The intense color of the crystalline blue almost hurt his eyes. Not a cloud marred the perfection of the June day. Ruth had loved hanging laundry on sunny, breezy days, claiming that clothes dried in half the time without the humidity. But considering what lay ahead, it could have rained without cessation as far as he was concerned.
When he pulled open the back door, Iris pressed the handle of the baby carrier into his hand. “Let’s be off then.” She slung a tote bag over each shoulder and then lifted the hamper of food.
“Aunt Iris, let me carry that,” he said. “It looks too heavy—”
“No.” Her curt reply cut short any argument. “You haven’t checked on your son since he came home from the hospital.” She carried her burdens very gingerly down the steps while he closed the door behind them.
“The cradle is in the guest room. I don’t want to invade your privacy by walking into your room.”
“Nothing keeps you from going in while I’m fixing dinner at the stove.” She glared at him over her shoulder.
“I suppose not, but I’ve been busy since we came home. Animals don’t feed themselves. And my neighbors may have cut the hay, but it still needed to be raked. Now I must bale and get it stored in the barn before the next rain.”
They reached the gate where the horse and buggy had been tied to the post. Nathan placed the baby carrier on the seat and then offered Iris a hand to step up.
She set the hamper and bags down in the driveway and crossed her arms. Her feet looked to be so well planted, Nathan was sure she wouldn’t have blown away in gale force winds. “Hold on a minute, nephew. I want you to pull back that blanket and take a good look at your son.”
Nathan crossed his arms too. “I’ve seen him, Aunt Iris. I sat with him on the ride to the hospital and held his carrier on the way back. You’re being plum silly when we need to get to the cemetery.”
“Then I suggest you stop wasting time and do as I ask, because we’re not leaving until you do.” When she lifted her chin, he noticed a dimple he’d never spotted before.
Nathan rolled his eyes. He knew he had no choice but to do her bidding. He owed her respect above all else. Had it not been for her, he didn’t know what he would have done. He leaned over the seat and drew back the blanket. A quizzical pair of dark eyes peered up at him from a round pink face. The splotches evident on the day he was born had faded. One little fist kept opening and closing as though exercising his tiny fingers. After a moment the baby yawned with great exaggeration as though his day had been particularly tiring thus far.
Nathan watched until his son shut his eyes and dozed off, the fist coming to rest on the blanket. Then he slowly straightened his spine, one vertebra at a time. “All right, I took a good long look. I must admit he’s changed in the past few days. As bopplin go, he’s a fine-looking little tyke. Are you satisfied?” He again offered his hand.
Iris didn’t budge from her statuelike stance. “So far you’ve referred to him as a boppli, little tyke, and a youngin. I would like you to call him by his name—Abraham. After all, you picked it out, so you should use it occasionally.”
“If you continue with this nonsense, we’ll be last to arrive at the funeral.”
“Then do as I ask.” The tiny woman grew more resolute by the minute.
Nathan leaned over the carrier and cleared his throat. “Hullo, Abraham. I am your daed. I trust you are comfortable in that contraption. Be sure to let us know by crying if you get hungry or need anything else along the way.” en he tucked the blanket snuggly under the baby’s chin. “How was that?” he asked Iris with a smile.
“Harrumph,” she huffed. “I guess it’s not bad for a start.” She accepted his hand and climbed into the buggy.
With his aunt finally seated, Nathan loaded the bags and hamper, climbed onto his seat, and clucked to the horse to get moving before she thought of something else to delay them. But with Abraham wedged between them, she seemed content to watch the passing scenery, and he had time to ponder the oddities of women.
They talked little on the drive