by Delia Parr
Jane rose to refill the pitcher and chuckled on her way back to the table; she filled both of their glasses and sat down again. “No trouble at all. I kept food and water in good supply, changed the cage once a week, and put the cover on the cage at night, just like you do. Miss Ivy and Miss Fern will be very glad tomorrow to find that you’re home again. They both think it’s long past time for Bird to go back where he belongs.”
Cringing, Martha took a couple of deep breaths and sighed. “They’re probably right. I’ll take him out with me in a day or two to see if he’s strong enough to fly off,” she promised and mopped her brow. “Mercy, it’s hot.”
Jane nodded. “It can be steamy in Philadelphia in August, but I never expected to find the same heat here. Fern and Ivy insist that it’s not typically this hot in late August, but I suspect they’ve stretched the truth a bit.”
Martha drank her water and refilled her glass again. Prompted to take advantage of this time alone with Jane to learn more about her past, she posed a question. “Would you ever consider moving back to Philadelphia?”
Jane grew paler, if that was even possible. “No. I’ve seen quite enough of that city.”
Martha swallowed hard but followed her intuition. “Forgive me for even asking, Jane, but I think that we’ve become friends over the past few months, and I’m concerned about you. Did something happen to you in Philadelphia that still troubles you and perhaps keeps you from sleeping well?”
Jane closed her eyes for a moment, and her breathing quickened. She moistened her lips before opening her eyes, then folded her hands atop the table. “I’ve come to know you and respect you as a fair-minded woman. I’d like to think that we’ve become friends, too, but I haven’t been completely honest with you, or Miss Fern and Miss Ivy, either,” she admitted.
She paused for a moment to draw a deep breath. “As far as the sisters are concerned, all they knew when they offered me a place here with them was that my last position had been caring for Mr. Pennington. What no one here knows is that before that, I had been a midwife in the Philadelphia area for over twelve years.”
Too shocked by Jane’s admission to interrupt, Martha tried to concentrate on what the woman said next.
“I worked very hard to maintain an unblemished reputation as a skilled and compassionate midwife, which became crucial as more and more doctors took over caring for women and children, forcing many of the other midwives out of the city. I lost that reputation and so much more several years ago.”
Martha reached across the table to take one of the woman’s hands. When she found it cold to the touch, she covered it with her other hand. “Go on.”
“The last time I was called to a delivery, I had no reason to expect there would be any problems at all. I had helped Priscilla Ward to birth her first two children without any trouble at all. I did everything I could think of to do. Everything, even prayer. But I couldn’t get that babe to draw a breath,” she explained, and tears began to trickle down her cheeks.
“I’ve buried two of my own babes,” Martha said, “and in my work as a midwife, I’ve lost a babe, too. Several, in fact. It’s the saddest ending to what should be a miraculous event.”
Jane sniffled. “And the mother? Have you ever lost the babe’s mother, too?”
Martha caught her breath. Losing both a mother and her babe was the worst possible outcome while attending to a birthing. Grandmother Poore had had that happen only once, but Martha had been spared that nightmarish experience, and she shook her head. “As much as we’d like to think otherwise, not everything is within the midwife’s control. Nature can be very unpredictable, but knowing that doesn’t make it any easier to bear when we lose both the mama and her babe, does it?” she asked, using the very words her grandmother had used to prepare Martha for the possibility that it might one day happen to her. “You must have been devastated.”
Jane looked down but squeezed Martha’s hand hard. “I truly was, and as much as I loved my work and considered it a calling, I—I knew I never wanted to be faced with such a tragedy again and decided I could never be a midwife again. Never. When I saw the ad for a caretaker for Mr. Pennington and got the position, I considered it an answer to prayer. After he died, I stayed on but had little luck finding work there because the area was so remote and I had no funds to leave. If it hadn’t been for Miss Fern and Miss Ivy, I don’t know what I would have done.”
“I’ve always been taught that God sends people to help us when we need them the most,” Martha suggested. A hard tug to her conscience, however, forced her to take her own words to heart and embrace the idea that God had sent Jane here as an answer to Martha’s prayers, too. Unfortunately, the midwife he had sent was broken in spirit, and He had left it to Martha to find a way to help her to heal.
“I’m so sorry. If I had known that you’d had such a tragic experience with Priscilla and her babe, I never would have approached you about replacing me the way I did. You’re obviously still grieving for the mama and baby you lost, as well as the calling you set aside.”
Jane held tight to Martha’s hand and used the back of her free hand to wipe the tears from her cheeks. “Ever since you asked me to take your place, I’ve been lying awake, praying and praying, night after night, asking God to give me the courage to tell you the truth and accept the idea that God had led me here to take up my calling again by replacing you, but . . . but I can’t. I just can’t. If anything like that happened again, it would destroy me. And it would be even worse this time, because I would be letting you down, as well as the women and children here, too. I hardly think that’s part of God’s plan for either one of us, do you?”
Martha thought about what Jane said for a moment before she answered. “In all truth, Jane, I find it to be more than just a coincidence that God sent you to a town that needed a new midwife, and I’m tempted to think my grandmother was right. I’d like to tell you a faith story that was a favorite of hers, if I may.”
Jane nodded.
“According to my grandmother, God’s plan for each of us is so grand that He’s the only one who knows how those plans are often intertwined. When I was a little girl and didn’t want to go to sleep at night after I’d said my prayers, she would tell me that she believed that God always listened to all of our prayers, but because there were so many, He only sifted through them at night while we were all asleep. Some He answered right away, but He waited awhile to answer others. If He found two prayers that were related to one another, He’d play matchmaker and put them together, with one answering the other. But He couldn’t answer a single prayer until we were all abed and fast asleep.”
Jane chuckled. “I assume you went to sleep pretty quickly after hearing that tale.”
“Only when I was praying and praying for something I wanted,” Martha admitted. “And as far as the two of us are concerned, I’d think God put our prayers together. You’re the answer to mine, and I’m the answer to yours. I also think that if we can pray together each night, you’ll find the courage to take up the calling He has blessed you with, and He’ll give me the strength and will to continue as midwife until you do. What do you think?”
Jane blinked back fresh tears. “I think you have a greater faith than I do, but . . . but I’d like to try. Perhaps I could accompany you when you’re helping a woman or child who is sick and I don’t have to tend to my duties at the confectionery. I’d also like to be there with other women to help you with a birthing, although I’d rather wait before I even attempted to deliver a babe again myself. Can we . . . would you . . . that is, do you think we could pray together now?”
That’s exactly what they did. Hand-in-hand, their arms stretched across the table, and heart-to-heart, they prayed aloud together for a good long while, asking God to bestow His grace upon them and to guide them in the future He had designed for them.
29
Just before midnight, everyone in the household was asleep except for Martha.
Anxious to read her let
ters, she set the lantern on top of the trunk at the foot of her cot, sat down on the floor, and leaned her back against the trunk for support. She separated Victoria’s letter from the pile and decided to read that one first.
Just as she was about to start reading, Bird chose that particular moment to let himself out of his cage. When he settled himself on her shoulder, she did not have the heart to lock him up in his cage again and let him stay.
She broke the seal on Victoria’s letter and unfolded the single sheet of paper. Just as she’d hoped, the lantern cast light perfectly over her shoulder, and she was able to see Victoria’s handwriting without any trouble at all.
The letter was from late July, and she whispered the words as she read them. “‘Dearest Mother, I am truly the happiest I have ever been. Truly, truly happy! While in Boston, we’ve been staying with Oliver and visiting with some of Benjamin’s relatives. I’m keeping a journal of our visit so I won’t forget a single thing to share with you, except one secret that Oliver insists that I keep. Since it’s his secret, I can tell you no more, except to say that I think you’re going to be very, very pleased!’”
Martha chuckled out loud. Oliver would most definitely not love the idea that his sister had divulged the fact that he had a secret at all. Martha continued reading the rest of the letter aloud. “‘As a surprise, Benjamin has decided to take me to visit the Morgans, so we are leaving for New York City in a few days. I hope to have a pleasant time with Nancy, too, and have more news for you about our magazine articles when we return to Trinity. I pray you’re taking care of yourself. Your very, very, very happy daughter, Victoria Cade McMillan. P. S. Although I do like the way the name Mrs. Benjamin McMillan looks on paper just as well, I thought it was a bit formal to use with my own dear mother. I must learn the proper signature for a married woman!’”
Martha chuckled even harder this time when she reread her daughter’s double signature, refolded the letter, and pressed it to her heart. How well she remembered the joy of those first few weeks and months of married life. Her heart trembled with the idea that she might not experience that joy with Thomas, however.
She turned just enough to set Victoria’s letter on top of the trunk before laying out all three of Thomas’s letters on the floor by her side. She broke the seals and opened them, just enough to check the dates so she would read them in the correct order. Before she began to read, she said a quick prayer to ask her heavenly Father to be by her side as she read Thomas’s words, hoping that one of his letters contained a miracle: that Thomas had reconsidered and rescinded his ultimatum.
Her soul was trembling when she read the first letter, dated only a week after he had left:
My dearest beloved,
I have arrived safely, but within days, I’ve already realized that my plans to be away from you for only a month may have been wishful thinking. I’m still disappointed that I wasn’t there with you to witness and celebrate Victoria’s marriage, but I’m certain she’ll want to share the details of that special day with me when I return.
As you ponder your decision concerning our marriage, I pray with all my heart that you will be guided by your heart. Forgive me if I also pray that you will give me the answer I yearn to hear.
With deep devotion,
Thomas
Apparently, he did not have second thoughts early in his journey. She quickly turned to his second letter, dated two weeks later, skipped over the identical salutation, and read this one aloud.
“‘Being apart from you is harder than I ever imagined it could be. I’m sustained only by thoughts of the wonderful life we’ll have together when we’re united as one, and I pray you’re ready to become my wife when I return. My negotiations here to liquidate my investments are challenging, and you will no doubt find it amusing that some here find me to be most difficult and stubborn at times. I’ve assured them that the woman I love is often twice as stubborn as I am, but it is a quality I tend to find endearing more often than not. As you can imagine, they did not view my qualities in the same light. I long for the day we are together again. With devotion, Thomas.’”
She paused and swiped at the tears that blurred her vision. He was a stubborn man at times. In that regard, she had every expectation that when he returned, he would not back down from his ultimatum if she asked him to wait to marry her for a while longer.
Praying she was wrong, she decided to simply read his third and final letter. She took hope that he might have changed his mind about his demands from the fact that this letter was far longer than the other two and was dated just a few days after the one she had just read:
Dearest Martha,
The business of selling off my investments here gets more and more complicated by the day. I will be traveling back and forth between here and Albany to finalize the sales. Thus, this will be my final letter to you before I return, which may be as late as September, although I will make effort to be back with you before then. . . .
She caught her breath and held it for a very long moment. This letter was her last opportunity to know how he felt about his ultimatum, and she would not know if at a later point—perhaps weeks later—he might have changed his mind. Prepared for the worst, she continued reading:
I want you to consider coming to New York with me after we marry as part of our wedding trip, and I’ve already made arrangements for our stay here. I’ve also made a few discreet inquiries and now have a list of several women here who each have a good reputation as a midwife.
I haven’t taken the liberty of contacting them, but if you come with me to New York, I’m convinced you’ll find at least one of them who suits you as a new midwife for Trinity. Thus, the days you’re summoned away once we’re married will be as few as possible once we return home. . . .
His words only proved how impatient he was for her to cast off her duties as midwife and how easily he dismissed the possibility that she might refuse to do exactly as he had just suggested. Her heart dropped, but somehow she found the courage to read his final words aloud.
“‘By now, you must realize that I have no doubt that you’ve made a decision in my favor, just as you must never doubt you are precious to me and you are loved. I vow to respect your opinion on all matters in the years ahead, although I would ask you to reconsider your obvious and deep attachment to Bird, as I assume you have yet to set him free. I cannot fathom the possibility that you have less an attachment to me. But if you choose not to marry me the day I return, do not worry that you’ll have to utter the words that will set me free. I shall do so myself, if only to keep my heart from hearing the echo of your words for the rest of my days as we part for the final time. With affection and longing, Thomas.’”
She dropped the letter and buried her face in her hands, cried, and then cried some more, comforted only by the presence of the little yellow warbler on her shoulder, as faithful and loyal as ever. “You’re a stubborn, stubborn man, Thomas, and yes, I’m probably doubly so. Jane won’t possibly be ready to assume my duties by September and may need much, much longer, which means that there’s no hope you’ll ever agree to wait and give me more time before we marry, is there?”
Long hours later, as dawn broke, she was still sitting on the floor. Her tears had stained his letters and blurred his words, but they were already burned into the heart of her memory. With her hope to convince him to wait for her until Jane was ready and willing to take over for her completely tottering on the precipice, she slid headlong into the depths of a deep, soul-numbing despair, where faith and miracles did not exist.
30
With Dr. McMillan away again, Martha anticipated she would spend the next several days answering one summons after another. Folks would be expecting her to tend to all the minor ailments they had or to listen to them complain about the ones they had endured without her or the doctor there to help ease their suffering.
In the past, that is exactly how she would have spent every single day, and that is precisely how she spent the first t
hree days after her return.
But not today. Jane had proven herself so competent lately at handling most any complaint, Martha was quite content to leave her midwifery duties in Jane’s hands for the day.
“If folks waited for me for four weeks, and Dr. McMillan doesn’t have any problem leaving again, they can see Jane. She’s proven herself completely competent at handling most any complaint, or they can wait to see me this afternoon,” she whispered to Bird.
She slipped Bird into his covered basket, filled a canvas bag with goodies until it was nearly overflowing, and managed to slip out of the confectionery before anyone else came downstairs, ready to start the day’s work. She did, however, remember to leave a note on the kitchen table stating she had gone out and would not be back until the afternoon, just so they would not worry about her.
Outside, the sleeping town lay still under a blanket of eerie silence. No wagons or horses traveled down West Main Street. Mill workers and canal workers had yet to report to work. Shopkeepers had yet to offer their wares for sale, and their customers were only dreaming about the purchases they intended to make later.
Confident that no one had seen her, Martha reached the protection of the woods and followed the familiar dirt path that would take her to the clearing above the falls. She took her time now, inhaling the heavy scent of the lush landscape and enjoying the coolness that a late summer sun would bake away before noon.
Bird started to chirp the moment she started up the incline, as if he knew they were almost at the clearing, and memories of her picnic here with Thomas were bittersweet. She did not even wait until she reached the border of trees at the edge before she set the canvas bag down and lifted the lid on the basket. Bird flew out before her heart took another beat, ignored her outstretched finger, and soared over her head, reaching heights she had never seen him reach before.
“You’ve really missed flying, haven’t you!” she cried, clapping her hands when he flew higher still, until he was only a speck in the sky. Her heart filled with fear that he was doing too much after being cooped up in a cage for a month. Then a chilling fear—that he was flying away forever before he was really ready to survive on his own and without giving her the opportunity for one final good-bye—made her heart tremble.