The Skye in June Read Free

nothing.
    “Take a wee peek at the baby. She’s lovely.” Cathy nodded her head toward the bassinet.
    He hesitated and she wondered if her husband was afraid if this baby, like the last one––shrieked bloody murder when he held her. N o doubt, she thought, the reaction from the baby was from the smell of whiskey on his breath. This time she smelled no alcohol on him.
    Jimmy rose slightly to lean over it. The baby ’s eyes fluttered then suddenly opened wide. He pulled away. “Looks like your mother, staring at me with those watery blue eyes.”
    Although she understood he must be tired from work, she was in no mood to listen to his grouchiness. Staring him squarely in the eye, she retorted, “I was thinking she looked like your mother.”
    Jimmy leaned in closer, clutching the blanket in his thick calloused fingers. “Don’t you speak ill of the dead. You hear me, woman?”
    Cathy was afraid Jimmy’s rough Glaswegian voice was embarrassingly loud. She quickly glanced around the ward to see if the other women could hear them quarrelling. They were busy with their own babies and paid no heed to the MacDonalds. She bit back her angry words, not wanting to add to the tension between her husband and herself.
    He took a deep breath and said more quietly, “Shouldne be taking time off work, but I just wanted to see you.” He gave her a weak smile.
    She didn ’t smile back.
    “Your mother’s already getting on my nerves telling me how to take care of my girls,” he complained.
    “Tsk. She’s just trying to be helpful, Jimmy.”
    “When are you coming home?” he bleated.
    “ Dr. MacFadden thinks I need to stay a wee bit longer.”
    “ What’s he know about what we need?” he snarled. “Me and the lassies need you at home. That’s where you belong, woman.”
    Cathy was afraid she ’d say the wrong thing and upset him, which was easy to do, so she said nothing.
    He said, “Speaking of my mother. . .I’ve been thinking about this for a while. Just in case you didne give me a son again, I’m naming the baby Elizabeth, in her memory.”
    She had no choice but to tell him the truth. Cathy knew the name she chose was not the kind of name given to a Catholic baby. It was Catholic tradition to name a child in honor of a saint. There were no saints with this name. “I’ve named her already,” she said hurriedly. “It’s June. And I’ve made up my mind on that.”
    Jimmy leaned away from his wife with an incredulous look on his face.
    “What do you mean you’ve made up your mind? Och, stop your blethering about you’ve made up your mind. What’s wrong with you?”
    With her mouth set in determination, Cathy thought how cruel he could be at times. It ’s my wean. I gave birth to her, she argued inwardly. She looked directly into her husband’s eyes. His haggard face caused her to reconsider continuing the quarrel. It was true that he was more bad-tempered than ever since taking a second job. Still his hard work had afforded them a larger, more expensive new flat with a separate bedroom for the girls, an inside bathroom with a large bathtub and even a parlor, Cathy’s favorite room. It was much nicer than their previous cold-water flat with a kitchen, one small room and a toilet in the outside hallway that was shared with two other families. Her faced softened and she leaned back on the pillow.
    “ Look hen, that’s a heathen name,” he said. “She’s no a pagan baby. I’ve picked a name. A good Catholic name––a saint’s name. You know she’s got to be named for a saint. All our girls are named after Catholic holy women; Katherine, Anne, Margaret, Mary, and Helen.”
    A fiery anger filled Cathy ’s stomach, spreading upward past her heart and lungs. She didn’t want to hear him sweet-talk her with hen or any other pet name. “Jimmy! Just this once I’ve decided something. Just once. I’ve said that I’ve made up my mind and that’s that! If you don’t like it. . .” she hesitated