June 1944
Jonathon came up out of a deep sleep. He laid with his eyes closed, listening to rain beating against his bedroom windows. The warm spring had turned cool and rainy over the last few days, in spite of the fact it was now summer.
The sudden downpour must have woken him, he decided, and he rolled over, intent on trying to get back to sleep. Then he heard a sound like a cry, and he opened his eyes. That was Helen, not Douglas, and it came from the bathroom.
"Helen?" he said, throwing off his covers.
"Johnny!"
From the sound of her voice, it was clear she was crying, and he rushed to the closed door. "What's going on? Can I come in?" he said, his hand hovering near the door knob.
"Yes."
When he opened the door, she was sitting on the edge of the tub, doubled over with her arms over her stomach.
"What's wrong!" he asked with alarm as he knelt in front of her.
"I don't know!" she said, tears in her eyes. "It hurts. My stomach hurts bad, and – I saw blood."
No, his mind cried. "Are you sure?"
"I saw it! I'm bleeding, Johnny!" she said plaintively, and then bent over as she started sobbing.
"Let's not panic," he said, feeling helpless in spite of his words. "I'll – I'll call Dr. Williams. He'll know what's going on." He stood, but Helen was still doubled over, crying. "Come on," he said, gently helping her up. "It can't be good for you to sit here. You should lie down."
After he had her back in bed, he leaned over to caress her tear stained cheek. "Try not to worry. Dr. Williams will know what to do."
"Hurry, Johnny."
He snatched up his robe on the way to the bedroom door, and put it on as he raced down the stairs. In the library, he rummaged through the drawer in the writing desk to find their address book, then ran to the phone with it. His hands were shaking so badly, he had a difficult time turning the pages to find the doctor's number.
After he dialed, he listened to it ringing and tried to calm his breathing. The doctor would know how to stop what was happening to Helen. He had to.
"Hello?"
"Dr. Williams, it's Jonathon Blackwell!" he said breathlessly. "There's something wrong with my wife!"
"Take a deep breath, Mr. Blackwell," the doctor said, chuckling a little. "Then tell me what her symptoms are."
Jonathon filled his lungs, and let it out slowly. "She's feeling pains in her stomach and – there's blood." Jonathon could hear the doctor breathing while seconds ticked by. "Doctor?"
"I'll leave now," he said, his tone more serious. "I should be there in a half hour."
"You don't – you don't think it's the baby, do you?" Jonathon stuttered, fear rising inside him.
"I won't know until I exam her. Try to keep calm, it won't help your wife any if she sees you losing control."
"Yes, sir."
"I'll see you soon."
Jonathon hung up the phone, and headed to the stairs. Halfway up, he hesitated. He'd forgotten the gate was locked. He should go wake James to open it, but he didn't want to leave Helen alone that long.
Annie, he thought, turning around. She'd have time to get dressed and get to James before the doctor arrived.
When he made it back to his bedroom, Helen had her face pressed into her pillow, the sound of her muffled sobs filling the room. "Don't cry, Helen," he said gently, sitting on the bed next to her. "The doctor will be here soon."
She turned towards him. "I'm so scared, Johnny."
"Don't be afraid," he said, taking her hand in both of his. It was ice cold. "The doctor will be here soon. He'll know what to do."
"Ow," she cried, writhing with her eyes squeezed shut. "It hurts."
He smoothed her hair in an attempt to comfort her. "I know."
"It shouldn't hurt like this, Johnny. What if – what if – the baby–"
He hushed her, leaning closer. "Try not to think about it," he said, remembering what the doctor said about keeping her calm. "We can't assume anything right now. Just – try to rest as best you can. Will you do that for me?"
She nodded with her eyes still shut. In the silent minutes that followed, he watched tears leak out of her eyes while he fought back his own panic. Helen couldn't lose the baby. Not after they'd waited so long for it.
He heard the front door slam shut, and steps on the stairs while the Duesenberg's engine roared to life outside.
"Is there anything I can do?" Annie asked quietly from the hallway, her face etched with deep concern.
Jonathon looked at Helen to see if she wanted Annie's company, but she still had her eyes closed, the tears flowing faster.
"Can you let the doctor in when he arrives?" Jonathon said, turning back to Annie. "And stay with Douglas in case he wakes up?"
"Of course." She looked like she wanted to say more, but left the doorway.
After an agonizingly long wait, Jonathon finally saw headlights shining on the bedroom wall. He resisted the urge to shout for Annie, but after a moment, he heard her going down the stairs.
"The doctor is here," he said to Helen, and she nodded with her eyes still shut.
When the doctor appeared, Jonathon left Helen. "Dr. Williams," he said, going to shake the doctor's hand.
"Can I examine your wife alone?"
"Yes," he said, and reluctantly headed for the hallway. Just before he closed the bedroom door, he took one last look at Helen. Her eyes were filled with fear and pain as she straightened. She didn't seem relieved the doctor was there at all.
Annie was in the hallway, looking at him with concern. Jonathon struggled for something to say, but what? The situation seemed serious, extremely serious.
Annie sighed, her shoulders drooping. "I'll go back to Douglas. If you need me..." She seemed unable to finish.
He nodded, and she went into Douglas's door closing the door behind her.
He scanned the empty hallway, not knowing what to do, and then began pacing back and forth. Please don't let this be as bad as it seems, he silently prayed, trying to keep his panicked thoughts at bay.
Some minutes later, the bedroom door opened, and the doctor motioned for him. Helen was sitting up in bed, her face more pale, and Jonathon went to her. She grasped his hand, and he turned to face the doctor.
Dr. Williams cleared his throat as he adjusted his glasses, and Jonathon felt a deep foreboding. "After examining Mrs. Blackwell, it's clear to me what's caused her cramps and bleeding. I'm sorry to say, but the pregnancy has terminated prematurely."
"No!" Helen cried, and Jonathon put his hand on her shoulder as a tremendous grief overwhelmed him. His baby had died.
"This is not your fault, Mrs. Blackwell," the doctor said in a loud, firm voice, and Helen covered her mouth with a handkerchief in an attempt to stop crying. "This is quite common. It happens a lot more than you might believe. This is nature's way of dealing with – a child that hasn't formed properly for some reason. If it had been born, it's likely it wouldn't have survived anyway."
Jonathon looked down at Helen so the doctor wouldn't see the tears he was fighting back. She appeared as grief stricken as he felt.
"You're a healthy young woman and I have no doubt you'll be able to conceive another child, probably lots of them. You may have some mild pain and bleeding for a day or two, but then you should feel as right as rain, and after a while, it'll be like this never happened. Mr. Blackwell, make sure she rests. We don't want her overtaxing herself."
"Yes, sir," Jonathon choked out, and then swallowed against the large lump in his throat.
"Will you see me out?"
He didn't want to do it. He knew he had only a minute or two before he broke down completely, but he couldn't admit that to the doctor. "Alright," he said, avoiding the doctor's eyes. "I'll be back in a moment, Helen."
She was looking up at him, her eyes begging him not to leave, but he had no choice. He pulled his hand out of hers and reluctantly followed the doctor. On the way down the stairs, he concentrated on the feel of the wood banister under his hand and the sound of the rain beating against the house, trying not to think so he wouldn't cry.
The doctor put on his rain slicker and then picked up his wet fedora. "Mr. Blackwell," he said, in a serious voice.
Jonathon kept his eyes on the floor between them.
"It's been my experience that women who have gone through this, tend to place far too much emphasis on what's happened. They will quite often overreact, and you should be on the lookout for any signs of hysteria."
Jonathon lifted his head. "Like what?" he said, feeling worse by the second. They'd lost their child, but now he had to worry about Helen too?
"Crying jags, excessive sadness, lying in bed all day. Don't feed her melancholy!" he said sharply. "It's times like these that a husband has to use a firm hand. As soon as she's physically able, you need to make sure she gets back to her regular routine. She might resist, but believe me, it'll be the best thing you can do for her."
Jonathon dropped his head. "I understand."
"Good! Call me if she becomes too unmanageable and I'll prescribe something."
Jonathon opened the front door, anxious to have him leave. "Drive carefully."
"I always do," the doctor said with a smile, and put on his hat as he stepped outside.
When the door was closed, Jonathon leaned his forehead against the wood, tears pricking his eyes. He knew in his heart the baby had been a boy. His son – and now he was dead.
There was the faint sound of Helen crying coming from upstairs, and he straightened, wiping his eyes. He couldn't let her see how it had affected him. It would only make her worse. With each step he climbed, Helen's sobs grew louder and his heart filled with more grief. This was as bad as when he'd lost his parents. But he had to stay in control like he had back then. His family was depending on him.
Standing beside the bed, he watched Helen sob into her bedding while he tried to steel himself. "Helen," he said, but she was crying too loudly to hear him. "Helen!"
She looked up at him, her face etched with pain. "Johnny," she cried, reaching for him. "Our little baby."
That was the moment he couldn't hold back his grief any longer. He laid on the bed, pulling Helen into his arms as he sobbed, his heart utterly broken.
~~
When Jonathon woke, faint light was coming through the windows.
The sun was rising on a new day, a day in which his child was no longer growing inside Helen.
The grief he'd felt the previous evening returned ten-fold, and he squeezed his eyes shut against the pain. Why did this have to happen? Why did his child have to die?
He pushed away the thoughts, afraid he'd wake Helen with his crying. She was still in his arms, her breaths slow and steady. But as soon as she was conscious, she'd be feeling the same intense pain she'd felt the night before, the same intense pain Jonathon was experiencing right at that moment.
He knew he should get up so he could get ready for work, but he didn't want to go. How could he possibly concentrate on what was going on at the mine while he was lost in grief? At least when his parents died, everyone at the office knew. Now he'd have to pretend that it was just another normal day. If only Billy was here to take over for him, he thought with a deep sigh.
Helen stirred and he held his breath, praying she'd go back to sleep. While he waited, he decided he wouldn't go to the office. He couldn't leave Helen to deal with her grief all alone.
Her breathing became more regular, and Jonathon closed his eyes, willing his exhaustion to take over.
When he opened his eyes again, the room was filled with bright sunshine, and the telephone was ringing downstairs. It must be the office calling to see where he was. Or was it? It was much later than he would normally have arrived. Would they wait this long to find out what had happened to him?
What if it was someone else? His mind immediately went to Billy. Had something happened to him? Or maybe it was the doctor. He imagined him realizing he'd made a mistake and the baby wasn't dead. Stop it, he chided himself.
"Johnny?" Helen said faintly.
"I'm right here," he said, holding her tighter.
"You didn't go to work," she said into his pajama shirt.
"I didn't want to leave you. They can make do without me for one day."
She lifted her head so she could look at him. "I'm sorry about the baby," she said, tears welling up in her eyes.
"It's not your fault. The doctor told you it wasn't."
"I feel like I should have done something differently."
He hushed her. "You didn't do anything wrong. Dr. Williams said it happens a lot."
"It's hard not to feel guilty," she said, wiping her tears with her fingers.
"I think we should get up and get something to eat," Jonathon said, remembering the doctor's warnings. "It'll do you good."
She sighed. "Okay."
After they'd dressed, Jonathon took Helen's hand as they went in the hallway. Douglas's bedroom door was open and his crib was empty. He must be downstairs with Annie. The dining room table was set with china for breakfast, but Helen walked past it to the butler's pantry, and Jonathon followed her.
Douglas was in his high chair while Annie sat in front of him wiping his hands with a wet wash cloth. "Mama!" he said with delight when he saw her.
"He was just finishing up," Annie said, and lifted him out of the chair.
He ran to Helen and she knelt, catching him in her arms. "Good morning, baby," she said in a voice filled with tears, and buried her face in his little shoulder.
"I – I'm so sorry," Annie said. She took a handkerchief out of her apron pocket and wiped her eyes.
"Was that my girl who called?" Jonathon asked, wanting to cut her off. He didn't want to talk about it. It was too raw.
"Uh, no. She called earlier this morning. I told her you were sick."
"Thanks," he grunted.
"That call was from my mom to tell me, but I already saw it in the morning newspaper."
"Tell you what?" Helen said, rising from the floor.
Annie looked at both of them reluctantly. "The allies invaded France this morning. They crossed the Channel and landed in Normandy. My brother, Billy, all those boys in England– they're probably fighting the Nazi's now."
"Oh, no," Helen said, covering her mouth with her hand while Annie wiped her eyes again.
Jonathon went to the nearest chair and slumped into it. It just kept getting worse. Would he lose Billy now? Would fate be that cruel to take his son and brother in the same twenty-four hours?
"Da?" Douglas said at his knee. Jonathon reached out to feel his curls while he looked in his sweet concerned face. Douglas knew something was wrong, and Jonathon was suddenly reminded of the night he was born. "We have to have hope," he said to the women, but his attention was still on Douglas. "We have to – trust things will be okay. We have to keep up our spirits for Douglas' sake. I don't want this war to touch him."
Helen went to Jonathon and put her arm around his shoulders. "You're right. I don't want him to feel what we're feeling. He's so little."
"If you want to go to the dining room, I'll bring you coffee and get started making you breakfast," Annie said, her voice noticeably stronger.
"Thank you, Annie," Helen said, attempting to smile.
Jonathon picked up Douglas as he stood, and took Helen's hand, leading her to the dining room.
No matter what happened now, and in the future, he had to keep going so they could all keep going.
****
A tremendously sad chapter for the Blackwell household. This one was a particularly difficult chapter for me to write. I've never experienced a loss like this, but I know couples who have, and I wanted to be sure I wrote it as accurately as possible. I hope I've captured the very real grief felt by Helen and Jonathon, along with the somewhat cavalier attitude about miscarriages held at that time by those who were not personally affected by it.
How will Helen and Jonathon deal with their loss, especially when Kitty's pregnancy continues? What will happen to Billy now that the military is actively fighting in Europe? There's lots more to come!
I shall strive to get the next chapter posted as soon as I'm able. Until then, cheers!