Healing Sarah (American Homespun Book 3)

by Lorin Grace

  “I’ll go hitch up the team to take you two back to town.”

  As soon as the door shut, Lucy lowered herself into one of the rockers. “This one kicks something awful. Must be a boy. How much do you see of Dr. Tim Dawes?” Her big sister studied her. “Ah, you blush.”

  “It doesn’t matter much, does it? He plans on leaving as soon as Dr. Morton is up and about. I only see him because of Amity. And there are so many women who want his attention.” The words of this morning’s letter ran through Sarah’s mind. Lucy would not know her shame.

  “You are sure about that?”

  “Yes, I’ve accepted that I had my chance with Mark, and every girl should get one opportunity to love. There just are not enough men out there for a woman to be in love twice.”

  Lucy rocked back and forth for a moment. “Has John brought up marriage often?”

  “Only twice since Miriam Dawes’s wedding. I think it reminded him of his wedding to Remember. He must see we wouldn’t suit. Neither of his children wants me as a mother after being their cousin and teacher, although they are old enough to understand I am not truly their cousin.” Sarah sat in the other chair.

  “My poor girl. It has been an awkward life for you, hasn’t it, balancing a sister who isn’t your mother, a man who isn’t your father, brothers who are not your brothers, and then Emma, who has been a cross between a grandmother and a friend.”

  “It may be difficult to explain, more so if I had married Mark, but at least I know you all love me. Well, all but John. He seems more annoyed with me than anything.”

  “I think John loves you too, but more as a sister. He doesn’t want to get hurt again by losing a wife, and his children need a mother. Since you were engaged to Mark, he thinks he should take care of you. I never realized until Joe left how seriously John considers it his duty to see that everyone is cared for. I always thought he was just part of the twins who played jokes and laughed at everything. John is just trying to fix a problem as he sees it.” Lucy stifled a yawn.

  “I am not fond of someone thinking I am a problem to be fixed. It is almost as bad as the students who grow taller than me and think they know more because they can see the top of my head.”

  Lucy laughed. “They are nitwits.”

  “Careful—your own children number in that group. I remember the day Maryanna realized she was taller than me and started telling me to do her chores just like she would Lettie and Louisa.”

  “Not sure how I got a domineering girl like her for a daughter.”

  Sarah raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

  “Are you saying I am the same?”

  “If the cap fits …”

  Sarah and her sister laughed until tears formed.

  Thirteen

  Amity spent most of the dinner staring at her plate. Tim and Mrs. Morton ignored her as much as possible, both having realized she was likely to bolt if they spoke to her. The only person who’d earned a smile from the shy girl was the maid. When the meal concluded, Mrs. Morton whispered to the maid, who in turn whispered to Amity. To Tim’s amazement, the girl followed the maid from the room. Amity’s father moved to stand.

  “Don’t worry, Mr. Barns, she has only gone to the kitchen to get some gingerbread. Our maid will watch out for her. My husband would like to speak with both of you in his room for a moment.” Mrs. Morton led them up to the bedroom.

  Several cushions had been added to prop Dr. Morton’s back and broken leg.

  “Come in. Mr. Barns, I trust you know Dr. Dawes is seeing to all my patients over the next several weeks?”

  Mr. Barns looked around the room and appeared as ready to leave as had his daughter at the table.

  “Do take a seat. I have a concern about Amity I need to discuss with both of you.”

  Tim sat, and Mr. Barns followed his example.

  “On Friday Amity went and visited Widow Wilson. Do you know her?”

  “She be the one who helped me wife deliver Amity.”

  Dr. Morton nodded. “Only Widow Wilson doesn’t do much midwifery anymore. However, she did pass her skills on to Miss Marden.”

  Mr. Barns opened his mouth as if to comment, but the doctor quickly went on. “Mrs. Wilson and Miss Marden are of the opinion that Amity is with child.”

  “No, she ain’t. My girl just is getting fat like her ma.”

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Barns, but after seeing Amity today, my wife agrees.”

  “You lie!” Mr. Barns jumped up. Tim joined the man, not sure if he was of a violent persuasion.

  Dr. Morton spoke calmly. “Widow Wilson conducted an examination of sorts with Amity fully clothed. She is of the opinion that Amity will deliver the baby in about six to eight weeks.”

  Mr. Barns collapsed back in the chair. “She is wrong! My little girl ain’t sinful. She wouldn’t do that.”

  Lifting a paper, Dr. Morton said, “This is a letter from Reverend Palmer. He sent the same one to the magistrate, along with one from me. It is my professional medical opinion—and the reverend agrees Amity did not act wantonly—that a man took advantage of her.”

  “Who? I’ll kill him!” Mr. Barns leaped out of the chair, causing it to crash to the floor.

  “I wish I knew. I would hunt him down and see he is jailed.”

  “Jail ain’t good enough for the man who hurt my baby girl.” Tears poured down Mr. Barn’s face.

  Tim helped him back into the chair. “I quite agree, Mr. Barns.”

  “Sadly, Amity is hardly likely to tell us who fathered the child. Miss Marden doesn’t think she understands fully what is even wrong, although she did seek out Mrs. Wilson.” Dr. Morton’s voice was low and soothing. “Although I want to see justice done, right now I am more concerned about Amity. This is going to be very difficult for her, not only because of the horse injury but because she is only fourteen and still small. She doesn’t seem to like my wife, and, as you see, I can be of little help. Mrs. Wilson hasn’t delivered any babies this year because her age has made it difficult. And Amity’s seizures complicate the situation.”

  “The seizures are in her head. The baby is in her belly. Why’d that make things complicated?”

  “The process of birthing a child includes quite a bit of pain. I don’t know why Amity has her seizures or what that much pain could do.”

  “Are you telling me my baby girl could die like her mother did?”

  Tim moved back to his chair. “Each time a woman has a child, she walks in the valley of the shadow of death. We want to make sure your daughter has the best chance. So we have a plan.”

  “A plan?” Mr. Barns scratched his head.

  Tim looked at the pained face of Dr. Morton and took up the conversation. “Amity needs to trust me like she does Dr. Morton. It would also help if she could start to like Mrs. Morton. Mrs. Wilson and Miss Marden agreed to invite Amity over for a few hours each day to visit, cook, and what all. During this time, Mrs. Morton and I will stop by for various reasons—borrowing sugar and stuff like that. Amity can get to know us better without us being there for her.”

  “It would do my girl some good to be around such nice folks as the widow and the teacher. And you would just see her for a few minutes each day?”

  “Yes. I hope in time she will trust me enough to start talking to me. That way if I need to help with the delivery, it won’t be so frightening if I am there.”

  “What will happen to the baby? I know my girl can’t take care of it.”

  Tim’s heart broke for the father’s pain. “Reverend Palmer said he would look for a situation for the baby. There are those couples who just can’t seem to get them on their own.”

  Mr. Barns nodded. “What do I tell my girl?”

  “Tell her she isn’t fat, so she will eat better. Widow Wilson can explain little by little what is going to happen. I suggest you leave that part to the women. I don’t think men are very good at that sort of thing. Even doctors.” Dr. Morton laughed a self-depreciating chuckle. “And th
is is something we need to ask Widow Wilson and Miss Marden about … but as Amity’s time draws near, it may be best if she lives with them for a couple weeks. With working on the docks, you may not be there when she starts showing the first signs of labor.”

  A flash of relief interrupted the grief on Mr. Barns’s face. “I think that is a right good idea.”

  “I will speak to Widow Wilson in the morning,” said Tim.

  “Doc, is there anything else I can do for my little girl?”

  “Just keep loving her.”

  Mr. Barns nodded at Dr. Morton’s advice. “I’d better go take her home. I’ll tell her to go to the widow’s in the morning. She doesn’t remember too well.”

  Tim walked Mr. Barns down the stairs, and they found their way back to the kitchen, where the cook and the maid were helping Amity shape some pies.

  Amity held up one. “Look-k. C-cook-k.”

  “Yes, darling. Are you ready to go home?”

  Amity shook her head. “Bake first-t.”

  Mrs. Morton spoke up from the corner. “It is no problem if you both stay.”

  Mr. Barns took a seat at the table and gestured Tim over. “Amity, this is Dr. Dawes. He is Dr. Morton’s helper.”

  Amity squinted at him as if she hadn’t ever seen him before, then went back to her pies.

  At least she hadn’t run from the room.

  Fourteen

  What do you think the reverend will preach on when he learns the commandments you have broken?

  Continue to avoid Dr. Dawes like you did after church and we won’t find out.

  Sarah stuffed the unsigned note in her pocket. The person sending them must be watching her. What on earth would they think when Tim started stopping by daily? Too bad she couldn’t respond. “Dear Watcher, he is here as a doctor and not for me.” But she doubted the anonymous writer would believe her.

  “Something is wrong. It is too quiet. Where are my boys? Did you see them when you came in?” Emma looked up from the pot she was stirring.

  Sarah set the egg basket down on the table. Not today, Emma! “I didn’t see anyone out by the henhouse.”

  “Well, my boys know better than to go sniffing around a henhouse. And why would you be there anyway? You’re engaged.”

  Sarah breathed a sigh of relief. At least Emma recognized her, even if she was a few years off. “I gathered the eggs. I thought we could make a custard with Amity when she comes.”

  Emma took a mixing bowl out of the cupboard.

  A knock sounded at the door. Sarah answered it. Amity shifted her weight from foot to foot. She wore a clean dress. “Da s-say see Mrs. Wil-il-son.”

  “That’s right, Amity. We invited you over today for dinner. Mrs. Wilson is making custard. Do you want to help?”

  Either Amity followed directions well, or she was just naturally a better cook than Sarah. There wasn’t any need to pick a single shell out of the bowl she’d cracked the eggs in.

  Sarah took the broom and swept the back porch. Through the open window, she monitored the conversation, which focused on cooking. Hearing footsteps on the front porch, Sarah hurried to answer the door first.

  Tim carried his bag of instruments with him and took off his hat as Sarah opened the door. Due to the heat of the day, his hat had squashed his hair in a little ring. Longing to run her fingers through it to fix it, she found her hand had risen of its own volition. She covered the error by grabbing the door. “Dr. Dawes, come in. Mrs. Wilson and Amity are making custards.”

  She led Tim into the kitchen. Emma looked up. “Doctor, you are too early. These will need to bake yet. Amity, do you know the doctor?”

  “He-e at D-doc-tor Mor. Hel-l-lo.” Amity went back to stirring the contents of her bowl. Sarah felt her jaw drop. Amity had recognized Tim!

  For a few minutes, Sarah and Tim watched as Emma helped Amity pour the mixture into the baking dish, then Tim tugged on Sarah’s sleeve and pointed to the hallway. “See me out,” he said in a voice meant only for her.

  Sarah showed him to the door.

  “Come out and talk for a moment.”

  Shutting the door behind her, she quickly looked around to see who might be watching.

  “Dr. Morton told Amity’s father yesterday of the diagnosis. He took it as well as he could. Reverend Palmer wrote a letter to the magistrate, so I don’t think any fines will be levied.”

  Sarah continued to watch the street. A few children played over on the green, but none of them would write a note. Tim’s touch at her elbow startled her.

  “Are you listening?”

  “I’m sorry. I just—” Sarah shrugged, unwilling either to lie or disclose her thoughts.

  “Dr. Morton thinks it would be best if Amity moves in here the last couple weeks before her confinement. Do you think it would work with Emma?”

  “Maybe. Emma seems to stay in the present when Amity is around. At least she has the last two times. Thomas Jr. is asking his sister-in-law to come help with Emma. If she comes, we will double up rooms, but it could work. It would be one more person for Amity to get accustomed to, but she is already acknowledging you after only one day.”

  Tim straightened his coat. “You know I do charm all the ladies.”

  Sarah rolled her eyes. “Go try your charms elsewhere. I need to get back in case Emma … I don’t want her to frighten Amity.”

  “See you tomorrow.” Tim jogged down the steps and to his little carriage.

  Sarah looked up and down the street once more. Hopefully her letter writer hadn’t been watching.

  Tim wondered what had distracted Sarah. Mrs. Wilson had been in very good humor and even recognized him, though that could change in a moment. However, Sarah hadn’t been looking at the house. She had been studying the street. Perhaps she did not wish to be seen with him. She had been rather abrupt after church yesterday.

  He turned the corner to find Miss Page and Miss Brooks walking with their heads together. They waved him down.

  “Oh, Doctor, we saw you in front of Widow Wilson’s. Is she well? We worry about her so.” Miss Page put her hand on the side of his carriage.

  “I do not discuss my patients with anyone other than their families. If you wish to inquire about Mrs. Wilson’s health, you will need to do so in person.”

  Miss Page blinked a couple of times. “Oh, that is good of you. Doctors shouldn’t spread gossip. There is to be a men’s choral concert across the river on Wednesday. Will you be attending?”

  Miss Brooks shifted. Tim thought she might be trying to step on her friend’s toes. Good for her. “I feel it is my duty to stay on the north side of the river while I see to Dr. Morton’s patients. However, I am sure you will enjoy it.”

  “Oh.” Miss Page looked at Miss Brooks to come to her rescue.

  Miss Brooks obliged. “We must bid you good day, then. No doubt you are needed elsewhere. We must hurry off ourselves.” She pulled Miss Page back up to the walkway.

  Tim set his horse to a trot. He would need to remember to go around the other way when he came to Sarah’s so as not to pass the boardinghouse. He didn’t want to hurt one of his sister’s friends with his rejection but feared he must soon make his preferences known.

  Fifteen

  Why does the doctor visit so often?

  Mrs. Wilson seems to be healthy.

  What would it do to her heart if she knew about her son?

  But maybe she already does …

  Would that make her complicit?

  Find another doctor.

  Three days since the last note. Sarah studied the street. Whoever wrote the note was in a position to see Tim stopping by frequently. He brought his bag each time, so at least his visits looked medical.

  Sarah slipped up to her room and added the notes to the others.

  Mrs. Morton arrived just after nine, bringing a frosted cake for the noon meal. Sarah set a chicken to boil over the fire.

  In preparation for the meal, Amity had agreed to a bath and hav
ing her hair washed. Sarah wasn’t sure how Emma had coaxed her into such a thing, but it would allow the midwives to check the progress of the unwitting mother.

  Sarah added more hot water to the tub they’d set up in Emma’s room. Mrs. Morton followed with a bucket of cold water.

  “N-no her! N-o h-her!”

  Mrs. Morton quickly retreated to the kitchen.

  Sarah helped Amity remove her boots, but once Amity stood in only her shift, she shooed Sarah away, too. Unwilling to leave Emma alone, Sarah pretended to straighten the room, dusting Emma’s perfectly clean dressing table and watching Amity in the mirror.

  Emma helped with the bath, washing Amity’s hair.

  As Amity stood to dry off, the baby kicked, stretching the girl’s taut belly. Eyes wide, Amity touched her abdomen. “W-wrong. Fat. M-move.”

  Emma placed her hand where a foot pushed out. “This baby will be here mid-July.”

  “B-baby?” Amity tilted her head. “N-no, b-baby! Not Ma-ma!” She pushed Emma away. Emma lost her footing and fell against the bed.

  Amity wrapped her arms around herself and wailed.

  Sarah grabbed a quilt and wrapped it gently around the girl. “Mrs. Morton!”

  Mrs. Morton rushed into the room.

  Amity screamed and twisted out of Sarah’s embrace and dashed for the door. Sarah made to follow but looked back at Mrs. Morton first. “Help Emma!”

  As she turned back around, the screaming stopped.

  Tim stood just inside the doorway and was holding the unconscious girl, the quilt pooled at their feet. His face was a color of scarlet not often seen on a male. “She’s fainted.”

  Sarah hurried to wrap the quilt around Amity and said, “Bring her into Emma’s room.”

  There, they found Emma sitting on her bed. “I’m right as rain. Now let me up!”

  Mrs. Morton looked from Sarah to the doctor.

  Sarah hurried to Emma’s side. “Are you hurt?”

  “Of course not. Can’t raise a pack of boys without getting pushed now and then.”

  Sarah assisted Emma to her feet. “Perhaps if you take Mrs. Morton and Dr. Dawes to the parlor, I can get Amity dressed before she wakes up.”