The Midwife's Dilemma (24 page)

T
he following day, Jane's faith in God and in herself was put to the very test that both she and Martha had discussed together.

At midday, when the two of them were sitting together in the kitchen and no one else was home, a series of slamming doors and pounding footfalls through the confectionery frightened them both. The door connecting the shop to the kitchen crashed open, and a hulk of a man burst into the kitchen. He was carrying a very pregnant, very pale woman, who was writhing in pain. “They told me I'd find the midwife here,” he said as he glanced from Martha to Jane and back again. “Name's Clemmens. Richard Clemmens. My wife, Claire, needs the midwife. Our babe isn't due for another month yet, so we thought we could join her folks in Ohio before . . . before this happened. Luckily, we weren't far from town. Please! Which one of you is Midwife Cade?”

“I am, and this is my friend Jane Trew. Unfortunately, I won't be of much help to your wife with this knee of mine.” Martha
pointed to her leg, which was propped up on an opposite chair, before she turned to her companion and friend. “Jane, if you feel up to delivering this babe, you can use the sitting room, or would you rather show them the way to Dr. McMillan's?”

The man shook his head. “I just left there. His housekeeper said he was out on a call and won't be back till late tonight. It's our first babe, and . . . and I don't think we can wait that long.”

Confident that God was in total control of the situation, Martha whispered a hurried prayer that Jane knew that, too.

Jane's gaze darkened for only half a heartbeat before her eyes shimmered with determination. “I can take care of your wife and deliver the babe,” she said and got to her feet. “Let me show you to the sitting room.”

He hesitated. “Are you a midwife, too?”

Jane tilted up her chin. “Yes, I am, and unless you want your wife to deliver that babe right here in the kitchen, I suggest you follow me. Now,” she added firmly, in the same tone of voice Martha always used to force a father-to-be to follow her directions.

Whether it was Jane's command or the poor laboring woman's scream, the man did as he was told. And what mattered most was that Jane had accepted the challenge God had placed in front of her, and Martha prayed with all of her might that He would stay by her side and help her to deliver this babe safely into this world and into its mother's arms.

Martha had gotten to her feet by the time Jane came rushing back into the kitchen. “My bag of simples is sitting right on the floor in my room, and the birthing stool is stored under my cot. I'll get everything else ready for you here,” Martha suggested. “I may not be able to do much, but if you are worried about doing this on your own, I can be there with you when you deliver the babe.”

Jane shook her head and smiled. “I can do this, Martha. I know I can, because I won't be helping this babe into the world all by myself. God has blessed me with my calling, and He'll be with me. That's not to say I wouldn't mind having you there, too. I won't need you to tell me what to do, but I could use your help with our mother-to-be, if it wouldn't put too much strain on your knee.”

“Let's go help this little one meet some very anxious parents,” Martha replied. They gathered up what she had assembled for Jane to use with the birthing and carried everything to the sitting room, where she found Claire lying on the settee with her worried husband standing by her side.

Relinquishing her usual role as midwife to Jane, she was not surprised when Mr. Clemmens was sent out into the hallway. Working quickly but efficiently, Jane helped Claire off of the settee, and Martha assisted the laboring woman until Jane had covered the settee with a birthing cloth and laid the woman down again.

Martha held the woman's hand while Jane rolled up the woman's gown to examine her. Within minutes, Jane was frowning. “The babe is in a posterior position and appears to be stuck. From what she's already told me, she's been suffering from forcing pains for several hours. She's very weak at this point, and I'm afraid the babe is, too,” she said to Martha before she turned her attention to Claire. “I need to help your babe, and it's going to hurt. A lot. But once I do, you'll have your babe in your arms in no time,” she promised, although Martha was far less confident than Jane appeared to be.

Deathly pale, poor Claire managed a smile before gritting her teeth against the pain of another contraction. “Hurry. Do whatever you have to do, but please hurry! It hurts. It really hurts!”

“I know, sweet woman. I know,” Jane crooned, but her demeanor changed in an instant. She squared her shoulders and nodded to Martha as she lubricated her right hand and arm. “I'll need you to help Claire hold as still as she can.”

Martha stood at the end of the settee and took hold of Claire's shoulders. “I'm ready.”

Jane nodded, and without saying another word, she went straight to work. With confidence and skill, she managed to help that baby in far less time than it would have taken Martha. Claire had passed out from the pain, poor dear, but she roused when her husband returned. Jane barely had time to get the worried man to take a seat on the birthing stool and his wife seated properly on his lap before little Michael Paul Clemmens entered this world.

True to her word, Jane placed the squalling babe into his mother's arms just a few minutes later. Once again moved by the absolute glory of birth, Martha saw her feelings mirrored on Jane's face and more. She saw confidence and courage and joy. Such wonderful, immeasurable joy!

When Jane's work was over and the new mother and babe were resting together under the watchful gaze of the proud new father, Martha was pleased when Jane led them to all pray together, a custom Martha had always followed after every birth.

“Heavenly Father, we thank you for the gift of precious Michael Paul, who is living proof of the perfect love You have for each and every one of us. Martha and I thank you for the privilege of attending his birth. We pray that You will shower his parents with grace, that they might raise this child to know You, love You, and serve You so that he will grow to manhood and live a long and full life as a model of Christian love and integrity that will bring You and our savior, Jesus Christ, the honor and praise that You are due. So pray we all. Amen.”

When the echo of their combined
amen
had yet to fade, she and Jane left the new parents alone and returned to the kitchen together.

Martha could not help noticing that Jane's eyes were still aglow. “You did a wonderful job with Claire and little Michael. How do you feel, now that you've delivered a fine, healthy babe and placed him into his mother's arms again?”

Jane swirled around the room as if freed, once and for all, from the fear and doubt that had taken her calling away from her. “I'm . . . I'm excited. Amazed. Grateful. Blessed. Happy. And oh so ready to be a midwife again,” Jane crooned and danced over to Martha to give her a hug. “I don't know how to thank you for helping me rediscover my faith in God as well as in myself. I thought I'd lost both forever. I know there may come a time when something will go horribly wrong, but if and when it happens, I'll be better prepared to hold on to my faith and to help the parents I serve to do the same. Thank you, Martha. Truly. I owe you so much.”

Martha hugged her back. “Not at all. It was all part of God's plan. For each of us. He's the one who brought us together,” she replied, but her voice caught on her words. Despite her lack of faith, God had indeed sent her a woman who was a fully competent midwife. He had just sent her too late for Martha and Thomas to have a life together.

It suddenly occurred to her that maybe that was part of God's plan . . . because He did not want her to marry Thomas at all.

A final tug on her conscience, strong enough to shake off the numbness in her soul, set her faith free again and reminded her she must always bow her will to His. And she could only do that in the days and nights ahead with prayer.

Too overwhelmed by the many possibilities for her future, and too hurt to imagine her life without Thomas, Martha had
an ache in her heart and her head almost as bad as her knee, which had survived her work today with no more damage.

Her first prayer tonight and every night for the rest of her life? To ask God to help her to follow the path He had set out before her . . . without Thomas.

The busy household was even busier for a couple of days, but once Mr. Clemmens left with his wife and little son to continue their journey to Ohio, life in the confectionery returned to a normal, but slightly different, routine.

Fern and Ivy were surprised to learn that Jane was, in fact, a midwife, then promptly made the same arrangements with her as they had made with Martha—and they already had a few ideas about how to go about hiring more help to run the household.

They were less than enthusiastic to learn of Martha's plans to move into her cottage. When they walked into the sitting room, where Martha was resting on the settee after dinner, and closed the door behind them, she had a feeling she was not going to like what they had to say.

Although the settee was clearly designed for two, the sisters plopped down, one on either side of her. Now she knew she was not going to favor the conversation they apparently had planned.

Fern took the lead. “My sister and I need to talk to you.”

“If it's about moving into my cottage—”

“It's not. It's about you and Thomas,” Ivy argued. “We love you both, and we just don't understand why the two of you can't settle whatever disagreement you had and get married.”

“We don't want to know what's come between you,” Fern explained. “That's none of our concern, of course, but we just can't stand by, day after day, and see how unhappy you are
without doing something to try to help you. I can't imagine he's faring any better, either.”

Disappointed that she had not been better able to hide her deep disappointment, Martha hoped to ease the concern etched on their faces. “At the moment, having a little more room to breathe would be a good start,” she teased.

Fern shook her head. “We're not letting you off of this settee until you agree to sit down with Thomas and try to work things out.”

Martha drew a deep breath. “We already did try. Truly, we did—but we just couldn't agree on . . . on some things that are important to each of us. It wouldn't do any good for me to talk to him about it again.”

Ivy squeezed herself off of the settee. “Then if you won't even try, my sister and I will. We'll ask around tomorrow and get someone to drive us out to that cabin where he's holed himself up and talk some sense into that man.”

Martha's heart started to pound, and she got to her feet. “No, please. Please don't do that. I appreciate your concern, but it wouldn't make any difference if you did. He's made it very clear he isn't interested in anything more I might have to say. And please, if you're tempted to talk to him anyway, please don't do anything unless we talk about it first. Promise?”

They nodded, eventually, and in unison.

She gave them both a hug. “There is something you can do that would cheer me up a bit,” she suggested, looping her arms with each of theirs. “Cassie mentioned you tried a new recipe for chocolate fudge this morning, and I'd like to sample some.”

Ivy cringed. “It's a bit gooey.”

“And we added a tad too much cocoa,” Fern added.

Martha chuckled. “I happen to love gooey cocoa fudge.”

With the mood between them lightened, they spent a good
while together before finally deciding that perhaps using another recipe for fudge might be in order. When both sisters insisted on trying out the recipe then and there, Martha made her escape, grateful her knee had finally healed. She headed out, hoping for a visit with her grandchildren, and on the way happened to meet Victoria, who was carrying two baskets.

“I was just coming to see you,” her daughter said after they kissed each other hello.

Martha smiled. “I was hoping I might see you, too, but in all truth, I was rather hoping I might take Lucy and Hannah out for a spell.”

“Sorry. Comfort put the girls down for an early nap, so you're stuck with me. I just happen to know where there's a whole patch of blackberries that are ready to be picked, and I thought you might want to join me, even though you'll probably only want the leaves or something other than the fruit for one of your remedies. Unless you actually do want the berries now that you're turning over most of your duties.” She handed one of the baskets to her mother. “See? I even remembered to bring some gloves for you.”

Martha chuckled. “If there are enough for both of us, I'll pick some berries for Fern and Ivy, but I'll take some leaves, too. I may not need to make a lot of remedies for sick folks, but I'll still need a few to keep at the cottage.”