The Midwife

by Carolyn Davidson

  He stepped into the kitchen and found Ruth at the stove. “Is dinner almost ready?”

  She waved the big stirring spoon at him. “You’re lucky I cooked extra, Mr. Lundstrom. There’s enough for you.”

  “Where is my wife?” He glanced around the room, empty because Leah was not in it.

  “She went upstairs to change her clothes. I’m sure she’ll be back down in a minute. That was quite a time you had in town, I hear.”

  “Yah.” He crossed the room, immune to Ruth’s questioning look, intent only on finding Leah.

  If she needed comfort, he would be there. If she allowed it, he would hold her…for just a few minutes, because it was daylight, and Ruth listened below.

  And after all, it was not long until sunset. He could wait until then.

  Chapter Fourteen

  It was just at sunset when the knock came at the door. The kitchen was already shadowed, with the sun below the horizon on the other side of the house. Leah’s hands were busy with lighting the lamp over the table when she heard the knock. She turned to the door, apprehension alive in her.

  The thought of questioning looks directed at her was more than she wanted to handle at this time of day. Her stance was belligerent as she opened the door. A bulky form met her eye and she hesitated for a moment.

  “Hello, there,” she greeted, just now taking note of Gar coming from the barn.

  “Mrs. Lundstrom?” It was a deep voice, with the trace of Swedish accent she had come to expect over the past years. “I have need of your help.”

  It was a plea she could not resist, no matter how weary she was. She opened the door to the caller. Gar followed on his heels, his words allaying her fears.

  “Olaf, I have not seen you for a long time. What are you doing here?”

  “I am come to persuade your wife’s help,” the farmer said. “My boys, both of them, are sick. Their mother says it is summer complaint, but all I know is that the fever and the vomiting, and then the runs, have worn them both to a frazzle.”

  “It is late, Olaf,” Gar said. “The sun is set already.”

  “I know that, and I would not ask if I didn’t think—”

  “I’ll be ready in a few minutes,” Leah said quickly. The thought of two small boys ailing through the night when she could be helping them would be enough to keep her awake. She’d just as well go with Olaf now and see what could be done.

  “I will be so thankful,” the farmer said, holding his hat in both hands as he delivered a smile of relief in Leah’s direction. “It is cooling off, Mrs. Lundstrom. You had better bring a shawl.”

  “I’ll get my bag,” Leah said, turning toward the hallway. She hurried up the stairs, pausing at Kristofer’s bedroom door.

  “What’s wrong, Miss Leah?” He sat on the edge of his mattress, peeling off his stockings, readying himself for bed.

  “I want you to wash up, Kris,” she told him. “I’ll be back in time to make breakfast. I have to go to a neighbor’s to see if I can help some sick little boys.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” His eyes wary, he stood by the bed. “You’re gonna come back, aren’t you? For sure?”

  His doubting countenance was more than she could bear and she swiftly crossed to where he stood, bending to hug him tightly. “Of course I’m coming back, Kris. I love you too much to leave you, ever.”

  She dropped a kiss on his forehead and patted his shoulder. “Go to bed, now. Your sister is asleep already.”

  Her bag was buried in the trunk, and she readied it quickly, then snatched up her shawl as she left the room.

  “Mr. Hanson will bring you back, Leah,” Gar said as she came down the stairs. “I would go along, but I don’t want to get Ruth out this time of night.”

  “Yes, that’s fine.” With barely a pause, she swept past Gar and left the house. Olaf Hanson waited to help her onto his wagon seat, and in moments they were rattling down the lane.

  The Hanson place was several miles down the road, and Leah hunkered in the seat, thankful for the warmth of her shawl. She glanced at the worried man beside her, searching for words that might be consoling but could think of none. Summer complaint, if that were the reason for this sickness, was known to be devastating to the children. Babies were buried every year, their tiny bodies ravaged by the illness.

  “They are sick, my boys. They throw up everything we try to give them, and then their stomachs hurt and they cramp up something terrible.” Olaf turned to her. “Have you treated this before, Mrs. Lundstrom?”

  “Yes, and it is always a problem keeping anything down. We’ll see what we can do, Mr. Hanson. I have several things we can try.” She stifled the urge to pat his hand. “How old are your boys?”

  “Four and seven,” he answered. “Just little tads.”

  “You only have two children?”

  “No, there is a girl, less than a year old.”

  “Her mother is nursing her?” Leah asked, waiting for his nod. “That’s good. We think this illness comes from cow’s milk sometimes during the heat of summer.”

  “What can we do? Is the milk bad?”

  Leah shook her head. “No. Just heat it almost to boiling for ten minutes or so, and it should be fine.”

  Olaf shook his head. “I never heard of this before. To think that my cows made my boys sick.”

  “This may not be that at all,” Leah said quickly. “They may just have a stomach upset. We’ll wait and see.”

  But her first glimpse of the ailing children was not what she had hoped for. Their eyes were dark circled, their skin dry, and they whimpered with pain, pulling their knees to their bellies.

  Gerda Hanson bent over first one, then the other, cool cloths alternating with the fever-warmed towels she removed from their foreheads. “I am so glad you came,” she said, her eyes filling with tears as Leah entered the room. “I have heard you are a healer, Mrs. Lundstrom. Even the people in town say you have magic in your hands.”

  Leah smiled, her hands lifting to deny that claim, and then, with rapid movements, she shed her shawl and opened her bag. The sour smell of soiled bedclothes piled next to the bed was evidence of recent purging. “Do you have hot water?” she asked.

  “Yes, of course,” Gerda answered. “How much do you need?”

  “Enough to make tea from winterberry bark. I have some in my bag. It should stop the flux from their bowels and bring down the fever at the same time—if we can get them to keep it down.”

  And that would be the problem, she decided. With their stomachs so rent by vomiting already, they might not be able to retain anything. But even a few drops would help, and so they would try. She would have used the elderberry tea that had helped Eric Magnor in his illness, but these boys had already lost all their body moisture. They could not afford to sweat in copious amounts.

  Gerda took the wrapped package of winterberry bark, and Leah was left with only the harried father by her side. “Perhaps we could remove the bedding and soak it outdoors,” she said quietly, gesturing at the stained sheets on the floor. “We may need them clean in the morning.”

  “Yes, of course,” Olaf said, hurrying to do her bidding.

  “And I need a pan of cool water and a clean rag to cool their bodies and faces with,” Leah said as Olaf left the room.

  She took the towel from one child, swinging it through the air to cool its fibers, then replaced it gently. The red cheeks were hot to the touch, his lips dry and fever chapped. She repeated the procedure with the other boy, who watched her with listless eyes.

  “Are you a lady doctor?” he asked in a weak whisper.

  She shook her head. “No, just a lady who wants to help you feel better.”

  The night was long, with hours spent bathing and soothing, offering the cooling tea over and over again, then watching as fragile stomachs rejected it with little delay. And yet, before dawn, the terrible purging of their bowels ceased, and Leah leaned back in her chair beside the bed.

  “I think they are holding do
wn more than they are giving back,” she said with a touch of humor. She closed her eyes for a moment. “You should go to bed for a while, Gerda. Your husband and I will watch.”

  Olaf stood and lifted his wife from the floor next to the bed, where she had knelt for hours. “Come, let me help you,” he said softly, his hands gentle as he led her to the door.

  The woman looked back at Leah, a question alive in her eyes. “They will be all right now, I think,” Leah said, only too aware of the worry that had kept Gerda awake for two days. “I’ll stay for a while.”

  The room was quiet, the boys’ breathing normal, their fevered flesh cool to the touch now. Leah swung a towel through the air again, cooling it, then washed both small faces, her hands passing over their skin tenderly.

  The familiar draining of her strength was upon her, and she sat once more in the straight chair by the bed. Somehow, the hours spent with illness left her spent and weary, as if some part of herself was left behind when she walked from a sickroom.

  Her mother had called it a healing touch that drew its strength from the healer. It bore a responsibility, this gift, she had told Leah. When God gives a talent, he expects it to be used. And on a night such as this one just past, she sometimes sensed the draining of her own strength in order to imbue another with her power, to mend their ills.

  “I have coffee in the kitchen,” Olaf Hanson offered from the doorway. “Would you like some, Mrs. Lundstrom?”

  Leah shifted in the chair, nodding her head, and the man left quietly. It would refresh her, and if the boys continued to rest quietly, she would leave once the sun came up and Mr. Hanson had his chores done.

  Gar would be waiting for her, his curiosity burgeoning after the words Eric had spoken with the whole town as his audience.

  Such a statement for Eric to make. He’d obviously wanted to protect the woman he had claimed as friend. But to tell such a tale was beyond belief. And yet…she yawned widely. It was more than she could comprehend right now. The questions pounding at her mind would have to wait.

  “You need to sleep for a while,” Gar said firmly, watching as Leah placed her bag back in the trunk where she stored it. “You haven’t rested all night, have you?”

  “No, I couldn’t. They were so sick, Gar. And their poor mother was worn-out.”

  He watched her, feeling her weariness as his own. He had slept fitfully all night, reaching to touch her beside him in the bed, only to remain empty-handed. So used to having her beside him, he was aware of her absence in a way that frightened him. During the dark hours, he had come to realize how much this woman meant to him. Her very presence filled his home, her love overflowed on his children, and to him she gave the comfort of her body.

  Perhaps the day would come when her eyes filled with love as she gazed upon him. Even now, as she rose from kneeling before her trunk, she looked at him with tenderness, her smile seeking his own. And he gave it, felt the corners of his mouth turn up as he lifted her to her feet before him.

  “I would be in that bed with you, my wife, but the men would think I had taken leave of my senses if I lollygagged around instead of helped with the work.”

  “I’ll dress Karen and feed her,” Leah said. “Then maybe Ruth will come over and watch her for an hour or so while I catch up on my sleep.” Her head found its place against the broad planes of his chest, and her sigh was deep.

  “Are you so weary every time?” His arms enclosed her and he held her firmly, enfolding her with a gentle touch that yearned for more.

  “When it happens this way, then I know what I have done has borne results. For some reason, my hands give comfort and healing, Gar. I cannot deny my help.” She looked up at him. “I always fear the gift God gave might be taken from me if I do not use it well.”

  His mouth twisted in a stubborn moue. “I don’t like to see you so weary, Leah. I will call Ruth over, of course. And I want you to stay in bed until dinnertime.” His hands moved over her back, massaging and soothing. “I fear I must look forward to sharing my wife with others for all the years to come. You bring a high price.”

  Leah’s eyelids were heavy as she attempted a smile. “Am I worth it, Gar Lundstrom? Do you gain enough for yourself from me?” Her arms slid up to circle his neck.

  He was aroused, instantly, powerfully full and pulsing within the confines of his trousers, and he pressed the evidence of his need against the softness of her belly. “I will find some small amount of pleasure with you, I am sure,” he whispered against the wisps of hair that fell against her forehead.

  She swayed and he scooped her up, placing her on the bed, reaching to pull her boots from her feet. He tugged her stockings from their place and stripped them down her legs, then rubbed her feet, enclosing them within his big hands. She closed her eyes, a sigh expressing her pleasure at his touch, and he watched the lines fade from her forehead as she relaxed against her pillow.

  His fingers were deft as he released the buttons of her dress and he lifted her gently, removing the restrictive garment. “Now sleep. I will tend to Karen and walk over to Ruth’s with her. Kristofer will work with me.”

  Only the slight nod of her head told him she had heard his words, and he bent to touch his lips against hers, feeling the response she gave as her mouth moved to accept his kiss.

  “I love you, my wife.” They were words he had not spoken to Hulda, and yet they slipped with ease from his mouth this morning as he gazed upon the weary beauty of this woman he had taken into his home. She had this way about her, he thought, straightening to watch her for a moment.

  She was kind and gentle with his children, making a home for them and keeping them clean and well fed. She was generous where it counted; for that, he was thankful. And then there was the way she treated her husband, with her sassy tongue and smart ways, giving him no ease, always prodding him into line. A woman who both intrigued and perplexed him yet added joy to his home.

  And now Eric Magnor had claimed her as his daughter.

  The afternoon was short, it seemed to Leah. She’d woken well after dinner at noon and found bits and pieces to fill her stomach in the kitchen. Ruth had been more than interested in the night’s work, and Leah had been patient with the questions that clamored for answers. It was difficult to relive such an ordeal, and she became weary as she recalled the long midnight hours.

  “I’m sorry I call upon you so often, Ruth,” Leah said. “I told Gar you will tire of us and our claiming your time.”

  “No, I enjoy being here. Most of all, I appreciate the way this house has come to life since you came, Leah. Gar is a new man, and the children cleave to you, as if they had known you forever. I knew it would be so, when I sent the baby to town for you to keep.”

  Leah’s brow raised in surprise. “You sent her? You told Gar to bring her to me?”

  Ruth nodded. “I have feelings sometimes…about things that will happen. I don’t talk about it much, but when it comes to be, I take a hand in things. As when Hulda died and you suffered such a harsh wounding for it.”

  “Does Gar know?”

  Ruth shook her head. “Some things I do not tell everyone. But you understand. You have a gift also.”

  Leah settled back in the rocker and considered the woman who had become her friend over the past months. She had insisted that Leah only watch as supper was put together, and so she did.

  Karen reached for her and snuggled close, as if she had missed her during the morning. It was good to be needed, in this way sometimes more than the other. Karen’s need was so honest, so forthright, and Leah bowed to her small tantrums as the baby claimed her time.

  Eric Magnor’s buggy approached just before supper was ready to be put on the table, and Ruth met him on the porch. “Won’t you come in? The men are still out back, but Leah is in the house.”

  His hat swept from his head in a polite gesture as Eric came in the door, his eyes seeking Leah with a swift glance. “I understand you have been up for many hours, tending the sick boys at O
laf Hanson’s place. Are you well, Leah?”

  She nodded, feeling her cheeks suffuse with color. “I am fine, Mr. Magnor. I dozed a little toward morning, then Ruth took over my chores here, and I slept for a while after I got home.”

  “And are the children recovering?” His gaze was shuttered as he spoke, his eyes touching her features, then finally meeting her own. “They did not carry a disease?”

  She shook her head. “No, I doubt it. Just a touch of summer complaint, I think. Their mother will be more careful with the milk during the hot weather.”

  “Not the fever I suffered with, then?”

  “No, theirs was a different complaint, Mr. Magnor.”

  “We need to speak of this, Leah. This ‘Mr. Magnor’ that you call me.”

  Her chin tilted, and she lifted her brow in silent query. “What would you have me call you? You told the whole town you are my father, but to me, you said nothing. If it were so, why didn’t you mention it before?”

  His face grew pale, and he lowered himself into a kitchen chair. “I have wanted to tell you for a long time, Leah.”

  “How long?”

  “Longer than you can know, my child. Longer than all the years of my life, it seems sometimes. When you came back to town a couple of years ago, I watched you, and I wanted to go to you and let you know.”

  She felt her eyes dampen with tears, and she looked down at the child she held, unwilling to allow Eric to see such a sign of weakness. “Would it have been so hard? Didn’t you think I’d want to know my father lived and breathed?”

  He cleared his throat, and his voice caught, revealing the emotion he could not conceal. “I didn’t know where you were, for all those long years, Leah. I knew your mother bore me ill will, and I could not bring myself to cause her any more pain. I stayed out of your life, because it was her choice that I do so.”

  “And it became your choice when I came back to Kirby Falls.” Her whisper accused him and he bowed his head.