So I Was Told

By Brenda L. Waters

"No one told you to get
pregant and have that..."

"Aunt Helen,
you want the baby
and me to go where?"

She would die before
she let them know what
happened in her house.

NO WAY,
NO WAY in HELL!

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Dec 8, 2010
• ISBN: 9781452098203

Brenda L. Waters

Brenda L. Waters is a native Mississippian, who presently lives in Atlanta, Georgia. She is a graduate of Alcorn State University and currently employed in the airline industry. Aside from writing, she is a professional photographer and enjoys the outdoors. She is working on a second novel.

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So I Was Told

Brenda L. Waters

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AuthorHouse™

1663 Liberty Drive

Bloomington, IN 47403

www.authorhouse.com

Phone: [phone]

© 2010 Brenda L. Waters. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

First published by AuthorHouse 12/30/2010

ISBN: 978-1-4520-9820-3 (e)

ISBN: 978-1-4520-9474-8 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4520-9473-1 (dj)

Printed in the United States of America

This book is printed on acid-free paper.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any Web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Contents

Author’s Note

Dedication

Acknowledgments

Prologue

CHAPTER ONE

we are family

CHAPTER TWO

carly

CHAPTER THREE

the party

CHAPTER FOUR

truth be told

CHAPTER FIVE

epiphany

CHAPTER SIX

boy meets girl

CHAPTER SEVEN

on my own

CHAPTER EIGHT

sorry i…

CHAPTER NINE

falling

CHAPTER TEN

good-bye, aunt helen

CHAPTER ELEVEN

oh what a day

CHAPTER TWELVE

wishful thinking

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

am I grown yet?

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

it comes in threes

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

in God we trust

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

a little help from a friend

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

God bless the child

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

beginnings

CHAPTER NINETEEN

porter

CHAPTER TWENTY

home

Author’s Note

This book is a work of fiction. All work is inspired by the emotions and personal responses to issues that have arisen for many families and in some instances perhaps even from the life of the author. However, any references to actual events, locations, and characters are intended only to give the novel a sense of reality and authenticity. This story should not in any way be construed as real but only as the imagination of the author.

Dedication

In loving memory of all my family and friends who have passed away, especially my grandmother, Hannah Waters. You all inspired me to do my best in your own way. You are truly missed, and may you all rest in peace.

Acknowledgments

It is important for me to give thanks to God for being the head of my life and giving me the inspiration and determination to follow my dream. Without his grace and favor, the writing of this book would never have come to fruition. Being grateful and thankful would not be enough for the many people who helped me and encouraged me on this path.

Without the encouragement of my dear friend Kimberly A. Parrish, my muse, who not only listened to my story but also helped to give it life, I could not have done it without you. It was your determination during those challenging times that kept me going when I was ready to quit. I can’t thank you enough and look forward to your help in future endeavors.

I would be remiss if I did not say thank you to Martin Eboma, my friend and neighbor. You helped me stay focused during the times when I had many other things pulling me in different directions.

I must thank my friend Bernetta Jones for all her help in many ways. You were a God send.

To my church family, especially Father John Adamski and Deacon Chester Griffin, a special thanks for all your prayers, inspiration, and guidance.

To Lisa Berkley, the keeper of the keys, thank you for your patience and cooperation, as well as letting us use the center when we had no other place to go.

Many thanks to my mother, Ernestine W. Smith, for bringing me into this world; you gave me life and a beginning. To my brother, LaVern Anderson, the most kind-hearted and understanding person one could ever ask to share in their life. To my niece, Christina Arnold, you bring me many smiles. Thank you, Godmother LaTanya Renfroe, for always having my back. To my cousin, Precious Fouche Banks, for allowing me to burn your ears off many a day and night during my teenage years. To my extended family, Henry, Truman, Mary, Joyce, Maya and Anjya Thomas, Derrick, Miles and Justin Johnson, Bricca and C. Nicole Banks, Wilburn, Doris, Winston and David Fouche,Twyla McBride and Barbara Ricks, thank you.

To my sistah and brotha friends who were there without a doubt: Katrina Norris, Kellie Johnson, Kelsey Fletcher, Cheryl Jacobs, Lenora Lewis, Lynn Crouch, Christy Cox, Juanita Newton, LaQuida Mabry, Melisia Simmons, Leo Spear, Meliza Garza, Brenda Lewis, Brenda Sylvester, Andromeda Oatis, Elsa Willis, Alfreda Johnson, Lee Thompson, Helen Vance, Chavonn Bouquet,Vanessa Bartee, Lou Jean Jackson, Denise Wright, Sandra Martin, Ramona Weston, and David and Doris Coleman.

To my friends through time, Dedra Howard, Arlette Aldridge, Tracey Jones, Johnnie Williams, and Janice Davis, thanks for the memories of our days in college.

Through the countless hours spent talking, crying, and understanding who I am, how to love again; to my dearly departed therapist Dr. Hunt, thank you and may you rest in peace.

I must give a very special thank you to Rebecca Winters, who was always there for me. To some she was just an employee, but to others she was a part of the family.

To my business partner Isaac Gates, thank you for your patience and support.

Many thanks to author Kimberla Lawson Roby for her advice and encouragement when I decided to write this story, as well as her assistant, Connie Dettman, for all the information she sent on behalf of Mrs. Roby.

To my editor and publisher, I cannot thank you enough for all you help and support. I look forward to the next book.

Finally, to all my readers, I thank you for your support. I would love to hear from you, so please e-mail me at [e-mail] or visit my Web site at www.TrueLifeProduction.com.

My God bless you all,

Brenda L. Waters

Prologue

One late morning, the snowstorm of the century fell upon Madison, Mississippi. It was the storm people would talk about for generations to come. This was not the fluffy white flakes you see floating and swirling throughout the skies; landing so softly, melting before your very eyes.

On this day, eleven and three-quarter inches of the wettest, thickest snow ever to fall from the heavenly sky blanketed Madison. It was covering and consuming all those poor, leafless trees, which were bending and breaking from the heavy, sodden weight of the snow and ice. You could hear the popping and crackling of power lines. The limbs from the ancient trees were snapping and falling on rooftops and onto the streets. Buses were stopped dead in their tracks with their doors ajar for scrambling passengers to exit, and cars were left in the middle of the streets with nowhere to go. The stoplights were flashing, and most of the stores and homes were without power.

Yet, the arrival of this horrendous storm was little competition compared to the imminent disaster about to befall the house located on 1547 Copperhead Lane.

What storm was this, you ask?

My birth!

CHAPTER ONE

we are family

The woman who brought me into the world kicking and screaming that windswept snowy day was twenty-four years old and single. Her name is Ethel Lee Collins.

Under her bed in an old shoebox tied with a tattered green ribbon were pictures of Ethel when she was a young woman. She was tall and beautiful, full of life and vitality. Her complexion was the color of honey brown and flawless, except for a faint trace of freckles across the bridge of her nose. Those photographs reminded me of times when I was a child of how I would stand over her as she sunbathed in our backyard and counted the freckles, much to her dislike and protest. I was in awe of Ethel and wanted so much to be like her, freckles and all.

Aside from her complexion, it was Ethel’s eyes that drew you to her. They looked like large amber-colored almonds with a tiny hint of green around the pupils, surrounded by the darkest and fullest lashes imaginable. When she was angry or sad, her pupils enlarged, turning dark and foreboding. When she was happy or excited, they lit up and sparkled like precious jewels, similar to the pendant she wore around her neck. It was a tawny-colored stone with tiny specks of green inside.

Ethel was the youngest of three children born to her parents, John Henry and Elizabeth Marie Collins. She had two siblings, a sister, Martha Louise, and a brother, Nathaniel Louis, who were much older when she was born. When Ethel was almost two,their mother died; Nathaniel was nine, and Martha was eleven. Many people in my family and even in the community thought my grandmother’s death was very suspicious and untimely.

It was going to be one of those scorching summer days in Mississippi, yet there was a slight coolness in the morning air when she and grandfather started working in the family garden. They started early, so as not to get caught in the strong heat of the afternoon. Grandmother Marie came rushing into the house from working in the garden looking agitated and acting rather peculiar. She started drinking glasses of water, spilling most of it down the front of her dress and onto the kitchen floor, one minute laughing hysterically, and then weeping and moaning the next.

There were times in the South when the sun and the heat were brutal. I remember days growing up when all you breathed was dirt and hot, stale air. Even the water from the garden hose was warm when you first turned it on.

I don’t really remember how old I was when I overheard family members talking about Grandmother Marie’s death. When she passed away, she was pregnant with her fourth child. Everybody talked about the children and their strong resemblance to John Henry’s side of the family, except Ethel. Martha and Nathaniel looked like twins, if not for their differences in age. It was Ethel who didn’t really fit in. Her complexion, eyes, hair, and skin were so unlike theirs. Even the lashes on her eyes, thick, long, and full, were a contrast to Nathaniel and Martha, who barely had a lash to share between the two of them.

The reason she looked different they said probably had to do with that kickback gene—some obscure trait that ran in the family. Maybe it was some aunt or cousin she took after, though no one knew exactly. They started whispering how grandfather thought it had nothing to do with kickback genes or some distant relative, but maybe somebody named Gene. There allegedly were many fights and arguments about this when grandfather was angry or drunk, accusing her of something or being with someone. He made no secret of thinking she was having an affair. Whenever he confronted her about this, she always had an answer for him. I don’t think he much believed her. She told him not to listen to idle gossip.

The first time my grandfather saw Grandmother Marie, he knew she was the one for him. He wanted to know all there was about her, but apparently my grandmother was not impressed with him. He was determined to win her over and make her his wife.

John Henry was madly in love with Marie. To him, there was no woman more beautiful, kind, and smart. Grandmother Marie wanted to marry someone else, but the man’s family did not approve of her. They were going to elope, but his family discovered their secret and sent him away. Barely eighteen and heartbroken, she was devastated by her loss, never to see or hear from him again.

Grandfather was the oldest child born to parents who were poor, illiterate sharecroppers who worked from sun up to sun down. For all their hard work, they owned nothing and had nothing. At times there was barely enough food to feed their family. A thin, patched-up tin roof covered their heads, and a dirty wooden floor was under their feet. They had a roof that leaked when it rained and baked them like a Dutch oven in the summer. Grandfather swore that was not going to be his life. When he went to school, he was determined to learn everything there was to know. He especially loved to read. He was fortunate enough to have a teacher who saw his potential and encouraged his education. The teachers knew children of sharecroppers rarely got an education because they had to work in the fields during crop-picking season. When grandfather was old enough, he left his family and worked on farmlands as hired help, picking cotton and tobacco. He later gained employment on the rail lines putting down studs for the tracks, always working anywhere and everywhere he could until he could afford to buy some land.

He believed if you owned land, you had everything. When he had enough money, he bought his first piece of land and subsequently purchased more until he had over 250 acres of the best farming, dairy, and lumber in Mississippi. This was quite an accomplishment for the son of a sharecropper who became known in the county for his famous vegetable gardens.

Although people often spoke of his quiet nature, grandfather was aggressive in pursuing Marie. When he felt financially stable, he asked for her hand in marriage. They had a decent relationship, but deep down he knew he would never replace the man who broke her heart.

Grandmother Marie was having a hard time with this pregnancy, unlike the other three. There were bouts of severe headaches, strange stomach aches, and pains. She complained of severe nausea sometimes, so bad it kept her up all hours of the night. Often you could hear her moaning while she slept. The doctor said it was just a bad case of morning sickness.

I overheard relatives say she and grandfather argued all the time; he was obsessed with her, but nothing she did pleased him anymore. From what I gathered, I didn’t think grandfather thought this baby was his. He was quite certain about the first two, because they looked just like him and his family, especially Martha. I guess he just wasn’t taking any chances with more kickback genes; he had enough of that with Ethel.

Two days before Martha’s eleventh birthday, Marie went into premature labor. She was only six months pregnant. Martha ran as fast as she could to get Ms. Ophelia, the midwife. There wasn’t time to get her to the hospital. When they reached the house, Grandmother Marie and the baby were dead. Everyone who knew her was devastated.

A few weeks after John Henry laid his wife to rest, rumors started to circulate about suspicious circumstances surrounding her death. Some of Marie’s family wanted an autopsy, but my grandfather protested. In those days, people of color in the South rarely demanded or were allowed autopsies for their loved ones regardless of how suspicious things looked. After grandmother died, the children went to live with their maternal grandparents for a short while. The pressure from Marie’s death took a toll on grandfather.

Ethel was five years old when my grandfather met and married Haley Ilene Dodson. The Dodsons were a well-respected family who lived in Madison, Mississippi, and owned several businesses. The girls were beautiful, popular, and very wealthy. Any man who could marry one of the Dodson women was considered very fortunate. Their beauty and wealth brought many a man to court them.

Haley was much younger than John Henry and had never been married. She was considered the prettiest of the Dodson girls but was nothing like my Grandmother Marie. It seemed John Henry wanted the exact opposite of her. Perhaps he thought that marrying someone different would help him avoid the same mistakes.

The first few years of marriage between John Henry and Haley were picture perfect. There was laughter and parties almost every weekend; there were just a lot of good times in their home. During the Fourth of July celebrations, they had the most sought-after party. It start early in the day, and people would drive over from everywhere. There was homemade ice cream and so much food, it was sinful. John Henry Collins felt his life and family were whole again.

It was sometime during the third year of their marriage that things began to unravel. Things changed soon after one of Haley’s sisters came to visit, a visit that ended in a lengthy stay. Where there was once plenty of laughter, it was less frequently heard. The hugs and kisses weren’t as plentiful as they had been. The summertime parties were no more. No one knew why, but life became very different in that house. My uncle, Nathaniel, went to live with Marie’s sister, Rachael Neal- Parker, in Memphis, Tennessee. Aunt Martha was taken in by Mrs. Ida Hunt, a childhood friend, who had promised Marie to take care of her children in the event that something happened to her. One year later, Nathaniel was taken from Aunt Rachael and sent to Piney Grove Military Boarding School. Martha went away to Houston University in Washington DC. After graduating from college, she moved to Los Angeles, California. Neither child returned to their father or that house ever again.

Ethel remained with her father and stepmother until she left for Jamestown State College. All who knew her said she had a good life. She didn’t want for anything; she was spoiled actually, or so I was told.

CHAPTER TWO

carly

The final school bell rang for the morning classes to begin. The shiny wooden floors glistening with drops of water from the snowy shoes and boots the children tracked in from the outdoors looked like ripples of water on a glassy lake. Here and there were sounds of scampering feet and slamming lockers as children rushed to their classrooms.

The telephone in the Madison High School principal’s office rang. Julia Redding, the school secretary, answered and informed Mrs. Helen Watkins there was a call for her on line two.

Good morning, Helen Watkins, how may I help you?

Hello, Mrs. Watkins, this is Mary Stephens, Ethel’s co-worker; she is very ill and needs to be picked up right away.

Ethel was a teacher at the elementary school, several blocks from the high school where Helen was the principal.

"Julia, that was a call from Ethel’s school; she is not feeling well, and I have to leave immediately to take her home. Mary Stephens was hysterical when I answered the telephone, and I could barely understand a word she said. I had to tell the poor woman to calm down and breathe. You would have thought it was her, not Ethel, who was sick."

Looking out, she could see the snow coming down. With a scowl on her face, she grabbed her coat, hat, and scarf, stopped briefly at Julia’s desk, and glanced over the report as she headed out the door.

Oh, Julie, please let Mr. Alexander know I had to leave and he is in charge. If the weather does not improve, I may not be back today.

Helen drove, inching and crawling in the heavy packed snow and ice, to pick Ethel up. Every mile she drove, her anger rose. Apart from Helen telling her to get in, their ride home was mostly in silence; with an occasional moan from Ethel as she hugged her stomach. That fifteen-minute drive for her felt like a trip around the world.

The housekeeper, Rayne Matthews, heard a car pull in the driveway while she was cleaning the front room. She stopped dusting and looked out the window and saw Helen’s car. Rayne thought something must be wrong or she forgot something important to drive back home in all this snow and ice. The trucks had not cleaned the streets yet, and the snow was falling heavy and fast. Still standing at the window, she watched Helen get out of the car and almost slip from the patch of ice at the car door. Rayne chuckled to herself at the sight and whispered under her breath, "It served you right you old bat." She continued to watch as Helen held onto the back of the car, easing her way around to the passenger side. Just as she made it, the car door opened, and Ethel stepped out. Rayne could tell by the look on her face and the way she was hunched over …

She immediately left the window and went to the front door. As they approached, she heard the crunching snow as they made their way up the steps. She opened it just when Helen was putting her key into the lock. It startled Helen when the door opened so quickly, but she was relieved when she saw it was Rayne standing there.

"Oh good, it’s you! Take Ethel, please, she is sick. I think it’s her stomach; she probably has gas or something. She barely said two words to me in the car. You never listen to me, but I told you Ethel did not need all that food. Whatever she wanted, there you were chopping and cooking your heart out. Do you have any idea what an inconvenience this has been for me today? I had to leave school in the beginning of my day to pick her up, and now I have to get back out in this mess to get her something from the drug store for her upset stomach, because you don’t know how to tell her no!"

Rayne was holding onto Ethel, helping her out of her coat and boots while Helen was fussing about how she was inconvenienced. Glancing into Ethel’s eyes, she could see the fear and pain. She knew then what was happening. No matter how she tried, there was nothing she could do at that moment. No amount of prayer or wishful thinking was going to help; not now.

Ms. Helen, I don’t think you need to go to the sto’. This ain’t no gas, is it, Ethel? Baby, you need to tell yo’ aunt what is goin’on.

Ethel started to cry uncontrollably. Rayne told her again, this time holding her chin up and looking into her eyes. "Go on, tell her. Tell yo’ aunt what is really wrong with you."

I can’t! Can you tell her? Please, Rayne, you tell her, tell her for me, please, Ethel said in between her sobbing.

Helen, being unsure of what Rayne was about to say, stopped at the door before she opened it to leave. Tell me what? What is it that I need to know? Somebody needs to start talking right now. Ethel, pull yourself together and stop all that hysteria; stop all that crying.

Realizing she was not going to get an answer out of Ethel, Helen turned to Rayne and asked her to explain why Ethel was so hysterical.

"Rayne, what is going on here?

Ethel don’t have no gas, Ms. Helen, she’s in labor and ‘bout to have a baby, Rayne said as she turned from Ethel to address Helen.

Helen looked from Rayne to Ethel, standing in total disbelief. She screamed at the top of her lungs, What the hell! Heaven’s sake, what are you saying?

As she cursed and screamed, everyone’s eyes turned toward the twenty-foot ceiling. They were watching as she threw her purse high into the air, barely missing the antique crystal chandelier that hung in the foyer. The Dodson chandelier had been in their family even before Helen was born. No one was allowed to touch it, not even Rayne. Yet, at this moment, all eyes were on it, waiting for it to shatter into a million pieces.

Ginger, one of Aunt Helen’s sisters, was in the back room. She stayed home from the family-owned gas station to tend to their ailing father, Hubert Dodson. She heard the yelling and commotion and came running as quickly as she could. Arriving out of breath with her hand over her heart, she said, Helen, what the hell are you yelling and screaming about? Daddy and I could hear you all the way in the back of the house.

Helen looked at her sister and said. Your niece is having a baby!

A what? Ginger asked in disbelief.

By this time their father, who was on a cane, walked into the foyer. He could see there was something terribly wrong. Who is doing all this crying and screaming? What is happening in my house? he asked.

Ginger, turning to her father, said, Ethel is pregnant, and about to give birth.

Stepping closer to Ginger, he asked. "Ethel is having a baby?"

Ginger and Helen both replied, Yes, Daddy!

In this house, right this very minute? Nothing like this has ever happened in this family without no husband, no marriage. Lord, I am glad your mother is not here to know about all of this. It would surely have put her in the grave.

He lowered his eyes from hers and shook his head. Rayne, you take Ethel upstairs to my room and get her out of this draft. Lay her down, for God’s sake, and call the doctor. As he left the foyer, he continued to repeat what a sin and shame it was. Rayne gently gathered Ethel in her arms and walked her up the stairs to the bedroom.

As they climbed the staircase, Helen shouted out, Rayne, after you get that girl in bed, you call Dr. Walker immediately and tell him there is an emergency. He needs to come right now.

Helen and Ginger left the foyer and went into the kitchen to await the doctor. After talking for what seemed hours, they decided they would have their younger sister Haley, Ethel’s stepmother, come and get the baby as soon as it was born. Maybe if they gave it to her and have her take it away, no one would know what happened. This would be just another family secret.

Ethel and her baby could not wait. Rayne did not have time to run down the stairs and alert everyone. No sooner had she gotten her in bed and went to call the doctor, Ethel let out a loud horrible scream.

Rayne knew what to do and threw back the covers. She ran to the hall and gathered all the towels she could. By this time, Ethel was moaning and sweating profusely. Rayne looked down and could see blood beginning to stain the sheets. She gathered Ethel into her arms and lifted her off the bed as best she could. With towels in hand, she placed them underneath her and pushed her legs back as far as she could. They both were sweating now, water dripping off their faces. She left Ethel on the bed and ran to gather all the things she needed to birth this baby. Her mother was the local midwife and Rayne was her best student. She knew that baby was coming any minute. With bottles of alcohol, scissors, and a new pack of unwrapped shoe laces, she returned to the room to find Ethel moaning and crying. Her head was moving from side to side, with sweat pouring down her face like a river. Rayne stood by the bed, bent down, and gathered Ethel’s face into her hands to steady her.

"Ethel, look at me. I can see the baby’s head. Now I want you to hold onto the bed and push as hard as you can. Here, put this towel in your mouth and bite on it so you won’t bite your tongue. Baby, I know it hurts, but you got to do it. When I tell you to push, push!"

With all her might, Ethel pushed as hard as she could. It felt like everything inside of her was coming out. She could feel the baby sliding and ripping out of her. She felt Rayne’s hands inside of her telling her to push while she pulled. Holding onto the bed with the towel in her mouth, she pushed so hard she thought she would pass out. She fell back onto the bed relieved and wet. Then she heard that cry—that loud, full cry—and she smiled. When she looked down, there was Rayne with the fattest baby in her arms, wiping and drying it off. Ethel could see the umbilical cord with the white shoe lace tied around it. She saw the bowl laid to the side of the bed with what looked like a bloody piece of calf liver. She saw Rayne stick her fingers inside the baby’s mouth, sweeping around and pulling something out. Rayne then blew several puffs of air across the baby’s little nose and mouth Her baby stopped crying after she did this, as if the breath she blew soothed and calmed her. Perhaps by doing so, it let the baby know all was well and she was safe.

Smiling, Rayne told her, Ethel, baby! You have a little girl! A beautiful baby, with a head full of the curliest black hair I have ever seen.

Rayne then wrapped the infant up in one of the white towels she had at the foot of the bed and placed her into Ethel’s arms. Ethel, exhausted as she was, smiled and kissed her baby’s forehead. She then opened the towel wider and peeked inside to see her tiny little fingers balled up like she was ready to punch someone. She asked Rayne if the baby was all right. Rayne told her she was and left to bring clean, soapy water to wash Ethel’s face and body, and clean linen to change the bed.

Nodding her head at the baby, Rayne asked Ethel, What you going to name her? She is so pretty. Look at her lashes, Ethel. I think she is going to have eyes like yours. You can’t tell right now ‘cause they ain’t opened all the way, but they sure are shaped like yours.

You know, Rayne, I never really thought about any names, Ethel said, smiling while holding her nursing baby. She hesitated for a moment before she continued. Looking down at the baby suckling and pulling at her breast, with tears beginning to well in her eyes, she continued: "I think I am going to name her Carly; Carly Elizabeth Collins. I was so young when mother passed away, I don’t really remember her, but I always felt that if I had a daughter, I would want her to carry her name, so it could fill that void in my heart. You know Rayne, I was told daddy never thought I was his child. Did you you know that? I want you to swear to me, swear you will never tell this baby who her father is.

While standing over Ethel and the baby, Rayne heard the front door close and the voice of Dr. Walker in the foyer. As he headed up the stairs, Helen spoke to him in a low and stern voice, Fine, but you know what to do, don’t you?

It was more a statement than a question; Rayne and Ethel looked at each other as Dr Walker entered the bedroom.

After examining Ethel, Dr. Walker told Rayne she had done a good job delivering the baby. He would finish everything else and inform Helen on their condition. Rayne smiled and thanked him for the compliment. Looking back over her shoulder, Rayne saw Ethel and Carly slowly falling asleep. Before leaving the room, she turned and politely asked Dr. Walker what Mrs. Helen was saying about Ethel and the baby.

Dr. Walker shook his head and said not to worry. She was not saying anything of importance. Right now his concern was Ethel and her little girl.

Walking down the staircase, a terrible feeling overcame her. She whispered under her breath, God help that poor girl and her baby.

After making sure Ethel and the child were resting, Dr. Walker washed his hands in the bathroom sink and went downstairs. He was met by Helen, Rayne,