The Twelfth Child (Serendipity #1)(4)
William John Lannigan—June 1876 married Bertha Abernathy, mother of,
Margaret Louise—born April 1877
Two girl babies—born March 1878—one dead at birth
Two more girl babies—born June 1879
William Matthew—born August 1880, died Christmas Eve 1883
A girl baby—born September 1881
Bertha Abernathy Lannigan died in childbirth—September 1881
Livonia could hardly believe what she read. William had said nothing about this marriage, nor had he ever spoken a word about these children. Girl Babies. Not even a name for most of them. Where were they now? What happened after their mother died? Livonia’s hands trembled as she turned to the next page.
William John Lannigan—July 1882 married second wife Lucy Maude Perkins,
William Matthew—born November 1884, died February 1885
William Matthew? Livonia flipped back to the previous page and traced her finger along the line marked William Matthew. The first boy was dead; now here, a year later, William gave the second boy the exact same name. Good Lord, she thought, how he must have been hurting. She turned back to where she had left off.
Lucy Clare—born January 1886
Girl baby—born July 1888
Lucy Maude Lannigan died January 1, 1900
Livonia heard one of her babies whimpering and she went to pick it up. How could this be, she asked herself. So many children, so few of them named. Where could they have gone to? She had lived in this house for the past three years and not once seen a trace of these children, no pictures or story books, no packed away baby clothes. Nothing. Then Livonia remembered how William had gone up into the hay loft and returned with a good sized cradle, a cradle made from the wood of apple trees that had grown right here on the Lannigan farm. She knew that for a fact, because William had told her so. Her own baby girl was sleeping quietly at the lower end of the cradle, where Ruby’s gift was tucked under the quilted pad; it was the baby boy who was fussing. She picked the baby up and held him in her arms as she returned to the open page of the Lannigan Family Bible.
Livonia sat down and counted up the children William had fathered, nine before he married her. Seven girls and two boys. She turned to the next page where there was only a sparse bit of writing at the very top of the page.
William John Lannigan—May 1903 married third wife Bessie Thurston
Bessie died childless August 1909
The remainder of the page was blank. Livonia’s name was at the top of the following page.
William John Lannigan—April 1910 married fourth wife, Livonia Goodwin,
A baby boy—born August 1911, died at birth
William Matthew—born August 1912
A girl baby—born August 1912
Livonia tearfully turned her eyes away from the book. It angered her to have her boy child named after those other sons, babies that were no more. He was not a substitute child; he was a special gift from God—a strong and healthy boy. A child who would live to till the land as William did. Livonia knew she could do nothing about young William’s name, but her precious girl deserved to have a name alongside that of the boy. A name written onto this page of their father’s family bible, a girl’s name penned in blue ink as was the boy’s. Livonia picked up William’s pen and dipped it into the inkwell. She scratched a line through the words ‘girl baby’ and wrote Abigail Anne, the name of her own mother. She would allow that the boy be named William Matthew; but the girl would be known as Abigail Anne Lannigan.
Livonia closed the bible and replaced the key on top of the ledge. As she moved William Matthew to her breast, she thought back on Ruby’s words, “The baby girl will walk a rocky road.” No, Livonia vowed, as long as there is breath in my body, no harm will come to either of my precious babies.
William Matthew, she whispered, and sweet Abigail Anne.
Livonia Lannigan remained true to her vow and as the years passed she learned how to cast each of her eyes in a different direction; one always focused on Abigail as the other watched young Will trailing along behind his father. When the boy was barely three, she’d hear William saying, “You watch this, boy. You got to know how to fix a tractor. You listening up, Will?” Of course, the boy wasn’t listening, Livonia could see that. Any fool ought to know a three year old boy just wants to romp and play. Other fools maybe, not William. He’d swing little Will up onto the back of the quarter-horse and never once take notice of how scared the boy was. Will had the thickset bones of his father, but a real timidness when it came to horses. Many a time Livonia heard the poor child crying to get off, but William was so fixed in his ways he’d keep right on circling that horse around and around the pen. “You got to learn to ride, boy,” he’d say. “What kind of farmer are you gonna be if you don’t know how to handle a horse?”
Abigail Anne was the one he should have been teaching, she was always hanging after her papa, trudging along behind him like a stray puppy. That child would have done handsprings if she thought she’d get a sliver of attention. Will would be begging to get down off the horse’s back and there she’d be, standing at the gate with those tiny little arms stretched out, “Me, Papa, me,” she’d say, but she got less notice than a gnat buzzing by her daddy’s ear.
“Abigail Anne is every bit as capable as Will,” Livonia told William time and again— but he’d generally turn off with some sort of sneer or pretend he hadn’t heard a word of what she’d said. When he tired of hearing about how Abigail Anne could keep up with whatever her brother did, William would remind Livonia that running a farm was, and always would be, men’s work.