Butterfly Garden (33 page)

He had never been this happy.

“
Liebchen
,” he called gently, but Sara did not awaken. She seemed deeply asleep, undisturbed, and did not appear to be in labor. “Alleluia,” he whispered aloud before he went outside to get the blankets and food Mercy had given him.

He made a bed for her and she did not awaken through all the jostling she took as he lay her down. He would let her get the rest she so obviously needed, before he took her home.

His heart, when he gazed upon her, curled on her side, relaxed in sleep, expanded to the point of near-pain.

He could not love her, he reminded himself. He would do everything in his power to see he never did, to insure the impossibility. But he could make her life somewhat easier, more pleasant than it had been. Perhaps in time she might come to understand, if he told her everything.

And he would tell her. Soon.

Today when she awoke. Tomorrow at the latest.

Or the next day.

He had all but transferred his anger at his father to her, when she had done nothing but try to show him how to love. She had given him and his mother and sister her patience and caring. The love she gave his girls was open and unconditional. They had become happy, carefree children because of Sara, certainly not because of him. It was a wonder they didn't have nightmares, living with him.

Adam’s thoughts were arrested. Sara sucked in her breath, changed position, and unconsciously placed a hand to the small of her back. The low keening wail she emitted seemed filled, almost, with despair.

He saw now, in the way the light from the fire fell on her face, that tears had dried on her cheeks, then he found himself looking into the rich green depths of her eyes. Their dark inner circle widened. “Adam?”

“You're in pain.”

“It's … it's my back, it aches so.”

Adam moved his hands to soothe and massage. “Let me ease you.”

Before his eyes, her abdomen stretched taught and changed shape even as his fingers worked on the small of her back. Like its mother, their child fidgeted when confined.

“What are you thinking?” he asked, when she closed her eyes almost in ecstasy.

“I am floating on a cloud, hoping this dream will never end.”

“I have been called many things—
dummkopf
, mad, bad and mean—but never a dream.”

Her smile changed her face and her glow warmed him. “I need to change sides,” she said, so he helped her to lie on her other side, the child between them now.

“I think she will be very strong, judging by her efforts to dislodge me from beside you at this moment,” Adam said.

Sara’s smile widened. “Will he?  As strong as you?  I can’t wait to find out.”

Panic caught Adam like a blow.
Please God. I do not deserve her, but let her live to raise her child
. “Sara, why did you run away?”

“Mercy—”

“Doesn’t blame you. Why do you blame yourself?”

She looked away from him and toward the fire. “I do not want to be a midwife anymore. I cannot, and the world will be the better for my decision.”

“And how will four weeping little girls be for your decision?”

“Oh, Adam. Were they crying?” Sara made to sit up.

Adam sighed and urged her back down. “You left them. Of course they will cry when you don’t come back.”

He lay facing her and put his arm around her to continue rubbing her back.

“You’re trying to frighten me.”

“Frighten some sense into you, maybe. Somebody has to. Our girls love you, Sara. You are their Mommie. What will they do without you to love them back?”

“They have you. You love them.”

“Do not say so.” Adam sat up at that and regarded the waning fire over his bent knees. “Do you know what my father used to say as he
punished
us for our supposed faults?  He would say, ‘I do this because I love you,’ over and over again, as he strapped us, or … or worse.” Adam looked at Sara then, almost afraid to see her revulsion, but he was surprised to find nothing of the sort in her gaze, not even pity, praise be. Only understanding, he saw, and … caring. He had to swallow before he could continue. “Love hurts, Sara.”

She took his hand, squeezed. “Abby knew, then, about your father?”

“Yes.”

“Why did you never tell
me
?”

“What?  Reveal my scarred and worthless self to my strong and capable Sara?”

“Incapable, you mean. I am the true failure here. I
know
I am. You simply
think
you are.”

“With good reason.”

“You are
not
like him. You love your girls.”

“Love doles out harsh, painful punishments, Sara. My father proved that. And I am exactly like him.”

“No, Adam. You are strong and worthy, or Abby could not have loved you.”

Sorrow filled Adam and tears blurred his vision, but it was past time for honesty, so he would not try to hide his feelings from Sara, not anymore. “I knew when I killed someone as good and kind and loving as Abby that I was as worthless as my father said. I have proved it, Sara, time and again.”

“The only thing unworthy about you, Adam Zuckerman, is your foolish notion that you are anything like the brute who raised you.”

“Do you not see that if I let myself love the girls, or you, or my mother or Emma, I will destroy you all. I beat Butch Redding exactly as my father would have done. Without your intervention, I might have beat the man to death.”

“You love Butch Redding then?”

Adam swore but he regarded her with an unexpected spark of hope glowing deep inside him. “What are you saying?”

“That you were protecting Butch Redding’s children
from him
, as someone should have protected you and Emma.”

“My mother—”

“Failed you in that way, I know.” Sara stroked his brow, her touch a blessing. “But in the same way that it is time for you to realize your own worth, it is also time for you to forgive your mother. She could no more have stopped your father than Jenny could stop Butch. So you beat Butch in Jenny’s place, because he harmed her child. You hurt a beast, Adam. You could never hurt a child. You planted a butterfly garden to tell your girls you loved them in the only way you knew, in the way your mother told you.”

Adam searched within himself for the truth in her words. “That
is
how my mother told me. I had forgotten. She said the butterfly garden was a symbol of her love and God’s healing.”

With the reminder, Adam discovered that he could forgive his mother, and that forgiving others could ease the darkness of worthlessness inside oneself. But self-forgiveness was not to be found. “I did not remember my mother’s words, Sara, when I planted the garden.”

She stroked his cheek, his beard. “Deep down you did.”

Afraid even to acknowledge the illusive seed of redemption budding deep inside him, Adam moved his arm behind her again to continue his soothing motion along her spine. “You are a stubborn and amazing woman, Sara Zuckerman.”

“You are headstrong and have amazing hands, Adam Zuckerman.”

He chuckled and massaged in widening circles.

Sara begged for his kiss with parted lips and a forward movement of her head. Adam groaned and fitted his to the invitation of hers. Contentment filled him as he slanted his greedy kiss this way, then that. Awakening. Need. He should be shot for wanting his wife in these circumstances.

He continued soothing Sara’s back as he pulled her closer against him, as close as he could, given her current condition.

“You want me?”

“What is so amazing about that?”

“I don’t disgust you then, shaped as I am?”

“Disgust me?  Are you mad?  With your eyes, your scent, your laugh, your very presence, you tease and seduce me. Near or far, in bed and out, smiling or sassing, kissing or scrapping, and especially, big with child, you drive me mad with wanting you.

With joy in her heart, Sara felt the rhythm of Adam’s hand at her back change from soothing to passionate. When he reached her upper back, he stroked the side of her breast. She saw need smolder in his eyes, felt him throb against her.

Having wanted him so desperately for so long, Sara unpinned her bodice, just to feel his touch. As he accepted her offer and took suckle, purls of delight shot through her. She had yearned for weeks, and now, finally, she was in her husband’s arms. But she was also in labor and she guessed it was about time to tell him, since it had begun to progress quickly in the past few minutes.

“Adam?” She bit her lip and rode out a contraction. “Adam, do you finally believe that you could never hurt a child?”

He pulled away and regarded her blankly.

“Do you believe you could never hurt a child?” she repeated.

“I am beginning to see the sense in your words, but … why are you asking now, when—”

“I just want to be sure before—” She gasped.

“Before?”

“Our babe is born.”

Awareness hit Adam hard. Sara saw it happen, saw the color drain from his face. “Now?”

Before she finished nodding, he had pinned her bodice back together. After he wrapped her against the cold, he put out the fire and lifted her in his arms.

“Where are you taking me?”

“Home where you belong.”

“I don’t want—”

“Yes you do. Stop pretending different.”

Just to be contrary, Sara pouted. He was right. Sometime during the last hour, her determination had faltered. She thought perhaps it had happened when she opened her eyes and saw him watching over her, his brow creased with worry.

Besides, she had no strength left with which to stop him.

They were off in a blink. “I didn’t know your butterfly horses could go so fast.”

“Neither did I, until today.”

“Well, slow them down.”

“Your problem, Sara, is that you want to control life beyond human ability.”

She braced herself for a contraction. “Because I want you to slow your horses?”

“Because you won’t admit that only God has dominion over death, not Sara Zuckerman.”

She released her breath. “Fine, then Sara Zuckerman does not need to be a midwife.”

“Sassy thing.”

“Slow down, Adam.”

“Can you slow your pains for me?”

“Of course not.”

“Neither me with the horses, then.” He took her hand. “If you being a midwife is part of God’s plan, then you must. And you are meant to be a midwife. I saw that with my own eyes. Open your heart, Sara, and do His work. Whether tilling the soil or delivering a child, we all must.”

“If God alone controls death, as you say, it cannot be your fault, then, that Abby died.”

“I will not accept that until you accept that it was not your fault that Mercy’s triplets died.”

Sadness filled her. “In my logical mind I understand your words, but I do not know if I will ever be able to deliver a child again.”

“Will you consider it, later, maybe?”

“I will be open to the possibility of remaining a midwife. If only we could find one,” Sara wailed. “Where are you going!  This is not the way home. I want to go home, Adam. Please, or I will birth your child in this buggy.”

“Another mile,” he said. “Please try to hold on. Damn it, Sara. Why didn’t you tell me sooner that you were in labor?”

“We would not have had such a lovely reunion, if you were worried I would die at any minute.”

Adam looked at her in appalled shock. He growled. “If we survive this, I may have to beat you.”

“Why Adam Zuckerman, you’re not so worried all of a sudden. Why?”

“Abby had not the strength or spirit to welcome me into her arms from the day she conceived. She never, ever, sassed me when her time was near. She certainly never made me want to beat her then. And, believe me, she did none of those things when she was in labor.” He grinned and turned back to the road. “Sara Zuckerman, I think you just might be as strong as you say you are.”

Sara laughed, then she squealed. “The pains, they’re coming quick, Adam. I want to push.”

Like a shot, Adam regarded her, the road, her again. “That can’t be good.” He stopped the buggy.

“Where are we?” she wailed, her head back, her eyes closed in pain.

“Here. We’re here. Don’t push until I get you inside.”

Jordan opened the door to his surgery. “I’ve been waiting for you since I spoke to Mercy.”

“Thank God,” Adam said, laying his wife on the surgery table, as the doctor indicated.

“Adam Zuckerman, you impostor. You do love me!”

“Sara, hush. Not now.”

“Why do you think Adam loves you,” Jordan asked, to distract her and Adam as he removed her under-clothing so he could deliver her child. “Adam you don’t have to go. Just take Sara’s hand. Sara, try not to break any of his fingers, alright?”

Sara giggled, she gasped, and she cracked her husband’s knuckles as she pushed. When she knew she had a minute to breathe, she regarded her husband with wonder and answered Jordan’s question. “I know Adam loves me because he proved it by putting aside his jealousy of you to bring me here, so you would keep me safe in childbirth.”

“Damn it, Sara!”

“Push, Sara.”

Sara obeyed. Adam grimaced.

“Almost there,” Jordan said.

“I
do
love you!” Adam shouted, almost in defeat. “But damn it, you should have let me say it first!”

“I love you, too!” Sara shouted as their child slipped into Jordan’s hands.

“A son,” Jordan crowed with a grin and a wink. “And he looks just like me.”

Adam barked a laugh and welcomed his son into his arms. “Come,” he said, heart full, as the boy regarded him through Sara’s eyes. “Come and meet your Mommie.”

Epilogue

Though the girls could not wait to see Sara and their new brother, no one was more impatient than Adam to bring them home.

Jordan had insisted that Sara remain in the small bed in his surgery for twenty-four hours, while he made certain that she and the baby were healthy.

Adam did not complain. The doctor had taken good care of them, he saw, and he would thank the man properly, as soon as the lump left his throat for seeing Sara nurse their son.

Jordan left so they could have some privacy and so Adam could help Sara don her new blackberry dress to go home.