The Midwife

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The Midwife Page 25

by Carolyn Davidson


  “Yah, Gar. It is good to see you here. Did you find a woman by the side of the road? Her husband just rode up, and we were getting ready to hitch up the buggy.”

  “I have her here,” Gar said. “But I think we need to get her in the house right away, unless we want to have a baby born in the barn.”

  Knowing they were out of the storm, and shelter was nearby allowed him to breathe easier. The sight of a young man hurrying toward the wagon, anxious eyes searching the bed where the two women huddled together, cheered him even more. Leah could find her helper here, with the father of this baby-to-be.

  “Is Kristofer with you?” Gar asked Benny.

  “Yah, he is feeding the chickens. Maybe he is done already and gone to the house. I told him I would be right up to light a lamp for him.”

  Behind Gar, voices blended in a hushed garble of sound. Leah’s calm words directed the young man, and within moments, he half carried his wife to the house, Leah holding Karen against her shoulder and bending into the wind.

  “I’ll go lend a hand, Benny, if you put the horse and wagon up for me.”

  At the other man’s nod, Gar gathered up Leah’s bundles from the back and headed for the house. He would tend to the children and find some supper for everyone, while Leah took care of everything else.

  But it was not to be. Full darkness fell, and still the baby had not announced its arrival. From the bedroom at the top of the stairs, silence prevailed. Even when he took the children to their beds and tucked them in, the door remained closed. Only Leah’s occasional forays for hot water and linens from the big closet broke the silence.

  And then the laboring woman’s husband, Stephen, stumbled down the stairway, making his way into the kitchen. “I can’t stand to see her in pain,” he moaned, slumping into a chair and bending his head. “Your wife said for you to come up and lend a hand.”

  “Me?” Gar rose swiftly, almost spilling the cup of coffee he had been nursing. “What can I do?”

  Stephen’s eyes were red rimmed as he met Gar’s frantic gaze. “Probably more than me. Sharon is so young. I shouldn’t have brought her to town today. We live almost ten miles farther north of here, on the old Burgess place, and I knew she was about ready to have the baby. But she wanted to see the doctor and make sure everything was all right, so I gave in and drove her to his house.”

  “You went to Dr. Swenson’s place?” Gar asked with a frown. “He isn’t fit to deliver a child.”

  Stephen shrugged dejectedly. “We didn’t know that. We’ve lived here just a couple of months, and he was the only doctor we heard of.”

  Gar drew himself up and headed for the doorway. “Well, you’re in luck tonight. You ended up in the right place. My wife will take care of everything.”

  His courage lasted until he opened the bedroom door and stepped inside. This wasn’t Hulda, he told himself sternly. And yet the woman who labored uttered the same low groans he had heard from Hulda’s lips.

  And like that last time, Leah was here, calm and sure in her movements. From the side of the bed, she bent low over the woman’s side, her hands moving at some mysterious task. He heard soft murmurings that lent encouragement even as they seemed to soothe the young mother’s fears.

  “Gar, come and help me,” Leah said, casting him a glance that moved him from the doorway. “Shut that door and come sit by Sharon’s head. I need you to lift her up and let her rest against your chest while she pushes her baby into my hands.”

  Gar felt a wave of heat pass over his body, and he shook his head. “Maybe I’m not the one who should be doing this,” he said bluntly. “Stephen…”

  “I have no time to argue,” Leah told him sharply. “Hold Sharon up and help her now.”

  There was nothing for it but to do as Leah said, and Gar inhaled deeply as he lifted the slender form, sliding behind her as he gathered her against himself. She was like a child herself, so small, so fragile feeling. And yet she was about to bear this babe that even now tore her body with the pain of its arrival.

  “Take a deep breath, Sharon,” Leah said, bending to reach beneath the sheet draped loosely over the girl’s distended belly. “Push hard, now.”

  In his arms, Gar felt the young body tense as she strained, her head leaning back against his shoulder, her teeth gritted and hands clenching in the bedding. How could this thing be? How could Leah expect him to view such a sight, knowing how harsh his memories were?

  “Again, Sharon. Another deep breath now, and push down hard.”

  As if she were in another world, Leah concentrated on the young mother. She bent low, her hands busy at the task of bringing life into the world, her words soothing and encouraging.

  And then the air was split by a gurgling sound that escalated quickly into a shrill cry.

  “Oh…oh…my baby!” Sharon’s cry was triumphant as her body relaxed against Gar, her hands reaching toward the red, squalling child that Leah held in the air.

  “Lay her down now, Gar, and come help me cut the cord,” Leah told him.

  He hesitated for a moment. Then, sparing a smile of encouragement at the young woman who watched while tears flowed silently down her face, he did as his wife asked.

  “What do you need?”

  “Take him from me,” Leah instructed, her hands gentle as she placed the wiggling, slippery little bundle in his grasp. Like a greased pig at the fair, he thought, his smile widening as he gazed into the red, wrinkled face. And then the mouth closed, the crying ceasing for a moment, and blue eyes looked at him, blinking at the light and squinting a bit.

  “It’s a boy,” Gar said, watching as a small stream of urine bathed the sleeve of his shirt. He laughed aloud. “Will you look at what this rascal’s done to me?”

  “Don’t move now, just hold still!” Leah said, glancing up at him. In her hand was a small pair of scissors, just inches from the glistening creamy cord she was about to cut. The blades sliced the air halfway between two pieces of string she had tied in place. The cord fell victim to their sharp edges, and the babe was freed from his mother’s body.

  Miracle of miracles. The wonder of birth. His eyes misty, Gar turned to show the plump little fellow to his mother. “Look here what you have,” he said, holding the baby close to her side, placing the tiny creature on the sheet.

  “Oh, just look how beautiful he is!” Her words filled with wonder, the young woman adored her child, an inner glow lighting her countenance. It was there, that same look of beauty he’d seen earlier today when he’d looked upon Leah.

  In the depths of his being his heart lifted with hope. A hope he had discovered here, in this room, as he had become a partner with the woman he had married. Here, where they had joined forces in a new, more glorious venture than any before.

  Sharon seemed invigorated, even though her body was weary from the labor she’d expended on this birthing process. It was not always so, he remembered. Poor Hulda had always been so worn, so weary from her labors, that even after Kristofer was born, she lay in a stupor for days. His heart ached for the waste of it.

  It would be different next spring, when Leah’s time came to pass. Even as Sharon had strained and labored, so would Leah. And she had been right. It didn’t have to be a time of horror, of death and defeat.

  The sound of women’s laughter rose to his ears. “What a beautiful child,” Leah said softly.

  “Let me have him,” Sharon whispered, her eyes yearning as she held out her arms.

  “I’ll wipe him off first and wrap him so he won’t take a chill,” Leah told her. In moments she had wrung out a cloth in warm water and tended the child, gently swaddling him in a flannel square before she placed him in his mother’s arms.

  Gar stood behind her and enclosed her in his embrace, his arms tender as he coaxed her to lean on him. “Your back must be tired from bending,” he said quietly.

  “It doesn’t matter,” she said, dismissing his worry, her look joyous as she watched the scene before her. “When a baby is born,
nothing matters but the mother and child. I will take time to be tired tomorrow. Tonight, I am excited and happy.”

  “And so am I,” he said. “So am I.”

  The house was settled and quiet, Stephen sleeping on the floor beside the bed where Sharon’s body sought a well-deserved rest. Leah had tried to persuade him to stretch out beside his wife, but he feared disturbing her sleep and was soon burrowed beneath a quilt, his weariness taking hold.

  In the big room at the corner of the house, Leah stretched and yawned, then laughed aloud at the sheer joy of the evening’s work.

  “I can’t sleep.”

  “You should be worn-out, sweetheart. I think you labored almost as much as the mother.”

  “Wasn’t it wonderful?” She leaned over him, and Gar captured her in his embrace.

  “You were wonderful,” he said firmly. “You know so much, and you are so sure, so capable.”

  “It doesn’t always happen so quickly, so easily,” she told him. “But it’s always a joy, watching new life, and seeing the mother greet her child.”

  “You love what you do, don’t you?”

  She nodded. “Yes. It fills a need in me, as if it is something I was born to accomplish, Gar. I know you won’t always appreciate it when I am called upon, but you will maybe understand better now.”

  “Yes, I think so,” he agreed. “And we are going to talk to the men in town. Maybe we can find a doctor who is young enough to work hard and not expect to be rich overnight. The town needs a man who is dependable. Berg Swenson cannot be trusted.”

  “That would be good. With the mill running so well, more folks are moving here, Bonnie says.” She rested her head on his chest and her fingers teased the soft curls there.

  “I would not mind having a doctor come when I have our child, Gar.”

  He shuddered beneath her touch. “I should hope so. If you think I will do the honors, you are wrong, my little wife. I am good at heating water and making tea. In fact, I will even hold your hands and hold you up so you can push when the time comes. But don’t expect me to be the one on the business end of things.”

  The winter was harsh, snow drifting against the house and covering the windows during February. Gar dug deep trenches through it to the barn and, for a week, they were snowed in.

  Then the pale sunlight began its task of melting the piles of snow, and by March the ground appeared in patches. A late storm early in April provided a heavy blanket of white, and for a few days, Leah watched anxiously as she listened to the signs her body whispered.

  Then, as if God had lifted his hands and taken from the land its burden of winter, the sun rose high in the sky and the soft breezes dried the earth. Trilliums bloomed beneath the trees at the edge of the woods, and lily of the valley scented the air on the west side of the back porch.

  It was like a gift from heaven, Leah thought, this perfect spring day that drew her from the house to pace from porch to barn. Benny listened as she told him what must be done, shaking his head at her foolishness, but to no avail.

  This thing had nudged at her mind for weeks, and she had set it as a goal, planning for the first really warm, dry day, when the time would be right to accomplish it.

  Kristofer lent a hand, carrying out the small valise she needed, opening it and exclaiming over the varicolored small jars of paint and the assortment of brushes.

  “I never knew you had paints, Mama,” he said, his eyes wide with wonder. “Can I really help?”

  She nodded, settling on a keg Benny had provided for her use. He’d wiped the wooden surface clean for her, muttering beneath his breath. Then he stood by to watch as the first flower took form against the red enamel paint.

  In an hour, she had finished one side, her brush dabbing with freehand abandon, as she splashed color the entire length of the wagon. Kristofer moved along behind her, helping shove the keg to a new place each time she had reached as far as she could.

  His brush was covered with green paint and he drew leaves such as had never graced a stem. But to Leah, they were beautiful, just the right size and shape for the tulips and daisies and nondescript blossoms she created with loving care.

  She stood back a few steps, one hand at her back, the child she carried beneath her apron strangely quiet, and surveyed the panorama of spring she had brought into being.

  “It’s lovely,” Ruth said from behind her. “But don’t you think you’d better save the rest of it for another time? I have the bed ready for you, Leah.”

  Leah’s smile flashed as her eyes met those of her friend. “I just needed to have it begun. One day in a week or so Kris and I will do the rest. When we take the baby to town for the first time, it will be in a splendid wagon with flowers telling of our celebration.”

  “Shall I call Garlan from the stable?” Benny asked, his gaze worried as he watched Leah’s face tilt to the sky, her hands weighing the load of her pregnancy. She closed her eyes and drew deep breaths as the muscles tightened, their job well under way.

  “Yes, it will be time soon, I think,” she told him. “You will have to care for the new foal when it arrives, I fear, Benny. Gar will be tending a birth of his own doing.”

  And he did. Before the sun set, Garlan Lundstrom held his newborn son in his big farmer’s hands, unashamed tears streaking his face as he examined the child he had helped to deliver.

  “He will be called Eric,” he said, turning to Leah.

  “Ah, once again you are arrogant and bossy,” she whispered, weary from her laboring.

  “Will you agree that it is a fine name for our son?”

  She nodded. “A wonderful name. Now, wrap him well first, then go and show him to his grandpapa and his brother and sister.”

  “I love you, Mrs. Lundstrom.” The words came easily to him, it seemed, and they fell like a benediction on Leah’s ears.

  He held the child to his chest and bent over the bed, his mouth a tender caress against her forehead.

  “I love you, my Leah. You are the woman of my heart.”

  * * * * *

  eISBN 978-14592-5090-1

  THE MIDWIFE

  Copyright © 1999 by Carolyn Davidson

  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, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.

  All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure Invention.

  This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

  ® and TM are trademarks of the publisher. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Trade Marks Office and in other countries.

  Printed in U.S.A.

 

 

 


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