The beater sped down the icy road in the gray bleakness of the winter afternoon. The occupants were to busy concentrating on the woman's screams of pain during each passing minute. " Ahhh! It hurts! Hurry!" she cried. "Im going as fast as I can!" the male bellowed back.
The further down the country road they traveled, the more the woman cried out in pain. She sat across the back seat; her legs, one on the seat, the other on the floor. She wore a small flowered sun dress, with a gray, wool, winter coat. She had a maroon stocking cap and fingerless gloves that were crocheted; a gift from her mother as an early birthday present. The couple had little money, and the car they were driving was an old 1948 Ford sedan, given to them by her husband's family. He was a farmer by trade. Cattle in the winter, hogs in the spring and corn in the summer. But times were tight, what with the Vietnam War escalating and all. It was 1962, and the U.S. was starting to strain financially. And it was hitting the farmers hard. They had to make due with what they had, and made it last.
"Ahhh!" she cried through clenched teeth. The labor pains were getting closer together, yet they were still 10 miles from the nearest hospital. " I cant make it!" she said. "Pull over. The baby is coming! John, Pull OVER!!!" With that, he found a path that led to a barn. The snow wasnt deep enough yet, but it was coming down. Coming down harder than before they left. He was able to make it to the barn, pull the car inside and shut the doors. The barn seemed to be well built, yet it was all by its self. John didnt know whose farm this was. He had gotten caught up in the pain of his laboring wife so much, he had forgotten how far they had driven.
John got his wife out of the back seat, and made a bed for her in a stall. Just in time too, because the baby came as soon as she laid down. John grabbed the blanket he had brought with them, and wrapped the child in it. It was a boy. They looked at each other. "Steven. His name is Steven." Dad looked at mom. Both had a tear in their eye. John had given little Steven to Mae to nurse.
As John stepped outside, to give thanks for the perfect child, he noticed the snow had stopped and the sky was clear. By this time, it was dark, and all the stars in the sky twinkled, as if to say "Congratulations!". If John was the swearing kind, he could have sworn he heard a choir singing, but instead, he chalked it up to the hinges on the barn doors. John closed the large door behind him, then leaned up against it. He reached into his coat pocket, pulled out his pipe, lit it and took a deep breath in. The puff of smoke rose straight into the air as he exhaled. In the middle of the smoke, he saw one bright star. Out of the whole night sky, which he had seen many of, working late into the night in the fields, he had never seen a star like this one before. He smoked his pipe a little more, gave his thanks again, then went in to check on mom and child.
