The woman in the back let out a strangled moan of pain. The littlest child’s face paled and eyes widened. Mark racked his brain trying to think of anything to keep their mind off their mother’s agony. Their terror reminded him of the ship’s boys, huddled together as they experienced their first storm on the open ocean.
His heart twisted. “Do you like stories?”
All four nodded.
“Then I’ll tell you a story.” Mark sat on the ground, cross-legged. “Once upon a time, there were twelve gods in ancient Greece.”
“That’s not true, there’s only one God,” the second-born declared piously.
Mark nodded. “Yes, but this is a story. A pretend story about something that could have happened a long, long time ago.”
“Shhh.” The third child scooted closer to Mark, eyes wide and eager.
“So, uh, these gods had different jobs. The head god, Zeus, was in charge of the sky and lightning. His brother Poseidon was in charge of the sea. And the third brother, Hades, was in charge of the dead.” Mark thought through all the myths he knew. Suddenly they seemed very gory and inappropriate for children. But all children loved adventure. So he told them the story of Herakles’ impossible tasks. Rapt, the children leaned into him, gobbling up every word.
Mark grinned at them, surprised by how delighted he was at sharing his favorite myths with children.I should do this more often.When he finished with Herakles, they begged for another.
“Shouldn’t you be asleep?” he asked. A wail from the room broke into his words. “Right,” he said, and launched into a sanitized version of Jason and the Argonauts. Words hadn’t come this easily in months, perhaps years. This felt right. Introducing Greek mythology to children, showing little minds how exciting and adventurous the world could be, felt so much better than debating over the right adjective for a day and a half.
At some point their father came back. He entered the home with a bottle of beer and treats for the children. He gave Mark a quizzical look, so Mark stood and shook his hand, introducing himself. Mr. Carlson nodded, but his main focus was behind the closed door.
Mark continued talking until the littlest two fell asleep. One lay in the eldest’s lap, the other had curled up against Mark’s legs and lay on the floor with a thumb in her mouth. The older two kept rubbing their eyes, but each sound that drifted through the bedroom door woke them up again.
“It’s taking a real long time,” one said.
“Sometimes it takes a long time,” Mark replied, realizing he knew very, very little about what was normal.
“It didn’t take this long last time,” the eldest said.
“I’m sure it’ll be soon now.”
The door opened. The husband jerked upright from his stool, where he’d been staring moodily through the grate and into the fire. Amelia stuck her head out and looked at him. “Your wife would like some water. Can you bring her some?”
He shot to his feet, nodding.
Mark tried to distract the anxious children by launching into the beginning of theIliad, but even his eyes watched their father pour water from a pitcher into a cheap tin cup with shaking fingers, then gird his loins and enter the bedroom.
Mark rubbed his weary eyes and looked at his pocket watch. It was one in the morning. They’d been here for five hours.
The door opened again, and this time both Ellen and Amelia framed the doorway. Amelia placed a hand on Ellen’s back and gently pushed her into the room. “Ellen needs a rest,” she said cheerfully. Her eyes were growing bloodshot and her face paled with exhaustion, but somehow her voice was still cheerful.
“Er,” Mark began, because something didn’t seem right. Ellen drifted toward him, more tired than Amelia.
“Mark, I need help.” Amelia looked at him the way his old captain surveyed the ship’s crew.
He got to his feet. “I can go knock on a few doors and see if there’s any other women awake?—”
A screech came from behind Amelia. “Come on.”
Mark froze. “Excuse me?”
She beckoned. “I need someone to hand me rags and blankets and forceps.”
“F-f-forceps?” Surely Mark misunderstood. “I’m a man.”
Amelia sighed. “I know men are weaklings when it comes to blood and pain, but you’re the best I’ve got.”
“Doctor!” The husband’s voice was low and urgent.