ‘Me? I never did!' she exclaims, ‘I only heard it once before, not from the Wiradjuri. Some tribe I heard up north, they done that.'

Mary stays with Jessica all night, giving the baby boiled cool water into which she has' mixed a little sugar, feeding it into his rose-petal lips by wetting her finger and pushing it into the infant's Mouth so he won't dehydrate in the heat. Then she puts him to suck on Jessica's breast for her colostrum. She will have to wait two days for her milk to come and the baby will be sustained by the thick, creamy substance that exudes from her nipples. ‘Them little buggers know it's there somewheres,' Mary laughs. ‘If they keep sucking the milk's gunna come, but that stuff you got, that real good tucker for him. It's good you let him suck, learn the ways,' Mary explains, then shows Jessica how to gently stroke her baby's cheek to turn its head in towards her so that, with a touch of the nipples to its pursed lips, her child will begin to suck. She is almost as happy about Jessica's' baby as its mother is.

The little Aboriginal woman watches over Jessica while she sleeps and at one stage warms up a lamb stew and wakes Jessica and makes her eat. Later she gives her a mug of milk and another of water. Then she eats some of the stew herself.

Towards morning, sitting on the floor beside Jessica's crude timber bed, Mary falls asleep and it is well into the morning, an hour after sunrise, when they both wake up to the baby's mewling.

Mary puts it back onto Jessica's breast. Having slept a few hours, Jessica feels the first tremendous joy of motherhood, the sense of having something in her life which is entirely her own. As the tiny infant sucks at her sticky paps she has never felt more complete and thinks she must burst with happiness. Her child is well formed — ten fingers and ten toes, and everything where God intended to put it. Jessica has a perfect baby with a tuft of reddish-blond hair fine as spun silk.

Mary leaves after she's cooked porridge for Jessica and made tea. She wants to stay, but is afraid that if she remains much longer Joe might arrive at the hut. Or, worse, Hester and Meg may decide to make a day of it and come early.

‘This the best Christmas present you can get, Jessie,' Mary says, handing Jessica her baby when she's eaten some breakfast. ‘I come back tonight, your old people be gone back home.'

‘No, wait,' Jessica cries, ‘we've got to dress him. You've got to tell the aunties what he looks like in his dress.'

Together they dress little Joey in his Chinese dress. ‘He gunna poop on it, spoil it,' Mary laughs.

‘I just want you to see it before you go. I'll take it off and put it back on just before they come.'

‘He looks beautiful, eh?' Mary says. ‘Pity he's a boy, he make a nice girl in that pretty dress.'

Mary takes her leave and walks towards the creek, watched by Jessica holding her baby. She turns just before she enters the shallow water to wade to the far side. ‘Jessie, don't let them mongrels take your baby!' she shouts. Then she swings around and splashes through the shallow water and up a slight embankment to disappear into the dark green mulga and bush on the other bank.

‘Mary, I love you!' Jessica calls after her, surprised at the strange look on the Aborigine's face as she shouted her warning. Why would Mary look at her like that? The black people know things, but Joe has given his word her baby will be safe and she knows he won't go back on it, no matter what Hester wants.

Joe arrives in the sulky with Hester and Meg just after midday. Jessica is seated in the shade with her back against the big river gum and hears them coming some way off. Earlier she made a brush broom and swept the clearing again. The offending rock still lies at its edge, though she wonders why she'd bothered with it at all — there's plenty of room for a picnic blanket and clear ground beyond in case of snakes.

She places her baby, dressed in his little Chinese outfit, snugly in a pillowcase. Now he lies in a carefully made towelling nest between two above-ground roots of the big gum tree. Jessica's cut some of the mosquito net and fashioned a little tent over him to keep the black flies away. Little Joey sleeps to the sound of the creek water gurgling over rock.

At the approach of her family Jessica takes the still sleeping baby from the pillowcase and lifts him into her arms, clutching him against her breast. Then she stands in the centre of the clearing and waits for them to arrive.

She's washed her face and brushed her hair and put on a clean cotton dress and her best Sunday boots. And she's wearing one of the special pinnies Hester made for her with Meg's rosebud embroidered on the large front pocket. Mary's bush medicine has helped her no end, and while she is still pretty tender, she feels strong and well rested. Jessica knows she will make a very good mother for young Joey Bergman who, unconcerned about being moved, sleeps contentedly in her arms with his thumb in his mouth.

Joe pulls the sulky to a halt outside the hut, not seeing her at first. Hester and Meg are both carrying parasols and are dolled up to the nines in their Sunday best, though Jessica can't imagine why when it's so bloody hot. As Meg steps down from the sulky, Jessica sees immediately that her stomach has grown, though she expected it to be a lot bigger. They now all stand in the bright sunlight and are temporarily blinded, not able to see her in the shade of the big river gum until she calls out.

‘Oh, there you are,' Hester says, turning in the direction of Jessica's voice. ‘Merry Christmas, my dear.' Hester's voice has already taken on a more imperious tone and Jessica realises she's getting ready to be the second mistress of Riverview homestead. Poor bloody Jack — not only Meg but also Hester to contend with. Joe unharnesses Napoleon and leads the pony to the creek to drink while Hester and Meg walk towards Jessica with their parasols held high, picking their way daintily along the creek bank. Neither of them is looking over to where she stands. Jessica wonders briefly if they feel any guilt for leaving her to fend for herself in the tin hut. Indeed, how would her precious sister feel if it were done to her? But she refuses to be angry, to spoil her news and her special Christmas present to Joe. The baby suddenly cries out and it is Meg who looks up first, for she and her mother have reached the clearing and are now only a few feet from where Jessica stands.

‘Eeeeek!' is the only sound that comes from Meg's mouth as she clutches at her chest in astonishment.

Hester looks up. ‘Oh my God!' she gasps. ‘Oh, oh, what have you done, girl?' she exclaims, taken completely by surprise.

‘Why, Mother, I've had my baby.' Jessica turns the tiny infant's face so that her mother can see it more clearly. ‘See.' Then she says, ‘It's a boy. His name is gunna be Joey, Joey Bergman.'

‘Take that ridiculous thing off him, he's not Chinese! Where on earth did you get it, child?'

At that moment Joe has come up so Jessica doesn't have to explain. Her father's big shambling shape is trying to run, for he's heard the baby cry out as well. ‘Jessie, what in Gawd's name!' he bellows.

Jessica now holds her son up for Joe to see. ‘It's a boy, Father,' she says happily as Joe reaches the picnic clearing.

‘Oh my God,' Hester says again, bringing two fingers up to her lips.

‘I've made a place for the picnic,' Jessica now says, for neither Hester nor Meg ventures forward to take a closer look at the baby and Joe's expression is a mixture of utter confusion and just dawning delight.

‘You done it yourself, girlie — all by yerself?' He shakes his head, not yet fully comprehending. ‘Jesus Christ, I take me hat off to yiz, Jessie.' Joe turns suddenly to Hester and Meg, his expression defiant. ‘The girl's got more guts and character than the lot of us put together!' He turns back to Jessica. ‘It's time to come home, Jessie — you can look after the little bloke better at the homestead.'

It's clear from the way he says this that Joe has decided Jessica can keep her baby, come what may. He's seen the look on her face, her love for her child, and he's not prepared to steal it away from her whatever may become of them as a family. ‘I'm proud of yiz, Jessie, dead proud that you're me daughter, proud to have the young bloke as me grandchild just the way he is.'

Jessica looks directly at Joe and he sees the stubborn Bergman look he knows so well. ‘I'm not coming home, Father.' She turns and looks at her sister. ‘Not till Meg has her own child and she and Mother move to Riverview.' She points to the tin hut. ‘That's my home. You all sent me there and that's where I'll stay put. It's where my son were born, and I'll not leave it until Meg's left for Riverview Station.'

Meg drops her parasol, bringing both hands to her face and stumbling towards the river gum. She stands with her forehead pressed against the smooth, grey bark and bursts into tears, banging both her fists against the tree. ‘No, no!' she screams.

Hester, totally taken aback, vents her frustration at Joe. ‘Now look what you've done!' she shouts, then drops her parasol and goes over to the sobbing Meg, placing her hand on her daughter'S shoulder, trying to comfort her.

Meg jerks her shoulder away, rejecting her mother's embrace. ‘It's not fair! It's not fair! Father said he'd do it!' she howls. She turns her face from the tree and looks tearfully at Joe. ‘You said!' she screams and then turns back and sobs uncontrollably with her forehead once again hard against the trunk of the tree.

After Meg's anguished appeal to Joe, Jessica looks anxiously at him, puzzled. But Joe still wears this big grin on his gob — his pride in her is unconfined. Jessica knows suddenly that Joe still loves her and is back on her side at last.

She moves over to stand in front of her father and offers him her baby. Joe hesitates, then accepts the tiny bundle awkwardly, holding it cupped in his big hands and away from his body, not knowing what to do and terrified he might drop it.

‘It's the boy you always wanted, Father — merry Christmas,' Jessica says softly, then she grins and reaches out and, with the tip of her forefinger, lightly touches the crown of her baby's head. ‘See his hair, Father. He's a Bergman, not a Heathwood, and he's bloody perfect.'

Jessica undresses her baby and puts him back into his pillowcase. The picnic that follows is a strained affair with very little Christmas good cheer. Hester tries to cover up for Meg who sniffs throughout, her eyes fixed on her lap never once looking up, and refusing to eat anything. ‘She's worried about her own child,' Hester explains to Jessica. ‘Especially now that yours is so healthy. It's only natural she'd be concerned.' ‘It's me what had the narrow hips,' Jessica says, trying hard to conceal her pride. ‘Meg is made to have babies, you've said it yourself, lots of times.'