Taken Too Soon

by Edith Maxwell

  “I need to go. Find me at the Union Store tomorrow, I’ll be telling you more.” She jogged over to her father and pushed the back of the heavy cart the rest of the way up the path.

  I plopped back onto the blanket with David, who gave me an inquisitive look.

  “The Brigid we heard about this afternoon?” he asked.

  “The same. She is the first I’ve encountered, besides Tilly, who seems truly sad about Frannie’s death.”

  “And the part about this fisherman’s daughter hating Frannie?”

  “She claimed it’s because it’s Hazel who hates her, Brigid.” I drew my knees up and wrapped my arms around them. “She told me to find her at the market tomorrow. She must work there.”

  “The Hazel we met this afternoon. Did you notice her pupils were quite constricted?”

  “I did.”

  “I wonder if she indulges in laudanum. That’s a common effect of the drug.”

  “And it can cause erratic behavior, can’t it?” I cocked my head.

  “Yes. There is an initial euphoria, but as the opiate dissipates, people can become agitated and irritated, and they often experience dysphoria.”

  “It sounds awful.”

  David cleared away the food between us and scooted over to sit next to me. He took a bite of a berry tart, then held it to my mouth. “Your dessert, wife. That, and the moving picture show in front of us.”

  I let thoughts of murder slip into the ocean along with this glorious orange ball paying witness to the turning of the globe. I was happy to focus on nothing but my husband for the rest of the night.

  Chapter Thirteen

  I sat with Tilly in Sadie’s marvelous screened-in porch the next morning at nine. I nestled comfortably on the chintz-covered cushion in a wicker chair, while my aunt leaned back in a matching love seat. This room off the back of Sadie and Huldah’s house faced their garden, and they’d lined the outer walls with screens to keep out the mosquitoes. We’d acquired the newly invented screening material only the year before on our windows at the home I’d shared with the Bailey family.

  “The design of this porch is ingenious,” I said to Sadie as she brought me a cup of coffee and Tilly a hot tea. “Thee has the benefits of the out-of-doors without the biting insects.”

  “We replace the panels with glass for the winter,” Sadie said.

  “I thank thee, Sadie,” Tilly said. Her face was still pale and drawn, but she appeared more rested and less stricken than yesterday.

  I thanked our hostess, too, and she bustled off. Tilly and I sipped in silence for a moment, watching chickadees flit around a plate of sunflower seeds sitting on a small iron table. Rudbeckia and zinnias bloomed in yellow and red profusion in front of us.

  “Where has thy husband got himself off to, Rose?” Tilly asked.

  “He has a physician acquaintance in town, a man doing an innovative procedure. David is currently treating a patient with the same condition and wanted to consult with this doctor somebody or other.” He’d asked if I minded, saying conducting a spot of business wasn’t exactly in line with a romantic honeymoon. I’d responded, “Neither is helping find a killer.” One of the many reasons David and I got on so well was that we were both practical people.

  “That’s industrious of him.”

  “Did thee rest well last night, Aunt?”

  “I did, my dear, to my surprise. Neighbor Marie recommended a calming tea, which helped greatly.” She reached for my hand. “I’d like to pray with thee for a bit.”

  I joined my youthful, strong hand with hers. Soft, age-spotted parchment skin covered her knobby knuckles. Still, her grip was firm. I closed my eyes, letting the grace of the divine wash over me.

  Sometime later I started when she spoke and let go of my hand.

  “Thee didn’t know Frannie, Rose.” Her keen blue eyes regarded me from under still-dark brows. “May I share some memories of her?”

  “Please, Aunt Tilly.” Perhaps I would hear the story of how Frannie came to live with her. I hoped so.

  “She was a lively girl, from the age of two onward.”

  I wanted to ask how the girl’s parents had died, but decided to let Tilly’s story play out. Perhaps she would mention the circumstances.

  Tilly folded her hands in her lap and gazed out at an aster’s spiky orange blooms. “She was so very curious, Rose. ‘Why’ and ‘how’ were her favorite words.”

  “Aunt Dru told us Frannie could fix anything.”

  She laughed softly. “She could. I think if she’d been a boy she might have become a mechanic or even an engineer. Not an appropriate profession for a woman, of course, but our Frannie had the aptitude, without a doubt.”

  “Besides tinkering, what made her happy?” I cradled my coffee in both hands after taking a drink.

  “She was athletic and would go off riding on the bicycle as soon as she was big enough to reach the pedals.” Tilly smiled as if at a sad memory. “She even tinkered and invented a guard to go over the back wheel so her skirts wouldn’t become caught in the spokes.”

  “Did she enjoy swimming in the bay?”

  “Very much. She was a veritable fish.”

  “David and I bathed there yesterday. It was quite pleasant.”

  “To my disappointment, Frannie never became enthralled with reading.” Tilly sipped her cooling tea. “The girl loved to garden, though. Judith next door was teaching her a few tips about nurturing plants. Then that—” She stopped abruptly and turned to face me. “Rose, we Friends are taught that all are equal in God’s eyes. But that boy, Reuben, he was a bad influence on Frannie. She thought he was going to share his Indian wisdom with her.” Her narrow nostrils flared.

  “What kind of wisdom?” I kept my voice gentle.

  “His mother, Zerviah, was teaching her the traditional ways of fertilizing the garden by burying fish and whatnot.”

  “Zerviah is the midwife?”

  “Yes. Drusilla must have told thee. I didn’t mind our girl associating with Zerviah. She is a kind and modest woman. But after Frannie met the son, she started staying out too late, coming home flushed. I spoke to her about the dangers of passion, and she didn’t heed my words. Not a bit. Once she even returned home reeking of alcohol. I have heard Reuben has a temper when he’s drinking.”

  “And thee knew she’d been with Reuben? Did thee ever see him imbibing?”

  “No, but there is talk.” Her eyes filled. “Rose, I think he killed her.”

  Precisely what the detective had hinted at. “Tilly, why does thee think so?”

  “Let me revise that.” She was adamant. “I know he did. You see—”

  I leaned toward her. Sadie hurried in. Tilly pressed her lips together.

  “Excuse me, dears,” Sadie said. “Rose, thee has a caller in the person of Zerviah Baxter.”

  “The midwife,” I said. And Reuben’s mother, of course.

  “The very same,” Sadie said. “Shall I show her in?”

  “Thee shall not.” Tilly straightened her spine. “I have no quarrel with Zerviah, but she is the mother of Frannie’s killer.”

  Sadie’s eyes widened, but she kept her silence.

  “I shall not be in the same room as that woman,” Tilly continued.

  I stood, shocked that my aunt would be so judgmental and negate her own Quaker beliefs. It had to be her grief that was making her speak irrationally.

  “I’ll meet with her elsewhere.” I worried Tilly might take offense, but I would not judge the local Indian family with malice. Tilly waved me away.

  “Of course. Come with me.” Sadie showed me to the front hall, where a dark-haired woman waited. “Rose, this is Zerviah Baxter. Zerviah, thy fellow midwife, Rose Dodge. Please, ladies, sit in the parlor here.”

  I smiled at Zerviah but didn’t speak until Sadie had left us and we were seated. “I’m so pleased to make thy acquaintance, Zerviah. I’m always eager to learn from others who practice the art of midwifery, especially those who have ass
isted with many more births than I.”

  Zerviah, who was from her appearance probably on the far side of thirty years of age, perched on the edge of a straight chair as if ill at ease. Her cotton dress in shades of muted green and gray was as plain as a Quaker’s and her green brimmed hat as free of adornment. Her hair was not pinned up in any kind of do but instead fell in a single black braid down her back.

  “Thank you for seeing me, Mrs. Dodge.”

  “Might I prevail upon thee to address me as Rose?”

  Her eyes warmed. “I know you Quaker women don’t stand on titles, and you don’t take offense at familiarity from the likes of me. But be aware, Rose, I will address you appropriately should we be in the company of those not of your faith. I cannot afford to be publicly castigated, not now, not ever.” Her English held only the hint of an accent, mainly in the shape of the vowels.

  Her calm statement saddened me. I was certain Indians underwent a great deal of unfair treatment solely on the basis of their heritage and coloring.

  “I understand.” I folded my hands and waited for her to continue.

  She also kept her hands clasped in her lap. “I have several things to relate to you. First, I have a woman, a first-time mother, who is due to deliver soon. Her baby is in the breech position. Perhaps you have methods I have not heard of to assist with such a birth.”

  “If her labor begins while I am still in town, I shall be glad to help if I can. I also suspect thee knows techniques traditional and otherwise I can learn to enrich my own practice.”

  She bobbed her head once in acknowledgment. “Second, perhaps you have heard that the authorities appear to believe my son Reuben caused the death of Miss Tilly’s ward.”

  It was my turn to signal that, yes, I had heard.

  “This cannot be true. It cannot. Let us leave no doubt.” Her dark eyes flashed in a face with full features, which might have come from her foremothers intermarrying with the Negro race, despite her straight hair. “He’s a good boy, Rose, and an innocent one. Will you help me clear his name?”

  I sighed inwardly. How could I say no? Yet this trip was intended to be a joyful respite with David, not a stay full of such strife, and this was the second such request of me.

  “Doing so is the purview of the detective, of course,” I began. “I’m not sure what I could accomplish.”

  She leaned forward. “Please, Rose, do whatever you can. Frannie told my son you have a gift for such things.” Her gaze beseeched me. “And if a member of your faith does not help us, no other citizen of Falmouth will.”

  “I cannot promise, thee understands. But I will see what I can find out.”

  “Very well.” The midwife sat erect and cleared her throat. “My last piece might be of interest. You and I, we know women’s gravid bodies sometimes better than they do themselves. I do not have proof of this, but I am certain Frannie was with child.”

  Frannie, pregnant? With Zerviah’s own grandchild, perhaps? I could only stare at her. I glanced away at the door, praying Tilly wasn’t listening.

  “She was a fully matured girl of sixteen,” Zerviah continued. “She exhibited all the signs of pregnancy we are so familiar with. A thickened waist, full bosom, heightened color, an unease in her stomach.”

  “Does thee think she knew she was with child? Sometimes girls don’t.”

  “I do not know.” She gazed out the window at the road, where a wagon filled with salt marsh hay rumbled by. “I did not speak with her about her condition.”

  I spoke slowly. “I’ve heard Frannie and your son were friendly. Perhaps more than friendly. Could he be the father?”

  “No.” Her eyes became harder than obsidian. “And, for certain, he also is not a murderer.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Zerviah left Sadie’s shortly after delivering her opinion that Frannie had been pregnant. She said she had no idea who the father might have been, only that it wasn’t her son. How could she be so sure? I was well aware how many mothers refused to believe the worst about their children, and I prayed I myself would never be put to the challenge. I wondered, too, where Zerviah had trained as a midwife. She was clearly in command both of her profession and the associated vocabulary, using a word like “gravid,” which was not in the common lexicon.

  Tilly had laid down for a rest by the time I returned to the sunroom, so I set off meandering through town, as David was occupied until midday, about an hour from now. I strolled deep in thought down the main street of the town, passing a barbershop and a milliner.

  Today the glowering sky put a damper on my mood. Gone was yesterday’s lighthearted weather, which had let a newly wed couple splash in the bay and enjoy an al fresco picnic at sunset. Now the air was a swamp of humidity, dampening the neck of my dress with sweat simply from the exertion of walking. Today’s cloud cover was an oppressive ash-colored blanket, reminding me a murderer walked these streets, too.

  I paused at the railroad station, which also contained the telegraph office. I’d wanted to write to my father. I pushed through the door and made my way to the telegraph counter.

  “I’d like to send a telegram, please.”

  The elderly clerk silently passed me a slip of paper and a pencil. I thanked him and stepped to the side to compose my message. I considered how to word it, in light of Tilly now being associated with a homicide investigation.

  PLS INFORM HOW TC ACQUIRED F WHY DIDN’T ADOPT. R

  There. I’d avoided using names, in case the clerk might gossip. It was exactly ten words. One had to pay for ten words even if the message contained fewer. A line had formed at the window by now, so I took my place at the end. The two women in front of me obviously knew each other.

  “The Baxter father isn’t much better than the son,” the taller one said.

  She was talking about Reuben and his father. I sidled a half step closer so I could hear better.

  The woman continued. “Why, my husband saw him swilling the hooch and doing his redskin dance up in the hills last week.” She pursed her lips and gave a shake to her head.

  “I don’t know why we even allow Indians to live here in West Falmouth among decent white folks,” the other one said. “The government should keep them in Mashpee where they belong.”

  “Especially if they’re going to go around killing poor girls. None of us is safe, mark my words.”

  “I certainly didn’t let my daughter be delivered by that midwife, either,” Shorter said. “The German one in Falmouth was properly trained and doesn’t try to give ladies any strange concoctions like the ones Mrs. Baxter forces on them during their travails. She probably performs savage incantations, too. One can’t be too careful.”

  “No, indeed one can’t.” It was Taller’s turn at the window, and the conversation ended.

  I shook my head at such judgment against the Indians from these two. Concoctions, indeed. What midwife didn’t make up herbal remedies to assist her women during labor and afterward? Herbs were certainly part of my practice. I hadn’t met Zerviah’s husband or son, but she seemed a most competent and sensible woman. Of course, these women’s prejudicial views were commonly held in our nation. Why else would Indians have been pushed off their native lands and forced to move or to go into hiding? It made me glad all over again to have been raised in the Quaker faith, where we are taught all are equal in God’s eyes.

  Finally I slid my telegram to the clerk and paid the seven dollars and forty cents, wincing as I did. David was well situated financially, but I wasn’t used to spending money so wantonly.

  The man squinted up at me after he read my words. I feared he was about to question me, but he didn’t. I was sure he wasn’t fooled by my enigmatic use of initials.

  One purpose of my walk being accomplished, I headed out. I smiled at the very small library building across the street. Dru had said plans were in place to build a new library across from the Meetinghouse, but they hadn’t broken ground yet. I made my way to the Union Store to talk with Brigid. As
promised, she stood behind the counter, today clad in a blue sprigged dress with her hair pinned up. She was quite a pretty girl, especially cleaned up and out of her mannish seafaring garb.

  I wondered if I should purchase something in case she had a boss who might disapprove of her spending time speaking with me. I spied a small tin of sweets and brought it to the front. I could give it to Sadie as a gesture of thanks for the meal yesterday. I was sure Dru would enjoy the candy, if not Tilly.

  “Good morning, Brigid,” I said.

  She had turned her back and was running a feather duster over a shelf of tonics. She faced me, a smile already on her face, but it slid away when she saw who I was. “You’re the lady from the beach, Frannie’s cousin. You wanted to know about Hazel.”

  “Yes, I’m Rose Carr— I mean, Dodge.” I laid the tin on the counter. “I’d like to purchase this, please, and I would very much like to know why Hazel harbors ill feelings toward thee.” I kept my voice low.

  She blinked at my use of “thee.” “You’re after being one of those Quakers, are you?”

  “Yes, I am.”

  “Frannie attended your church, too.” When her eyes welled, she swiped at them with the back of her hand. “I wanted to go with her once to see what it was like, but me da forbade it. Said walking into a pagan church would be considered a sin or some such twaddle.”

  She told me the sweets would be five cents. She pressed the keys on the big ornate cash register, making the drawer pop open with its dinging bell. As she accepted the coins I proffered, Brigid said, “Hazel hated me because I wouldn’t do what she said. She’s a one for going on and ordering her friends about.”

  Interesting. “Did Frannie obey her?”

  “Not since she was taking up with Reuben Baxter, she didn’t.”

  “I gather Frannie and Reuben were openly courting.”

  “Yes, ma’am, and Hazel was a right spitfire about it, I’ll tell you.”

  “How do you know Hazel?”

  “Ah, you know, we all live here, we’re all of an age. I suppose Frannie introduced us first.”