The Midwife's Tale (7 page)

And she would have been wrong.

Once she cast aside her disappointment and bitterness, fond memories of her daughter inspired a smile. Victoria was a natural scholar, brighter by half than her older brother. She lived in a world dominated by literature and poetry. If she wasn’t reading a book or a poem, she was writing her own.

“Victoria has a different gift from mine, doesn’t she?”

“She does, though she doesn’t quite know what to do with it.” Aunt Hilda squeezed Martha’s hands. “Not one of my four children’s left. Only the good Lord knows for sure when Mr.
Seymour will come home to me, but even after thirty years, I still wake up every morning and hope this will be the day he walks in the door. . . .”

Her voice trailed off for a moment before she cleared her throat. “Victoria’s like my own. I miss her almost as much as you do, and I worry about her now, too, but you’re not facing this alone. And neither am I. We both believe the good Lord is watching over that girl and we have to trust Him to protect her now, more than we ever have before. And if you have a tiny niggle of doubt He’ll keep her safe, then you think back to what just happened in that cabin tonight. He didn’t spare Glory a mighty tough entry into this world, but she survived because He gave you a gift, one you’ve embraced all these years despite the sacrifices you’ve had to endure, and He guided you tonight to protect that innocent babe.”

Ashamed and humbled once again, Martha embraced her aunt. “I’ve been such a fool.”

“Selfish and prideful, too,” Aunt Hilda added while giving Martha a hug. “That makes you human. Faith and conviction can’t cure that. They only help you to recognize your failings so you can try to overcome them. He never promised life’s journey wouldn’t be hard. He just promised to take the journey with you. If you’ll let Him. And if you do, He’ll help you see that life’s troubles, as well as the joys, are all His gifts. You just need the courage to open each and every gift and be thankful for the lessons they each contain.”

Martha bowed her head. She had always accepted the joys in life as His gifts, but viewing life’s troubles and disappointments as gifts would be a far greater challenge—one she knew she must accept.

With renewed fervor, she stormed the heavens with silent prayers. For forgiveness. For understanding. For the strength of
faith to find the gift in all that life held. In thanksgiving—for the miracle of Glory and for the miracle of Victoria, that He might protect her from all harm and bring her home to her mother’s arms one day. And most of all, for the love and guidance Aunt Hilda offered to her.

When she finished, she linked her arm with Aunt Hilda’s and headed back toward the cabin. “After we pray together to give thanks for Glory, I’ll tell you more about what happened in New York when I tried to find Victoria.”

“Just don’t expect Rosalind to offer anything close to a kind word when you see her again. She’s still hurting, and harboring lots of anger she’ll be directing at you, too, now that you’re home. You won’t be alone. She’s upset with most people these days.”

Handed yet another challenge, Martha never lost her stride. She had known Rosalind all her life. Time and time again, their relationship had run the full gamut from adversary to close friend and everything in between. Unfortunately, when Rosalind encountered difficulties, she took her frustration out on her friends, including Martha, and alienated them instead of turning her energies to the source of her problems and enlisting the help of understanding friends. “I take it Burton hasn’t returned home?”

Aunt Hilda shook her head. “Apparently, she had a letter from that husband of hers some weeks ago. She won’t say where he is, but he’s not coming home until Webster Cabbot drops the charges he’s filed against him.”

“He might have to wait till Webster dies for that to happen,” Martha quipped. “He’s not a man to back down from a fight, especially when he thinks he’s right.”

Aunt Hilda snorted. “They’re arguing over a watch.
A watch!
I’m not sure I’ll ever understand how either one of them would
let this misunderstanding escalate into a feud, let alone formal charges that bring in the law.”

Martha sighed. “For Webster, it’s about honor and his sense of family, which precede friendship. The watch belonged to his grandfather. It’s an heirloom,” she offered, “although keeping something that valuable within full view of anyone who frequents Webster’s shop is something I’ll never understand. To be fair to Webster, Burton bears some responsibility here. He should have stayed to face the charges instead of running away before Sheriff Myer could arrest him. This could have all been resolved in court months ago—”

“Exactly. Instead, poor Rosalind has had to face the scandal all alone,” Aunt Hilda charged.

“Poor Rosalind,” Martha murmured. Dismayed that this troubling issue had not been settled during her absence, Martha knew there was nothing she could do to ease Rosalind’s plight or her misery unless Rosalind opened the door to the friendship they had shared before Burton’s disappearance. She did, however, realize that she and Rosalind had one thing in common: The gossipmongers in town might find it hard to decide exactly which woman’s troubles deserved more discussion. “I’ll try to stay clear of Rosalind for a while,” she offered.

“You’ll face greater challenges a bit closer to home, too,” Aunt Hilda warned. She stopped in her tracks, forcing Martha to stop, too, and let out a soft sigh. “James and Lydia had an awful time keeping the tavern operating after Victoria left, especially with you gone, too. They needed help, so they hired Annabelle Swift. She’s a hardworking girl, but she’s only helping until Victoria gets back. I wanted you to know before you got home.”

Martha clenched her jaw, shocked by the intense wave of betrayal that washed over her. For her brother to replace Victoria, even temporarily, made her absence even more of a reality—one
that would pierce Martha’s heart every time she saw Annabelle instead of Victoria working in the tavern.

Disappointed in her brother, as well as his wife, Martha was once again reminded of her tenuous position in their household. Too distraught to risk discussing the matter with Aunt Hilda just then, she took a deep breath and forced herself to focus only on her duties. “Let’s go inside and gather the others to pray.”

6

L
ong before the sun rose to light the new day, the six women gathered together in Adelaide and Daniel’s bedchamber and encircled the double bed. Adelaide cradled her sleeping daughter in the crook of her arm while Daniel stood, tall and proud, at her side. They joined their hands together to create an unbroken prayer circle. Heart-to-heart, they bowed their heads, ready to begin the tradition Trinity’s first midwife had started so long ago.

From her place at the foot of the bed, Martha led them all in prayer. “O Lord, we thank You this day for Thy goodness and praise Thy name for the blessings You have bestowed upon us. We thank You for entrusting us with Thy newest creation, Glory Adelaide Finch, and we accept Thy call to love her and raise her and teach her Your Word. May the light of Your love shine always on this family, giving both Daniel and Adelaide the wisdom and courage to be good parents while Glory is in their care. Amen.”

“Amen,” came the chorused reply as gazes once more locked on the new mother and her babe.

Adelaide wore a dazzling smile. Propped up against a mound of pillows, she nuzzled the top of Glory’s head before she turned the sleeping babe around for all to see. “She’s so beautiful, and quite perfectly formed,” she boasted as she unwrapped the blankets to give anxious eyes a full view. Tiny legs curled up close to a diaper covering her little bottom, and arms with clenched fists lay tight against her chest as though still confined to her mother’s womb. A mop of dark ringlets capped a sweet little face still flushed from the struggle of birth.

The new mother’s eyes filled with tears as she gazed around the circle of women. “Daniel and I want to thank you all for helping us,” she whispered. She turned her gaze back to Martha for a moment, then looked up at her husband.

Daniel cleared his throat. “I’m especially indebted to you, Widow Cade. Thank you for keeping both of the women in my life safe.”

Accustomed to receiving praise and platitudes from grateful new parents, Martha issued her traditional reply, although she could not remember when it had meant more to her. “I’m privileged to share this moment with you. With all of you,” she added, addressing all the women who had helped Adelaide prepare for childbirth. “While I spend a few moments with Daniel and Adelaide, I think all of you should get some well-deserved rest. You’ll have more opportunity to see Adelaide and Glory in the morning before you leave for home.”

Once Aunt Hilda led the mildly protesting women out of the room, Martha went to the side of the bed and laid her hand atop her patient’s abdomen. Even through the thin sheet and top blanket, she could feel nothing rigid. Adelaide complained of no pain when Martha applied gentle pressure. “Everything
is proceeding perfectly normally,” she informed both Adelaide and her husband. “Aunt Hilda will stay while Adelaide recovers during her lying-in period, and she’ll be able to answer any questions either of you have. She’ll also know if there’s anything that needs my attention. I suspect that’s not likely to happen,” she added when concern knitted Daniel’s brows together.

“Will you stay through morning?” he asked.

“Actually, with Adelaide in such good hands, I’d like to go home. I haven’t seen James or Lydia yet, and I’d like to talk with them . . . about Victoria.”

Adelaide clutched Glory to her chest, as if keeping her child from leaving her, too. Martha took a deep breath and used the very words she had chosen to explain Victoria’s continuing absence to the other women earlier. “I pray the good Lord will watch over her and protect her until He brings her home. Until then, I’d ask for your prayers for Victoria, too,” she concluded.

Adelaide worried her lower lip. “Of course. I’m so sorry. I wish there was something we could do to help more.”

“I do, too,” Martha whispered. “Now, I want you to get some rest, young lady. You, too,” she teased Daniel when she noted the exhaustion that had slumped his shoulders. “I’ll see myself out and make sure the ladies are tucked in before I go.”

“I secured your bag and the birthing stool just like you told me and made sure Grace got some oats and fresh water,” Daniel said quickly. He paused. “I hesitate to ask you to do anything more, but Dr. McMillan left this behind.” He took the doctor’s lancet out of his shirt pocket. “I won’t be going to town for a while. I was wondering . . . I mean, if it isn’t too much trouble, would you be able to return it to him for me tomorrow? I wouldn’t want him to have to ride all the way out here, especially after what happened.”

Martha wanted to see Dr. McMillan again tomorrow about
as much as she might want to have a tooth pulled, but she understood how awkward it would be for Daniel to have the doctor show up on his doorstep again.

“I’ll be happy to return it in the morning,” she assured him, and took the lancet.

He let out a deep breath. “As for your reward . . .” He tried, but could not stifle the yawn that interrupted him.

She chuckled. “We’ll take care of that in a few days when I stop back to visit Adelaide.” Without giving him time to argue, Martha left the bedchamber.

In the main room of the cabin, light from a single kerosene lamp on a small table near the front door guided her past the sleeping women in their makeshift dormitory. Once she had put on both her cape and her bonnet and had extinguished the lamp, she eased her way out the door, being careful to not wake anyone. She checked to make sure Daniel had adequately secured her bag and the birthing stool, and stored the doctor’s lancet in her valise. Satisfied, she untied the reins and mounted Grace. She leaned forward and patted the horse’s neck before donning her leather gloves. “A girl this time,” she murmured.

A snort.

“I thought so, too, but you can’t tell first-time parents much of anything.” She nudged the horse and turned her about. “Take me home, Grace. Take me home.”