you write it all out, please? The date of birth and all, and let them sign it as witnesses?”
“Got a wooden table for you to write on right here,” said Mary Jane. She pointed to a small makeshift desk of two pine boards laid over two stacks of old wooden Coke bottle crates. It had been a long time since he’d seen Coke crates like that, the kind they used to use for the little bottles that used to cost a nickel. Figured she could probably sell them at a flea market these days to a collector. Lots of things around here she could sell. He spied the old gas sconce on the wall just above him.
It broke his back to lean over and write like this, but it wasn’t worth complaining about. He took out his pen. Mary Jane reached up and tipped the naked light bulb towards him.
There came that sound from downstairs, clickety-clickety-clickety. And then a whirring sound. He knew those noises.
“What is that sound?” he asked. “Now let’s see here, mother’s name, please?”
“Mona Mayfair.”
“Father’s name?”
“Michael Curry.”
“Lawfully wedded husband and wife.”
“No. Just skip that sort of thing, would you?”
He shook his head. “Born last night, you said?”
“Ten minutes after two this morning. Delivered by Dolly Jean Mayfair and Mary Jane Mayfair. Fontevrault. You know how to spell it?”
He nodded. “Baby’s name?”
“Morrigan Mayfair.”
“Morrigan, never heard of the name Morrigan. That a saint’s name, Morrigan?”
“Spell it for him, Mary Jane,” the mother said, her voice very low, from inside the enclosure. “Two r’s, Doctor.”
“I can spell it, honey,” he said. He sang out the letters for her final approval.
“Now, I didn’t get a weight….”
“Eight pounds nine ounces,” said Granny, who was walking the baby back and forth, patting it as it lay on her shoulder. “I weighed it on the kitchen scale. Height, regular!”
He shook his head again. He quickly filled in the rest, made a hasty copy on the second form. What was the point of saying anything further to them?
A glimmer of lightning flashed in all the gables, north and south and east and west, and then left the big room in a cozy, shadowy darkness. The rain teemed softly on the roof.
“Okay, I’m leaving you this copy,” he said, putting the certificate in Mary Jane’s hand, “and I’m taking this one to mail it into the parish from my office. In a couple of weeks you’ll get the official registration of your baby. Now, you should go ahead and try to nurse that child a little, you don’t have any milk yet, but what you have is colostrum and that …”
“I told her all that, Dr. Jack,” said Granny. “She’ll nurse the baby soon as you leave, she’s a shy little thing.”
“Come on, Doctor,” said Mary Jane, “I’ll drive you back.”
“Damn, I wish there was another way to get home from here,” he said.
“Well, if I had a broom, we’d fly, now, wouldn’t we?” asked Mary Jane, gesturing for him to come on as she started her thin-legged march to the stairway, loose sandals clopping on the boards.
The mother laughed softly to herself, a girl’s giggle. She looked downright normal for a moment, with a bit of rosy color in her cheeks. Those breasts were about to burst. He hoped that baby wasn’t a snooty little taster and lip-smacker. When you got right down to it, it was impossible to tell which of these young women was the prettiest.
He lifted the netting and stepped up again to the bed. The water was oozing out of his shoes, just look at it, but what could he do about it? It was running down the inside of his shirt, too.
“You feel all right, don’t you, honey?” he asked.
“Yes, I do,” she said. She had the jug of milk in her arms. She’d been drinking it in big gulps. Well, why not? But she sure as hell didn’t need it. She threw him a bright schoolgirl smile, just about the brightest he’d ever seen, showing a row of white teeth, and just a sprinkle of freckles on her nose. Yes, pint-sized, but just about the prettiest redhead he’d ever laid eyes on.
“Come on, Doctor,” Mary Jane positively shouted at him. “Mona’s got to get her rest, and that baby’s going to start yowling. ’Bye now, Morrigan, ’Bye, Mona, ’Bye, Granny.”
Then Mary Jane was dragging him right through the attic, only stopping to slap on her cowboy hat, which she had apparently taken off when they’d come in. Water poured