The Midwife's Dilemma (9 page)

Thoroughly flustered, Martha struggled to find her voice as all of the promises she had made to Thomas and to herself to keep their plans to marry a secret evaporated. “Yes. I said yes, but we're not going to marry for a good while yet for reasons I really don't want to discuss, and if you tell a single soul about our plans, including that young man you're planning to marry, I'll . . . I'll . . .”

Victoria whooped for joy and stole every thought from Martha's head as she pulled her into a crushing embrace. “Finally! It seems like he's loved you almost forever, and I know you love him, too. I'm so happy for you!”

Martha struggled to breathe. “Happy enough to let me take a breath?”

Her daughter set her back and giggled. “Both of us getting married is ridiculously wonderful and exciting, isn't it?”

Oddly enough, Martha found she was tempted to giggle, too, and gave in to the urge before she touched a finger to her lips. “You mustn't say a word. It appears as though we might not be getting married for a while yet, and right now I don't want our plans or anything else to take away from the wonderful news of your betrothal. This is your time, Victoria, not mine, and this has to remain our secret.”

Victoria grinned, looped her arm with her mother's, and led her from the room. “A secret it is. Yours, mine, and Mr. Dillon's. I promise. I'm so happy you told me.”

Martha blinked back tears. “Me too.”

E
ven though Martha knew she had made the right decision to give Victoria her blessing, she hoped she had not made a mistake in telling her daughter about her plans to marry Thomas.

Since her own life was fraught with so many challenges, however, she had little time to give in to second thoughts and had to admit that she and Victoria seemed to be closer now than they had been for years, in part because of the secret they now shared.

The joy of sharing the news of Victoria's betrothal with Ivy and Fern last night had been cut short when Martha had been summoned to help Henny Goodfellow bring her son, Peter James, into this world, but the delivery had been unusually quick and easy. The Goodfellow farm was also only five miles from town, which meant she had been able to return and still get a solid six hours of sleep.

Well rested, Martha was energized by the prospect of taking her first ride with Bella, and for the moment she tucked away
the promise she had made to Thomas to allow him to provide another horse, for fear it would undermine her confidence.

She hurried down the staircase and smiled as her split skirt brushed against her legs. She had not worn her riding skirt for several long weeks, but instead of wasting her thoughts on the last time she had ridden Grace, she kept her mind focused on the future. She would have a better handle on whether or not Bella would be part of that future in the next few hours, and the mere possibility that she would be able to search almost anywhere to find a replacement for herself almost put wings to her heart.

She reached the kitchen with a hopeful heart and bid a good morning to Jane, who was at the cookstove browning sausages for breakfast, and young Cassie, who was setting the table. “I'm glad to see that Ivy and Fern are finally taking a morning to sleep in a bit.”

Cassie furrowed her brow. “They're not sleeping. They went to the general store to place a big, big order.”

“At this hour? It's barely seven o'clock!” she said. Although area farmers often delivered goods to the store at this hour, most customers waited until midmorning to do their shopping.

“Now that we've got our sleeping arrangements settled, they're anxious to reopen the confectionery,” Jane explained. “If you're ready for breakfast, the sausages are ready, but I'm afraid I haven't even started the griddle cakes. If you give me a few moments, I'm sure I can—”

“I'm taking Bella out for a ride this morning before I leave for the day a little later. I don't have time to stay for a big breakfast, but I wouldn't mind snatching a few of those sausages to eat on my way to the stable,” she suggested, hoping to keep her stomach from rumbling a protest.

Jane grinned. “Miss Ivy and Miss Fern were surprised you
didn't take the horse out yesterday. I'll put a few into a napkin for you to eat now, but I'll set aside a few griddle cakes in case you're hungry when you get back.”

The day was already warm enough that Martha decided not to wear a cape, but by the time Martha had tied her bonnet into place, Jane had the sausages all wrapped up and handed them to Martha. “Ride safely.”

“Thank you. I will,” Martha replied and hoped those words would not come back to haunt her as she closed the distance between the confectionery and the stables behind Dr. McMillan's home. She polished off the last sausage right before she walked into the stable; otherwise, she would have choked the moment she stepped inside. Her heart lurched and she rocked back on her heels. Thomas was standing at the far end of the stable, directly in front of Bella's stall, where her horse was saddled and ready to be ridden.

“What are you doing here?” she blurted.

He held up both of his hands. “I didn't mean to startle you, but did you really think I wouldn't know exactly why you wanted to delay leaving this morning by an hour?”

Annoyed that he had been able to read her mind yet again, she huffed. “No, I suppose I didn't, but I did assume that you'd allow me the right to take Bella out for a ride without finding it necessary to be a . . . a chaperone,” she argued, noting his horse was ready to ride in a nearby stall. If this was how protective he would be of her now, would he become completely overprotective once they married and smother the independence she had come to enjoy?

“You don't need a chaperone any more than I do, but even I wouldn't take a horse out to ride alone without being certain that I could trust it,” he countered before he set his lips in a firm line.

Mindful of the manner of his wife's death, she kept her words and her tone gentle. “I didn't intend to ride very far or for very long, Thomas. Just enough to see if she'll respond to my commands. I appreciate your concern, I really do—and if it makes you feel better to ride along with me, then all you had to do was tell me so, instead of showing up unbidden and assuming you could force me to let you accompany me.”

He dropped his head for a moment and let out a long breath before looking up at her again. “You're right. I should have asked you. I'm sorry.”

“I'm sorry, too. I should have let you ask your question yesterday and given you the opportunity to either accept my answer or discuss it with me.”

A smile tickled the corner of his lips. “Does that mean you'll really let me come with you?”

She returned his bit of a smile. “Only if you'll let me handle Bella my way and not interfere unless I ask you for help. Agreed?”

“Agreed,” he said and stepped back to give her the room she needed to pull up the bar and take hold of Bella's reins.

Murmuring soft words of encouragement, Martha led the horse outside without incident and waited until Thomas had joined her with his own horse before attempting to mount.

Unfortunately, Bella had other ideas. Every time Martha tried to put her foot in the stirrup, the horse backed up, moved sideways, or, in general, made it impossible for Martha to get into the saddle. With her hands burning from repeated harsh tugs on the reins and saddle horn, she realized too late that she had forgotten her riding gloves. More worried about her ability to even get astride than her hands, she finally asked Thomas for help.

The moment he took the reins, Bella settled down, just as
she had done yesterday. To her surprise, Martha was able to get astride on her first attempt, although Bella was clearly not happy about it. “Hold her firm and steady while I mount my horse,” Thomas cautioned.

He had barely taken a second step away when Bella made it very clear that she had no intention of letting Martha ride her.

Martha may have had years of riding experience, but she had never, ever been astride a horse that reared high enough to paw the air. When the mare started to buck, it took every ounce of strength Martha had to hold on to the reins and stay in the saddle.

To Martha, it seemed like an eternity, but it was only a matter of seconds before Thomas was able to grab the bridle. He pulled her down to the ground so quickly she did not even realize she was off the horse until her feet hit the ground with a thud that shook every tooth in her mouth.

The stark look of fear on his face was one she would never forget, and when he pulled her hard against his chest, she wrapped her arms around his waist and leaned into his strength so closely she could feel his heart hammering in his chest.

“Are you all right?” he asked, his voice husky with emotion she knew reflected memories of his late wife's accident, too.

With her own heart pounding, she managed to nod against his chest to let him know she was fine, or would be, once she felt strong enough to stand on her own two feet without falling down.

Ever so grateful that she had not let her pride keep her from letting Thomas help her, she stayed within the protection of his arms until her heartbeat finally returned to normal. When she dared to pull away, she saw that Thomas's mount had moved off to munch on a patch of grass. And Bella was right there, too, sampling the grass as if nothing at all had happened.

“I'm afraid you were right. Bella isn't the horse for me. She's docile enough to let me feed her or lead her by the reins at times, but she won't even let me sit long enough to ride her,” she admitted.

Thomas wore a rueful smile. “In all truth, I think she just doesn't like women, although I can't say I've ever encountered a horse like that before. But I suppose it's possible if you consider that her previous owner might have been a woman who abused the horse. That could explain why she doesn't balk at all if a man handles her or rides her.”

“You sound a little sure of yourself,” she said and furrowed her brow as she gave his explanation further thought. When she realized what he must have done before she arrived, she pursed her lips for a moment. “You rode her this morning, didn't you?”

He cringed. “Actually, no. I rode her last night, but just enough to know that she was capable of handling a rider. I really didn't want you on her back until I knew at least that, but if I'd had any idea that she would react so violently to having you in the saddle, I never would have let you near her.”

She swallowed hard, slipped her chafed hand into his, and forced herself not to cringe when her palm touched his own. “I'm glad you didn't stop me from trying, and after what just happened, I'm truly glad you were here.”

He pressed a kiss to the back of her hand. “Glad enough to let me keep Bella at my stables so I don't have to worry about you giving Bella a second chance?”

“Bella doesn't get a second chance. Not with me, but I'd like to keep her here until I can give her back to whoever gave her to me or find her a new owner, whichever I manage to do first. Burton takes care of Dr. McMillan's horses, and he won't have any trouble caring for her, too,” she replied. “Assuming you'll get her back into her stall.”

He reluctantly agreed with her and had Bella back in her stall within minutes, while Martha kept a good distance away. She waited for him to lower the bar to keep Bella inside, and she could not help thinking that she had lost the opportunity to use a horse of her own to search beyond the town's limits for her replacement.

Suddenly, before she could even think about accepting Thomas's offer to let her borrow a horse, that cranky stable cat, Leech, appeared out of nowhere, leaping onto the side of the stall before jumping straight onto Bella's back.

Startled, Bella reared up and charged out of the stall, running right past Thomas and Martha and out of the stable.

“Mercy!” she cried, then scowled when Thomas started to laugh. “It's not one bit funny,” she snapped and shooed Leech away by stomping her feet and clapping her hands. “Thanks to Leech, I'll never get that horse back in here again.” She looked at Thomas and shook her head. “If I have any good fortune coming my way at all, neither of them will come back, but I suspect this is only the beginning of more trouble than I can imagine from those two.”

Thomas gathered her up in his arms and pressed her close. “Don't worry. I'll find the horse and keep her at the stable behind my house, which is what I wanted to do in the first place. Of course, you wouldn't have to worry about anything at all if you changed your mind and came with me in a few weeks when I leave for New York.”

She resisted the urge to lean into him and rest her head against his chest again. Instead, she stepped back and put her hands on her hips. “You are one very persistent man.”

He grinned. “I suspect the very stubborn woman standing in front of me expects no less, and I should hope I never disappoint her.”

“I don't believe you will disappoint, although I'd be very happy if you could prove yourself to be not quite so persistent or stubborn when it comes to finding that horse.”

“Well then,” he offered and cleared his throat, “why don't we both go home and get ready for our day together? I've got a buggy ride planned. May I pick you up at nine, like we originally planned, or would you still prefer to leave at ten?”

“Let's make it ten.”

When he did not ask why, she prompted him. “Don't you want to know why?”

“Do you want me to ask?”

She chuckled. “No, I'll just simply tell you that I didn't have more than a few sausages for breakfast and I'm starving. I just want to make sure I have enough time to eat the griddle cakes Jane was going to make for everyone before we go.”

After a rather delightful buggy ride out into the countryside, where Martha and Thomas shared a picnic dinner, she directed him to the isolated spot she had claimed as her own, just above the falls.

They spent the early afternoon sitting on a blanket together while she answered his many questions about all that had happened in Trinity while he had been gone. She also made certain there was a good space between the two of them so she would not succumb to the temptation of allowing him to kiss her, for fear she would happily kiss him back, again and again. The ointment she had put on her chafed hands had worked well, which left no explanation for the way her hands continued to tingle, other than the fact that she was longing to hold hands with him—a dangerous longing she was finding more and more difficult to resist.