Birth of the Twins
The birth of the twins, Caleb and Aron Trask, is a scene of stark, almost clinical horror that lays bare the fundamental inhumanity of Cathy Ames. Occurring in the darkened bedroom of the Bordoni house, the event is less a moment of creation than a revelation of the monstrous, a swift and brutal passage that leaves the mother untouched by any maternal bond and the father shattered by a love he cannot comprehend. It is the point from which the novel’s central tragedies—Adam’s long desolation, the twins’ warped upbringing, and the eventual destruction of the family—inexorably flow.
The Setting and the Midwife
The birth takes place in the white frame house of Bordoni, where Cathy has been temporarily lodged while the old Sanchez house is being rebuilt. The room is plunged into an almost pitch-black darkness, with blankets tacked over the windows at Cathy’s demand, for she claims the light hurts her eyes. Adam sits beside her, his face buried in the coverlet, a picture of helpless, adoring anxiety. Into this stifling, womb-like gloom steps Samuel Hamilton, summoned by the frantic Lee. Samuel, with his practical wisdom and gentle authority, immediately takes charge. He pulls down the blankets to let in the golden afternoon light, overruling Adam’s protests, and firmly orders the overwrought father out of the room. “It’s considered a sweet practice for you to get drunk,” he tells Adam, before locking the door to keep him out. Samuel brings with him a thick rope covered in blue velvet and embroidered with hundreds of little pink flowers—Liza Hamilton’s pulling rope, which she had made for the birth of her own firstborn and which has since helped “a great number of people into the world.” He slips a loop over each footpost of the bed, a homely, hopeful gesture that is immediately undercut by what follows.
The Birth and the Bite
The labor itself is unnaturally swift and silent. Cathy’s body arches like a spring, but instead of screams, she emits only a series of grunting squeals. Samuel, trying to soothe her, places his hand on her forehead, where the scar from her earlier beating shows dark and angry. He asks, “How did you get the hurt on your head?” In response, Cathy’s head jerks up and her sharp teeth fasten on his hand, across the back and up into the palm near the little finger. She twists her head like a terrier worrying a sack, a shrill snarling coming from her set teeth. Samuel, acting on instinct, cuts off her wind with his left hand until her jaws unclench. The flesh of his hand is torn and bleeding. When he looks at her with fear, her face is calm again, young and innocent. “It was the pain,” she says quickly. Samuel, shaken, later tells Adam, “She must be made of whalebone. The birth happened before I was ready. Popped like a seed.” The first boy is born so quickly that Samuel has not even prepared the water to wash him. He tears at the door, calls for Lee, and demands warm water. Adam charges in, and Samuel announces, “A boy! You’ve got a boy!” But even as he speaks, Cathy is bowed again, snarling in pain. Samuel sees something, stares, and goes quickly to work. “Lord God in Heaven, it’s another one!” The second birth is equally swift. Lee takes the second baby, washes it, wraps it, and puts it in the basket with the first.
The Mother’s Rejection
After the birth, Samuel cleans the mother and changes the linen. He finds in himself a reluctance to look in her face. When he finally does, her golden hair is wet with perspiration, but her face has changed—it is stony, expressionless. He tells her she has two fine sons, born separate in their own sacks. She inspects him coldly and without interest. When he offers to show her the boys, she says, without emphasis, “No.” “I don’t want them,” she says. Samuel tries to reassure her, attributing her coldness to weariness, but her tone is flat and final. “I’ll remember. Go away. Take them out of the room. Send Adam in.” Samuel is caught by her tone; there is no sickness, no weariness, no softness in it. His words come out without his will: “I don’t like you.” The words have no effect on Cathy. She simply repeats, “Send Adam in.” In the living room, Adam looks vaguely at his sons and then goes quickly into the bedroom and shuts the door. A moment later, the sound of tapping is heard: Adam is nailing the blankets over the windows again.
The Aftermath and the Naming
The birth leaves a profound and lasting scar on all who witness it. Samuel’s bitten hand becomes dangerously infected, and Lee must cut deeply into the flesh to clean the wounds, pouring carbolic acid into them. Samuel is sent home by Liza, who arrives to take charge, and he lies in bed for three days, fighting fever phantoms. The twins themselves are left in the care of Lee, who becomes their de facto parent. Cathy, after a week of rest, shoots Adam in the shoulder with his .44 Colt and abandons her family forever. The twins remain unnamed for over a year, a symbol of Adam’s complete withdrawal from life. It is only when Samuel Hamilton returns and physically shakes Adam out of his stupor that the naming finally occurs. In a long, philosophical discussion under the oak trees, Samuel, Adam, and Lee debate the story of Cain and Abel. Lee reveals his years-long study of the Hebrew word timshel—“Thou mayest”—a word that gives man the choice to triumph over sin. The twins are finally named Caleb and Aaron, names drawn from the Bible, representing those who entered the Promised Land. The birth, then, is not just a physical event but the catalyst for the novel’s deepest theological and psychological explorations, a moment of monstrous creation that forces the survivors to confront the nature of good and evil, choice and inheritance.
