The Crystal City Page 0,129
go the rest of the way well accompanied.
Alvin's brother Measure was the one in the world most like him. Not in power-though Measure was a good student of makery, within his limits. He was like Alvin in goodness. Perhaps he was Alvin's better in compassion and patience. And far Alvin's better in judgment about other people's character. Let Measure stand beside Alvin, and Alvin would never lack for wisdom. Who could know better than I that foreknowledge is a poor chooser, for it gives too great a weight to fear. While a generous heart will make choices that, at the very worst, do not poison the heart of the chooser.
Perhaps that was why she was sure she had to go to Vigor Church and on to where Alvin was. Because fear told her to stay, but hope told her to go. Her hope of being a good wife to Alvin and a good mother to her baby. A good mother being, at the very least, one that gave birth to a living child. As a woman who had given birth to a child too soon born to live, surely she should be a one fit to make such judgment.
So she spent her day cushioning the carriage while workmen resprung it. Choosing a team of horses that would pull evenly and not run faster than she could bear. Packing her few things, writing her letters. Until at the end of the day she was ready to drop with exhaustion. Which was good, she would sleep without fretting, she would rise early and refreshed and set out to meet her husband and put a baby in his arms.
She was just undressing for bed when the first labor pain came.
"No," she cried softly. "Oh, please, God, no, not yet, not now." She laid her hands upon her own womb and saw that the baby was indeed coming. He faced in the right direction, all was well with him, but she saw no future for him. He was going to be born, like his brother, only to die.
"No," she whispered.
She walked to the door of her room. "Papa," she called.
Horace Guester was serving the last round of drinks to the night's customers. But he had an innkeeper's ears, to hear all needs and wishes, and in a few moments he came.
"The baby is coming," she said.
"I'll fetch the midwife," he said.
"It's too early," said Margaret. "The birth will be easy, but the baby will die."
Tears came to her father's eyes. "Ah, Peggy, I know what it cost your mother, those two tiny graves on the hill behind the house. I never wished for you to have two of your own."
"Nor I," she said.
"But I should fetch her anyway," said Father. "You shouldn't be alone at such a time, and it's not fitting for a father to see his daughter in labor."
"Yes, fetch her," said Margaret.
"But not in here," said Father. "You shouldn't do this in the room where the baby's father was born."
"There's no better place," said Margaret. "It's a room where hope once triumphed over despair."
"Have hope then, my little Peggy." Father kissed her cheek and hastened away.
My little Peggy, he had called her. In this room, that's who I am. Peggy. My mother's name. Where is she now, that fierce, wise, powerful woman? Too strong for me, she was, or anyone else in this place, I see that now. Too strong for her husband, a woman of such will that even fate would not defy her. Perhaps that's why I was able to see the way to save baby Alvin's life-because my mother willed it so.
Perhaps it was losing two babies against her will made her so indomitable.
Or perhaps she simply imprinted her own life on mine so indelibly that I, too, must bury my first two babies before giving birth to a child who might live.
Tears flowed down her cheeks. I can't go through this again. I'm not as strong as Mother. It will not make me stronger. It took all my courage just to let Alvin give this second child to me, and if I lose this one, too, how can I try yet again? It isn't in me. I can't do it.
The midwife found her weeping on the bed. "Aw, Mistress Larner, what have you done? Stained the bedclothes, and your own fine underthings as well, couldn't you have taken them off? What a waste, what a waste."
"What do I care about my clothing," said Margaret savagely. "My baby