Part Six
Part Five
“Dean, may I speak to you for a moment?”
Snitch peeked over shoulder and pushed the door aside. “Jus’ a sec, I’m gonna put my dishes back ‘ere.”
“What are you going to talk to him about, pa?” Camilla wondered.
“It’s a matter of privacy.” Harry replied. “You go upstairs and rest. You’re going to need rest if you don’t want to be sick for your last month.”
Camilla agreed, rubbing her neatly protruded belly. Within two months, the baby had grown to such an extent that Camilla could hardly keep her head from spinning. One month was left, and she wasn’t sure how she could survive it, what with the baby growing continually and her illness returning ever so often.
“All right. I think I might go to sleep now. I’ve very tired and sore.”
“I told you that walking to the newsies’ lodging house today was overdoing it. Next time stick to just going around the blocks.”
“Yes, papa.” She kept her hand pressed against her side.
Harry watched her go up the stairs, then redirected his attention when Snitch entered the dining area. He took a seat across from Harry and folded his hands.
“Wassup?” he asked.
“I’m concerned about Camilla.”
“In what way?”
“Her baby.”
“What ‘bout that?”
“She seems to be…getting attached to it. Have you noticed that?”
Snitch had seen, even more than Harry would have assumed. “Yeah.”
Harry leaned over the tabletop slightly. “Then I want you to do me a favor.”
“What’s that?”
“See to it that Camilla doesn’t grow to attached to it.”
Snitch’s brow furled. “Why not?”
“She would only be setting herself up for heartbreak.”
“Cuz of th’ way it was made?”
“Yes, exactly. Dean,” he paused a brief minute. “Camilla’s been through so much in her life. She lost her mother once she was born, and has lost other loved ones, friends, and gone on a bumpy ride through going through being poor than to rich and to poor again. If she grows attached to this child, it would only hurt her more deeply.”
“Ya mean try t’ walk her out of th’ possibility that she might wanna keep it.”
“She can’t keep the baby.”
“Why?”
“Because it would be a constant reminder to her of everything she lost and what she had to endure to get everything back. Since you’ve come here, you’ve seen her improvement. She’s no longer paranoid and more like herself. If she wanted to keep that baby, she would only see what happened to her and it would destroy her.”
Snitch shrugged. “I don’t think so. It’s jus’ a baby. All babies need their mommies.”
“It’s a baby that was conceived abominably. If anyone knew of the way it was conceived, Camilla would be looked on with distain. It wouldn’t be fair to her.”
“I don’t think so. Camilla knows what’s best. She’s not afraid no more. Th’ baby ain’t had nothin’ t’ do with what happened. If anythin’, it’s th’ real victim in all this.”
“It’s destroyed Camilla’s life.”
“It did for a liddle while. But look at ‘er now. She almost seems happier now than she’s ever been. “
“For the wrong reason.”
“Harry, I don’t wanna argue with ya at all. All I know right now is that Camilla knows ‘er own heart. She does plan on givin’ th’ baby up after it’s born. But if she ‘as second thoughts, it is her own decision. What if she gave th’ kid up when she din’t want to? Do ya think she’d ever get over that?”
“Under the circumstances of how it came to be? Yes.”
Snitch didn’t want to admit it, but Harry sounded so heartless about this poor baby. Snitch knew that if Camilla gave the baby up, she would never, ever recover. He had seen the way she looked when she tenderly stroked the sides of her belly and hummed quietly so no one could hear. She would be such a wonderful mother to her daughter.
Pressing his lips together, Snitch pondered what he should do in this situation. As much as he loved Camilla, he also had a strong respect for her father. Harry was only concerned for his daughter’s well being. If only he knew that his concern would only leave a permanent scar on Camilla’s heart.
“I’m gonna go talk t’ Camilla.” Snitch said, pushing his chair back and rising from his seat.
“Are you going to talk to her about what I’ve said?” Harry questioned.
“I’m jus’ gonna talk t’ her an’ find out her feelins. I gotta know what she’s feelin’ before I talk t’ her about anythin’.”
“You’d better take care of her.”
“I will.”
The smile that spread across Harry’s face gave Snitch a small boost in confidence. Harry trusted and approved of him. But could he live up to Harry’s expectations? The one thing Snitch knew of for certain was the way he felt about Camilla. If he chose to side with Camilla, would he lose Harry’s respect? And if he sided with her father, would she still love him?
Snitch inhaled deeply as he left the dining area. He mouthed a quick prayer as he climbed the stairs, praying that the decision he made would be for the best; not just for him, but for Camilla’s daughter as well.
* * *
Camilla stared long into the mirror after slipping her nightdress on. It was a light sky blue color with pink and purple flowers and fitted her pregnant body perfectly. She now had the curvaceous body she had always wanted. Being the seemingly unhealthy skinny girl she had been before her pregnancy, she had always wanted a body to be proud of. Now she would have it at the price of stretch marks and other side affects she was not yet aware of.
When the baby kicked, a dreamy smile decorated her face and she touched the place where the tiny feet were moving. Her feet were now close to Camilla’s ribcage, indicating that she was turning toward the birthing position. Oh, it would be wonderful to hold her newborn daughter in her arms, to nurse her from her own body and nurture her…
Suddenly, the dark memory of her baby’s conception swarmed her mind. Since that event, she had felt violated and filthy. It was as though an invisible grime covered her from her head to toe that she couldn’t wash off, no matter how hard she scrubbed or what soaps she used when she bathed. She could feel the grime clinging to her skin with grubby claws, refusing to release.
Having this baby had gone from barbaric to bittersweet. At first, she wanted the baby to die and prayed for a miscarriage. But now that she was used to the baby and was seeing the wonder in its growth, she didn’t know how she could part with it. Once the baby was born, she would not hold, touch, or even look at her. She would be given to the midwife, who would take the baby to the orphanage. And the very thought twisted Camilla’s heart.
She climbed into her bed and set her head down softly on her pillow. Before long, her tears spilled onto the pillow. Her life made no sense. She was violated and shamed by one man’s selfish lusts, and she was carrying his child. She carried a child that she was growing to love and accept as her own.
Sniffling, she pulled her legs up and hugged them to her swollen stomach. Why must having this baby hurt so much? Why couldn’t she just have it without the feelings she had now? And why couldn’t she shake the memory of that man and what he did to her?
A simple knock on her door sent her flying to a seated position and a fierce scrubbing away of her tears. She did her best to look presentable, but fought a losing battle. Knowing her appearance was the way it was, she swallowed down her emotions and said, “Come in.”
When she saw Snitch, she blushed. She looked like a total nutcase and felt simply awful. She turned her head away.
“Camilla?” he questioned.
“What are you doing here?”
“I came t’ see ya. You okay?”
“I’m fine.” She answered all too quickly.
“Ya can’t fool me.”
A tear slipped from her eye. “Please go away. I don’t want you here right now.”
“Why not?”
“Because I wish I was dead right now!”
Unable to withhold her emotions any longer, she bent over, covered her face with her hands and sobbed. Snitch went to her, knelt in front of her and took her hands from her face and held them in his.
“Don’t cry, Camilla. Everythin’s fine. Everythin’s gonna stay fine.”
“No, it won’t.”
“Why do ya wish you was dead now?”
“Because I can’t get over the way I feel.”
“How do you feel?”
“Sullied and heartbroken!” she looked up at him, tears leaving red streaks on her face. “I just want everything over with right here and now.”
“Can ya be more specific?”
“I love her.” She tugged one hand free and set it on her stomach. “I can’t let her go. I just can’t.”
His heart softened at the sincerity in her voice. “I know. I’ve seen th’ way ya treat ‘er.”
“But I can’t be her mother. I can’t get over how she was made. I feel so…so…”
“So what?”
“Filthy and dishonored, and I can’t get rid of this dirty way I feel! I feel like what happened it just covering me and I can’t wash it off!”
She pulled out of his grip completely and lay back down again. Then she rolled onto her other side and set her back to Snitch.
“I hate the way I feel. I feel sick and sore and stiff. My ankles are so swollen, and my baby won’t stop kicking. I want to have her and hold her and watch her in my arms…but I feel so unworthy to be her mother. It tears my heart.”
She cried into her pillow, hoping it would drown her pessimistic feelings that warred in her head. When it did no good, she confessed again.
“I feel like I will never be clean again.” She stammered from choked sobs. “I’ll never be the same after this. And then I can’t keep what I carried through so much trial and it’s destroying my body. I feel like I will be used for this one purpose, and then never used again.”
Snitch pitied her like never before. He ached for her in ways that she did not understand. He felt stabs whenever she mentioned what had happened to her. When she cried, she tore at his heart. If only he could comfort her. He wanted to touch her, but if he did now, he would hurt her even more than that man ever did.
In the fragile emotional state she was in, there was little he could think of to help her in any way. He frowned thoughtfully, wracking his brain for any ideas that could help her. Silently, he wished he could seek Pie Eater in this, knowing he would probably have a good idea for him here and now.
Then, something caught Snitch’s eye. It was something he had never noticed before. On the nightstand next to Camilla’s bed, her mother’s leather-bonded, disarrayed Bible was resting with several bookmarks tucked between the faded gold rimmed pages. An idea swiftly came to mind, and as he elaborated, he grew more confident that what he was ready to do was the right thing.
“Ya got your mama’s Bible there.” He finally said, gesturing at the book.
“Yes.” Camilla murmured.
“Been readin’ it?”
She nodded. “I’ve been looking at my mother’s favorite passages, hoping to find some comfort. But it only makes me feel worse.”
“What parts ya lookin’ at?”
“Proverbs thirty-one, the one about the wife of character.” She sighed. “That was mama’s favorite. Papa says she abided by those verses all her life. But when I read them, I feel like I’ll never be that way.”
“Have ya read anythin’ that seems t’ help?”
“The only other thing I’ve read is the story of David’s daughter Tamar and her being raped by her half-brother. I know exactly how she felt.”
“If ya read it more, ya’d find stuff t’ help ya. Ya jus’ gotta look in th’ right places.”
A soft smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “Can you suggest anything?”
“How ‘bout John chapter thirteen?”
“I’m not familiar with that one.”
He rose to his feet. “Do me a favor. Read over the last half of th’ chapter while I’m gone.”
“Where are you going?”
“I’ll be back. I’m just gonna take care ‘f somethin’ real quick.” He took the Bible and placed it in her lap. “Trust me on this one.”
She watched him as he left her bedroom. When the door closed, her sight fell to the one treasure of her mother’s that had ever made Camilla feel close to her. The thought of knowing her mother’s fingers had touched these pages and her thoughts focusing on the words brought Camilla the only closeness she could ever find to the woman who had given her life and had died in the process.
Hands trembling slightly, Camilla lifted the book to another position and opened it to the book and chapter Snitch had told her to look at. As she read over it, her brow furled confusedly at what he had meant by reading this story. She had heard it several times before at church. She read it over again to see if she could find the concept of why Snitch had told her to read it.
After reading over it a third time, she heard the soft tapping at her door. Then the door creaked open and Snitch peeked in.
“Safe for me t’ look in?” he asked.
“It’s safe.”
He entered the room and shut the door behind him quickly. Then he stood at the door with one hand still grasping the doorknob.
“What’s the point of this story?” Camilla inquired, somewhat annoyed.
