The Midwife's Dilemma (12 page)

B
eyond disappointed, Martha stared up at him and finally found her voice. “You're leaving for New York already?”

“No. As it turns out, I'm going to Clarion. I believe I mentioned I had a family matter to attend to there.”

“You did indeed, although I'm disappointed that you have to leave when you've only been back home for a few days,” she admitted. She was reluctant to complain overmuch, especially since his journey there probably involved logistics around his announcement about offering his legal practice to his son-in-law.

“I won't be gone a moment longer than I have to be,” he vowed and stole a quick kiss.

With her lips still tingling, she smiled again. “I don't suppose I could ask you for one tiny favor before you go, could I?”

He cocked his head. “Which would be what, exactly?”

“Instead of your usual mount, I was wondering if you might want to take Bella.”

He laughed out loud. “Bella? She's run away, remember?”

“Actually, she's back in a stall at Dr. McMillan's, and it was your promise of a two-dollar reward that's responsible. I don't suppose you'd care to tell me why you thought it was a good idea to post fliers around town, when the best thing that could have happened after Bella ran off would have been that no one would have known she belonged to me if they found her.”

He cringed. “You found out about the fliers already?”

She frowned.

“Before you get all fussy, I want you to consider this,” he cautioned. “What if Bella did some kind of damage after she ran off? I don't know. Maybe she ended up trampling crops or hurting some unsuspecting girl or woman who tried to ride her? Under the law, whoever owns Bella could be held financially responsible.”

He raised his hand when she opened her mouth to protest.

“Maybe you're right. Without the fliers, maybe no one would have ever known that Bella belonged to you. But maybe the person who gave you the horse would reveal that she did belong to you now. You'd be hard-pressed to explain why you hadn't stepped forward in the first place to admit it, wouldn't you? And even if no one, other than the two of us, ever found out that you owned Bella, would that mitigate your responsibility as her owner, morally speaking, at the very least?”

She wanted to argue that he was wrong, but she knew in her heart that he was absolutely right. She let out a very long sigh and wished she had realized her responsibility as Bella's owner instead of railing against it. “You're right, of course. I shouldn't hide the fact that she belongs to me, especially if she's done any damage or hurt someone,” she admitted.

“If you just tell me who found the mare, I'll take care of the reward.”

“Will did. He found that horse somewhere out by Samuel's
cabin and brought her to me. You owe the boy two dollars, and I'd appreciate it if you'd move Bella over to your stable in the morning, just in case Leech decides to reappear.”

“Will's the one who actually found Bella?”

“Of course he found Bella! That boy can do most anything if he puts his mind to it.”

“Reminds me of someone I happen to love,” he teased.

She batted his comment away with a wave of her hand. “Before you leave town, make sure you take down those horrid fliers, and you should speak to Samuel before you give that young man so much money. Since you're going to Clarion, I'd like to ask you to do two things there for me, too,” she suggested.

“Anything.”

But just before she began to speak, Betsy, one of the maids, came into the hallway.

“Begging your pardon, Mr. Dillon, there's a gentleman at the back door asking to speak to you.”

Thomas frowned. “At the back door?”

“Yes, sir. He says it's rather urgent.”

Martha smiled. “Go see to your caller. I'll tell you about my requests after supper when you walk me home,” she offered and returned to the other guests to share in the excitement over her daughter's betrothal.

She was barely back inside of the sitting room when Anne flew over to her like a famished bird who sighted vulnerable prey. Anne had the same dark hair as her brother, with nary a strand of gray to be seen, but her eyes were a bit darker than his. She was a woman of quite generous proportions, and the great volume of fabric necessary to create her silk gown rustled rather noisily as she crossed the room. “Martha, dear, you are so blessed to have such a fine young man about to become your son-in-law.” She paused, looked about, as if making certain no
one was close enough to overhear their conversation, and leaned forward a bit. “I simply cannot begin to fathom the troubles this might make for you. You've already lost a few women and their children to Dr. McMillan's care, and there are bound to be more. But perhaps it's all for the best. You'll all be family. And if I'm right about my brother's intentions, I suspect you won't need to worry about supporting yourself for much longer anyway.”

“Indeed.” Martha refused to be baited into saying anything else, because whatever she said was bound to be repeated tomorrow when Anne made her rounds shopping. She was grateful to have Thomas rejoin them, but her relief was short-lived when she noted her cape in his hands and his grave expression.

He wrapped her cape around her shoulders and gave his sister an order in a sharp tone of voice that only an older brother could use with his sister. “Tell everyone that Martha has been summoned out, then have Eleanor take everyone into the dining room and start the meal. Hopefully we'll be back before you've finished,” he said before he led Martha down the hallway.

“Why did you tell Anne the caller was for me? I thought the caller was looking for you,” Martha said, hoping against hope that she would not be forced to miss any of this special night with her daughter.

“I'm afraid he wants to speak to both of us, and I wasn't able to convince him otherwise without risking a scene that Anne would have gossipmongers chewing on with great gusto,” he explained, then led her through his study and out a side door into the darkness that had fallen.

“What could he possibly want that would involve the two of us?” she asked, before realizing there was only one thing they had in common that would have someone searching them out at this hour: Bella. “So help me, Thomas, if this has anything to do with that horse—”

“I could argue that it's not as bad as it could be, but you'll likely feel otherwise,” he said before he took her arm and guided her along the side porch that was lit only by the light pouring from the inside of the house. The porch ended right after they rounded the side of the house, and there Martha saw a rather well-dressed young man standing in the shadows holding the reins to the one and only Bella, who was standing rather docilely beside him.

“I'm Widow Cade. I understand you wanted to speak to me,” Martha said, stepping ahead of Thomas as they approached him.

He tipped his hat. “Rob Carroll, ma'am. I'm working for Mr. Grumley at the First Trinity Bank that opened just last week, and I'm staying at Mrs. Reed's boardinghouse.”

She nodded and waited for him to continue.

He cleared his throat and held up the reins. “I'd just come home from taking a walk after supper when I found your horse munching away in the vegetable garden Mrs. Reed planted a few weeks back. I'm afraid it's pretty much ruined. She's a might too upset about it to come herself, so I promised her that I'd talk to you and Mr. Dillon for her.”

“How is that possible? Will and I had Bella well stabled more than an hour ago,” she argued, baffled by the idea that the mare could have escaped and done that much damage in such a short time.

The young man shrugged. “All I know is that I found her there, and Mrs. Reed isn't too pleased about it. I'm thinking that the two-dollar reward from Mr. Dillon would be a start to making her happy again, but Mr. Dillon said that someone else had already found and returned the horse,” Rob offered.

“That's true, but you didn't know that, and since Bella apparently escaped yet again, I think you've earned the same reward. Don't you agree, Thomas?”

“I had a feeling you might argue exactly that point and came prepared,” Thomas gritted.

He reached into his pocket and handed over several coins to the young man. “I'll be taking down those fliers at first light on my way out of town tomorrow, but in the meantime, you're entitled to the reward. Since Widow Cade is here with other guests for supper, I'd be obliged if you would get Bella settled in my stable before you leave.”

“That I can do,” he replied and turned his attention back to Martha. “I know there isn't anything you can do for Mrs. Reed as far as her vegetable garden is concerned, but she was wondering if you might stop by to see her tomorrow and help her with a problem she's having with her shoulder, without asking for a reward. As a way of making up for what your horse did,” he added.

Martha let out a long sigh. “Of course. Please tell her that I'll stop by in the morning.” She had a feeling she would be replanting the woman's garden soon, too.

Grinning, he tipped his hat and led Bella back toward the stable. Once they had both disappeared into the darkness, Martha turned to face Thomas. “An old friend of my grandmother's lives near Clarion. The last I heard, she was still helping out occasionally as an afternurse. She might know of someone I could contact about replacing me. It would reach her faster if you took her a note from me than if I sent it by post, and I have a number of remedies I usually purchase in Clarion that I need. If I write a quick note to her and make up a list of remedies before I leave tonight, will you see that she gets the note and bring the remedies back for me?”

“Of course,” he murmured, but when he leaned down to kiss her, she put her finger to his lips. “I'd also like to ask you to rethink my suggestion to use Bella as your mount when you leave tomorrow.”

He frowned and pulled his face away. “And if I don't take her?”

She shook her head. “While you're gone, Bella may prove to be one very, very costly horse.”

Later that night, long after Victoria had shared every detail of her special night and the rest of the household was fast asleep, Martha was still awake.

With her room bathed in gentle moonlight, she sat up in her cot with her back against the wall and Bird perched on her shoulder as she glanced around the room. She was surrounded by all that was familiar. The cot she slept on and kept out of habit instead of exchanging it for a proper bed, the birthing stool she stored underneath—as much to protect it as to keep it within reach if she were summoned away during the night—and the quilt, which her mother had stitched together with her own hand, that kept her warm, even on the coldest of winter nights.

She did not have any plants or herbs she used to make her remedies hanging overhead like she'd had in the room she once kept at her brother's tavern, mostly because she did not have a garden anymore. Reminded that poor Mrs. Reed didn't have a garden anymore, either, thanks to Bella, she focused instead on the supply of remedies she still had stored in her room, as well as the remedies Thomas had promised to bring back from Clarion.

She nudged Bird ever so gently with her cheek and smiled when he nudged her back. “All this will be gone once I marry Thomas and we make a home together,” she whispered, and she realized that the one thing she expected to miss the most was not in this room at all but existed only in her mind and heart: her independence.

“I wonder if you miss that, too, little one.” She promised him that she would make time to take him back up to the falls in the morning to see if he was strong enough now to fly away and survive on his own.

As a widow, she had fended for herself for ten long years, but now all of her longings for the companionship of a husband and a home to call her own again—as well as bidding farewell to financial concerns—would be met once she married Thomas. Then why oh why was she sitting here, in the middle of the night, thinking about the fact that marrying Thomas would also mean learning to compromise again and mean subjecting her will to that of her husband, as custom demanded?

“I'm afraid I'm being very foolish and ungrateful,” she murmured before she settled Bird into his cage and dropped the cover over it so he would not wake up at first light with a morning serenade. Once she was lying in bed, Martha tugged her mother's quilt up to her chin, folded her hands, and eventually fell asleep with a fervent prayer on her lips and hope in her heart that God would help her to find a replacement and bring Thomas home safely.

And that she would not mind at all if God could help Bella to disappear from Trinity forever.

F
or the next two weeks, nonstop work was one sure way to make time pass quickly.

After barely five hours of fitful sleep, Martha squinted at the bright light pouring into the room, rolled over, and covered her head with her pillow. The weather outside had already been balmy at dawn, when she had returned from her second call of the night, promising more hot July weather. She prayed fervently for a single day she could call her own.

“Just one day,” she whispered, although the prospect of getting the answer to that prayer seemed unlikely. While summer in Trinity was typically marked by any number of maladies, this year was proving to be particularly difficult, as much for her as for Dr. McMillan.

Of course, if she'd had a reliable horse of her own instead of Bella, she would have been able to return on her own every time she was summoned, rather than having to wait for someone to bring her back to town. She was sorely tempted to just borrow one of Thomas's horses to complete her duties, but more often
than not, she was called away at odd hours and did not want to trouble his stable hands or rouse them out of bed.

Instead, she tried to be satisfied that Bella had not managed to escape from the stable behind Thomas's house again. She sighed and lifted her pillow to take a peek at the covered birdcage. She had not had a single moment to take Bird out to the falls again or to restore Mrs. Reed's garden, but her biggest regret was not having the opportunity to approach the three women left on her list of possible replacements.

Thomas, as always, was ever in the forefront of her mind, and her longing for him was growing stronger. As of early last evening, he had yet to return from his trip to Clarion, but he had written to her once already to keep her from worrying. Hopeful there was a letter from him waiting for her at the general store, or perhaps a reply from the letter he had delivered to her friend Naomi Benson, she added a prayer that he would be back soon.

By the time she dressed, fed Bird, and went downstairs, it was midday and the kitchen was already insufferably hot. The half-opened window in the alcove allowed sunshine to bathe the room with light, but with no breeze outside at all, it did little to ease the heat in the room.

To her surprise, the kitchen was deserted. She could hear Fern and Ivy's voices and a gaggle of others coming from the shop, and Martha smiled. Half the town had been in and out of the shop ever since the confectionery had reopened a few days ago.

Victoria was spending one last day helping Aunt Hilda, who was planning to leave tomorrow, but there was no sign of Jane or Cassie, which was odd considering the stack of cooking pans and dishes waiting to be scrubbed clean. Still too tired and overwarm to be more than mildly hungry, Martha settled for a cup of tea and a few bites of a honeyed biscuit.

Before deciding how to arrange her chores and errands for
the day, she looked out the window and peeked down the alley, where she saw Cassie walking toward the back door with a small empty basket, and realized the girl must have been behind the building hanging laundry. But she was not alone, and Martha squinted to make certain her eyes were not deceiving her as she studied the skinny little man walking alongside Cassie carrying two larger baskets.

“Fancy?” she murmured, but who else could it be? There wasn't another man in town, let alone within a hundred miles, who would wear half a dozen jewels in each ear like he did.

Cassie spied her and waved. “I'm all finished and ready for my next task, and Mr. Fancy is here to help, too, just as soon as we store away these baskets,” she offered in a singsong voice. She headed back inside with the man who had apparently become the girl's self-ordained protector.

Although Fancy had established a close and paternal relationship with Will, Martha made a mental note to speak to Samuel about the man's relationship with Cassie. Perhaps learning more about the old seaman's past, as well as Samuel's opinion, would ease her concerns about Fancy's interest in the girl.

Cassie gave Martha a solid hug the moment she entered the kitchen. “I made sure all three baskets were back on the proper shelf so when it's time to take down the laundry, I'll be able to find them easily.”

“You're a good, hardworking girl,” Martha replied. Still amazed by the girl's loving and affectionate nature, she hugged her back under Fancy's watchful gaze. “Do you know where your mother might be?”

“Yes, ma'am,” Cassie replied while nodding her head. “She left on an errand, but before I left she said that when I finished hanging out the laundry, I was to take a note she tucked into my apron pocket down to Mr. Sweet at the general store. Mr.
Fancy is going with me to help me carry everything back home, aren't you, Mr. Fancy?” she asked, turning to face him with her wide grin.

“Absolutely right. I've got a list of my own to take care of there, too. Is there anything we can bring back for you while we're there, Widow Cade?”

“If you could see if there are any letters waiting for me, I'd be most grateful. You might check for Victoria, too. She's expecting to hear back from her brother. I'll give you a note to let Mr. Sweet know that I've asked you to call for our mail and ask him to put the charge for any postage on my account,” she suggested. “Do you know if Mr. Dillon had time to speak to Will before he left a few weeks ago?”

Grinning, Fancy nodded. “He stopped on his way out of town. That two-dollar reward for young William is safely put away in that new bank, though he don't seem too pleased about it. He did ask me to mention his spyglass. Any chance he can get it back?”

“I still haven't seen those grades of his, so tell him I'll try to stop by in the next day or two with the spyglass in hand,” she promised, feeling guilty for having been too busy to even give the spyglass a thought.

He nodded and waited while Martha scribbled out her note before he left with Cassie. To make herself useful, she donned a work apron before she tackled the dirty baking pans and dishes stacked by the sink. She pumped water into a basin in the sink and took hold of the baking pan on the top of the pile. Part of a gooey honey bun spun with cinnamon stuck in one corner was too tempting to waste, and she swept it up with two fingers and gobbled it down before scrubbing the pan clean.

Half an hour later, she had cleaned every single pot and pan and stored them away, but she had also devoured tiny remnants
of apple strudel, several burnt molasses cookies, half a bran muffin, and pieces of three broken pretzels.

“Dishes next,” she said and dumped the dirty water into a large bucket that she could empty out in the alley later. Before she pumped fresh water into the basin, she heard the back door open and close.

She turned around, expecting to see Cassie back, but instead, a barefoot Jane walked gingerly into the kitchen. Her apron and the hem on her work gown were covered with dirt, and most of the hair around her face had escaped from her braid. With her smudged cheeks flushed red, the poor woman looked as if she were about to faint.

“Martha! What are you doing up already?”

Martha ignored the woman's question, hurried to her side, and urged her into one of the chairs at the kitchen table. “Sit right here until I get you some water. What on earth happened to you?”

Jane let out a long sigh. “Nothing that couldn't have been prevented, I'm afraid,” she replied before accepting a glass of water and downing it straightaway. “Other than suffering from a couple of blisters from wearing boots that are a tad too big and forgetting to wear a bonnet, I'm just feeling overheated. I really didn't expect to be gone or out in the sun this long.”

Martha frowned, refilled the glass with water, and handed her a damp cloth, which the woman immediately pressed to her flushed forehead. “Gone where?” Martha asked once she had both of Jane's feet resting in a footbath.

“I know how hard you've been working, and I wanted to do something to help. Every time I thought to ask for your permission, you'd been called away again,” she replied cryptically.

Martha knew at once where Jane had gone to end up covered with so much grime, and she sat down beside her. “You
shouldn't have been working at Mrs. Reed's. It's been my obligation to replant the garden that Bella destroyed, not yours,” she argued. One of the chores she had planned for the day was to finally start meeting that obligation.

In all truth, she was still surprised that Mrs. Reed had given her permission to use a patch of ground where she could grow the herbs and plants she needed for her simples, as long as she also shared some of that bounty with her.

Jane let out a long sigh and smiled. “You've been so busy lately, it just didn't look like you were going to have any time soon to get to the task yourself, and Mrs. Reed was getting impatient waiting for you. I knew it wouldn't take much time to replant her garden, which I managed to finish the other day, but I thought that if I could get your garden planted, too, then all you'd have to do would be to keep it weeded. You'll probably need to add more, but at least you've got a start,” she added. She reached into her apron pocket and pulled out a dirt-stained paper she handed to Martha. “This is what I planted for you today.”

Dumbstruck, Martha only had the wherewithal to scan the list of plantings and be amazed. Martha could not have chosen a better selection if she tried, and there were only a few she needed to add. “You chose all these plants yourself?”

“Not entirely,” Jane admitted. “Fern and Ivy recommended a few. Your daughter was here the day I was making up the list of what I thought to plant, but she said she didn't really know much about the plants or the remedies you made from them.”

Martha pursed her lips. “No, she wouldn't. She's never had the slightest interest in anything I do as a midwife, I'm afraid. Her talents lie elsewhere with pen and paper, not a bag of simples or a birthing stool. I've only recently been able to fully accept that and to look for a woman to replace me.”

Still curious to know where Jane had learned so much about plants, she realized she knew very little about the woman's background, other than the fact she had lived in Philadelphia and worked in a number of well-to-do households before taking care of Mr. Pennington. Jane had not shared much more than that. Since Jane deserved to be judged by what she did now as a member of their household and not her past, whatever that might be, Martha posed a question to her that only concerned the present.

“In all truth, Jane, beyond helping a woman to safely deliver her babe, one of the biggest responsibilities any midwife has is to have a full knowledge of herbs and plants and how to make remedies from them so she can help the women and children who depend on her, whether they're ill or teeming with a babe. Since you clearly have knowledge of remedies and how to use them, I wonder if you might consider learning the rest of a midwife's duties. It would probably take a good year or more, but I'd be honored to teach you, and I have no doubt that Fern and Ivy would allow you to stay here with Cassie, just as they did for me and my daughter,” she suggested, convinced it would be a true answer to prayer if Jane agreed.

When Jane abruptly broke her gaze and started brushing more dirt from her hands, Martha noticed the woman was trembling. “Whatever woman you choose will be fortunate to be a midwife here in Trinity, but that won't be me. I . . . have absolutely no interest in ever being a midwife,” she said in a shaky voice.

Concerned that she had upset the woman, she remembered sharing the story of almost losing Henny Goodman before Dr. McMillan intervened and wondered if that might be one reason why Jane was not interested. She accepted her answer and turned their conversation back to the work Jane had done
in their garden. “Then just let me say that the work you did in the garden for me is an absolute blessing. You're an amazingly kind woman. Almost to the point of self-destruction,” she teased. “Thank you.”

When Jane finally looked up, Martha noted unshed tears glistening in her eyes. “You're welcome.”

“I do have a promise I'd like to hold you to, though,” Martha cautioned. When Jane raised a brow, Martha started to nod. “The next time you decide to wear those boots of yours, wear an extra pair of socks so you don't get blisters again. And don't go out again without your bonnet.”

Jane laughed. “That's a promise!”

“Good!” Martha pronounced and got to her feet. “As for those blisters of yours, I've got just the cure upstairs in my bag. Don't move. I'll be right back,” she ordered and hurried upstairs to get an ointment she had made from marigolds. Troubled by Jane's reaction to the offer she'd made to her, Martha had the sense that there was something in her past that had made the woman tremble and be on the verge of tears. Jane, however, had no obligation to explain why the thought of becoming a midwife distressed her.

Martha hurried back to the kitchen, and when she did, the room was abuzz, with most everyone in the household gabbing together like a gaggle of geese. She slipped the ointment into Jane's hands without anyone else taking notice. Fern and Ivy were making a fuss over Jane's poor blistered feet while Cassie and Fancy were laughing together as they unpacked the goods from the general store.

In the midst of all this, Fancy walked over to Martha and quietly slipped yet another blessing for this day into her hand: a letter from Thomas.