The Midwife's Choice (7 page)

She swallowed hard. “Considering you still won't answer my questions, give me one good reason why I should.”

His gaze softened. “Because I asked,” he said softly. “Because it's important to me. Because it's my cabin. And because . . . I'm leaving Trinity tomorrow, perhaps for a very long time, and this is the only chance we'll have to be alone together before I do.”

She followed him into the cabin.

M
artha glanced around the main room of the cabin to keep her thoughts from dwelling on Thomas's surprising admissions. The furnishings were substantial—not as luxurious or ostentatious as those in his home in town, but a stark contrast to the rustic, spare furniture in the small cabin Nancy and Russell Clifford called home. Thoughts of Nancy inspired a quick prayer that she was recuperating well before Martha studied the sitting area facing a massive stone fireplace where Thomas was busy starting a fire.

A plump settee and two chairs, upholstered in forest-green fabric, sat atop a thick wool rug. Directly to her right, an oak rolltop desk and a daintier lady's desk sat on either side of a large front window, which provided a striking view of the lake. A grandfather clock, its hands stilled, stood sentry in the corner, as if waiting for a family to arrive and order time to begin.

To her left, an unusually wide doorway gave her a full view of a kitchen. In addition to a modern cookstove on the outer wall and a round pine table in the center of the room, two corner cupboards were bursting with cookware and tableware.

The home had a feeling of sturdiness and comfort that made her feel as if she had, indeed, come home. This cabin beckoned to her, tugging at her heartstrings, stirring alive her strong feelings for Thomas, and rekindling the yearning to have a home of her own, here, with the man who had just told her he was leaving, possibly forever.

An overwhelming sense of loss and confusion threatened to consume her. Just yesterday, Victoria had come home, only to announce she intended to leave again. Now, Thomas announced he was leaving Trinity, too. Fearful that she was destined to spend her life watching everyone she ever cared about move away, Martha struggled against the temptation to merely curl up on the settee, close her eyes, and simply fade away into sweet, peaceful oblivion.

Before she could slide headlong into self-pity, Thomas joined her, helped her to remove her cape and gloves, and placed them near the fire to warm. Once he had finished, he returned and escorted her to the sitting area. To her surprise, she found more than the much-welcomed heat from the fire he had started.

He had spread a brown tweed blanket on top of the rug. In the center, the picnic basket lay open and a magnificent feast had been set out. Sandwiches made with thick slabs of ham cushioned between slices of wheat bread, a handful of boiled eggs, a large bowl of custard, and a plate of sugar-crusted doughnuts lay near tableware and crisp white napkins.

“There's enough food here to feed half the town,” she said.

He chuckled. “I promised you a picnic, and you deserve only the finest. Now, if you'll take your seat. . . .”

When she hesitated, he touched her elbow. “Are you worried someone will find out we're here?”

“Not . . . not overmuch,” she whispered. Truth be told, she was concerned. She prized her status in the community, and it would not do to have her character besmirched by having people gossip about her being here alone with a man who was not her husband.

When he cocked a brow, she sighed. “Perhaps a little. Then again, we're not exactly youngsters. We're both middle-aged adults. We've both been married before. . . .”

“And still, people will gossip and judge you poorly for being here alone with me. I'm sorry. I never meant to compromise your reputation. Never,” he said. “They already have enough to talk about where I'm concerned. I shouldn't involve you.”

She held silent. Gossipers had had plenty to chew on lately where Thomas was concerned. His recent betrothal to Samantha, a woman half his age, had been broken before it was officially announced. Soon after, his ardent attentions to Martha had not gone unnoticed. He was not, however, a man who would let anyone force him out of town, and she was loath to let the possibility of gossip steal this last chance to be with him. “I suppose we shouldn't let all this food go to waste.”

He smiled and helped her down to the blanket, where she sat, her back straight and her skirts carefully arranged to cover her crossed legs as she faced the fire.

Thomas assumed a similar position next to her.

After holding out her hands to warm them over the fire, she passed him a plate and napkin before taking one of each for herself. He piled two sandwiches and three eggs onto his plate and started eating immediately. She paused, then selected one of the doughnuts and spooned out a good serving of custard for herself.

His eyes widened, and he gulped down a bite of his sandwich. “Do you always skip straight to the desserts?”

She savored a glorious spoonful of custard, then shrugged her shoulders. “If you can plan a picnic in the dead of winter, I can have dessert first, don't you think?”

His gray eyes twinkled. “That sounds fair enough.” He glanced around the room. “So what do you think?”

“It's heavenly, but Eva Clark always did make the creamiest custard.”

He feigned a wounded look.

She nibbled at the doughnut, then chuckled. “Oh? You meant the cabin! It's very nice. Very comfortable.” She turned to look over her shoulder. “I love the view of the lake. Look,” she whispered. “There's a moose. No, two of them!”

He watched them with her, silently, until the animals finally disappeared back into the dense woods surrounding the lake. He smiled and turned back to his meal. “They're massive animals, but they have a certain grace about them,” he suggested.

She nodded and tackled the rest of her custard. “How long ago did you buy the cabin?”

He grinned. “I bought it several years ago, but I only remodeled it last summer while you were gone.”

She nearly choked on a piece of the doughnut. “
You
did?”

Another wounded look. “I've never been useless when it came to tools.”

“I didn't mean you were. I'm just . . . surprised,” she admitted. “Actually, I'm more surprised I haven't heard anything about it.”

He chuckled, peeled one of the boiled eggs, and polished it off. “Most folks still don't know about it. Those who do just assume I plan to sell it after I finish remodeling. All for a hefty profit, I might add, if I were to sell it. The place was pretty run-down.”

She wiped her lips with her napkin and wrapped her hands around it. “What changed your mind about selling it?”

He stared into the fire. “There wasn't one pivotal moment that changed my mind. It happened gradually. After Sally died, I started taking a good, long look at my life.”

Memories of the difficult first year after John died swept over her. “It's always hard when you lose a spouse.”

He drew in a deep breath and shook his head. “Like a fool, I thought I could start over with Samantha. Between that near-disaster and the difficult time Eleanor was having, I realized I
didn't want to start over and live the same life I'd had before. I wanted a new one.”

She cocked a brow. “So that's why you're leaving? To start a new life? You should know by now you can't run away from your past, Thomas. It will just follow you wherever you go.”

He turned and gazed at her with such tender affection he nearly stole every thought in her head, save those for him. “I'm not running away from the past. I'm leaving to create a new future for myself. Once I do, that's when I'll be able to decide if I want to return here to live permanently or just keep the cabin for when I come back to visit.”

The idea that Thomas might move away permanently now, after his daughter and her husband had decided to move back to Trinity, made no sense to Martha at all. “But what about Eleanor? Her babe is due in February. Honestly, Thomas, I can't believe you'd be so willing to leave and be gone so long without regard for your own daughter. Why not stay for the birth . . . then leave if you must?”

“I intend to come back for a visit after the babe is born,” he countered.

“For a visit.” She narrowed her gaze. “Then you'd be leaving again.”

He nodded.

She let out a sigh. “I wish I could say I understood what you're doing, but I don't.”

He took her hand and held it, but stared into the fire. His grip was warm and comforting, and held the promise of strength. “Let me see if I can explain this better. As you probably know, my father had many business interests that I inherited after his death. Along with Anne, of course.”

She nodded. His sister, Anne Sweet, lived in Harrisburg with her husband, George, a state representative, when the legislature was in session. They were expected back in Trinity by the end of the month, when they would return to the mansion next to
Thomas's. It was their son, Wesley, who operated the general store.

“Some of those interests are here in Trinity,” Thomas continued. “Father kept a good bit of the land surrounding the town to lease to homesteaders. He had other interests in New York and Philadelphia—tracts of land, a few mercantile establishments, several factories, even a small interest in a shipping line, all of which provide a sizable income, which allow me to devote most of my time to civic matters, just like he did.”

She was amazed at the true extent of his holdings, as well as his willingness to discuss such private matters with her. “Civic matters. Like being mayor?” she asked.

“Exactly.” He turned and gazed at her. “George has agreed to take over my duties as mayor until the next election in April, with the consent of the town council, of course. Obviously, I won't be seeking reelection.”

Shocked that he could give up his position so easily, she tightened her hold on his hand. “How long do you expect to be gone before you decide what you're going to do?”

He exhaled slowly and stared back into the fire. “Six months. Perhaps a year. I'm not really certain.”

“Do you know where . . . you're going?”

“Philadelphia, at first. Then New York for a spell.”

When he let out a sigh, she locked her gaze with his, still searching for more of an explanation—one he seemed reluctant to give her. “But why? Why must you leave?”

He squared his jaw and entwined his fingers with hers. “Because I'm tired, Martha. I'm tired of running businesses from a distance and constantly traveling back and forth to attend meetings with lawyers and bankers. To be perfectly frank, I'm tired of being mayor, too. Without Sally to consider now, I only have the children. Eleanor has happily settled down with Micah and Harry's decided to spend a year traveling through Europe after graduating in the spring. I can finally think about what I want.”

He turned to face her. “I might not know exactly what my life will be, but it'll be mine. Not my father's and not the one he planned for me. That's why I understand Victoria and what she's asking to do.”

Comparing his apparent unhappiness with Victoria's did not sit well with Martha. “You're an adult. Victoria is still a child,” she countered. “If you aren't even sure about what you want, how could she be so certain?”

When she tried to tug her hands free, he refused to let go. “Don't turn this into a discussion about your daughter, Martha. This is about me and you.”

Her temper snapped. “Me? This has nothing to do with me, especially after you've just told me you're leaving Trinity, perhaps for good.”

A challenge sparkled in his eyes. “But it is about you. Tell me you're not tired, too. Tired of traipsing cross-country in all kinds of weather. Tired of not knowing when you go to bed whether you'll be able to get a good night's sleep. Tired of being alone, of not having a home of your own.”

His charges struck several chords of truth, all tucked deep in her heart so she would not have to face them often or admit to anyone else how tired she truly had become. In truth, there had been little she could do to change her situation after John died. She was a widow with no one to support her and she had enough pride to insist she support herself and her children for as long as she was physically able to do so.

As usual, however, Thomas could see right into the deepest recesses of her mind. Her backbone stiffened. “Of course I get tired,” she admitted and held her voice soft and low. “Sometimes I'm very, very tired. Then I realize I have no other choice. I carry on because I must . . . and because other people depend on me to help them. Even if I wanted to change the life I lead, I couldn't. But you can. You can change your life because you have options I don't have. That I've never had,” she snapped.

“You did once,” he said, “but your interest in being a midwife came first. Before me. Before—”

“How unfair of you to dredge up the past,” she protested.

He raised a brow. “What's so unfair about being honest? You made it perfectly clear when you broke our betrothal years ago that you weren't willing to give up being a midwife and working with your grandmother.”

“And you agreed with me!”

“I don't remember it quite that way.”

She huffed. “Well, you did. You agreed that if I became your wife, I wouldn't have the time I needed to devote to my responsibilities to others who needed me. You told me I had to choose, so I did.”

His gaze softened, melting any protest she might have raised. “I don't fault the decisions we each made in the past, any more than I can change them. We've each had good marriages, but we're both alone now. If you'd stop huffing long enough to really listen, you'd realize that I'm simply saying I don't want all the same things now that I wanted twenty-five years ago. Only some of them.”

She swallowed hard. “And just what might they be?”

He smiled and tucked an errant lock of hair back behind her ear. “I want to love you, to take care of you, to give you a home of your own. I want us to be together. As husband and wife.”

Her heart began to pound. Her cheeks burned. He had never spoken so openly about his feelings for her, at least not since that day so long ago when he first asked to court her. “Thomas, I . . . I don't know what to say.”