Delivering the Truth (18 page)

twenty-six

Billy suckled at Patience's
breast thirty minutes later as if he always had, his head nestled in the crook of her arm.

“He's not my Timmy, but I'm glad I'm good for something.” She glanced up with luminous eyes.

With me by her side, Ida had carried Billy to Patience's. I was pleased to see Patience's home was now tidy and she had tidied herself up, as well. She'd pulled her hair back and donned a clean dress, and her face appeared freshly washed.

“You're good for a great deal,” Ida said.

“I agree,” I said. “He could be fed one of the new infant formulas, but I've seen several babies sicken from that method.”

“And we have small clothing and diapers. I'm happy they have a use,” Patience said, stroking Billy's head. Hiram stood behind her, his hands on her shoulders.

When Billy was finished eating, Ida laid him on her shoulder, patting his back to induce a burp. She was clearly an experienced mother. When he'd let go of the gas bubble, she handed him back to Patience and we said our farewells.

“I need to get back to my own babies, large though they may be,” Ida said. “I'll come to check on this precious nephew soon.” She put a hand to her mouth, her eyes welling over.

“You will be welcomed,” Patience said with a sad smile. She reached out and squeezed Ida's hand.

“My sister was a sweet girl. She didn't deserve to die.”

I said
good-bye
to Patience and Hiram. “I'll return to check on the baby, too.” Ida and I made our way out. “For now, with Patience as wet nurse, there is nothing to pay,” I said to her as we strolled back the way we had come. “But certainly as Billy grows, he'll need food, clothes, schooling. Perhaps I can try to speak to William Parry on Billy's behalf.”

“I'd send my brother, but he's a bit of a hothead.”

“Jotham? Yes, I've seen as much.”

Ida's mouth pulled down. “When do you think they'll find Minnie's killer?”

“I don't know. The detective and his team will do their best, I'm sure.” I said
good-bye
when I reached the path leading to my house, glad of a chance to gather my thoughts alone as I walked in the dark. My feet felt as leaden as an anchor now that this latest murder truly had time to sink in.

The killer must be the mysterious woman Therese saw. She had said she'd relayed that information to the police. I hoped to God the “
thin-like
” woman in the long cape wasn't Nell. I couldn't imagine why she would kill Minnie, but she was acting crazy lately, so there was no telling what she might or might not do. It was the job of the police to untangle this mystery, not mine, but the puzzle nagged at me. The arson. Thomas's murder with my knitting needle. Minnie's by a similar method. William Parry was the hub connecting these spokes. The way through to the answers, though, was still as dark as the night.

I left Allen's Hardware the next morning on a brand-new safety bicycle, a White Star Number Two. I'd resolved upon wakening to purchase transportation. I couldn't keep traipsing all about town on foot, and Bertie had planted the seed. The thirty-eight dollars almost exhausted my funds, but I would be paid soon enough for assisting at more births. The bicycle even came with fenders on the back sides of the wheels, a wicker basket strapped to the front, perfect for my birthing bag, and a little brass bell I could ring with one thumb without taking my hand off the shiny nickled handlebars. I couldn't wait to show David. I knew he sometimes cycled for recreation and wanted to see the surprised pleased look on his face when I told him I could now accompany him on a ride along the banks of the Merrimack some sunny Seventh Day.

I wobbled a bit as I headed up High Street toward Orpha's on a morning promising a warm day and one with enough sun to melt the rest of the snow. My ankles were
well-exposed
, however, and I was glad for the pair of bloomers Bertie had convinced me to take on loan the day before. I was also grateful for the fenders on the wheels, otherwise my back would be spattered with mud. Two boys ran alongside watching me remember my balance.

“What kind of funny contraption is that?” one called.

“Did you shrink the wheel in the wash?” the other said, then guffawed.

I gave them a wave and pedaled on. It took the inventors awfully long to realize that one huge wheel and one tiny one weren't a good idea. With this lady's bicycle, I could easily put my foot on the pavement when I needed to stop. I was navigating a corner when a
red-faced
man stepped in front of me. I managed to brake in time to avoid running into Jotham O'Toole. His brows pulled together and the corners of his mouth turned down like an angry bull's.

“My sister's dead,” he spat. “And you stole her baby.” His ire seemed to vie with despair in his eyes, but the anger won.

I lowered one foot to the ground but kept my hands on the handlebars. Anger like this might need escaping from.

“I'm so sorry for thy loss, Jotham. It's a terrible thing to lose Minnie.” I reached one hand out to touch his arm but he shrank back from it. “But little Billy is in good hands. He's being fed by a wet nurse who lost her own infant son this week. The arrangement has your sister Ida's blessing, of course. Thee can visit him at Patience Henderson's whenever thee likes.”

“Good.” His nostrils widened as he glowered. “That Parry killed my Minnie. I know it. Him or his stupid child bride.”

“Does thee know this for a fact?” I cocked my head. Perhaps I could pass information on to Kevin. “Does thee have evidence?”

“Who else would want to get rid of her? Probably tried to kill my nephew, too. I told my Minnie she never should have taken up with that pompous ass.” He swallowed hard, the sadness taking over for a moment. “She was my little sis. I always said I'd take care of her. And I failed.”

“Thee didn't fail thy sister. It's not thy fault some evil person ended her life. I wonder if thee has evidence of William's guilt in the matter? Perhaps it was someone else.”

He looked at me as if I were a fool. “He'll confess to it when I show him my brass knuckles. He's guilty, no question.” The old brash Jotham was back. He rushed off muttering to himself.

I remounted and bumped away slowly over the paving stones, thinking I should detour past the police station and warn Kevin that Jotham was on the rampage in his grief. I doubted Jotham could get close enough to William to harm, him, though, especially after Jotham's behavior at the reception yesterday. I saw the sadness Jotham was experiencing, but his anger left me less sympathetic than I might have been otherwise.

I was nearby Orpha's home on my way to the police. A large wagon passed me too closely on my left. I veered onto the muddy dirt track, but the front wheel encountered a rock and the bicycle stopped with a jerk. I managed to fall sideways away from the wagon but crashed my knee onto a root of a large elm tree that bulged up above the ground. I pulled myself up to a side sitting position, my left foot weighted down by the bicycle's heavy metal frame.

A woman rushed toward me. “Rose!” Orpha's granddaughter Alma set down her marketing basket and picked up the bicycle so I could free my foot. “Are you all right?” With her other hand she pulled me to standing.

“I hope so. I thank thee for coming to my rescue.” I tried to wipe the mud from my hands, then rubbed my knee. It felt strained but when I gingerly put weight on it, the leg held. “I feel rather foolish just now. I hit my knee on that root.”

“Come along home with me. We can apply a cold compress.”

“I was planning to visit Orpha, anyway.” I straightened my spectacles, then took over the bicycle as Alma picked up her basket. We walked slowly along to the house, where she left me knocking at the door. At Orpha's appearance, I leaned the bicycle against the house and limped in after her. A few minutes later my leg rested on a hassock with a cold cloth draped on my knee.

Orpha gave me an inquiring glance. “You did not come over only to show me your new transport, I dare say.”

I smiled, then frowned. “No. There have been several disturbing events of late I wanted to discuss with thee.”

She nodded gravely. “I have heard some news, but you tell me what you find most unsettling.”

I proceeded to lay out my thoughts about the arson, Thomas's murder, and Minnie's death. My encounter with Jotham this morning. What the police had found. My concerns about Nell, about Jotham, about baby Billy. Jotham's comment at the funeral reception, and Cyrus's accusing Jotham of plying Stephen with matches.

“I wonder what Cyrus meant by that,” I said. “Perhaps he thought Jotham was responsible for Stephen Hamilton's attempts at arson. I still cannot believe Ephraim Pickard started the mill fire. Could Jotham have been encouraging Stephen to burn down the factory?”

“But why? And anyway, young Hamilton didn't. You said he was at a pub when the mill fire was set. And he's been in jail for several days now.”

“But he did try to burn the Meetinghouse.”

“True. The neighbor did not recognize the woman who came to Minnie's home?” Orpha asked.

“She said she didn't, only that the woman was thin and a bit taller than I. Perhaps she told Kevin more.”

Orpha sat silent for a moment, then said, “I am concerned for Nell, poor thing. It sounds like a classic case of postpartum blues.”

“I hope she wasn't out wandering around with my knitting needle and then went crazy on Thomas. But why?” I frowned. “When will we find an effective treatment for the sadness that arises after childbirth?”

“Time. Time heals it. But the mother and children must all be kept safe until that happens. It is not easy.”

“Well, at least Billy is cared for,” I said. I fell silent. I gazed at my hands folded in my lap but instead imagined Minnie's fear and desperation when she saw her death approaching.

Orpha cleared her throat. “I am not surprised to see you sorting through these questions, Rose. You have a gift.”

I glanced up, confused. “What kind of gift?”

“Did you know you were born in the caul?”

“I was?” Babies sometimes emerged with all of the amniotic sac unbroken, in a beautiful translucent bubble, or with a piece of the caul stretched like a thin mask over the face. I'd never known my birth was one of those.

“The caul was intact,” she went on. “I was the midwife at your birth, you know.”

I nodded. “My mother told me.”

“But she did not tell you about being born in the caul, did she?”

“No, never. You didn't, either, even while I trained with you.”

“After your niece's birth, when you came to me asking for an apprenticeship, I wanted our relationship to be professional, without a special privilege. I needed to see how you would do. If it turned out you were not well suited for your calling, I didn't want anything to stand in the way of my letting you know that.”

“But—”

Orpha held up a hand. “I suspected you would be a talented midwife, caring and skilled at once, and you indeed are.”

“I hope to improve.”

“And you will, with experience. I would never have let you out on your own if I did not think you were ready, though.”

“But why would being born in the caul give me any special privilege?”

She smiled. “Babies born in the caul often have the gift of sight. Of seeing their way through whatever confronts them. Some become actual seers, some use their gift in the ministry, some become great leaders.”

“So why didn't Mother tell me about being born in the caul?”

“She thought any talk of a gift was silly superstition. Your mother is a very modern woman.”

I had heard this superstition and hadn't given it much credence. But I now knew that sometimes superstitions are based in fact of one kind or another, couched in the language of myth to make them easier to understand. Perhaps if a baby's first view of the world was through a translucent membrane, he or she would try harder throughout life to see the truth.

I wrinkled my nose. “I'm no great leader, Orpha.”

“But you do see things, and you have a strong sense of justice.”

“John Whittier said the same thing, that I have the gift of seeing. I didn't know what he meant, but I'm sure he doesn't know about my being born in the caul.”

“It does not matter,” she said. “You will see your way to solving these puzzles. I am confident of it.”

“I hope so. It's terrible that a murderer continues to walk free in our town. That it might be two different killers plus a dangerous arsonist is worse.”

“I have no answer for you, except that you must trust your own sense of right.”

“I'll try.” I removed the compress and palpated my knee. It didn't feel as if I had seriously harmed it. I certainly hoped not, since it would be hard to dance with an injured leg. And I very much wanted to dance with my dear David.

Orpha sighed. “Now I am tired.” She waved a hand. “Be off on your fancy bicycle, my dear, and let me rest.”

After I'd taken my leave of Orpha, I walked the bicycle slowly. This news of my being born in the caul had struck a curious nerve in me and made me think back on my life. I wasn't sure I felt that I had a gift of seeing, but a consistent thread in my experience had certainly been persistence and solving problems. I'd been good with arithmetic in school and now found satisfaction in solving the problem of a slow labor or a stuck baby. With the first I found that making the laboring mother feel safe was a great assist, and with the second it was often a question of the mother assuming the right position to free up the infant so it could continue its passage into the world. Perhaps understanding how to fix those problems was a kind of seeing.