The Midwife's Dilemma (21 page)

That's exactly what they did. Hand-in-hand, their arms stretched across the table, and heart-to-heart, they prayed aloud together for a good long while, asking God to bestow His grace upon them and to guide them in the future He had designed for them.

J
ust before midnight, everyone in the household was asleep except for Martha.

Anxious to read her letters, she set the lantern on top of the trunk at the foot of her cot, sat down on the floor, and leaned her back against the trunk for support. She separated Victoria's letter from the pile and decided to read that one first.

Just as she was about to start reading, Bird chose that particular moment to let himself out of his cage. When he settled himself on her shoulder, she did not have the heart to lock him up in his cage again and let him stay.

She broke the seal on Victoria's letter and unfolded the single sheet of paper. Just as she'd hoped, the lantern cast light perfectly over her shoulder, and she was able to see Victoria's handwriting without any trouble at all.

The letter was from late July, and she whispered the words as she read them. “‘Dearest Mother, I am truly the happiest I have ever been. Truly, truly happy! While in Boston, we've been staying with Oliver and visiting with some of Benjamin's
relatives. I'm keeping a journal of our visit so I won't forget a single thing to share with you, except one secret that Oliver insists that I keep. Since it's his secret, I can tell you no more, except to say that I think you're going to be very, very pleased!'”

Martha chuckled out loud. Oliver would most definitely not love the idea that his sister had divulged the fact that he had a secret at all. Martha continued reading the rest of the letter aloud. “‘As a surprise, Benjamin has decided to take me to visit the Morgans, so we are leaving for New York City in a few days. I hope to have a pleasant time with Nancy, too, and have more news for you about our magazine articles when we return to Trinity. I pray you're taking care of yourself. Your very, very, very happy daughter, Victoria Cade McMillan. P. S. Although I do like the way the name Mrs. Benjamin McMillan looks on paper just as well, I thought it was a bit formal to use with my own dear mother. I must learn the proper signature for a married woman!'”

Martha chuckled even harder this time when she reread her daughter's double signature, refolded the letter, and pressed it to her heart. How well she remembered the joy of those first few weeks and months of married life. Her heart trembled with the idea that she might not experience that joy with Thomas, however.

She turned just enough to set Victoria's letter on top of the trunk before laying out all three of Thomas's letters on the floor by her side. She broke the seals and opened them, just enough to check the dates so she would read them in the correct order. Before she began to read, she said a quick prayer to ask her heavenly Father to be by her side as she read Thomas's words, hoping that one of his letters contained a miracle: that Thomas had reconsidered and rescinded his ultimatum.

Her soul was trembling when she read the first letter, dated only a week after he had left:

My dearest beloved,

I have arrived safely, but within days, I've already realized that my plans to be away from you for only a month may have been wishful thinking. I'm still disappointed that I wasn't there with you to witness and celebrate Victoria's marriage, but I'm certain she'll want to share the details of that special day with me when I return.

As you ponder your decision concerning our marriage, I pray with all my heart that you will be guided by your heart. Forgive me if I also pray that you will give me the answer I yearn to hear.

With deep devotion,
Thomas

Apparently, he did not have second thoughts early in his journey. She quickly turned to his second letter, dated two weeks later, skipped over the identical salutation, and read this one aloud.

“‘Being apart from you is harder than I ever imagined it could be. I'm sustained only by thoughts of the wonderful life we'll have together when we're united as one, and I pray you're ready to become my wife when I return. My negotiations here to liquidate my investments are challenging, and you will no doubt find it amusing that some here find me to be most difficult and stubborn at times. I've assured them that the woman I love is often twice as stubborn as I am, but it is a quality I tend to find endearing more often than not. As you can imagine, they did not view my qualities in the same light. I long for the day we are together again. With devotion, Thomas.'”

She paused and swiped at the tears that blurred her vision. He was a stubborn man at times. In that regard, she had every expectation that when he returned, he would not back down
from his ultimatum if she asked him to wait to marry her for a while longer.

Praying she was wrong, she decided to simply read his third and final letter. She took hope that he might have changed his mind about his demands from the fact that this letter was far longer than the other two and was dated just a few days after the one she had just read:

Dearest Martha,

The business of selling off my investments here gets more and more complicated by the day. I will be traveling back and forth between here and Albany to finalize the sales. Thus, this will be my final letter to you before I return, which may be as late as September, although I will make effort to be back with you before then. . . .

She caught her breath and held it for a very long moment. This letter was her last opportunity to know how he felt about his ultimatum, and she would not know if at a later point—perhaps weeks later—he might have changed his mind. Prepared for the worst, she continued reading:

I want you to consider coming to New York with me after we marry as part of our wedding trip, and I've already made arrangements for our stay here. I've also made a few discreet inquiries and now have a list of several women here who each have a good reputation as a midwife.

I haven't taken the liberty of contacting them, but if you come with me to New York, I'm convinced you'll find at least one of them who suits you as a new midwife for Trinity. Thus, the days you're summoned away once we're married will be as few as possible once we return home. . . .

His words only proved how impatient he was for her to cast off her duties as midwife and how easily he dismissed the possibility that she might refuse to do exactly as he had just suggested. Her heart dropped, but somehow she found the courage to read his final words aloud.

“‘By now, you must realize that I have no doubt that you've made a decision in my favor, just as you must never doubt you are precious to me and you are loved. I vow to respect your opinion on all matters in the years ahead, although I would ask you to reconsider your obvious and deep attachment to Bird, as I assume you have yet to set him free. I cannot fathom the possibility that you have less an attachment to me. But if you choose not to marry me the day I return, do not worry that you'll have to utter the words that will set me free. I shall do so myself, if only to keep my heart from hearing the echo of your words for the rest of my days as we part for the final time. With affection and longing, Thomas.'”

She dropped the letter and buried her face in her hands, cried, and then cried some more, comforted only by the presence of the little yellow warbler on her shoulder, as faithful and loyal as ever. “You're a stubborn, stubborn man, Thomas, and yes, I'm probably doubly so. Jane won't possibly be ready to assume my duties by September and may need much, much longer, which means that there's no hope you'll ever agree to wait and give me more time before we marry, is there?”

Long hours later, as dawn broke, she was still sitting on the floor. Her tears had stained his letters and blurred his words, but they were already burned into the heart of her memory. With her hope to convince him to wait for her until Jane was ready and willing to take over for her completely tottering on the precipice, she slid headlong into the depths of a deep, soul-numbing despair, where faith and miracles did not exist.

W
ith Dr. McMillan away again, Martha anticipated she would spend the next several days answering one summons after another. Folks would be expecting her to tend to all the minor ailments they had or to listen to them complain about the ones they had endured without her or the doctor there to help ease their suffering.

In the past, that is exactly how she would have spent every single day, and that is precisely how she spent the first three days after her return.

But not today. Jane had proven herself so competent lately at handling most any complaint, Martha was quite content to leave her midwifery duties in Jane's hands for the day.

“If folks waited for me for four weeks, and Dr. McMillan doesn't have any problem leaving again, they can see Jane. She's proven herself completely competent at handling most any complaint, or they can wait to see me this afternoon,” she whispered to Bird.

She slipped Bird into his covered basket, filled a canvas bag
with goodies until it was nearly overflowing, and managed to slip out of the confectionery before anyone else came downstairs, ready to start the day's work. She did, however, remember to leave a note on the kitchen table stating she had gone out and would not be back until the afternoon, just so they would not worry about her.

Outside, the sleeping town lay still under a blanket of eerie silence. No wagons or horses traveled down West Main Street. Mill workers and canal workers had yet to report to work. Shopkeepers had yet to offer their wares for sale, and their customers were only dreaming about the purchases they intended to make later.

Confident that no one had seen her, Martha reached the protection of the woods and followed the familiar dirt path that would take her to the clearing above the falls. She took her time now, inhaling the heavy scent of the lush landscape and enjoying the coolness that a late summer sun would bake away before noon.

Bird started to chirp the moment she started up the incline, as if he knew they were almost at the clearing, and memories of her picnic here with Thomas were bittersweet. She did not even wait until she reached the border of trees at the edge before she set the canvas bag down and lifted the lid on the basket. Bird flew out before her heart took another beat, ignored her outstretched finger, and soared over her head, reaching heights she had never seen him reach before.

“You've really missed flying, haven't you!” she cried, clapping her hands when he flew higher still, until he was only a speck in the sky. Her heart filled with fear that he was doing too much after being cooped up in a cage for a month. Then a chilling fear—that he was flying away forever before he was really ready to survive on his own and without giving her the opportunity for one final good-bye—made her heart tremble.

Eventually, just when she was ready to admit that he was leaving for good, the tiny speck in the sky grew larger and larger, and before she knew it, he landed right down on her shoulder. Relieved, she nudged him gently with her cheek. “You did very well today, my friend, and I suspect you've worked up a bit of an appetite.” She took a seat on the trunk of a tree that must have been downed by lightning while she was away.

She polished off a number of molasses cookies, and Bird ate all of the crumbs she laid out for him, too. Still hungry, she offered Bird a piece of two sugar cookies before munching them down as well. “The last time I had a special moment with cookies just like these was the day I introduced my new granddaughters to the idea that once in a while, it was perfectly fine to have nothing but sweets for a meal. I wish they were here, but I'm glad you're still here with me today.”

When she was finished with her treats, she brushed the sugar from her hands. Before she realized it, Bird had flown off again. And then again and again, soaring lower and lower each time. She grew exhausted just watching him circle and soar about. Afraid that he had pushed himself too hard on his first day out, she scooped him up the first time he landed next to her and put him back into his basket, even though he offered a bit of a protest.

“If you can fly for me like that another time or two, then I won't have to worry that you're strong enough to fly off for good and take care of yourself properly.” She refused to consider that Thomas had been right to complain that her attachment to Bird was the only reason she had yet to set him free.

Ready for her next mission, she carried the basket and the canvas bag with her as she retraced her steps halfway back home again before veering off to follow a narrower path to visit Samuel.

Unfortunately, because the trees on either side of this path were big and packed closer together, the sun had not evaporated the water left by a recent rain. To avoid puddles of water and thick mud, she had to step from one tiny island of dry dirt to another all the way to Samuel's cabin.

She set the basket off to the side and warned Bird to behave and be quiet. She was about to knock on the door when it swung partway open.

Will poked his head out and offered her a grin, along with a full view of the spyglass he was holding. But his gaze was clearly focused on the canvas bags she was carrying. “Me and Mister Fancy were out taking care of Bella when I saw you comin',” he whispered.

She cocked her head and frowned. “Then perhaps you might have met me along the way and offered to carry my bag,” she said, following Will's lead and keeping her voice low.

“Had to get back here right quick and warn Mister Samuel you was comin'. That stuff you got in the bag. That for us?”

“It is, but I'd rather not open it up out here. Is there a reason why we're both whispering?”

“Mister Samuel's sleepin', and since he ain't been sleepin' too well lately—”

“Hard for a man to sleep day or night with all the commotion around this place,” Samuel bellowed. “Come on in, Widow Cade. William, you need to get yourself right back out to that meadow and help Fancy repair that fence instead of wasting time fooling around with that spyglass of yours. See that you give it over to Fancy for now. When you two get back, I'll consider the idea of sharin' whatever it is Widow Cade's brought along with her. Now scoot!”

“Yes, sir.” With his cheeks flaming, Will stepped out of the cabin and took one last longing look at the treats sticking up
from the top of Martha's bag before he charged off into the woods.

Chuckling, Martha let herself inside and closed the door behind her. “A fence? That sounds permanent,” she suggested as she made her way over to Samuel, who was sitting in one of the two chairs in front of the warming stove.

“Are you gonna keep chatterin', or can you hold off until you pick out one of those cinnamon rolls from the treats you brought with you?”

“Apparently I need to take care of your sweet tooth before I try to have a conversation,” she teased and set her bag on the floor. She was not surprised that he knew what was in her bag. He might be blind, but like his hearing, his sense of smell was well beyond normal. Seated next to him, she sorted through the bag to get to the pan of cinnamon rolls on the bottom and studied him out of the corner of her eye.

He might be just a bit thinner than before, but his clothes were clean and his beard was neatly trimmed. He was not wearing his arm in a sling anymore, either, another good sign. With no tell-tale bruises on his face, she felt reassured that he had not been out and about by himself, bumping into trees or bushes again.

Pleased that he was faring well, she went right to work. When she finally found the pan she wanted, she gently separated a double roll and placed her hand beneath his before laying the sweet into his palm.

“Nice and sticky,” he remarked and gobbled the entire roll down in a few quick bites. Swiping at the crumbs on his beard without actually seeing that they were there, he patted his stomach. “Wouldn't hurt to have another. Once Fancy and that young'un get a crack at these, won't have much of a chance of more.”

She nudged the bag close enough to his leg that he could feel
it. “I've brought plenty, but you might want to keep some of these aside for yourself.”

He grinned. “You tryin' to sweeten me up for any good reason?”

“No, I'm just trying to thank you for letting Will help me with Bella,” she said as she tore another pair of cinnamon rolls from the pan.

He shrugged. “Didn't do more than what I wanted to do.”

“Here. Two more and that should do you for now,” she said and placed the sweets into his palm again. While he munched away, she licked the sugar from her fingers and waited until he was nearly finished before she tried to get an answer to her earlier question. “That fence you mentioned earlier. If that's for Bella, it sounds as if you're actually going to let the boy keep the horse. Is that right? Or am I jumping to that conclusion simply because it would make life so much simpler for me if you did?”

He polished off the rest of the cinnamon roll and wiped his hands on his trousers. “About that horse of yours . . . maybe . . . maybe it's time to admit that it was a mistake to get involved with that horse in the first place. I mean to say—”

“Don't bother yourself about changing your mind,” she said and groaned in spite of herself. “I was surprised you even let him keep Bella on a temporary basis. I'm just being resentful, I suppose, because now I have to take responsibility for something I never asked for in the first place. I'll stop at Thomas's on the way home and let them know to get a stall in their stable ready for her. After that, I'm not quite sure what I'll do, but once—”

“But for once, you might think about listenin' instead of chatterin',” he snapped. “You gonna let me talk or not? 'Cause if you're not, you might as well hand me another something sweet to eat before you head out the door.”

Startled by the brusque tone to his voice, she folded her hands on her lap. “I'm listening.”

He cleared his throat. “Like I was sayin', takin' that horse turned out to be a mistake, but I'm not talkin' 'bout lettin' William take it from you. There's no easy way for me to admit this to you, but the mistake I made was givin' the horse to you the way I did. Without askin' you first if you wanted it. After all you done for me, I just wanted to do somethin' special for you. Just didn't turn out so good, and I'm real, real sorry about that and hope you won't be so mad you won't wanna come back and visit me from time to time.”

Stunned and in total disbelief, she turned and stared at him. “You? You're the one who left Bella at the confectionery door with an anonymous note claiming she was payment for a reward you owed to me?
You
did that?”

“Don't be daft. I couldn't do that on my own. Not with these useless eyes of mine. Fancy helped me. He even used the spyglass tryin' to keep a watch on you and the horse, just like he does for Cassie, but you can't blame him for anythin'. It was all my idea. He just helped make it happen. Said she was a right pretty horse, not like that ugly one you had before. I don't suppose it occurred to either of us that the horse might not take to women so good, but bein' seafarin' men, I guess we didn't know as much about horses as we should have 'fore we got one for you.”

The image of these two retired seamen, one of whom was blind, negotiating to buy a horse created one giggle and then another and another that burst out of her lips in one giant guffaw. “I'm . . . sorry. I—I . . . I don't mean to laugh at you, but thinking about the two of you trying to choose a horse for me is a bit like having me pick out a sailing ship for you. Whatever possessed you to do such a thing?”

“You never took nothin' from me, all the time you spent tryin' to come up with one remedy or another when my eyes was failin' me. I had a debt I wanted to repay,” he argued gruffly.

She took his hand. “You've repaid me ten times over with your friendship, Samuel. That's all I've ever wanted and far more than I ever expected, and if you think I'd want to end our friendship because you made one little mistake, then you're wrong.”

He cocked his head. “Little mistake?”

She laughed until she had tears in her eyes. “You made a whopper of a mistake with Bella, didn't you?”

His chest rumbled when he laughed. “'Bout the biggest one I'll ever admit to makin'.” When their laughter was spent, he tugged on her hand. “Don't have much right to ask a favor of you, but I'm askin' anyway considerin' we're friends.”

She let go of his hand and reached down into the bag again. “I'll give you one more cinnamon roll. Just one.”

“It's not about my sweet tooth. It's about William.”

She let go of the pan of cinnamon rolls and sat up straight again. “What about him?”

“He don't know yet, but I'm gonna let him keep the horse. So far, he don't have a clue that it was me and Fancy that got Bella to you in the first place, and I'd be beholden to you if we could keep it that way.”

Recognizing how important it was for him to save face with the boy he had adopted, she nodded and then voiced her approval. “I think I can do that. On one condition.”

“I shudda known you wouldn't make this easy. Go ahead. Name your price.”

“It's not so hard. You just have to promise me that the next time you even form the thought that you'd like to give me something in return for whatever I do for you, you'll let it go and remember that all I want is your friendship.”

He snorted. “You sure 'bout that? I've given you nothin' but trouble so far. Can't see that changin' much from now on, neither.”

“That's not true. You're my friend. If I ever need help, I know I can always depend on you, can't I?”

“'Course you can.”

She grinned, took one more cinnamon roll out of the bag, and handed it to him. The morning she had claimed for herself could not have turned out any better. Bird had had a chance to fly again, Bella's future was now set, and Martha did not have to worry that Samuel would ever make the same kind of mistake where she was concerned again.