The Midwife's Dilemma (6 page)

Her heart skipped a beat as his gaze traveled the contours of her face.

“Now that we're finally alone,” he said, “I can tell you that you look very fetching tonight, and I'm overly pleased that you agreed to spend the day with me, day after tomorrow.”

She was tempted to reply in kind but did not dare give him any encouragement, especially when he climbed back up the bottom step. His nearness made it impossible for her to hold any thought but of loving this man and wanting to be his wife.

Her heart skipped a beat and then another when he climbed a second step higher. “After I delivered you home last night, I thought about the plan we've made for our future together and came up with a better one.”

Rooted in place, she swallowed hard. “You did?”

He nodded. “When we spend the day together, I think we should go to see Reverend Welsh to make arrangements for us
to get married and go to New York together in a few weeks, just like I suggested. Since you've already made it clear you don't want to look for a midwife in New York, you can double your efforts here when we get back, continue your work as a midwife, and I promise not to get annoyed every time you're summoned away. What do you think about making that our new plan?”

She was surprised that he had not yet discovered Reverend Welsh was not in town and would not be for some time, and when Thomas bent down to kiss her, she placed her hand on his chest firmly enough to make him pause. “I thought we'd agreed that you'd go to New York alone in a few weeks and while you're gone, I'd concentrate all of my free time on finding someone here who wants to replace me,” she countered. “And if I did accept this new idea of yours, I suppose you'd find it wholly acceptable that while I'm gone, Dr. McMillan would take over caring for all of the women and children here, wouldn't you?”

He cringed. “I hadn't really thought about that.”

She smiled. “That's all right, Thomas. As long as one of us is thinking straight, that's all that matters. But I do feel badly for teasing you,” she admitted, hoping she had not deceived him for too long about the one reason they definitely could not marry now.

He cocked a brow. “How so?”

“Reverend Welsh took his wife East for water treatments some time ago, and no one has any idea of when they'll be back. Any plans you might want to make for us to get married and go to New York together are rather pointless without him here, don't you think?”

He leaned forward until his face was so close to her own, his breath fanned her lips and left them tingling. “Believe me, Martha. If you said you'd marry me tonight, I could have a preacher here in a matter of hours, and if you doubt that I'd
do exactly that, you don't want to test me,” he whispered, then gave her a kiss that lingered just long enough to convince her that he meant every word he said.

He left her standing there wondering if his plan to marry before he went to New York was all that bad of an idea after all.

Until she thought of Victoria.

Concern about her daughter's future eclipsed any she had about her own with Thomas, and she carried those worries back inside with her as Thomas headed to his own home. When she reached the privacy of her room, she dropped to her knees, pressed her forehead to the mattress on her cot, and folded her hands in prayer. “Heavenly Father, You know the troubles of my heart even when I'm too worried or too ashamed to bring them to You, but I'm coming to You now. As much as I long to marry Thomas and devote my energies to finding a woman to replace me, my first responsibility is to my daughter. But I'm uncertain of what I should do with her. She's so young and so vulnerable and so innocent, I feel as if I must protect her as fiercely as I did when she was a young child. Yet even as the urge to protect her remains strong, help me to accept that my guidance must always be second to Yours because she is Your precious daughter, too.”

She paused for a moment to gather her thoughts, even though she knew that God understood them already, and continued praying long into the night until she felt the presence of His peace.

By the time she crawled into her bed, it was almost midnight. Her body was weary, but her soul was refreshed. She was confident in what she needed to do when she found a way to talk privately with Victoria in the morning.

And she would, as long as God was by her side to help her in case she faltered or lost her way when she did.

M
artha was a woman on a mission when she slipped out of the confectionery just after sunrise the next morning.

Armed with her rock-solid faith and a steaming crock of bread pudding she cradled with both hands, she approached Aunt Hilda's cottage just on the outskirts of the southern edge of town. Smoke twirling up from the chimney promised a warm fire that would ease the chill that had roosted in her bones.

She headed down the familiar path that led along the side of the cottage to the kitchen in the back. The closer she got to the back door, the faster her heart was beating. When she finally stood directly in front of the door, she paused to whisper a prayer before tapping lightly on the weathered wood. When no one answered the door, she knocked a little harder.

This time the door cracked open just a bit before it swung wide open, and Victoria stepped back to let her enter. “Mother! Come in. What are you doing up and about this early?”

“I haven't seen you for more than a few minutes since I've
gotten back home,” she began. “I thought I'd invite myself to breakfast and bring along something sweet to eat for everyone. Aunt Hilda has many, many talents, but she simply has no knack for baking,” she added in a whisper before giving her daughter a quick kiss and handing her the crock of bread pudding.

Hilda Seymour, her eccentric aunt-by-affection, had in fact been the most requested afternurse for miles around until last winter, when she finally gave up staying with new mothers after their deliveries. Now seventy-eight, she still provided new mothers with honey from the beehives she tended with her husband. She also used the honey to make honey wine, which was an essential ingredient in the hot toddies that helped to ease the grumbling pains that often followed a delivery.

Aunt Hilda held an exalted status in Trinity as the last of the original settlers, but she held an equally special place in Martha's heart. In addition to being a close friend of Martha's Grandmother Poore, who had been Trinity's first midwife, Aunt Hilda was her most trusted confidante. She also possessed such deep faith and uncommon good sense that Martha relied on her heavily for advice and comfort.

In all truth, if Aunt Hilda had not been here after Victoria had run away last year and during Fern and Ivy's absence more recently, Martha was not certain how she would have survived with only Grace and Bird to listen to her troubles.

Victoria giggled, breaking Martha's reverie. “The thought of eating any meal without something sweet is simply not in your nature, but if you ask me, I think it's gotten worse since we started living in a confectionery,” she teased.

She took a whiff of the bread pudding before she placed it on the table, which had already been set with three places, and turned back to her mother. “You don't have to whisper. Aunt Hilda and Uncle Richard have been up for a while.”

Once Martha hung up her cape and bonnet, she looked around the small kitchen. With a long rectangular wooden table in the center and a pair of rocking chairs in front of the fire, there was little room for anything more than a cookstove, a corner cupboard, and a sink with a pump for the water. “Where are they now?” she asked as she edged closer to the fire in the hearth.

“They like to have a cup of tea together in their bedroom before they venture out for breakfast. Aunt Hilda just left the kitchen a few minutes ago, so they'll be a while,” Victoria replied. After retrieving another plate and a mismatched cup and saucer, she carried everything back to the table to set an extra place for her mother.

Martha brightened. “Then we actually have a few moments to ourselves. Let me take a look at you,” Martha suggested.

“You haven't been gone long enough to forget what I look like, have you?” Victoria teased.

“I'm your mother. I could never forget what you look like,” Martha insisted. When Victoria left the table again to secure some additional utensils, she studied her daughter more objectively.

At eighteen, Victoria was no longer a child and had blossomed into a very comely young woman with all the right curves in all the right places. With her dark, curly hair pulled back and held in place by a ribbon at the nape of her neck, her hazel eyes dominated her heart-shaped face, and her porcelain complexion was flawless. She was also very loving, incredibly bright, and talented.

No wonder Dr. McMillan was so smitten.

Martha drew a deep breath and took a moment to recall the measure of peace and grace she had received after a long night of prayer. She also held on to the promise she had made to herself to talk to Victoria openly and honestly about the girl's
intention to marry Dr. McMillan. “Would you have a cup of tea with me while we wait?”

“I just refilled the kettle, so I'm afraid the water's not hot enough yet. We can sit together in front of the fire, though. You look a bit chilled after walking all the way here. You must really miss Grace.”

“Very much,” Martha admitted. She sat in one of the rocking chairs and stretched out her legs for a moment before setting the chair into a slow rock to ease the twinges in the small of her back. “I can walk farther now without getting winded, but even though my back doesn't always cooperate, I don't mind walking about town. I just can't walk far enough or fast enough to answer all of my calls on my own, I'm afraid.”

Victoria sat in the other chair and started to rock. “Will you be able to get another horse soon?”

“That's not very likely,” she admitted and chuckled. “By the time I save up enough to purchase another mare, I'll be too old to ride, so for now, I'm trying to be content relying on other people to take me wherever I have to go.” She didn't delve into explaining she would have no need for a horse at all once she gave up her calling and married Thomas.

In fact, she was glad that she and Thomas had both agreed to still keep their plans to get married a secret. Telling her daughter now, when she had no idea of when they might marry, would be tantamount to telling Dr. McMillan. She simply refused to give him any information that would benefit his own practice over her own, which assuaged her guilt for being less than candid with Victoria.

“That's enough talk about me. How have you been faring these past few weeks? Have you had time to do more of your writing?” she asked, again giving her daughter the opportunity to broach the subject that lay heavy on Martha's heart.

Victoria sighed and frowned. “Very little that's any good, I'm afraid. I did write to Mrs. Morgan, though, but I haven't heard back from her yet. I just wanted to find out if anything had been decided about the series of little articles on remedies and sketches that we worked on together in January. The last time she wrote, she said they might not be published until next spring, and I wanted to know if that had been decided or if the original date for this fall would remain.” Her gaze settled on the fire.

“Mrs. Morgan's babe was due in late spring. I'm sure she's delivered by now, which means she's probably very busy, so I wouldn't worry too much if you don't hear back from her for a while,” Martha offered, but the deep disappointment in Victoria's voice tugged at her heartstrings.

June Morgan and her husband published a very popular women's magazine in New York. Last summer they had taken Victoria into their home after she decided not to continue with the theater troupe that had provided her with a way to escape from Trinity, and for that, Martha would be forever grateful.

June and her husband had also recognized and encouraged Victoria's writing talents. As the magazine's editor, June had offered Victoria a place as her assistant, as well as in their home, but she'd insisted that Victoria first return home to Trinity to see her mother and ask for permission. She had even escorted Victoria home to guarantee her safety.

Martha's reunion with her runaway daughter had been bittersweet. In the end, she had reluctantly given Victoria permission to accept the Morgans' offer. She had also agreed to share her knowledge of healing remedies with women far beyond Trinity by identifying and sketching plants with healing qualities while Victoria took what Martha knew about them and wrote the verse to accompany the sketches. Having those little
articles published, however, was much more important to her daughter than it was to her.

“I'm sorry. I know you're anxious to see our work appear in print, but it will be eventually. And no matter when that happens, nothing can change the fact that we had the opportunity to do something very interesting together.” Martha treasured the memories she had stored deep in her heart of a time when she and Victoria had actually grown closer.

“We did, didn't we?” Victoria said.

“If you haven't been doing much writing, how have you been spending your days?” Martha asked, anxious to change the conversation from the past to the present and to give her daughter one last opportunity to introduce the subject of her relationship with Dr. McMillan before she was forced to do so.

Victoria shrugged. “In all truth, I've done quite a bit of writing. It just isn't very good, so I keep writing and rewriting and getting nowhere. Poor Mrs. Andrews. She tiptoes around the study at Dr. McMillan's, where he's set up a place for me to write, as if she's afraid she'll distract me while she's cleaning, when it's my own distractions that keep my poems and stories from developing properly.”

With the conversation getting close to the topic Martha wanted to discuss, her pulse began to race. “What kind of distractions?”

Victoria let out a long sigh, but she still kept her gaze focused straight ahead at the fire. “They're not distractions, really. They're more like longings, but I'm not sure you'll understand them,” she whispered.

Martha swallowed hard. “But perhaps I will,” she managed.

Victoria stopped the rocker and turned in her seat to face Martha. “I don't want you to think I'm ungrateful, because I know how hard it's been for you to provide for us since Father
died, but . . . but I want more now. I want a home of my own. I want a family of my own. Most girls my age are either married or betrothed . . . or they want to be.”

“Those longings are perfectly normal for a woman of any age,” Martha said as the yearnings of her daughter's heart wrapped around her own. “Are you quite certain that Dr. McMillan is the man you want to spend the rest of your life with?”

Victoria's eyes widened, her mouth gaped, and her cheeks turned crimson.

“Don't bother to deny it,” Martha said, then quickly admitted to eavesdropping on the young couple at the stable behind Dr. McMillan's home. “I'm not particularly proud of myself for not making my presence known, but I daresay we would all have been quite embarrassed if I had. And, I might add, the two of you have made it very evident that there's good reason why young couples should be properly chaperoned at all times.”

Victoria's blush deepened. “I know you're not overly fond of him and that our interest in each other places you in a difficult position. . . . We didn't mean to upset you.”

“Fortunately for both of you, I've had some time to think things over. I can't say I wouldn't be happier if you wanted to marry someone else, because I would. But it's not my life, though as your mother, it's my responsibility to make certain that you think this over very, very carefully to be certain that this is the path God wants you to take.”

“I know. And I am, but—”

“I must confess that I did have several ideas about what I should do about you and this young man,” Martha interrupted, and she was pleased to see that she definitely had Victoria's full attention now. “My first thought was that I could simply refuse to give Dr. McMillan permission to marry you and count on
the fact that given his place in the community, he'd be far less inclined to ignore my wishes than you would.”

Judging by the flush on Victoria's cheeks, she knew she did not have to go further and remind Victoria of her running away.

“Then I thought that I should ship you off to New York to live with the Morgans, or even to Boston to live with your brother and Grandfather Cade, but I decided that those were fruitless ideas since you'd probably run straight back to Trinity to be with Dr. McMillan.”

“Wh-what did you finally decide?” Victoria asked, her eyes brimming with tears.

“In the end, I came up with another idea about what I should do,” Martha said, ever so grateful for the time she had had to pray and for God's guidance when she did.

Victoria worried the fingers on both hands. “What do you plan to do?”

“I want to speak to you and your young man together. Tonight. Just the three of us, and when I do, I want the two of you to tell me why you each think that this marriage is what you both want.”

Victoria's eyes widened, allowing a single tear to escape. “And if we do, you'll . . . you'll give us your blessing? Truly?”

“I suppose that depends entirely on your answers,” Martha admitted. “In the meantime, now that Fern and Ivy are back, I want you living back at the confectionery, where there's plenty of supervision when I'm called away. I also want you to promise me that you won't be spending any time alone with that young man.”

“Can I still work in his office a bit and continue to use his study upstairs to write my poems and stories?”

“Only if Mrs. Andrews is there. If she goes to market or leaves for any reason, you leave, too,” Martha insisted, and she
was confident that her friend would continue to keep an extra close eye on Victoria once Martha spoke to her.

Victoria blinked away the rest of her tears before she nodded. “I promise.”

Martha clapped her hands on her thighs. “Good. Now that that's settled, I need a good strong cup of tea.”

“The water should be ready by now,” Victoria offered, then rose and planted a kiss on Martha's cheek. “Thank you.”