July 1948
July 1948The white clapboard house stood a short distance from the road, its green lawn dotted with an array of blooming flowers. Laundry hung on a wash line, baby diapers, blankets, and gingham rompers all waiting anxiously for the new arrival. The windows, framed by evergreen shutters, were open. The lace curtains swayed in the humid summer breeze. Greta waddled out to collect the clothing from the line, but Jimmy caught her. “You can’t be leaning over. You are about to drop the baby any moment now.”
She laughed. “This isn’t our first!” She lovingly ran her hand over her swollen belly, feeling the baby stretching and moving.
“No, but the last thing I want to do is be the one to deliver it.” He kissed her forehead and then brought the washing in for her. “What time do they ar
