Copyright
ISBN 1-59789-060-X
Copyright © 2006 by Vickie McDonough. All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the permission of Heartsong Presents, an imprint of Truly Yours, Inc., PO Box 721, Uhrichsville, Ohio 44683.
All scripture quotations are taken from the King James Version of the Bible.
All of the characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events is purely coincidental.
Our mission is to publish and distribute inspirational products offering exceptional value and biblical encouragement to the masses.
One
Virginia, 1803
“M–marry you?” Amy Rogers clutched her carpetbag to her chest and stared at the lanky wagon driver sitting next to her. Was he addlebrained? The roughest day of her life had just taken a turn for the worse.
Marry me. To wed, one had to take on a husband, and that was not something she wanted to do, especially not a stranger she’d only met an hour ago. Still, she didn’t want to hurt the man’s feelings after his kindness to her, but she couldn’t encourage him.
“I truly appreciate your driving me from Stewart’s Gap to my cousin’s farm at no fee, but. . .”
“I know it’s kinda spur of the moment to ask you to marry me, ma’am, but I had a little time before I needed to be back at the livery.” Hank Foster pulled on the reins to stop the big horses in front of their destination. “ ’Sides, I figure it don’t hurt none to ask. Just thought I’d beat the rest of the single fellers to the punch. Once they see the likes of you, they’ll all be heading out this way, hoping to court you.”
Mr. Foster had skipped the courting part and gone straight to the marrying part. Amy shook her head. Even if she wanted a husband, she wouldn’t marry a man who smelled like horse dung. Refusing his filthy hand, she held tightly to the side of the wagon as she clambered down on shaky legs. She might be desperate, but not enough to marry a total stranger. Not yet, at least.
The thin man dressed in faded baggy overalls tipped his hat. “I reckon I’ll give you a little time to settle in and think on things. I’ll come callin’ in a few weeks. G’day, Miss Rogers.” He hopped back in the wagon, clucked his tongue, and jiggled the reins. With a shake of their heads and a unified snort, the two large horses pulling the wagon plodded forward, harness jingling.
“No, wait!” Couldn’t he get it through his head that she wasn’t interested?
He gave a smile and friendly wave as he turned his team back toward town. “See you in a fortnight.”
Clutching her carpetbag, she turned to face the weathered porch and willed her heart to stop its frantic pounding. Rejecting Mr. Foster had been simple compared to what she had to do now. How could she ask a cousin she hadn’t seen in years for sanctuary?
Cousin Kathryn Walsh’s log cabin looked smaller than Amy had expected. Perhaps Kathryn wouldn’t want a cousin she barely knew living under her roof. As a child, Amy and her mother had twice visited Kathryn’s parents at their large home in Richmond. But now her parents were gone, and Kathryn was her only living relative. If Kathryn couldn’t—or wouldn’t take her in—she had no idea where she’d go or how she would survive.
Taking a moment to collect herself, she tilted her head back and studied the second story of the log cabin. It looked as if it consisted of only a single room. A ladder with dead vines entangled around the rungs leaned against the south wall. Above it was an opening covered with a colorful bear claw quilt. The space looked just big enough for a person to climb through. The house had seen better days, but the smell of wood smoke spiraling from the tall chimney beckoned her. Though it was well past noon and the sun still shone overhead, the cool spring weather chilled Amy to the bone. Her stomach churned, whether from hunger or nervousness she wasn’t sure.
Taking a deep breath and hugging the carpetbag to her chest, she hopped up the porch steps, the wood creaking under her weight. Her whole future depended on her cousin’s generosity. If Kathryn wouldn’t take her in, Amy didn’t know what she’d do.
She lifted her trembling hand and knocked. While she waited for a response, she glanced over the property. A good-sized log barn and a smaller structure that looked like a little house were set off to the left. The house had a broken pane in the lone window. Someone had stuffed a rag through the hole to block the wind. Several chickens clucked and pecked around the outside of the barn, searching for their dinner. Though she couldn’t see it, she caught a whiff of a hog nearby and lifted her hand over her nose. At one time, this was probably a nice farm, but it looked as neglected as a child’s swing in the heart of winter.
Amy removed her gloves, hoping for a louder knock. She pounded on the door and winced when a splinter pierced her knuckle. Why was no one answering? Someone had to be home or there most likely wouldn’t be a fire burning inside.
Tired, hungry, and determined to get out of the cold, Amy reached for the latch at the same time the door jerked open. A small black man with curly gray hair stared at her, eyes wide. He blinked, and then a big, gap-toothed grin replaced his worried frown. “Oh, praise the Lawd. Praise the Lawd. You jes’ come right on in. Miz Kathryn, she needs you real bad.”
Amy wasn’t sure who the old man thought she was, but if Kathryn needed help, she would gladly come to her cousin’s aid. She stepped inside and found herself in a large room that was a kitchen on one side and parlor on the other. The man took her bag and set it behind the front door.
“This’a way.” He motioned toward a large opening in the wall to her right, and Amy stepped forward. Inside was a smaller room containing two beds. Her cousin lay writhing on the larger bed, fully with child.
“I’ll jes’ leave you with Miz Kathryn and go ask the Good Lawd to watch over her. You jes’ let me know if’n you need any wood or water or anything.” He hurried toward the doorway. “You give a holler when Mizzy Beth wakes, and I’ll tend to her. I go pray now.”
She watched the little, old man hightail it out of the room like a cat with his tail on fire. His time spent in prayer might be put to better use going to town for a doctor than beseeching a God who didn’t answer petitions.
Amy squelched the panic that made her want to swoon. She wondered who Missy Beth was at the same time she noticed a small lump lying under a quilt on the tiny bed in the corner of the room. A smattering of dark hair peeked out from the top of the colorful cover. Kathryn had a daughter.
“Ahhh!” Kathryn twisted sideways. One hand pressed up against the wall above her head while her other hand pushed against her rounded stomach. “Do I—do I know you?”
Fingers of fear wrapped around Amy’s heart at Kathryn’s pained expression. Was she having a troublesome birth? Taking a calming breath, Amy laid her gloves on the small table next to the bed and shrugged out of her wool cape. A chair sitting along the wall squeaked as she dragged it closer to the bed and laid her cape across its back. She wrung out a cloth lying in a bowl of water and laid it across Kathryn’s forehead.
“I’m your cousin, Amy Rogers from Boston. I’m here to help you.” And perhaps you’ll help me.
Amy’s stomach growled, and she pressed her hand against it, pushing away the desire to have her own need for sustenance met. She’d gone a full day without food. Going another hour or two wouldn’t kill her. Her own problems seemed trivial to helping her cousin at the moment.
Stay calm. The last thing she wanted to do was to tend another sickbed, especially after the way things turned out last time. Wringing her hands, she looked at her c
ousin and summoned all her remaining strength. “Shhh, you just relax now.”
After a moment, Kathryn’s stiff body sank down into the bed as her pain seemed to lessen. A soft smile relaxed the tension around her pale lips. “Cousin Amy—how did you know I needed help?”
Amy twisted her hands in her lap. “I didn’t. Actually, I came seeking help from you—but we can talk about that when you’re feeling better.”
Kathryn’s blond hair, darkened with sweat, spread out against her pillow like strands of damp flax. Her nightcap lay askew on the unused pillow to her right, making Amy wonder where Kathryn’s husband was. Why wasn’t he helping her?
Her cousin breathed in and out, as if trying to force herself to relax. Amy had never had a baby—never had a husband for that matter—not that she wanted one.
She couldn’t help wondering how long Kathryn had been suffering. At least she was calm enough now, thank goodness.
“It’s too soon for the baby to come, Amy. It shouldn’t come for at least another month.” Kathryn reached over and gave Amy’s arm a squeeze as she wondered how Kathryn could possibly get any larger with child. Amy wished she could flee out the door and run to the nearest neighbors’ for help. Was there something special to do for a baby that came too early? Could it even survive? Suddenly, Kathryn’s grip tightened. “Oh! Here comes another birth pang—”
If Kathryn squeezed any harder, Amy thought surely her fingers would pop off before the birth pain had passed. If not for Kathryn’s grip, Amy thought she might bolt out the door, even though she had nowhere else to go.
Gritting her teeth, Amy tried to ignore her aching hand and concentrated on helping her cousin. Oh, if only she’d been allowed to help some of her married lady friends in Boston with their birthings then perhaps she’d know what to do, but the older women had insisted that an unmarried girl had no business attending childbirths.
“It’s ta–king too long. Should have come by now—” Kathryn arched her back and groaned a sound unlike anything Amy had ever heard a woman utter.
Fear snaked around her chest and threatened to suffocate her. She glanced at the door. She could walk out and just keep walking. But no, she couldn’t leave Kathryn to suffer alone.
Be brave. Tears blurred her eyes. “What do I do? How can I help you?”
“You can’t. Just wait—”
After what seemed like hours, the pain lessened, and Kathryn relaxed again. “Oh, my back hurts.”
Amy stood. “Can you roll onto your side? I could rub your back for you.”
“I’ll try.” Kathryn removed the cloth from her head and wiped her face, and then with great effort, she wobbled onto her side. She grabbed her husband’s pillow and hugged it to her chest. After a few moments her labored breathing returned to normal. “How’s your family, Amy? It’s been so long since we’ve heard from you.”
“Shhh, we can talk later. You need your rest now.” Amy gently eased onto the side of the bed and pressed her fist against Kathryn’s lower back. Sweat drenched her cousin’s clothing. “We need to change your gown.”
“After the baby comes.”
Amy moved her fist in little circles against her cousin’s lower back.
“Ummm. . .that feels good.” Kathryn heaved a deep sigh. “How are your parents?”
Amy wasn’t sure what to say. She didn’t want to upset her cousin further. “How are yours?”
“Oh. . .Momma and Father died of cholera several years back.”
“I’m sorry for your loss.” Amy winced and squeezed her eyes shut. So much for not upsetting Kathryn. “Both my mother and father are gone, too. Mother died from a bad heart two years ago, and Father—well, he died several weeks ago.”
“I’m so sorry.”
Both women remained quiet as Amy continued to massage her cousin’s back. After a few minutes, Kathryn’s body stiffened and her breath quickened. Her legs writhed, and she whimpered like an injured animal. Even though the muscles in Amy’s arm ached, she continued to press her fist into Kathryn’s back, hoping to give her cousin some relief. Suddenly, Kathryn swatted Amy’s arm. “D–Don’t touch me.”
Clenching her hands in her lap, Amy sat back confused. Had she pressed too hard?
After a couple minutes, Kathryn rolled onto her back again and her breathing slowed. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to yell at you.”
Leaning forward, Amy brushed her cousin’s damp hair out of her face. “Don’t worry about me. Just tell me what I can do to help you.”
A tear trickled down Kathryn’s cheek. “I—I don’t know. Ben should have been back with the doctor by now. Something’s wrong.”
“Shhh, don’t worry. I’m sure Ben is just fine. He’s your husband?”
Kathryn’s golden eyebrows lifted, and a soft smile tilted her thin lips. “No, Ben’s my husband’s younger brother. Micah is my husband. He’s been gone so long. . .” She closed her eyes. Damp blond lashes brushed her pale cheeks.
Wondering why Micah Walsh had gone off and left his pregnant wife, Amy retrieved the washcloth from the other side of the bed, rinsed it in the water, and then placed it on Kathryn’s head again. If she thought it would do any good, she’d petition God on her cousin’s behalf. But praying hadn’t worked when her mother had taken ill, so why should it work now?
After another hour of Kathryn’s struggling, the little lump on the child’s bed moved. Amy watched intrigued as a young, rosy-cheeked cherub wriggled out from under the quilt and sat up. Dark brown hairs had pulled free from her braids and stuck out all around her head. The little girl yawned and rubbed her eyes, then suddenly glanced at the bed, as if she’d just remembered her mother. Seeming satisfied that Kathryn was still there, the child’s gaze traveled past her mother to Amy. Brown eyes, much like Amy’s cousin’s, widened in curiosity.
“Good afternoon. You must be Elizabeth. I think they call you Beth.”
The child’s concerned gaze darted between her mother and Amy. She wondered if the girl wanted to be at her mother’s side but was afraid to move any closer to the stranger in the room. Beth glanced around her bed and under her pillow then pulled a rag doll wearing a blue dress from beneath the quilt. She hugged it to her chest.
Kathryn moaned, and Beth’s worried gaze darted between her mother and Amy. The past half hour, Kathryn had been so tired that groaning was about all she could do. Amy feared for Beth. She shouldn’t witness her mother’s pain.
Standing, she stretched and pressed her hands to her back, which ached from hours of traveling in bumpy wagons. Beth scooted to the far corner of the little bed and eyed her warily.
Amy wished that old man had told her his name. She was surprised Kathryn owned a slave, though she probably shouldn’t have been since her cousin’s parents had owned several house slaves last time she visited there.
She crossed the small sleeping area and went into the big room. The combination parlor and kitchen held three large wooden rockers and a smaller one that circled a braided rug covering the wooden floor. A three-foot high stack of wood sat next to the inviting stone hearth. A large pot hung over the flames, though Amy hadn’t noticed the aroma of anything cooking in the air. Had the old man come in and fixed supper without her even noticing?
Her stomach growled, reminding her how long it had gone unattended. She walked over and peeked in the pot. Hot water. Disappointed, she glanced around and saw a partially cut loaf of bread. She tore off a hunk and shoved it into her mouth, savoring the fresh flavor. Cooking utensils lay jumbled in a small wooden crate. Jars of green beans and canned fruit lined a shelf.
Shaking herself, she headed for the front door. She could study the house later, but right now, she needed to find that old man and get back to her cousin. She jerked the heavy door open, and before she could step off the porch, the man hurried toward her. He must have been sitting inside the little house and watching out the window. Bless his heart.
“Beth is awake now. I think it would be best if she didn’t have to watch her
mother suffer.”
“Yes’m. Yes’m. That’s jes’ what I was thinking. I’ll take Mizzy Beth to play in the barn. Never seen a youngster what liked animals as much as that one.” He hobbled up the porch steps, as if the effort pained him.
Amy stepped back to let him pass, though in a normal setting she would have been expected to stand her ground and force him to go around. “Beth is leery of me. Of course, she has no idea who I am.”
The man paused and scratched his hairline. “Who did you say you was?”
Amy grinned. “I never said. You hustled out of the cabin faster than the British left America after the war. I never got a chance to tell you.”
His whole body shook with a wheezy chuckle. “I knowed the moment I laid eyes on you that you had a good heart and would help Miz Kathryn, no matter who you be.”
“I’m Kathryn’s cousin. Amy Rogers.”
The man doffed his cap. “A pure pleasure, Miz Amy. I be Jonah.” He smiled then motioned for her to enter before him. She stepped inside, her eyes readjusting to the darker interior.
Jonah. That was it? A single name. No other explanation. The old man was much more talkative than Amy remembered the slaves being at Kathryn’s folks’ house. Ignoring her curiosity, she hurried back to her patient’s side.
Jonah shook his head and twisted his worn cap in his hands. “Mistah Ben should have been back a long time ago, Miz Kathryn. That doctor, he must’ve been off doctoring somewheres else.”
Amy’s gaze darted to the old man. Would she have to deliver this child herself? Surely Jonah wouldn’t be much help when it came to birthing a baby.
“I hope you’re wrong about the doctor, Jonah.” Kathryn offered him a weak smile. “Thank you for watching Elizabeth.”
The girl must have slipped to her mother’s side after Amy had gone for Jonah, because she now snuggled on the bed with Kathryn. Beth gave her mother a sweet kiss and hug. “Go see horsies, Mama?”
Kathryn’s face tightened with pain. “Yes—baby.”
“Come along, Mizzy Beth. Them horses is a waitin’.”
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