It Takes A Village

The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window. Scarlett stood looking out into the forest around her, wondering how long she would have to wait. The baby was crying. Again. Still. “Shh, little one, shh,” she rocked the infant back and forth, back and forth. “Daddy will be here soon,” she said, hopefully.

She checked her phone. No signal. It was fully charged from the car, which sat in front of the cabin looking out of place against the backdrop of ancient, towering trees. She strained her neck, trying to see as far as she could up the path where Aiden had disappeared what felt like days ago. But it was shrouded in darkness. The time on her phone told her it had only been about three hours. Nightfall had come swiftly and suddenly.

Her mother would be worried, she knew. They had been en route to visit her parents, to introduce them to the baby. In a lot of ways, pandemic life had given everyone a taste of what the day to day must have been like decades ago, centuries ago - before people could hop in a car or jump on a plane to go see their loved ones. At least these days we could connect at the touch of a button. She looked at her phone again. Most of the time, anyway.

She shivered against the chill, wrapping her arms a little more tightly around Lily. She had never in her life been anywhere without electricity. Regret at never taking Aiden up on his many offers to go camping filled her in that moment. As she stood there, rocking her baby, she realised she had absolutely no clue what she should do if he didn’t come back with help soon.

Her mind wandered back a few hours to the moments that had led them here.

A wooden sign that indicated there was a child-friendly rest stop had risen into their view as they rounded a bend on the long, winding road. Thank God, she had thought - Lily’s cries were starting to become unbearable in the enclosed space of the car. Maternal urgency drowned out any alarm bells that might have sounded otherwise, like how there were no mapped rest stops on this route for another thirty miles.

As they followed the sign, the road they had been on was quickly cut off from view by enveloping trees that cloaked the path leading them into the woods. Right as she was about to ask Aiden to turn back around, a quaint cabin materialised. It seemed this is where the signs ended, at the self-proclaimed “Mother’s Corner.” While this was certainly not what Scarlett had been expecting, Lily’s skull-piercing screams left no room for questions.

Almost in tears herself, Scarlett hurriedly unbuckled her baby and rushed up the steps towards the front door. Someone must work here; the cabin looked old, but well-kept. She tried to compose herself as she approached, assuming that she would find someone within at some form of reception. She raised her hand to knock, and stopped. At eye-level, nailed to the wooden door, was a piece of parchment that was impossible to miss:

Greetings, Mother. Find rest here

For yourself, and your child.

Welcome within, take without fear -

Tame your needs grown wild.

Scarlett raised an eyebrow. “Hello?” she called out. Surely someone in a ren-fair costume was going to flounce out any minute. But there was not a peep, aside from the slight creak of the floorboards beneath her feet as she stood there with Lily bawling in her arms. Aiden was taking a piss barely hidden by the trees.

She put her hand on the vintage knob and the door gave way almost immediately. It swung open gently to reveal a sun-dappled idyllic scene. Small but cosy, the cabin and its contents had been impeccably maintained. Part of Scarlett was enthralled; what was this sweet little haven? It was indeed perfectly set up for a weary mother to take a moment’s peace.

The vintage rocking chair by the window, with its plush cushion overlay and knit blankets, beckoned her over to sit down and feed Lily. The place was spotless. Scarlett rushed over and nestled in with the baby, who nuzzled angrily for her breasts. The young mother winced at the pang of her letdown. It always hurt a little bit, just before release.

As Lily started to settle, Scarlett felt her own heart rate calming. For a brief moment, motherhood felt like all she had dreamed it would be, as she sat rocking in the afternoon sunlight looking out onto nature.

Aiden brought in the travel bassinet, and Lily didn’t stir as Scarlett transferred her into it after her long feed. Talking in hushed tones, the couple explored the cabin as quickly as they could without disturbing their sleeping child. It was - or had been - someone’s residence, obviously. It was a two-room cabin with a rustic kitchen, a copper bath in the bedroom, and an outhouse. The lack of running water soured Scarlett on the place somewhat; otherwise she could have quite happily stayed here for days, she thought, as she checked on Lily’s serene breathing.

There was a basket full of fresh fruit, a pantry full of dried goods, and a heavy armoire full of bedding and such. There was even a stack of old-fashioned cloth nappies in one corner beside the linens. Every door had a handwritten note on parchment, with a reminder to take what was needed. Scarlett furrowed her brow. Who would give away so much for nothing?

She eyed the basket of fruit, wondering if she really could take one. Breastfeeding meant she was constantly peckish, and the apples looked crisp and sweet. She offered one to Aiden but he declined; he had pulled out his phone and mentioned in surprise that he barely had any reception.

She bit into the apple. It delivered on its promise with a satisfying crunch. She licked juicy droplets off her lips, relishing every morsel. Temporarily sated, she felt her mood lift. She went over and gave her husband a hug, who responded with a mindless squeeze in response.

A soft cry told her Lily was awake. She went over to the bassinet and looked down. Eyes closed in peaceful slumber, her baby was silent. Scarlett must have imagined the cry. Every mother knows that feeling: the cries winding into every moment, real or not.

Scarlett watched Lily’s chest rising and falling gently. If she didn’t wake soon, they would have to try to transfer her to the car. There wasn’t much time left before sunset with hours to drive yet. As she stood enjoying her daughter’s undisturbed rest, the faintest cry sounded again.

“Did you hear that?” she turned to Aiden.

“Hear what?”

“Th-the baby crying, can you hear it?” she was turning her head, trying to pinpoint where it was coming from.

“The only thing I hear is you, babe,” Aiden sighed.

Scarlett’s heart skipped a beat. “Are you sure? It’s very faint, I think it’s…” she wandered over to the furthest corner of the cabin from where Aiden stood. There was a bedroom back there that looked like a snapshot out of a country cottage magazine.

Scarlett stepped through the door. She walked slowly around the room, loath to touch anything in here. The wooden four-poster bed, the rocking baby bassinet, the copper bath; it was all so perfectly perfect. On the wall facing the bed, there was a wash station with a mirror. The frame was easily the most ornate thing in this cabin. Scarlett stepped closer, looking at the twining, vining design. It was beautiful, and uncommon.

She gasped. A faint movement made her start back from the mirror and look behind her. The off-white muslin curtains that framed the window fluttered slightly, despite the windows being closed. There must be a draught, she thought, trying to calm herself.

Her steps sounded loudly against the wooden floor as she went back out to Aiden.

“I think it’s time to go, let’s get the baby.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “Aren’t you always telling me not to wake a sleeping baby?”

“Yes, but that’s when we’re in our own environment. Not in the middle of God knows where with no reception and hours to go on the road,” she snapped.

“Have you had your meds today?” he asked pointedly.

Scarlett winced. “Of course I have, Aiden. I’m not stupid.”

He threw his hands up in mock surrender. “Sorry. I just know… it’s been hard for you, having the baby.” He didn’t meet her eyes as he said that.

A hard lump arose in her throat and tears burned her eyes. So was this how it was going to be now, every time she worried or questioned something, would it be blamed on “the baby blues”?

“Let’s just go.”

Aiden shrugged again. “You’re the boss.”

Scarlett rolled her eyes, spinning on her heel towards Lily. “Shh, shh, little one,” she cooed as she picked her daughter up gingerly. Aiden quickly folded the now-empty travel bassinet and returned it back to the car boot. He hopped into the driver’s seat and turned the car on. Or at least he tried to; he pressed the button once, twice, thrice and was met with no response from the machine.

“Fuck!” he leaned his head into the seat behind him as he brought his hands up to his face.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Scarlett, this isn’t my fucking fault, okay?” he snapped.

And then she stood there, helpless, as he worked out what to do from here. He had brought the bassinet back inside, followed by the other baby supplies she might need. Better safe than sorry.

“I’m just going to pop back up the path to the road to get a signal, okay? When someone meets me there I’ll come back here for you both.” He let the nappy bag drop to the floor.

“Aiden, I really don’t… I don’t like this place,” she looked up beseechingly.

Annoyance etched hard lines into his face then. “Well, we wouldn’t have ended up here if you hadn’t needed to find somewhere to get out of the car to feed the baby. I told you to just use formula,” he bit out, and immediately softened. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Scarlett. That wasn’t fair of me,” he sighed, running his hands through his hair. “But I can’t do anything other than go get help. I’ve checked everything I know how to fix on the car and I don’t know what else to do. I’m sorry,” he looked into her eyes apologetically. “The path isn’t that long, I should be back with help by nightfall.”

Then he walked out, the sound of his steps crunching up the path back towards the road.

After standing on the porch staring at the spot where she last saw him for interminable minutes, Scarlett was roused from stasis when Lily started to grumble again. She turned back around and walked into the cabin as the day’s light started to wane. While hunting for light switches that didn’t exist, she realised the oil lamp on the kitchen counter and the candles in the drawers were going to have to be her sources of illumination. At least she was competent enough to do that. She set about starting a fire after lighting the oil lamp to alleviate the chill.

Once that was going, the cabin was filled with a warm glow. The gentle crackling of the flames was small comfort against the eerie quietness of the woods. Lily was temporarily lulled by the flickering sounds and the dancing light emanating from the fireplace. Scarlett took her chance to find some of those candles she had spotted while being nosy earlier. She wanted to light one on every window sill, in case it helped Aiden make his way back.

She found some long, thin candles in the kitchen drawers and lit as many of those as she could around the cabin. Still unsettled in herself, even as Lily for once was uncustomarily content, Scarlett kept looking. If only to have something to do to distract her from the torturously slow passage of time while she waited. The faint wailing had stopped, thankfully.

She wandered over to a wooden writing bureau. Mahogany, she thought. She ran her finger across some of the detailing, and pulled the slanting top down. It was modest in style and size, with only a few compartments. Some sheaths of vintage paper remained, and a pewter dip pen was tucked away in its case along with a couple of pots of ink in one of the recesses. Scarlett carefully opened the small doors of the bureau to see what else lay within.

She found a few candles, fatter than the ones from the kitchen. As she pulled them out, some sheaves of paper meandered out. Scarlett frowned as she gently spread the pages out onto the bureau. A twinge of guilt made her hesitate as she realised these looked like letters. She positioned the oil lamp to read by, and just as she started to skim the words - screeeeech!

She flung her head in the direction of the sound, her heart pounding. It was the high-pitched friction of wood against wood, of hinges ill-fitting. She flitted over to Lily and scooped her out of the bassinet, rousing the child from her hypnosis as she watched the flames dance. As Lily started crying again, Scarlett stepped slowly to the side of the cabin where the bedroom sat. The creak had come from this corner, and her mind raced over what she should do. Babe in arms, stuck in the woods at night with no means of contacting anyone, what options did she have? With a quick turn to pick up the oil lamp, she walked resolutely towards the bedroom. She had no choice.

“Hello?” she croaked. “Is… is anyone there? I’m sorry if I, i-if we shouldn’t be here,” she trailed off. The bedroom looked as implausibly perfect by lamplight as it had in the afternoon sun. Her breath caught again as she saw a gentle rustle of pale fabric.

It was the muslin curtains, fluttering again. As a cold blast of air touched her face, she could see the window was now open. She forced herself over to it and tried to push it closed. Its high-pitched creek in protest confirmed that this was the culprit; while the cabin was well-built and even better-maintained, the years had obviously taken their toll on the frames. She popped Lily on the floor to lean against it with her full weight, and the window finally gave in.

There, she thought. All is well. You are fine. Lily is fine. You are safe. Creaky cabin or no, this was a mantra she had been repeating to herself before she had even given birth. Buoyed by her own bravery, she smiled. She picked up the oil lamp in one hand, with Lily cradled in the other arm. She had candles to finish lighting; one for every room.

That task complete, and with Lily fed and sleeping again, Scarlett found herself back at the bureau staring at the letters. She fingered the top-most sheet gently, bargaining with herself over whether or not to read these. In the end, it was spotting the date that settled it. The letters had to be replicas, or part of some themed staging like most of the cabin seemed to be; there is no way that this paper was over 170 years old.

May 29th, 1852

Dearest Alice,

Your kindness truly knows no bounds. The basket of sweetmeats brightened my day; it was very brave of Charles to venture out this far from the village to deliver it for me. You have raised such a dear boy - his father would have been immensely proud of his generosity of spirit. How I miss my brother, but seeing him live on in my nephew is sweet solace!

I often berate myself, on these long wakeful nights, for not waiting for a man more like my brother. I wonder if he would have dealt with you quite the same, if you were in my shoes. I hope you will not think me impertinent to indulge in these flights of fancy, and I mean no malice. My mind is tossed about like an ill-built ship on stormy seas, and I think that a stronger woman than I might weather this turbulence better.

All in God’s plan, I accept. I do so wish I could see that plan for myself, to better understand what I must do. To better resolve myself to endure for as long as I must. Though we be sisters by marriage, I am certain there is now not a soul in this world who knows me as you do. While I am a mystery to myself, your letters reminding me of who I am and can be again are the beacon light guiding me home.

Write again soon! These days in solitude feel interminable, and it is only your letters and parcels that remind me I am still in the land of the living.

Yours gratefully,

Mary

Questions raced through Scarlett’s mind. Who was Mary? Was she real? Did it matter? Themed setup or no, she needed to know more. She thumbed through letter after letter, and noticed there were two distinct handwritings: that of Mary, and that of Alice. Why were all these letters together? Was this meant to be Mary’s cabin or Alice’s?

She read on. And on and on. As she pieced the story together, Scarlett felt herself growing clammy despite the chill.

Mary had lived with her baby, Vera, alone in this cabin. While there was a village not far off, Mary was almost entirely cut off from human contact save for the letters her sister-in-law sent to her. The community had grown hostile to the new mother, as her behavior grew more and more erratic. She cried uncontrollably, without provocation. Once, the village doctor had walked in on her swaying in one corner of the bedroom muttering to herself, ignoring the wailing baby in the bassinet. The final straw had been when Mary started taking nighttime walks, conversing with people long dead.

Murmurs of witchcraft started circulating, even though such nonsense was no longer fashionable to believe by 1852. Ideas were slow to change in secluded little villages. It might as well have been the middle ages in this corner of the world, and their treatment of her was accordingly medieval. Her husband had grown cold since before the child was even born, coming home for fewer and fewer hours each night. The evening after the doctor had been called and found her in the throes of a “hysterical fit,” Robert walked out and never returned. Alice wrote to Mary one day that the other villagers seemed to believe he had moved on to become the next little fish in a big town pond.

The villagers had been as scared of baby Vera as they were of Mary herself. The mother had only started losing touch with reality after the child came, so it stood to reason in their minds that the baby brought madness with her. And so, they had taken Mary to this cabin in the woods, which had belonged to one of the founding members of their community. They had taken her here, and they had locked her in, to keep her safe from wandering into the wild. She received regular deliveries of dried goods, fresh fruit and whatever rations of dairy and meat her village felt sufficient to keep her fed in the “Mother’s Corner.”

Scarlett’s hands shook as she rifled through letter after letter. She tried to tell herself this was a very well-executed role-playing scenario. Oh! It was probably one of those spooky weekend getaways. Whoever ran the facility must have just forgotten to lock the door when they were here last. Her mouth was dry as she tried to swallow.

As she hurriedly shuffled the letters back into the order she had found them, to the best of her recollection, one floated to the floor. She bent down to pick it up.

September 17th, 1852

To my daughter, Vera

My darling. My angel. My one saving grace.

I am sorry to have to leave you, but I fear I must choose between your life or mine. The creature that has been haunting this cabin grows bolder, and I must protect you at all costs. I have seen it lying in your place where you should be asleep. I know it is only a matter of time before it takes you away from me for good. The next time it steals into your crib, I will end this, no matter what that may mean for me.

Though your Aunt Alice has to hide her love for us, I know that she will find you a safe home. When you read this one day, I hope you are doing so with many years of happy memories between now and then.

No man is an island, and every mother needs her village. I am only sorry that I will not live to be a part of yours.

Forever with love,

Your mother, Mary

The faint sound of a baby crying rose again as Scarlett read the last words. Her heart was racing once more and it felt like her vision was closing in. This can’t be happening right now, she muttered to her uncooperative nervous system, my baby needs me.

Even though Lily was perfectly content in the bassinet, Scarlett needed to hold her. She picked the baby up and went over to the window that faced the path they had taken to arrive here. Lily started to cry again, drowning out the faint wailing that Scarlett knew didn’t belong to her child. “Shh, little one, shh,” she rocked the infant back and forth, back and forth.

Three hours since she had been alone in this place. Three hours too long. Imagine being locked here… for days. Weeks. Months. Scarlett shook her head. It’s just a story, she told herself. Just a story. Everything looks too new. The food is still fresh. This is someone’s game.

Lily’s cries were getting more and more insistent now, and Scarlett’s maternal instincts overrode all her other worries once more. She tried getting Lily back on the breast, but the child was writhing in distress and not even the smell of milk could entice her. Scarlett could feel the panic attack cresting and she could swear that she heard two cries, as loud as each other. Why can’t I do this, why can’t I be enough, why can’t I be…

As she sat swaying furiously in the rocking chair, the front door flung open. Scarlett screamed.

“Oh dear! I didn’t mean to frighten you,” said a warm, friendly voice from the doorway.

“Who the fuck are you?” she screeched.

A petite woman in a simple brown dress and apron stepped into the cabin. “Now, mind your language!” she tut-tutted. “The children pick it all up, you know, even from this young age.”

Scarlett’s breathing was still short, shallow and painful. She could see now there was a baby in this woman’s arms, too. Was this the child whose cries she had heard on and off all evening?

“Oh my god, I am so sorry. I honestly have no idea what is going on. Is this your place?”

The woman smiled. “Indeed it is! The Mother’s Corner is my very own.” Having closed the door behind her, she walked towards Scarlett. “Would you mind if I took a seat on the settee? That would be quite gracious,” she teased.

Scarlett was still flustered; she could barely think when Lily was crying in her arms like this. Every fiber of her consciousness was screaming at her to calm the baby down, and there was nothing left for polite chitchat. She burst into tears. She sobbed her apologies to the woman, and explained that they hadn’t meant to intrude upon her home.

“My cabin is open to all mothers who need it!” she beamed at Scarlett. “Don’t give it a second thought. Have you had anything to eat yet?”

“Just an apple.”

A glint in her eye, the woman nodded. “Let me fix us some supper. I was out trying to catch some game, but no luck today I’m afraid.”

“Please, I don’t want to be a bother. My husband should be back in just a minute,” Scarlett flushed with embarrassment.

“Ha! They all say that,” the woman laughed.

“I’m Scarlett. What’s your name?”

“Mary, dear. And this little one is Vera.”

Scarlett felt the blood drain from her face. “Oh. Oh! Do you run one of those themed weekend getaways? I noticed everything in here seems very… authentic.”

Mary chuckled. “Themed getaways? One might say that, I suppose.”

“Well, it’s all rather quaint. It’s awfully nice of you to leave this place open for parents.”

“Mothers, dear. Mothers. Once we become mothers, we have to be there for each other. The world abandons mothers, so we must carve out our own.”

“O-oh. Yes.” Scarlett thought back over the few months since she had had Lily. Soul-searing loneliness marred even the happiest memories she had of her daughter so far. How could the greatest love of all come hand-in-hand with this gut-wrenching solitude?

Vera was now contentedly playing on the floor. Older than Lily, though small for her age, she looked at Scarlett with wide-eyed curiosity.

“Does it ever get any easier?” Scarlett muttered.

“Motherhood?” Mary asked over her shoulder as she deftly maneuvered around the kitchen. “Yes. And no.”

Scarlett nodded at her simple honesty.

It wasn’t long before Mary had food prepared for the women and Vera. Even Lily settled in for a feed; no doubt she had been picking up on her mother's distress earlier. When Scarlett looked at her phone again, she saw that another two hours had passed - they were deep into the night. Sudden sleepiness made her limbs feel heavy. As her eyes drooped, Mary motioned with her head towards the bedroom.

“You should have the bed this evening. I don’t sleep much. Vera and I can make do on the settee for one night. You and Lily look like you need the rest.”

Scarlett was too tired to protest. She used the last of her energy to stumble into bed, and to make a barricade of pillows against Lily’s back. Even in utter exhaustion, guilt at co-sleeping seeped into her final conscious thoughts.

And then, everything was pitch black.

When Scarlett opened her eyes again, sunlight was pouring in through the bedroom window, soft and golden. Birdsong filled the morning. For the first time since she had given birth, Scarlett’s thoughts as she woke up were not about the baby. She stretched and unfurled herself, like a flower opening to soak in the light. She sat bolt upright as Lily finally popped into her mind.

Where was her baby? Her chest tight, she padded out of the room and into the open living area of the cabin. There was no sign of Lily. Or of Mary, or Vera, for that matter. The blood pounding in her ears, she started to frantically search the cabin.

“Lily!” she screamed, “Oh my baby, where are you…” she sobbed. She yanked on the door and for a moment she thought she was locked inside. But then it swung open, and Mary stood on the porch. With Lily in her arms.

“Did I scare you again? I was trying to let you rest, dear.”

Scarlett snatched Lily out of her arms.

Mary’s eyes filled with sadness. “I suppose the time has come that you must be leaving.”

Scarlett held Lily tightly, nodding furtively as she walked out onto the porch. “Yes, I think so. Just as soon as Aiden gets here.”

“Does he treat you well?” Mary asked.

Scarlett shrugged. “He’s a good husband. A good dad.”

Mary stared at her. “Do you want to stay here a little longer?”

Scarlett hesitated, then shook her head. “I am so thankful for all you have done for me, truly. But my own mother is waiting to meet this little one.”

Mary smiled. “Ah, your mother lives?”

Scarlett frowned at the question. “Yes, for a long time yet I hope.”

Mary nodded again. “Well, let’s get you back to your village then.”

Scarlett laughed. “My village? You do take this role-playing stuff seriously, don’t you?” she smiled back at Mary.

“Come along, Vera,” Mary picked up her daughter and walked through the cabin door. “Fare thee well, Scarlett. Look after that little one.”

“Mary, I - “

Scarlett was looking at a resolutely shut wooden door. She was about to knock on it when she noticed all the belongings they had taken into the cabin were already by her feet. She pulled her phone out of her pocket to see that it was not only charged, but now had a strong signal.

Just as she was about to call Aiden, a pickup truck came into sight on the path leading to the cabin. It pulled up next to their own car, and Aiden jumped out of the passenger side.

His chest heaving with emotion, he threw his arms around his wife and child. “Fuck, I thought I’d lost you. I don’t know what happened, I got to the road, walked a bit to get a signal, made the call and when I turned around the path was nowhere to be found. I -”

“Aiden, it’s okay. We’re okay.” She hugged him back. “Our village is waiting. Let’s get going.”

He was too relieved to question her wording. “You’re the boss.”