Eventually, Fern learned not to discuss it. The arguments made them both feel bad. Harry learned, too, and tried to accept his wife’s preoccupation as a cross they had to bear. He delivered scathing looks her way whenever she went to visit someone sick, and he would moon around in a dark cloud of despair and a feeling of impending doom for the rest of the day and the night.

Their casual talk was only of farm things and news of the community, things without controversy.

The talk in the community centered on Fern. Details of her miraculous healings were told and retold until they were blown all out of proportion. People stepped out of her way in town—they viewed her with a mixture of fear and respect. They never hesitated to call on her, though, when in need.

When she and Harry went to town together, he scowled at the way everyone treated them. He would become angry and silent. Fern could almost hear his teeth grind. In his fondest dreams, he hoped he and Fern would be looked upon as good Christian folk, salt of the earth, pillars of the community, but instead, he felt he was some sort of freak, a specimen in a bottle, something interesting to look at.

But he kept it to himself as much as he could.

Fern had come to know most of the people in the community, had visited their homes, had held their babies. The vision of Fern riding in a buckboard became a standing symbol of good on its way to conquer evil.

Then the community had something new to talk about.

Doc Pearson was seen around the Mannes farm frequently in the spring. The quilting bees and church socials were filled with excited speculation. Once Doc’s diagnosis was confirmed, he told his wife.

“Morning sickness.”

Mrs. Pearson grabbed her shawl and went to the neighbors’, and soon everybody knew. Fern was pregnant.

A hundred hands flew to work, making quilts, diapers, knitting booties and caps. Here was a way they could all show their appreciation to Fern without one of “those looks” from Harry. It was plain that Harry didn’t think too much of Fern’s work, and thought less of the gifts. But the baby . . . well, Harry couldn’t say anything about that.

And what a child they would have! Fern with her small, dark looks and Harry, what a handsome boy. Their baby would be a perfect angel, happy and delightful, and it would bring Fern and Harry together in a new way.

The whole town of Morgan, Illinois, was pleased. This would be their baby.