by Delia Parr
33
The first few weeks of September flew by quickly, but not easily.
In all truth, she had been blessed with days filled with the joy of spending time with her children and especially little Lucy and Hannah. With Dr. McMillan back and with Jane to help, she had far fewer calls to duty, which left her more time to spend with her precious grandchildren, a decided blessing. Jane had proven herself to be as skilled at diagnosing illnesses as she was with knowing which remedy to use and how to prepare it. Both Fern and Ivy agreed that Jane would be an excellent replacement for Martha, who had been encouraging Jane to do even more. Even so, Jane had yet to deliver a babe on her own. They continued to pray together every night that she would be blessed with His grace and given the courage to do so, but Martha still expected it would be months and months before that happened and even more before Jane was both willing and able to take over that essential core of Martha’s duties.
On the other hand, she was so filled with grief that Thomas had rejected her completely, she had to fight her malaise just to function. It took every ounce of her energy just to get out of her bed and dressed, in part because she had barely touched her meals—and not a single sweet treat in the confectionery had tempted her—and because her knee had recently been injured, and the pain added to her unrest.
Her soul, too, was numb, to the point that she still had no desire to pray to God for relief and had not even bothered to try after praying for Jane. She had even made an excuse not to go to Sunday services this week.
Already haunted by too many painful images of Thomas, she could not bear to add even one more. She avoided going anywhere near his house and averted her eyes when she had no other choice. Although she tried to keep her grief hidden and refused to discuss anything related to Thomas with Victoria, she knew she’d ended up being nothing short of completely grumpy with everyone except her grandchildren.
When she greeted the first light of the day today, however, she decided that things were going to change, because she could not continue to live this way. She forced herself to get out of bed and dressed for the day. After she brushed her hair, she plaited it to form a single braid she left hanging down her back instead of shaping a knot at the nape of her neck. “That’s just one change,” she murmured.
She went over to take Bird’s cage, her swollen knee causing her to limp. He chirped to life at once, and she tossed a few seeds into his food bowl. “I know I haven’t taken you up to the falls for over a week, but as soon as this knee is better, I will. And we’ll take the girls with us, too,” she promised and sat down on top of the trunk at the foot of her cot to think about how she might lift herself out of the doldrums.
A series of six yawns in a row convinced her that when she went to bed tonight, she needed to get a decent night’s sleep. Instead of lying awake and remembering her last meeting with Thomas over and over again in her mind and wondering what she could have done or said to keep him from leaving her, she had to think about something else.
She just had not thought of what that would be yet.
Today, at least, she did not have to worry that Fern and Ivy would continue to harass her about what was troubling her. Hoping for relief, she had let them wheedle the truth out of her—simply put, that she and Thomas had been planning to marry but had changed their minds. She hoped they would leave her in peace to mourn now, which would be welcome and needed. She just was not ready to be as honest with Victoria, in part because she knew her daughter would not let the matter rest.
As she looked ahead to her day, she knew there was nothing she could do about the weather. Extremely hot, humid air continued to drape the town like a wet wool blanket, helping swarms of mosquitoes, flies, and other annoying summer critters to flourish, and there was no relief in sight.
Already feeling the heat, she undid the top button on her bodice. “I can certainly try not to wallow in self-pity today. Everyone else who calls Trinity home is suffering, too—although the relentless heat is at the root of their misery rather than a broken heart.”
And since they had been suffering from the heat for a while, they had changed their daily routines. Canal and mill workers took a long break at midday when the heat was most intense. Most people strolled along Main Street only in early morning or late afternoon, and wagon traffic grew sparse. Good tempers and patience seemed to be as rare as a cooling breeze, and more than a few folks could be found with their gazes glued to the sky, searching for any sign that a good storm was coming to save them from the heat. She had heard Reverend Welsh had even led everyone in prayer at services the other day to ask for God’s mercy and divine intervention.
The other members of the confectionery household had also found ways to adjust. Fern and Ivy had actually stopped baking three days ago, much to Lucy and Hannah’s dismay, although the confectionery remained open to offer what was left of the tins of hard pretzels and soda crackers. They also limited using the cookstove to every other day until after the sun had set, and Jane and Cassie performed only the most necessary of limited household tasks.
For her part, Martha had developed a routine that usually allowed her to avoid the greatest heat of the day when treating her patients, and she also reduced the number of occasions she was out and around town. She spent most mornings in the room Dr. McMillan had set aside for her use months ago in his office, although she continued to make visits to those in town who weren’t able to come to her.
After taking time for a midday rest back home and a bite of dinner, she would return to the office and spend every moment she did not have a patient with her granddaughters. She had taken the time to write a note to Thomas and had sent it over to his house days ago asking him to meet with her, but he had never replied. In fact, she had heard just yesterday that he had moved out to his cabin on Candle Lake.
She drew a long breath and gently rubbed her swollen knee before wrapping it tight, hoping it would not swell any more than it already had. “I can’t control how many people get sick and need me, but I can try to stop grumbling so much,” she said and eased onto her feet. “I’m afraid that’s about all the change I can handle for today,” she admitted and headed off to see how successful she would be.
By the end of the morning, Martha had grumbled more, not less, than yesterday and twice as much as the day before. Grumbling under her breath yet again, she limped her way back to the confectionery, swatting at flies attracted to her soiled apron along the way. She plopped her bag of simples on the bottom step of the staircase that led up to her bedroom, untied her apron, and dropped it on top of her bag.
She had not seen anyone here so far, and without a single sound to indicate anyone else was even at home, she was more than curious to know why.
She plopped down into a chair in the kitchen to wait for them, anxious to finally prop up her knee. Despite the tea she had been drinking and the wrap she had applied to her knee, the pain still stole her breath away every time she put her foot to the ground, and her knee throbbed almost nonstop, even when she rested it.
Flushed and overheated from walking the short way home, she tugged at her bodice, which was stuck to her skin. She was sorely tempted to scratch at the welts left by mosquitoes, who had feasted on her flesh again last night, and barely managed to resist it.
Jane entered the kitchen just as Martha was easing her leg up to rest on the opposite chair. Looking even more overheated than Martha felt, Jane went straight to the sink, where she pumped out enough water to wash her hands and wet a cloth that she pressed against her flushed cheeks. “I’m sorry I’m a little late in getting dinner started. I was over at Mrs. Reed’s tending to the garden and lost all sense of the hour. I’m surprised Miss Fern and Miss Ivy aren’t here waiting for me with you. They expected to be back long before now.”
Martha mopped her brow. “I thought I told you that what’s left of the garden during this hot spell can wait until it breaks. Do you know where Fern or Ivy went? Did they take Cassie with them?”
“They left after b
reakfast, but they didn’t really say where they were going. Cassie didn’t go with them, though. I gave her permission to go fishing at a lake with Will and Mr. Samuel today, although I suspect she’ll have more fun just dangling her feet in the cold water and splashing around a bit to cool off. Mr. Fancy will be there to watch over all three of them.”
Jane glanced out the window. “I’m getting worried about those two sisters. They shouldn’t be walking in this heat, and if you’ll forgive me for saying so, I might say the same about you—especially since you promised to let me help you care for your patients more often, especially with that knee of yours.”
“Don’t bother. I’ll say it myself and save you the trouble,” Martha replied, unable to keep herself from a moment of self-pity. “You’re right. I should have let you take over all of my work at Dr. McMillan’s office. It’s nearly been my undoing.”
“Nearly?” Jane frowned, moistened another cloth, and handed it to Martha, who promptly pressed it to her forehead. “I know you said it wasn’t intentional, but when poor old Widow Pitt whacked your knee with that stick two days ago, she actually was your undoing. Unfortunately you’re too stubborn to follow the very advice you’d give to one of your patients and stay off your feet for a while.”
Martha sighed. “It wasn’t a stick. It was her cane, and she really wasn’t aiming at me. She was trying to strike out at her son because he’d brought her out in all this heat to see me,” she countered. “Poor old woman. She’s not very congenial, even when she’s feeling well.” She paused. “In all truth, I think it’s time you took over my duties with anyone who is ill. I’d much rather be cooling off with Cassie instead of going back to my office at Dr. McMillan’s this afternoon.”
“Except you’d never be able to walk that far with that knee,” Jane teased. “I’ll take care of anyone who needs help this afternoon as long as you promise to keep your weight off of that knee. Unless you’re summoned to a birthing, of course.”
“I don’t expect I will be, but let’s hope I’m not called out to a birthing for at least a couple of days, since I’ll never be able to kneel down on the floor with this knee of mine to deliver a babe. If I am, I’ll just have to let Dr. McMillan take my place . . . unless you think you might be ready to go for me.”
Jane moistened her lips. “You’d really trust me to go in your stead when I haven’t even attended a birthing with you yet?”
“Only if you can trust yourself to go,” Martha replied. “Do you think you could?”
“I think I might be able, but I’m not sure,” Jane admitted.
Martha nodded and gently patted her sore knee. “I think I will accept your offer to rest my knee this afternoon. But before you start dinner, I wonder if I could bother you for a fresh cold cloth.”
Jane furrowed her brow. “I do believe this is the very first time you’ve ever asked me for help with something you always do for yourself,” Jane teased and walked away. She had the cloth ready within minutes, but instead of handing it to Martha, she motioned for her to pull up her skirts.
“It’ll be easier if I do it,” she offered, and Martha posed no argument to the idea.
Jane took one look at the knee and the cloth Martha had wrapped around it and scowled. “That knee is twice the size it should be. You need to do more than drink a cup or two of sneezewort tea each day and wrap it.” She removed the cloth and set it aside before going directly to the larder.
She returned with a bottle of apple cider vinegar. After saturating the cloth with the liquid just short of leaving it dripping, she wrapped the cloth around Martha’s knee. She wrapped it again with a thicker towel and put a folded towel underneath her foot to elevate her leg. “There. That should do it. If you’ll let me change that poultice every time it dries out and keep off your feet for a few days, you’ll be good as new. But if you insist on hobbling your way to and from Dr. McMillan’s office and all around town, you just might damage your knee permanently, which is precisely what I warned last night to Miss Fern and Miss Ivy.”
Martha wrinkled her nose, put off by Jane’s remedy and the fact that the three women had been talking about her. She could not remember the last time anyone had admonished her for her choice of remedies, and she did not take it well. Not at all.
34
The following day, Jane’s faith in God and in herself was put to the very test that both she and Martha had discussed together.
At midday, when the two of them were sitting together in the kitchen and no one else was home, a series of slamming doors and pounding footfalls through the confectionery frightened them both. The door connecting the shop to the kitchen crashed open, and a hulk of a man burst into the kitchen. He was carrying a very pregnant, very pale woman, who was writhing in pain. “They told me I’d find the midwife here,” he said as he glanced from Martha to Jane and back again. “Name’s Clemmens. Richard Clemmens. My wife, Claire, needs the midwife. Our babe isn’t due for another month yet, so we thought we could join her folks in Ohio before . . . before this happened. Luckily, we weren’t far from town. Please! Which one of you is Midwife Cade?”
“I am, and this is my friend Jane Trew. Unfortunately, I won’t be of much help to your wife with this knee of mine.” Martha pointed to her leg, which was propped up on an opposite chair, before she turned to her companion and friend. “Jane, if you feel up to delivering this babe, you can use the sitting room, or would you rather show them the way to Dr. McMillan’s?”
The man shook his head. “I just left there. His housekeeper said he was out on a call and won’t be back till late tonight. It’s our first babe, and . . . and I don’t think we can wait that long.”
Confident that God was in total control of the situation, Martha whispered a hurried prayer that Jane knew that, too.
Jane’s gaze darkened for only half a heartbeat before her eyes shimmered with determination. “I can take care of your wife and deliver the babe,” she said and got to her feet. “Let me show you to the sitting room.”
He hesitated. “Are you a midwife, too?”
Jane tilted up her chin. “Yes, I am, and unless you want your wife to deliver that babe right here in the kitchen, I suggest you follow me. Now,” she added firmly, in the same tone of voice Martha always used to force a father-to-be to follow her directions.
Whether it was Jane’s command or the poor laboring woman’s scream, the man did as he was told. And what mattered most was that Jane had accepted the challenge God had placed in front of her, and Martha prayed with all of her might that He would stay by her side and help her to deliver this babe safely into this world and into its mother’s arms.
Martha had gotten to her feet by the time Jane came rushing back into the kitchen. “My bag of simples is sitting right on the floor in my room, and the birthing stool is stored under my cot. I’ll get everything else ready for you here,” Martha suggested. “I may not be able to do much, but if you are worried about doing this on your own, I can be there with you when you deliver the babe.”
Jane shook her head and smiled. “I can do this, Martha. I know I can, because I won’t be helping this babe into the world all by myself. God has blessed me with my calling, and He’ll be with me. That’s not to say I wouldn’t mind having you there, too. I won’t need you to tell me what to do, but I could use your help with our mother-to-be, if it wouldn’t put too much strain on your knee.”
“Let’s go help this little one meet some very anxious parents,” Martha replied. They gathered up what she had assembled for Jane to use with the birthing and carried everything to the sitting room, where she found Claire lying on the settee with her worried husband standing by her side.
Relinquishing her usual role as midwife to Jane, she was not surprised when Mr. Clemmens was sent out into the hallway. Working quickly but efficiently, Jane helped Claire off of the settee, and Martha assisted the laboring woman until Jane had covered the settee with a birthing cloth and laid the woman down again.
Martha hel
d the woman’s hand while Jane rolled up the woman’s gown to examine her. Within minutes, Jane was frowning. “The babe is in a posterior position and appears to be stuck. From what she’s already told me, she’s been suffering from forcing pains for several hours. She’s very weak at this point, and I’m afraid the babe is, too,” she said to Martha before she turned her attention to Claire. “I need to help your babe, and it’s going to hurt. A lot. But once I do, you’ll have your babe in your arms in no time,” she promised, although Martha was far less confident than Jane appeared to be.
Deathly pale, poor Claire managed a smile before gritting her teeth against the pain of another contraction. “Hurry. Do whatever you have to do, but please hurry! It hurts. It really hurts!”
“I know, sweet woman. I know,” Jane crooned, but her demeanor changed in an instant. She squared her shoulders and nodded to Martha as she lubricated her right hand and arm. “I’ll need you to help Claire hold as still as she can.”
Martha stood at the end of the settee and took hold of Claire’s shoulders. “I’m ready.”
Jane nodded, and without saying another word, she went straight to work. With confidence and skill, she managed to help that baby in far less time than it would have taken Martha. Claire had passed out from the pain, poor dear, but she roused when her husband returned. Jane barely had time to get the worried man to take a seat on the birthing stool and his wife seated properly on his lap before little Michael Paul Clemmens entered this world.
True to her word, Jane placed the squalling babe into his mother’s arms just a few minutes later. Once again moved by the absolute glory of birth, Martha saw her feelings mirrored on Jane’s face and more. She saw confidence and courage and joy. Such wonderful, immeasurable joy!
When Jane’s work was over and the new mother and babe were resting together under the watchful gaze of the proud new father, Martha was pleased when Jane led them to all pray together, a custom Martha had always followed after every birth.