The Midnight Barn

The Grandfather clock was striking when Betty awoke to a scream. Nestled under the quilt, she listens to the twelve strikes, wondering if it was real or a fragment from her dream. Not a single horse neighed on Midnight farm as the widow closed her eyes, ready to drift back into the serenity of sleep. Moments later, an undeniable howl of pain and a horse’s bray has her sitting up. Heart beating fast as she swings her feet to the chilled floor and moves toward the window. Outside she sees the barn, spotting nothing out of the ordinary, including the sharp pierce to her heart.

With no children of her own, despite her daily prayers and years of trying, the horses had become her children. One tragic night shattered the illusion the barn was a haven. Now, it was a testament to Betty becoming a childless widow, and there was no cure for the storm of pain that lived inside her soul.

She shakes away the painful memories as she dresses for her investigation. Once dressed, she walks past the empty bedrooms she hoped her children would fill, ignoring the familiar heartache. She grabs a lantern from the kitchen and becomes paralyzed as her hand lands on the doorknob. Bile rises as she recalls her last midnight trip. Steeling herself, she hears a groan as she’s opening the door and stepping into the chilly March air.

Stars sparkle across the black velvet sky as the moonlight creates a halo around the barn. For a moment, she marvels at the beauty of a night sky in the country. The instant peace sedates her for a moment before pushing the familiar doors open. Her lantern shines on a wild-eyed teenage girl panting on a blanket. The horses greet her from the stalls with nickers and snorts. Sweaty tendrils of hair stick to the teen’s forehead as she keeps both hands on her round stomach. She shrinks back as if she can melt into the shadows.

“Hello, I’m Betty, and who are you?”

“Rose”

“Such a beautiful flower. Do you need me to take you to the hospital?” Betty asks, keeping her tone casual.

“NO!” the girl sounds adamant. “No one can know.” Rose shakes her head, fresh tears filling her round blue eyes.

“Your mother has no idea?” Betty asks. She steps toward Thunderbolt, her stallion, and rubs his nose.

“No, or I’d be in a home for unwed mothers preparing to deliver my baby into the care of nuns.”

“What is your plan, dear?” Betty sinks on the blanket beside the scared girl. Her motherly instinct kicks in, and she feels compelled to protect her.

Before Rose can answer, another contraction tears through her midsection. She grunts, screwing her eyes shut, and Betty responds by taking her hand. Rose squeezes, and Betty feels a rush of warmth run through her. Oh, how scared this girl must be!

“Everyone says you help your horses deliver. I thought…” Rose trails off, staring at her stomach.

“When did your water break?”

“While I was walking here.”

Betty nods, her brain scrambling to process this information. “You’re planning to give birth here with my horses?”

Rose nods, her youthful face flushed, but Betty can feel the terror radiating off of her.

“My mother was a midwife, and I helped my sister deliver one of her babies. Is that why you came here?” Betty says.

Rose nods again, framing her hands around her protruding stomach; she turns her tear-stained face to Betty. “I grasp I’m not the first unwed mother to say this, but I thought it was love.”

“How old are you, Rose?”

“17”

Betty needs to get this mother-to-be to trust her enough to check her progress. The memory of her mother explaining dilation as she helped deliver the neighbor’s baby comes clear as glass.

“The first time I saw Tommy, my heart grew wings as foolish as it sounds. Those eyes, the color of a summer morning, and his smile was the sunshine. I basked in it; I felt warm and beautiful. Our first date was to get burgers and fries, but we laughed the entire time.”

“Did you go steady after that? It’s 1966. Do people still say that?” Betty says, grateful the teen started a conversation.

Rose smiles at the memory. “Yeah, burgers and fries soon became pick up and drive. Every morning he would be leaning on his truck, waiting for me to drive me to school. After school, and he’d drive me home too, and some nights stay for dinner with my folks and me.”

She stops talking, breaths deeply, screws her eyes shut and leans forward. Betty swallows down her panic; she needs to check and get supplies.

“I’m going to wash my hands and get supplies. Will you be ok?” Betty asks.

With rapid steps, she leaves the barn and steps into the chilly air, which helps steady her nerves. The last barn surprise was helpless, and she could do nothing but endure the worst heartbreak. This time, she can help this young girl. The rural community they reside in would eat her alive for being an unwed mother. Could they leave the baby in a basket on a doorstep, or is the girl planning to run away with her newborn?

She finds Rose praying when she returns with clean hands and supplies, including pillows and blankets. Betty doesn’t want to interrupt, so she pauses in the open doorway.

“Dear Lord, I understand I sinned, but in my heart, I was doing it for love. Things done in love should omit the sin. Please, bring this child into the world safely and bless this child with a wonderful life.”

Thunderbolt watches from his stall as her mares, Buttercup, and Bonnie, sleep. Betty leaves the barn door opening, letting moonlight creep in, and the chilly wind blows through, as she can see Rose relaxing with the addition of cool air.

“Can I check you, Rose? I need to see how much your labor has progressed.”

“Yes,” she says, her voice small. “It’s nice not to have to hide my body anymore. Worrying, my younger sister would burst into the bathroom, and my mother was making comments about how chubby I’d been getting. It’s a miracle; I’ve kept it hidden this long.”

“Did you ever tell Tommy?” Betty asks, helping the teen out of her button-up pajamas, revealing her rotund stomach.

“Yeah, I told him. Oh, this feels so much better. I felt like I was overheating.” Rose sighs.

“Tommy pretended to be supportive of me, wanting to wait until my wedding night. He would talk about returning from college to marry me in our church and how angelic I would look in my gown.”

The teen lays down, placing her pajama top over her chest and her legs bent but pressed together. After gaining consent, she’s surprised to find she’s fully dilated.

The pregnant teen moans and elicits a hissing sound. Her pain is enough that she looks drunk with her unfocused eyes and wobbling. “It’s a tale as old as time. He told me if I loved him, I wouldn’t make him wait. Trust me, he said, and I did even though my mind screamed no. My heart couldn’t bear the idea of losing him.”

Betty rubs her back as a heart-wrenching sob escapes Rose’s lips, “When I told him, I imagined he would promise to marry me. I got the nightmare instead of a dream. I got a football scholarship to State, and I’m not giving it up for this. I asked him what he supposed I should do, and he told me to figure things out for myself. It felt like I was being cleaved in two when he told me it was over, and he hoped things would work out for me.”

“You’re not alone. I’m here for you. Rose, you can do this. It’s almost time to push.”

The next contraction has Rose gripping Betty’s hand so hard; she worries the bones might break. The mother-to-be looks pale and sweaty.

“I thought things would be worse if I didn’t,” Rose says bitterly, staring at her stomach. “A few weeks later, my mornings started over the porcelain throne. Weeks passed, and not one spot of blood. I couldn’t stomach the idea of telling my Catholic mother, and I choose to hide this secret.”

A gut-wrenching sob escapes this time. “Tommy left me alone with this pain and no options. Men have options; they can stay or walk away. No one will judge him as he walks down Main street. They won’t whisper behind their back and call him names. We both did the same thing, but I’m the only one with a ruined future. The woman’s sin is visible, and the men’s remain invisible. He’s the one at State right now while I’m delivering our child inside a barn.”

Betty’s heart broke listening to the universal truth Rose spoke of, the plight of women in this world designed for men. Unwed mothers faced barriers that unwed fathers didn’t. She had learned the hard way; the wife is to blame for infertility issues every time she saw blame shining from her husband’s family. Time was progressing, but in 1966 limited options still existed for women, especially pregnant women. As Betty watches the teen struggle with her inner demons, she prays this girl will be brave enough to slay them.

“Tell me your story, Betty,” the girl says weakly.

“I married Walt three months after I turned 18. He worked for my father, and we were head over heels in love. Being one of six kids, I always imagined a home full of children, but my hope faded out as the years passed. Every month, like clockwork, I bled, and finally, Walt had enough of me wishing for a baby. Tired of watching me knit baby blankets and booties I would never use. We each found our comforts, one with horses and the other with the bottle.”

The widow goes silent as she listens to Rose’s heavy breath and watches her stomach move with life.

“One night, during a foolish fight about his drinking, he blamed me for not giving him something worth sobriety. I went up to bed alone, passing the empty bedrooms, my heart feeling heavy; I couldn’t fill them.”

She rubbed Rose’s back, who was panting. The time was coming for Rose to push. The stable that had witnessed a horrific death was about to see the start of a new life.

“It was after midnight when the horses started making a commotion. Surprised to see Walt’s side of the bed was empty, I headed for the barn. The worst moment of my life as I found Walt swinging from the rafters. It’s a miracle that my scream didn’t wake up this whole town.” She pauses. “My pain, I spoke out loud to him, but he buried his deep and let it infect him. I never imagined I would be a widow at 35, nor did I ever imagine that Walt would leave this world by his own hand.”

Betty exhales all the torment and haunted memories as Rose retakes her hand. “Silly me, thinking the worst pain I would ever feel is life without children when it was being a widow. The second was feeling responsible for my husband’s death. It’s a suffocating way to live and why I’ve considered selling this farm. But my horses are all I have left.”

They lapse into silence. Thunderbolt snorts, and the wind whistles through the rafters as the night creeps towards the day. Soon, Rose moans and explains how much pressure she is feeling.

As Betty pulls the blanket back, she sees the crown of the baby's head.

“Rose, it’s showtime, time to push.”

“Betty, I can’t do this!”

“You can do this. Inside every woman rests a strength that would put any man to shame. We were born to do this, and you will do this, dear. God designed our bodies to bring forth life.”

Rose nods, snot and tears mingling on her face, her cheeks pink with exertion as she moves to a squat with Betty ready to catch the baby.

“Push!” Betty says, and Rose yells, sending the horses into a serenade of noise. Betty uses her calming voice as if she has been delivering babies every single night for years. Ten minutes later, the baby’s head comes forth.

“Come on, Rose, almost done!” This time, the baby slides out, and the widow catches the slippery new life, but her heart falls for a second as she struggles to maintain a good grip.

“It’s a girl, it’s a baby girl,” Betty says, heart-bursting open as she looks at Rose, exhausted but shining as she reaches out for the baby. She wraps a blanket around the tiny body and brings it down to Rose, helping her prop herself up on the pillows.

The girl, not yet an adult, cradles the new life that she made in the backseat of a pickup truck. The father is miles away, oblivious to the fact he’s entered fatherhood. Rose kisses the top of the newborn’s head and turns her beaming face to the woman who delivered her child.

“I never knew I could love someone this much.” She gushes, amazement dripping from every word. “Thank you, Betty” They exchange a smile of appreciation for having helped each other. Rose, didn’t have to wake her mother up, have her drive her to a hospital, and deal with the consequences her unwed pregnancy would bring. Betty found a healing balm after a tough year without Walt, and her stable witnessed something beautiful. She hoped this light would drive out the ghosts that lingered in the shadows.

Betty busies herself with cutting the umbilical cord and helping her deliver the placenta as the new mother cradles her daughter, eyes drinking up every inch of the baby as she counts the fingers and toes.

“I’m going to name her Hope.”

Betty yawns. “Hope, I like that.”

“I want her name to remind her of what she should never lose.”

Rose turns down Betty’s pleas to head inside the house, saying she likes the peacefulness with Thunderbolt keeping watch. Betty returns inside to rinse up and bring water for the new mother to drink. When she returns, she leans back on one of the unused pillows, drifting into sleep as she watches Rose nurse her little girl.

The baby’s cries tug Betty out of sleep as she finds the newborn bundled up next to her. She looks around for Rose as she picks up the baby.

“There, there,” Betty says, feeling exhausted but overjoyed at the sight of the baby. Beneath the baby, she sees a folded-up piece of paper that bears her name. Opening it, she sees a letter and her heart thunders as she reads.

Dear Betty,

Thank you for the generosity you showed Hope and me last night. I can not take this baby home to my mother. Times are changing, that’s true, but I’m not brave enough to take the hard road of single motherhood. The only way I can leave Hope behind is if she becomes yours.

Her name is Hope because I want her to keep a seed of hope alive. I want her to chase fireflies in the summer and ice skate in the winter. Hope should have bedtime stories and cookies baking in the oven. Someone to teach her values and someone to comfort her on her bad days. I believe God brought me to your farm for a reason, and you are the mother that Hope deserves. My only ask is that you teach her to reach for her dreams and anything they tell her a woman can’t do, tell her she can. Raise her with independence and resilience. Make her like you, Betty.

Love always,

Rose

Betty puts the letter down and takes the bundle to the open barn doors. A seed of hope that Betty has held sprouts and blossoms inside as she lets herself become a mother. Hope quiets as they stand at the barn’s entrance, watching the sunrise over Midnight farm.