The Apple King: A Tale of the Lincoln Family

George, or George T., as some people called him, sat in the parlor prepared to wait for hours as he listened to his wife’s cries coming from the other room. He would much rather be outside working with his farm hands. Giving birth was risky. He knew his place was nearby should something go wrong. On occasion he would stand up, pace the room a few laps, get fed up with himself, then go outside for a walk before starting the process over again.

Motie had been in labor for a few days. The contractions were steadily mild the first day. She had been able to get some rest, but that night she moaned in her sleep. George awoke the next morning at his usual time feeling like he could sleep for another five hours. By the end of the second day, the contractions were finally ten minutes apart. There had been no need to call for the doctor before then. By the time George realized he should send for the doctor, the doctor’s buggy was pulling up in the yard. Now the doctor and his mother-in-law, Eliza, were both in the room with his tired wife. He himself had been drifting in and out of sleep on the settee.

George walked to the kitchen. Atop the cast iron wood stove sat a pot of coffee. George poured himself a cup, then walked back to the parlor. He placed his cup down on the back corner of his desk, then pulled the chair out as quietly as he could. He could tell it was going to be another long night.

As he lowered himself onto the chair, he realized the fireplace could use more wood. Recognizing he tended to get lost in his work, George stood, walked to the fireplace, and methodically placed a few more cut pieces of wood on top. Satisfied that the chill from the early February temperatures would be kept away for a few more hours, George wondered if the doctor or Eliza had put wood on the fire in his bedroom. He was sure they did, but he was concerned for his wife’s warmth.

Eliza came out of the room looking defeated and worn out. “She’s having such a horrible time. She’s so worn out the doctor gave her something to sleep. He told me to get some rest, that he’ll sit with her for a while. Do you mind if I lay down in your guest room?”

George studied the worry lines on the woman who was twice his age. It was evident she was trying to keep up a good front. Deep down, he knew Eliza was more concerned for her grown daughter than for her youngest children still living at home.

“Not at all.” George stood. “Thank you for being here. I know being away from your family is hard on you. How about you get some actual sleep? I’ll come wake you should the doctor need your help.”

“That would be lovely. Thank you. I appreciate it.”

George listened to each step Eliza took towards the room at the top of the stairs before sitting back down. His own room should have been up there, but Motie had been plagued with nightmares she never shared that led her to insist they make their room in what used to be his office. She kept saying she had a bad feeling about things. He didn’t want to give up his office, but now he was glad he had. George could see that having his wife downstairs these past few days made it easier for everyone.

For one thing it was much closer to the kitchen. George reached for his cup of coffee before grabbing his dip pen. He knew writing down his farm stats would help him greatly when the time came to fill out his government forms. George had failed to write down the latest stats a few days ago due to keeping Motie calm.

The stats were still in his head as he began to write on the paper left out for such a purpose. He still had two hundred seventy-five acres of improved land worth $6,000.00. The value of his current machinery remained at $100.00 with no plans to purchase any soon. In fact, nothing had changed except he had lost one of his pigs last week, bringing the count down to sixty.

George sat back thinking about Motie once again. Everything was quiet in the room behind the door. He wondered if the doctor was able to get any shuteye. George went back to writing after dipping his pen in ink. For now, he had twelve cattle, but he had two that would be calving soon. He still had three milk cows.

Taking another sip of coffee, George thought about his sheep. Three of them birthed over the winter, making twenty-seven his new count, up from twenty last year. At this rate it would not take long to have a large herd.

Startled by the door opening, George turned to see the doctor emerge.

“She’s resting peacefully for now. It’s a good thing Betty came to get me. The baby wasn’t turned quite right. That’s what made it a long labor. Eliza helped me turn the baby. I think we’re good now. Motie was exhausted, so I gave her some morphine to let her sleep. She’s going to need all the strength she can muster to push that young’un out. I’m not pleased with giving her the medication. It can cause complications. I’m trying to avoid taking the baby. It’s best if you get some sleep. I’ll be dozing in the chair in your room. Tomorrow might be a hard day.”

“Thank you, Doctor. Can I get you something to drink,” George asked as the doctor turned to re-enter the bedroom.

“No, thank you. Betty was kind enough to bring in a pitcher of water for me earlier.”

George took mental note that he would have to have a conversation with both of his slaves. Tonight was not the night. While it was a customary practice to deal with slaves taking off from the property without permission no matter the hour or reason, George could not get the images of the faces of his mother-in-law and the doctor out of his head while speaking about his wife. No, he couldn’t disturb Motie or Eliza by confronting Betty, his fourteen-year-old house servant. His best course of action would be to wait until morning to have a chat with Albert, his farm servant, to find out what he knew of the situation first.

Glad he only had a few sips of coffee, George stretched out on the settee, adjusted a pillow under his head, shoes still on but hanging over the edge of the arm. A few moments later, George’s breaths began to slow in restful sleep.

When he heard the cock crow, George attempted to sit up, but the stiffness in his body cautioned him to go slow, especially when he realized one foot had fallen asleep. He took a cold sip of coffee, then added another log to the fire before heading out the front door.

Albert, a few years older than his master, was gathering feed for the milk cows when he saw George approach. He knew there would be questions and possible punishment. He sat the bucket down and stood tall, his dark face and hands protruded from the jacket that kept him warm.

“Are you aware Betty left the premises yesterday?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Tell me everything you know.”

“Betty left out some food for me at noon. I did not see her for another few hours. I was tending to the horse and wagon that had arrived when Betty comes running out of the house and stops at me tears streaming and out of breath. She said the missus mama ordered her to fetch the doctor. She was scared the missus was gonna die. I figured it was more important to fetch the doctor than to bother you if it was as dire as Betty appeared. I hope the missus is all right. Betty and I sure do take a liking to her. I know it was wrong to not seek you for a pass. Can you forgive me, sir? I took your horse and wagon to take Betty to fetch the doctor. It would have been much faster than running all the way there.”

“You did the right thing, Albert. We’re not out of the woods yet with the misses. As for punishment for leaving without a pass, I’ll deal with that later. Don’t do it again or I’ll put you back on the auction block! Make sure you inform Betty the next time you see her. Carry on.” Albert breathed a sigh of relief as George returned to the house.

At twenty-five years old, George longed to seek the advice of his father who had passed away when George was twelve and his youngest sibling was six years old. His mother had taken over the family farm where George helped and learned what he knew. His mother was a great teacher, but there were just some things a boy needed his father for. Now was one of those times.

George heard a wagon pull up at the front door and stop. He must have been deep in thought as he had not heard it coming down the road. When he turned to look, he saw Albert heading his way, ready to take the wagon upon arrival from George’s father-in-law.

“When Eliza didn’t show up, I knew I had to come. I send for your ma. Is everything all right,” Motie’s father asked. His name was also George.

The younger George shook his lowered head, then sat on the front steps of the house. The older George sat beside him just as they heard the first of Motie’s screams that day.

“Doc’s been here since yesterday,” the younger said after Motie quieted.

They sat mostly in silence. The day was chilly but warm enough to sit outside with coats on. Little by little, the younger revealed everything he knew. There was nothing the older George could say to bring comfort to the young man who had become his son. The best he could do was to just be there.

About a half hour after George T.’s mother, Julia, arrived, a tired Eliza emerged through the front door. Neither man dared tell Eliza to brush her hair and return the whisps to whence they came. With a blanket wrapped around her shoulders, she sat down.

“Your ma took over for me to give me a break. I’m sure glad she’s here.”

The older George leaned over, put his arm around his wife, then kissed her forehead. “Glad you approve. I figured you would be tired out.”

“She’s been pushing all morning. Not unheard of for a first-time delivery, but this one is hardly making headway because the baby is so big. I hope you don’t mind that I ordered Betty to run for the doc yesterday.”

“No, we needed the doc. Just wish you told her to get a pass first.”

Taking a deep breath in when she realized her mistake, Eliza let out, “Oh, I’m so sorry! When I saw Motie like that, I knew we had to act quick.”

“It’s all right. You did the right thing. I just don’t know what to do with both Albert and Betty for taking off without one.”

“I better get back in there. I don’t think there’s much longer to go,” Eliza said as she stood up.

Both men rose and followed her in. George T. knew Albert had been in to tend to the fire by the evidence of the flames while simultaneously remembering that Betty would have breakfast in the kitchen by the smell of the cooked food. The younger invited his elder to accompany him for a late breakfast. After retreating to the parlor and discussing business together, Motie’s screams became whimpers, and they heard the cries of the new baby.

Julia emerged with the baby in her arms. She handed the baby to his dad and said, “Congratulations! It’s a boy.”

George T. looked down at the newborn with a smile that quickly faded as he looked up at his mother. “How is she?”

“Not good. The baby got stuck and the doctor had to use forceps. He’s still working on her. Eliza is trying to keep her calm.”

The older George winced. His older daughter, Sarah, passed away just a few weeks earlier. The wound was still fresh. He wondered how his wife was holding up in the room with Motie. He wished he could go in there. He was sure the younger George was just as worried as he was.

Leaving the baby with the men, Julia returned to the room to see how she could help. Eventually she came back to take the baby to his mama. The doctor emerged shortly thereafter.

“It was a difficult delivery. I had to use forceps and I’m afraid she tore some. I placed about ten stitches. She’s stable now. She’ll have to stay in bed a few weeks, but the worst is over.” When George T. broke out in a smile, the doctor added, “She’s resting, but you can go see her now.”

George T. entered the room, walked over to where Eliza was sitting, and placed a hand on her shoulder. When Eliza saw who was there, she quietly arose and left the room. George T. sat down in her place and took Motie’s hand in his. She turned her head towards him, aware he was there, and gave a brief smile.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” she said.

“Shh, you should rest. The doctor said you had a rough time, but that you’re going to recover. Rest is what you need. Before you know it, you’ll be back on your feet and playing with that son of ours.” George sat quietly for a time while he watched Motie drift in and out of sleep. When she next opened her eyes, he said, “I’ve been thinking. I know you’ve had your heart set on the name we picked out, but your dad came to sit with me when I didn’t know if you would make it. I’d like to name the baby after him.”

Motie nodded her head in agreement, then drifted back off to sleep.

When Julia entered the room, George T. retreated. He found his mother-in-law rocking the baby; his father-in-law was sitting nearby.

Standing in front of them, George T. announced, “We decided to name the baby George Morton. We’ll call him Morton so as not to add more confusion.”

Upon hearing his own name, the elder George beamed with delight.

~

During the first week after birth and with the help of Julia and Eliza, Motie mostly stayed in bed. She complained of being sore and uncomfortable, which was to be expected. By the end of the second week, Motie started to walk around a little more often, mostly to take herself to the outhouse with the help of her mother and mother-in-law.

“Have you noticed that Motie seems to struggle more on her trips to the outhouse” Julia asked Eliza in the parlor while Motie rested.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, she seemed happy to be up and about the other day and pushed herself just to see the sunshine. Today it seemed like she moved slower, like she had a harder time walking. I caught her wincing today with her steps. She did not do that the other day. I think she’s hurting more and just does not want to tell us. What do you think?”

“I had not noticed it. I was too preoccupied holding on to her and making sure we did not stumble. I did not look at her face. I was watching the ground. I just thought her grimacing sounds were from us bumping into each other as we walked.” With Eliza shorter than her daughter, it was difficult for her to see her daughter’s face as they walked together.

“I’ve also noticed that she has cut back on how many minutes she nurses Morton. She holds him until she is too tired, then asks me to take the baby and lays down with a whimper. I’m starting to get concerned again.”

After some thought, Eliza responded, “Now that you mention it, yes, I have noticed it. Let’s continue watching her. If she’s not improved in the morning, we should send for the doctor to check up on her.”

Just then the elder and younger George walked through the front door. George T. stopped short when he looked at his mother’s face. The older George nearly bumped into George T. before he could get in the door.

“OK, son, could you please let me in,” he asked with a chuckle.

As soon as George T. took a step out of the way, his father-in-law knew there was no laughing matter before them. He quietly closed the front door and asked, “What’s the problem?”

After the ladies told of their concerns, George T. responded, “Well, I was going to have the doctor come out in the morning to look at Albert’s back. Betty says its oozing pus. I’ll have Doc check on Motie while he’s here.”

That night, as George T. lay next to his wife, he was glad Morton stayed in Julia’s room. When George T. attempted to hug Motie, she recoiled with pain. George knew she was keeping something from him. He awoke several times to check on her and to cover her when she developed the chills.

After breakfast, the elder George quietly left to retrieve the doctor as previously planned while George T. looked after the animals. It bothered George T. that he had whipped Albert the week before as an example to Betty and as punishment to them both for leaving the premises without a pass. He refused to whip a female. He hoped sending Betty to treat Albert’s back was a good enough lesson for her. When George T. had the occasional chance to walk past Betty, her puffy eyes told him she had been crying. George T. wished the doctor could save Albert and his wife.

When George T. walked inside, Julia was rocking Morton. George was comforting Eliza on the settee. “Any news yet?”

George shook his head no.

George T. grabbed a hot cup of coffee, then sat down in the blue winged back chair. His thoughts pierced the silence that filled the air until the doctor emerged. He knew it wasn’t good the moment the doc headed for the empty winged back chair and sat down.

Looking directly at George T., the doctor kept his voice low. “I’ve seen this before. When you hadn’t called for me, I thought we were in the clear. Now I can see I was clearly wrong. Your wife, she’s a fighter. Most women with this condition usually succumb about three days after giving birth. There is still a fighting chance she can survive this; but I’m going to be straight with you. It does not look good. She has already developed a fever. The infection has traveled through her blood. It will be a miracle if she survives the next few days.” Doc paused for a moment. “I’m going to look in on Albert now. I’ll be back when I’m done.”

George T. had heard Eliza gasp while the doctor talked, but he ignored it as he wanted to hear every word the doctor said. Stunned, he sat perfectly still while staring into the empty space. Eliza stood up, then began to collapse as she lost her strength. George quickly stood, pulling her towards him. After some time, George led Eliza into the room with Motie. Julia carried Morton up the stairs with her and into her room. Along the way she mumbled the boy needed changing.

Once alone, George T. felt the full emptiness of what was soon to come. He could not shake the feeling that Motie had predicted her own death. He tried to shake it off by nodding his head back and forth. When that did not work, he rose, crossed the room, and opened the door.

George and Eliza had heard George T. enter and left the room without saying a word, closing the door softly behind them.

George fell to his knees beside his wife, gently stroking her hair away from her forehead.

“Motie,” he whispered. “Motie, you have to fight this. You have to help me raise our boy. I can’t do this without you.” Then he commanded her, “you have to fight!”

George could feel the tears in the corners of his eyes, not enough to fall down his face, but enough to know they were there.

“Motie, do you hear me? You have to fight! Will yourself to live for Morton. Will yourself! Live for me. I love you so much. Please don’t leave me.”

The sound of his voice caught him off guard. As he continued to stroke his wife’s forehead, George T. silently prayed.

He must have drifted off to sleep. He awoke to the darkness through the windows with his knees in pain.

Seeing George T. was awake, the doctor crossed the room to help him up. Doc had not dared to disturb the young man. They exited the room together as Eliza entered. Doc led young George to the dinner table and asked Betty to bring a plate of food.

“You need to eat, George. I already have two patients. I don’t need a third. You need your strength.”

George T. did not want to eat, but he knew the doctor was right.

“How’s Albert?”

“He’ll be fine. The infection was still in the initial stage. I drained it, then dressed it. I’ll keep an eye on it, but it should start scabbing by the end of the week and he can go back to work. It’s not a good idea to work him until then, not if you want him as good as new.”

George T. nodded an affirmative, then picked up his fork to eat something he never remembered.

Julia walked up behind her son after the doctor retreated. She had prayed none of her children would know what it felt like to lose a spouse or a child. All she could do was be there for him.

“Morton’s asleep. I’d like to visit with Motie before retiring for the night.”

Julia had talked so softly she wasn’t sure George T. had heard her; but he had. With elbows on the table, his forehead leaned against his folded hands. He nodded without his skin losing contact.

When Eliza emerged, she looked after Morton while Julia took her turn with Motie. With tears in her eyes, Eliza prayed for strength for herself, Julia and both Georges. She prayed the doctor would be successful in treating Motie and begged God not to take Motie from them. She just was not certain she could handle losing another daughter.

Eliza walked over to the baby. After checking to make sure he was still breathing, she walked to the kitchen looking for something to keep herself busy with. She grabbed a dirty bottle, washing it to the best of her ability with room temperature water from the pitcher. Then she made up some formula so it would be ready when Morton awoke.

With bloodshot eyes, Julia walked through the door, took the bottle from Eliza, lifted Morton, then climbed the stairs to her room.

Eliza’s husband had been sitting with George T. He now stood, walked over to his wife, and coaxed her up the stairs to their room.

Doc walked over to George T. “I’ve done all I can do. She’s resting comfortably. It’s in the Lord’s hands now. You should go in there and be with her. I’ll be nearby if you need me.”

Doc grabbed George T. by his left arm and helped him up off the chair he had been sitting in all evening. Doc knew George T. was in shock. Things had taken a turn for the worse rather quickly. Doc walked George to the chair in the room that was now sitting alongside the bed and gently pushed on a shoulder until George started to lower himself onto the chair. Then Doc left the room.

About fifteen minutes later, Doc heard George’s sobs sooner than he expected. Doc walked over to Motie and felt for a pulse. When he confirmed she was gone, he grabbed the blanket and covered her face. Before he walked out of the room to give the new widower some time to process the loss, he said, “I’ll be back in the morning. Try to get some sleep if you can.”