gesture right, Precious, laughing and giggling. Professor Payzant instructed, “Now turn, single file, your left hand grabbing hold of the left ankle of the person in front of you, your right hand on the small of their back to steady yourself!” Reverend Norton’s hand slipped, grabbing at Aunt Fran’s behind. She turned and winked at him. He grinned with delight.
Instead of joining them, I chose to look further into the contents of the professor’s trunk, wishing I could crawl inside and sail off to anywhere but here. Not that I don’t care for the Bay, but sometimes I feel tethered to this place, by what’s always been. So many of the men, my father included, have sailed away from here. They come home with globe-shaped bottles, giant seashells or sailor’s valentines for their wives. And after all that, they still swear that “there’s no prettier sunsets then right here in the Bay.” I hope they’re right, because it seems the women will always have to wait and wonder.
I picked up one of the headpieces, ran my fingers over the intricate carvings, held it to my face and breathed in its woody scent of hot sun and warm sea. Through the mask (the face of a snarling, bloodthirsty monster), I could see Miss B. sitting next to Mrs. Thomas, her eyes closed, hands stroking the woman’s round belly. I couldn’t hear what was being said, but I could see tears falling down Mrs. Thomas’s face. Before I could put the mask away, the young mother-to-be caught sight of me. She screeched and then fainted into Miss B.’s lap. Dr. Thomas broke free from his place in line, Precious falling to the floor, Reverend Norton catching Aunt Fran in his arms.
The doctor knelt at Miss B.’s feet, giving little smacks to his wife’s cheeks. “Lydia, Liddie…wake up, dear…are you alright?” He glared at Miss B. “I should have known better than to leave her side.”
Mrs. Thomas’s eyes fluttered as Dr. Thomas helped her to sit up. “Oh, Gilbert, don’t be silly. It’s my own fault. I should have taken care to wear a different dress; this one is too confining and hot. Besides, you should be thanking Miss Babineau rather than scolding her. She was giving me good news.” She grinned at Miss B., then squeezed her husband’s hand. “We’re expecting a boy.”
Dr. Thomas patted his wife’s hand. “Shh now, Lydia, you should stay quiet.” He held the back of his hand to her forehead. “I know you’re anxious, but let’s not give in to foolishness. I’ve told you before, there’s no way to predict the sex of a fetus.”
“Ain’t never been wrong yet,” Miss B. argued as she offered Mrs. Thomas a cup of tea.
The doctor’s face grew red, his voice flustered. “Superstition and wives’ tales may prove true some of the time, but they can’t be trusted. Belief in such practices in today’s day and age does nothing but halt the progress of science. No wonder so many of the women out here won’t come to their senses.”
Arms folded across his chest, eyes still closed, Uncle Irwin said, “I can’t recall a time she’s been wrong. Not once.”
“That’s all fine and good, sir, but I’m afraid that’s impossible.” Dr. Thomas fanned his wife with one of the feathered Maori masks. “Counting on that sort of thinking is ignorant, dangerous even.”
“The danger’s in forgettin’ who’s really in charge. Science don’t know kindness. It don’t know kindness from cabbage,” Miss B. interrupted.
The doctor raised his voice. “Science is neither kind nor unkind, Miss Babineau. Science is exact.”
“ Exact? Exact don’t do a woman no good when she’s wailin’ for her mama.”
He pulled out a handful of coins from his pocket and dropped them in Miss B.’s lap. “Which reminds me, I owe you a little something, Miss Babineau.”
She looked at him and scowled. “What’s that for?”
“Mr. Laird Jessup brought his wife, Ginny, to me last week. Mrs. Jessup will be the first woman from Scots Bay
Instead of joining them, I chose to look further into the contents of the professor’s trunk, wishing I could crawl inside and sail off to anywhere but here. Not that I don’t care for the Bay, but sometimes I feel tethered to this place, by what’s always been. So many of the men, my father included, have sailed away from here. They come home with globe-shaped bottles, giant seashells or sailor’s valentines for their wives. And after all that, they still swear that “there’s no prettier sunsets then right here in the Bay.” I hope they’re right, because it seems the women will always have to wait and wonder.
I picked up one of the headpieces, ran my fingers over the intricate carvings, held it to my face and breathed in its woody scent of hot sun and warm sea. Through the mask (the face of a snarling, bloodthirsty monster), I could see Miss B. sitting next to Mrs. Thomas, her eyes closed, hands stroking the woman’s round belly. I couldn’t hear what was being said, but I could see tears falling down Mrs. Thomas’s face. Before I could put the mask away, the young mother-to-be caught sight of me. She screeched and then fainted into Miss B.’s lap. Dr. Thomas broke free from his place in line, Precious falling to the floor, Reverend Norton catching Aunt Fran in his arms.
The doctor knelt at Miss B.’s feet, giving little smacks to his wife’s cheeks. “Lydia, Liddie…wake up, dear…are you alright?” He glared at Miss B. “I should have known better than to leave her side.”
Mrs. Thomas’s eyes fluttered as Dr. Thomas helped her to sit up. “Oh, Gilbert, don’t be silly. It’s my own fault. I should have taken care to wear a different dress; this one is too confining and hot. Besides, you should be thanking Miss Babineau rather than scolding her. She was giving me good news.” She grinned at Miss B., then squeezed her husband’s hand. “We’re expecting a boy.”
Dr. Thomas patted his wife’s hand. “Shh now, Lydia, you should stay quiet.” He held the back of his hand to her forehead. “I know you’re anxious, but let’s not give in to foolishness. I’ve told you before, there’s no way to predict the sex of a fetus.”
“Ain’t never been wrong yet,” Miss B. argued as she offered Mrs. Thomas a cup of tea.
The doctor’s face grew red, his voice flustered. “Superstition and wives’ tales may prove true some of the time, but they can’t be trusted. Belief in such practices in today’s day and age does nothing but halt the progress of science. No wonder so many of the women out here won’t come to their senses.”
Arms folded across his chest, eyes still closed, Uncle Irwin said, “I can’t recall a time she’s been wrong. Not once.”
“That’s all fine and good, sir, but I’m afraid that’s impossible.” Dr. Thomas fanned his wife with one of the feathered Maori masks. “Counting on that sort of thinking is ignorant, dangerous even.”
“The danger’s in forgettin’ who’s really in charge. Science don’t know kindness. It don’t know kindness from cabbage,” Miss B. interrupted.
The doctor raised his voice. “Science is neither kind nor unkind, Miss Babineau. Science is exact.”
“ Exact? Exact don’t do a woman no good when she’s wailin’ for her mama.”
He pulled out a handful of coins from his pocket and dropped them in Miss B.’s lap. “Which reminds me, I owe you a little something, Miss Babineau.”
She looked at him and scowled. “What’s that for?”
“Mr. Laird Jessup brought his wife, Ginny, to me last week. Mrs. Jessup will be the first woman from Scots Bay
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