What the Jungle Couldn't Explain

The small white dog paced the riverbank, yapping at the water and getting his line stuck through jungle green shrubs and grasses. As his nerves rose, his little feet moved faster and the whites of his eyes became visible. Barking, running, and trembling, he tangled the line.

Suddenly, the low heavy air split with rushing water at the same time a 'BOOM!' split the air.

Then silence.

The American crocodile, who had heaved himself suddenly out of the Rio Curundu toward the irresistible sound of the small dog, lay now still at the edge of the bank, felled by a single bullet.

Martin stood on the bank after making the shot with his camera, impressed. The team of hunters clearing the Canal Zone waterways saw him and waved him over. They hung the crocodile by the tail between the three of them, and asked him to take their picture.

The upside-down crocodile was taller than two men combined.

Click went the shutter. He'd develop it later.

He smiled. This strange land was never dull. Then he folded his camera neatly back up, took off his hat, wiped his brow with his handkerchief, and sighed. Maybe Ruth would help him develop the photos later.

Thinking of Ruth brought his trip last summer back to mind. He'd followed Ruth home, of course, to be there when Peggy was born.

What he'd found at Park 25 removed all doubt from his mind.

His brow furrowed slightly as he made his way home.

Willie had delivered Peggy, and Fanny was nurse. Willie, whose shirt collars now hung loose on his neck. Much the way Ruth's dresses hung loose in ways they shouldn't have during the pregnancy.

He knew as soon as he'd walked into the house, after taking the train up from New York once the steamer had landed. He knew he was looking at the same thing.

Ruth's slimming in the face mirrored her father's. Her afternoon sweats so easily explained away as the heat. Willie had taken up retiring to his room for an afternoon rest.

The coughing. Martin felt goosebumps run down his arms.

In the beginning he'd thought it was the oppression of the jungle that made his young bride ill. It was easy to explain away until they went home.

He'd reached the bungalow at Diablo Hill. Walking up the white steps, he quickened his steps as he heard Peggy crying. The slamming of the front door after him made the mosquitoes temporarily fly from the window screens they greedily clung to.

Front view of home in Corozal, Panama

Martin, alarmed, first strode to Peggy's crib. She was crouching on her hands and knees in the crib, rocking back and forth, with tears and drool running down her red, round upturned little face.

Martin deftly hefted her out of the crib in a swoop, and discovered a very soggy diaper.

This was outside his realm of expertise. His eyes opened wide and he puffed his cheeks, holding the squirming wailing infant briefly at arms length to assess the situation.

The help had already gone home for the day.

He knew in principle how diaper changes worked, as he'd seen the help take care of sweet Peggy, and his mother before that. She'd been with them in Panama for the first four months of Peggy's life.

This reminded him that she'd died shortly after returning home. But now.

He laid Peggy on the changing table gently, studied the diaper in question as she continued to protest loudly, and figured he could take care of it, much like he'd taken care of drawing and drafting back as a machinist in the woolen mill.

Only pricking his finger twice, Martin managed a lopsided but dry diaper for Peggy before bringing her in for a cuddle and a ride on his shoulder. Peggy's little legs kicked downward in enthusiasm.

Peggy in Panama

Now let's go check on mama, he said, pivoting toward the half open bedroom door, where he could just make out the sound of a soft sniffle.

The door creaked ever so little as he pushed it in to see Ruth sprawled across the bed, her back to them, with both arms outstretched over her head. One hand clutched a monogrammed white handkerchief. The other hand was a fist.

I'm sorry. I am just so very tired, she said without turning or lifting her head.

She sniffed again, her long elegant fingers drawing briefly closer around the handkerchief.

Martin and Peggy rounded the other side of the bed so Ruth could look up easier at them.

Those big dark eyes of hers, framed by her loosely pinned hair, always melted Martin a little but today he was completely undone by them.

He knew she was done.

He set Peggy down on the bed next to Ruth in reach of her hands. Peggy reached for the handkerchief and pretended to blow her nose, mostly blowing raspberries instead with her dainty perfect little lips. A small smile crept into the corners of Ruth's thin face.

Look at her, she's wearing her first bonafide Canal Zone Engineer diaper! Hopefully also her last, and hopefully it holds.

He reached out for the hand in a fist and clasped it in his, softly, so Ruth could stay resting.

Ruth, I've bought us tickets home. He reached with his free hand and stroked her brow as her large eyes grew even larger.

But Martin! Your work, your dream, with the canal nearly finished and… the protest died on her lips as Peggy rolled to her side and began crawling up to Ruth and poking her mouth.

Martin and Ruth laughed. It felt like release.

I am so glad I have the two of you, Ruth sighed and lay her head down to rest.

Martin & Margaret, or Peggy Nill, in Panama