The Midwife's Dilemma

by Delia Parr

  “Take the ax and choose well,” Fancy cautioned. “And make sure you don’t leave the ends of the walking stick sharp enough to cut his hand when he’s using it,” Fancy added before Will scooted out of the room without posing any argument to stay.

  Samuel grunted. “I take it you’re ready to do what you have to do now that the boy is out of the way, but it won’t do the boy any good to be coddled.”

  “Actually, I think I agree with you, but Dr. McMillan assured me that I won’t have to do more than put a splint in place to keep your elbow bent and held close to your chest so you don’t flex your elbow.”

  She made quick work of wrapping the splints into place before she folded the heavier canvas cloth into a triangle and had Samuel’s injured arm resting in a sling in no time.

  “He told me that you’ll have to wear the sling all the time, even when you sleep. And keep your arm lying on your chest,” she cautioned, completely satisfied that she had followed the doctor’s instructions to the letter.

  He offered her a rather weak grunt in return but didn’t argue when she urged him to lie down and rest a spell.

  Satisfied for now, she took Fancy into the other room. After taking some dried parsley leaves out of her bag, she set them in a bowl of water to refresh them and showed him how to make a poultice for Samuel’s face. “Lay this on Samuel’s face when he’s lying down, and you can refresh the poultice over the next several days as often as you like,” she told him before going back into Samuel’s room to gently press a kiss to the top of his forehead. “I’ll stop back to see you in a day or two, but if you need me for anything in the meantime, just send for me.”

  He took her arm and pulled her close. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome, dear friend,” she replied, but before she left the cabin, she took Will’s spyglass out of her bag and placed it on the hammock, where the boy slept. She knew without asking that Samuel would be out and about alone again, probably before he was fully recovered, and Fancy might need the spyglass, too, if only to keep track of his friend from a distance.

  When she finally got back to the confectionery and walked in the back door, she could smell the lamb stew boiling on the cookstove and heard a bevy of voices coming from the kitchen. Martha grinned; she had made it in time to share dinner with everyone!

  She hurried down the hall, but when she entered the kitchen and saw the young man standing there with everyone gathered around him, her mother’s heart swelled with such love and joy that she grew weak in the knees and leaned against the doorframe for support.

  Why or how Oliver came to be here in Trinity did not matter to her at all. All that mattered was that her son was here. He was actually here!

  21

  Standing only a few feet away from her son, Martha was in a state of pure euphoria from head to toe and hand to hand.

  Every member of the household was gathered around her son. They were so enrapt by a tale he was telling that no one even realized she was standing there, and she took a moment to etch this image of Oliver among the many sketches of her children she had stored over the years in the scrapbook of her heart.

  The finely tailored frock coat and trousers he wore clearly befitted his status as the grandson of a wealthy and prominent figure in Boston society, and it was nearly the same color as his dark brown hair. His tall, sturdy frame paid tribute to his heritage as the son of a man who loved life as a yeoman farmer, and he so closely resembled his father that she trembled.

  In temperament, Oliver had always been a no-nonsense sort of boy who grew up preferring books and school over farming, rarely ever thinking with his heart. In hindsight, it gave him a decided advantage as a lawyer, where his clinical nature could shine.

  Martha’s one and only contribution to his physical appearance was the deep dimples in his cheeks that appeared on the rare occasions when he smiled. Quite surprisingly, she had had a continuous view of his dimples from the first moment she had laid eyes on him today. He looked healthy, but more important, he looked happier than she had seen him in a very, very long time, and she could not believe how much he had changed since last summer when she had stopped in Boston while searching for her then-runaway daughter.

  Anxious to hold him in her arms again, if only to prove that she was not in the middle of a dream, she cleared her throat. “Although you appear to be reveling in being the center of attention, Oliver, might you spare a moment to give your mother a proper welcome?”

  Oliver grinned the moment he spied her and immediately broke free from his audience. “You’re back!” he exclaimed and embraced her as though he, too, needed reassurance they were truly together again.

  She was duly unsettled by the amount of happiness that washed over her and his uncommon exuberance. “You’re such a dear to come all this way.” Martha stepped out of his embrace and stood on tiptoe to kiss his forehead. “When Victoria wrote to you with her news, we never even entertained the thought that you’d come in person to give her your reply. I just wish I’d been here the very moment you arrived. You look exceptionally well,” she gushed, too excited to have him home again to worry about how that might impact the date Victoria and Dr. McMillan would ask to be married.

  “And you look exceptionally tired. How’s your friend Samuel doing?” he asked, without explaining why he had come all the way to Trinity instead of simply writing.

  “He’ll recover, but I doubt he’ll listen to reason. I expect he’ll be out and about again before he should.”

  “Not everyone follows your orders, do they?” he teased, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “If you ladies wouldn’t mind holding dinner just a little longer, I’d like to take my mother out for a little while.”

  Martha looked around and realized that Victoria was not even there. “Where’s your sister?”

  “She suggested we meet at Dr. McMillan’s to discuss a matter of great importance to all of us, which is what brought me here. She’s waiting for us there,” he replied and led her down the hall to the back door.

  Concerned that he might have come all this way to oppose his sister’s betrothal, she paused the moment they stepped outside and he closed the door. “Did Victoria’s letter upset you to the point that you felt compelled to travel here?”

  He took her arm and guided her down to the end of the alley before he answered her. “Apparently I left Boston before her letter even arrived. I had no idea she’d become betrothed until she told me so a few hours ago,” he replied and stopped to let several riders pass by before escorting her across the roadway.

  Martha’s heart skipped a beat. Rather than worry about the nature of the news he wanted to share with them, she asked him outright. “What’s wrong? Does your news have anything to do with your grandfather? Have you two had a falling out?”

  He let out a long sigh. “What I’ve come to tell you has everything to do with Grandfather, which I’ll explain once we’re all together.” He ushered her across the covered bridge and into the doctor’s house without saying anything more.

  Once they were inside, Martha learned Dr. McMillan had left with Thomas not long after she had been there and had not returned. She led her son upstairs to the sitting room, where Victoria was waiting for them.

  By this point Martha’s mind was tormented by memories of Graham Cade that soured her mouth and lodged like a boulder in the pit of her stomach. If that man had caused any hurt to Oliver even remotely like the pain he had inflicted on the boy’s father, she had every intention of riding straight to Boston to give him a good tongue-lashing.

  She needed every inch of patience she possessed to rein in her questions. Hopeful that Oliver would get straight to the heart of the matter, she sat down next to her daughter on the settee and noted the look of concern and curiosity on her daughter’s face that matched her own feelings.

  Oliver picked up an upholstered chair, set it directly in front of them, and unbuttoned his frock coat before he sat down. His expression sobered. “I’m afraid I have
some unfortunate news. A month ago, Grandfather suffered a mishap at home.”

  “What sort of mishap?” Victoria asked.

  He moistened his lips. “He tripped and fell down the central staircase. Despite the efforts of some of the finest doctors in the city, he succumbed to his injuries several days later. As he set forth in his will, he was buried in the family plot in Boston.”

  When Victoria’s eyes widened, Martha took her by the hand. Since the girl had had little contact with her grandfather, she suspected Victoria was reacting more to the idea of death itself rather than losing a grandfather she barely knew and had not seen for a good number of years. “I’m sorry, Oliver,” Martha said. “I know you admired him a great deal.”

  He nodded. “He wasn’t an easy man to know or to love, for any number of reasons, but he was very good to me, and . . . and in the end, I believe he tried to be as fair as he could allow himself to be.”

  Martha cocked a brow. “How do you mean?”

  Before he answered, he took a sheaf of papers from an inner pocket in his frock coat and laid them on his lap. “I didn’t notify you of his death right away or come here sooner because I had to resolve a number of legal matters first. Rather than leave the executor to send you this news by post, I’ve brought his letter with me to confirm what I’m about to tell you.”

  Martha tightened her hold on Victoria’s hand and tried to prepare herself to accept the likelihood that Graham Cade had favored Oliver in his will and left little or nothing of his considerable estate to Victoria.

  “I hardly knew our grandfather, and I always knew he favored you. I don’t expect to receive anything from him, so you needn’t worry that I’ll be upset,” Victoria said and squeezed Martha’s hand.

  Oliver smiled. “Then prepare yourself to be as pleasantly surprised as I was,” he replied and tapped the papers with the palm of his hand. “Other than generous donations to several of his favorite charities, Grandfather directed that his entire estate be split between the two of us according to custom, with two-thirds assigned to me and the other third to you, Victoria.” He sorted through the papers to find the ones he wanted. “I’ve placed your inheritance into a separate equitable estate, which means that your inheritance will remain yours and yours alone. Even after you marry, your husband will have no legal claim to your inheritance,” he assured her as he handed the papers to her.

  Victoria held the papers with both hands and stared at them. “He did that for me? Truly?”

  “He did, which means . . . well, it means we’re each wealthy,” he said, but his expression grew troubled when he looked at Martha. “I’m so sorry, Mother. Grandfather left specific instructions to the executor to make certain you received nothing at all and—”

  “That’s utterly selfish and hateful,” Victoria spat and tossed her papers to the side. “If it wasn’t for Mother, you and I wouldn’t be here. She deserved something from him.”

  Martha treasured her children’s concern for her but waved it away. “Your grandfather always blamed me for your father turning his back on his birthright, so I never had any expectations of receiving anything from him. I’m just thrilled that he recognized both of you as his proper heirs,” she countered. It was altogether amazing that both of her children would have lives of considerable comfort, as would her future grandchildren.

  She drew in a long breath and smiled at both of her children. “Although your grandfather’s death is sad indeed, I do believe it would be entirely appropriate to celebrate his generosity today.”

  Victoria beamed. “And to celebrate my betrothal. Since Oliver is here, maybe we can even set a date for my wedding,” she suggested.

  Oliver rose and stored the remaining papers back inside his frock coat. “If I may, I’d like to add something else we can celebrate,” he offered as a blush spread across his cheeks and moved down the length of his neck.

  “What other reason could you possibly have, other than the fact that you’re now a wealthy and very eligible bachelor?” Victoria teased.

  His flush deepened from pink to crimson. “Wait right here, and I’ll show you. I’ll be right back. I promise. Just don’t . . . don’t leave,” he insisted before leaving the two of them sitting there altogether confused and decidedly curious.

  Nearly an hour later, Martha and Victoria had exhausted every possibility they could imagine about what Oliver would be bringing back with him, and they could not decide which was more likely. Was Oliver going to bring back some sort of proof that he was going to move back to Trinity? Not likely at all. Was he going to show them an announcement that he was going to leave his grandfather’s law firm to start his own? That made no sense. Or was he going to leave on a tour of Europe, something he had always wanted to do, but had never gotten the permission he needed from his grandfather? Maybe.

  Martha was on the verge of sending Victoria to the confectionery to urge everyone to start dinner without them when footsteps coming down the hall kept her in her seat. When Oliver started into the room, she was about to chastise him for taking so long . . . until she saw that he was not alone.

  He had a woman with him, along with two very little girls, each holding on to one of the woman’s hands. Wearing a broad smile, he led them directly to stand in front of the settee. “Mother. Victoria. I’d like to present my wife, Comfort, and my new daughters, Lucy, who is almost four now, and Hannah, who just turned three.”

  22

  Martha tried to wrap her thoughts around the preposterous idea that she had become both a mother-in-law and a grandmother in the little time it took for Oliver to utter a few words.

  Comfort looked to Martha and offered her a nervous smile. “I’m honored to meet you, Mother Cade. Oliver has told me of the important work you do,” she offered before turning to Victoria. “Oliver told me just a few moments ago that you’d just recently become betrothed. You must be incredibly excited.”

  Victoria clapped her hands, leaped to her feet, and stared back and forth between Comfort and her brother. “Married? You two are married? When did this happen?”

  Oliver grinned. “Nearly two weeks ago, the day before we left Boston to come to Trinity.”

  Comfort blushed. “We decided to make this trip a wedding trip of sorts, and we both agreed that this would also be a good way for the girls to get to know their new grandmother and aunt.”

  As Victoria bantered back and forth with her brother and his wife about their courtship, which apparently had been rather short, Martha was still reeling from Oliver’s news and his shocking decision to marry a widow with two young children.

  Instead of interrupting them, she kept her focus on the woman who had claimed her son’s heart. Comfort was a petite, slender woman with eyes the color of a strong cup of tea. Her dark gray gown was made of rather ordinary fabric and the design was a bit severe, but a band of needlework on the collar and the cuffs of each sleeve was exquisite. The top of her bonnet barely reached her son’s shoulder, giving Martha just a glimpse of pale brown hair held firmly away from a delicate, oval-shaped face.

  From a distance, Martha might have described Comfort as close in age to her son, who was twenty-four, but she was close enough to note the crow’s feet at the corners of her eyes and the laugh lines near her lips. This woman was a good number of years older than her son, which made his decision to marry her even more curious.

  But Martha was also close enough to see that Comfort’s expression was kind, her manner was gentle, and her eyes lit with absolute devotion every time she looked at Oliver. And it was that look of deep and abiding love in her eyes that encouraged this mother’s heart to accept the idea that Oliver had chosen a woman who truly loved him.

  Martha felt a tug on her skirts and looked down to see that Lucy and little Hannah had slipped free from their mother’s grasp. Dressed in gowns the same color as their mother’s and just as beautifully decorated with needlework, the girls wore straw bonnets that bore a bit of dust and dirt, just like the hems of their skirts.
Although their little faces had been scrubbed clean, Martha suspected their mother had kept them busy playing somewhere outside while they had been waiting for Oliver to fetch them, if only to get rid of the energy they had stored up during their travels.

  “Grandma? Can you bake some cookies for us?”

  “Me want cookies, too.”

  With one glance at those sweet little faces and the innocence shining in their dark brown eyes, Martha’s heart melted and wrapped right around those two precious children. “I used to bake cookies for your new father when he was a little boy. I haven’t baked anything at all for a long time, but I have an idea about how we might get some cookies for you,” she replied. She then urged Lucy to sit down beside her and chuckled when Hannah scrambled right up into Martha’s lap.

  Amazingly, love for these two little girls was as immediate and all-embracing as the love she had felt the first time she held one of her newborn babes in her arms. “Would you like me to tell you where we might get some cookies for you?” she asked as she hugged Lucy close to her.

  When they both nodded hard enough to make the blond curls poking from the bottom of their bonnets bounce, she chuckled. “I live just a short walk away with your Aunt Victoria at the confectionery, where my friends bake lots and lots of cookies. We’re going to have dinner there very soon, I hope, but I think you’ll be able to eat some of the cookies you like best when it’s time for dessert, don’t you?”

  Hannah leaned her head back until it rested on Martha’s chest, just below her chin, and grinned up at her, but Lucy squealed with delight to seal the first promise Martha made to her granddaughters.

  She nudged Hannah off of her lap just long enough to stand up and take each of the girls by the hand. Once she cleared her throat, hard, conversation stopped immediately, and she smiled when Victoria and the others blushed, apparently realizing they had all been ignoring her, as well as the girls. “If any of you would care to join us, we’re going to the confectionery for dinner. Otherwise, we’ll see you all later—perhaps by then you’ll have decided to include us in your gaiety,” she teased.