by Lorin Grace
Tim shook his head “I’ll help you.”
“That isn’t proper.”
“As a doctor, I assure you I won’t do anything improper, but she is bigger than you, and if she were to wake up …”
Sarah nodded her agreement and retrieved Amity’s shift from where she had hung it over the back of a chair.
“It looks like Mrs. Wilson was correct in her estimation of the pregnancy.” Tim laid his hand on Amity’s belly. “This one is active. He must have liked the bath better than his mother.”
“Her mother.”
“You think it is a girl?”
Sarah pulled the shift down to Amity’s knees and started with the single petticoat. “Maybe.”
“What happened?”
“Emma forgot she couldn’t talk about the baby. Amity didn’t take the news well. Can you lift her a little?”
They worked in silence for a moment, Sarah watching how gently Tim handled the girl. Every touch was professional and kind. Doctoring suited him. The thoughts swirling around Sarah’s head came out unbidden. “You know more about expectant women than I thought you would.”
Tim swallowed. Of course he did. There were more to treat than just the dying men on the front. “I am familiar with the process.”
The spot between Sarah’s brow furrowed. “I suppose there were not too many midwives around the camps.”
He nodded. “Most people blamed the women, but it was the men too. I think Reverend Woods didn’t address that as much as he should have in some of his sermons. I have no idea what Reverend Palmer’s view is, but I wish everyone would just learn to live the sixth commandment. Then things like this wouldn’t happen.”
“It isn’t Amity’s fault.” Sarah dropped the stocking she held.
“I didn’t say it was. I do not blame the women who suffer because a man has taken advantage of them. But those women who are willing? I harbor equal disdain for them as I do the men.”
Sarah buttoned the cuffs of Amity’s dress. “Come now, you know a good portion of the women who marry are in the family way. Are you telling me you condemn them?”
He felt the conversation slipping into places as slippery as axle grease. “No, but I don’t think a woman should let even her fiancé take liberties. That is why the Commonwealth has kept the fornication fine.”
Sarah made a funny sound in her throat as she tied Amity’s shoes. “I think she is coming around. You had better leave.”
Tim took her advice but didn’t shut the door. He knew most men his age didn’t agree with his strict moral code, but he had always assumed most good Christian women did. What had he said to upset Sarah? Surely she didn’t think he placed any responsibility on Amity. He replayed the conversation and was left feeling confused.
Low murmurs came from both the parlor and the bedroom. He peeked into the bedroom to see Sarah with her arm around Amity. He moved to the parlor, figuring it was best to leave before Amity realized he had been there.
Amity kept rubbing her belly. “B-baby?” she asked repeatedly.
Sarah confirmed her answer each time, thankful Amity didn’t ask the question everyone else would.
Amity stood up and took Sarah’s hand, pulling her up, too. “T-tell Da.” Without releasing Sarah’s hand, Amity headed for the front door.
“One moment, Amity. We need our wraps. It is cold today.” Sarah took a moment to stick her head into the parlor. “She wants me to go with her to tell her father.”
Mrs. Morton nodded. “I’ll let Dr. Dawes know where you went. Stay away from the docks.” She slipped out the door.
Sarah understood. Amity’s news was best shared in private.
Emma shuffled out of the parlor. “Why, dear, your hair is still dripping. Let Sarah braid it before you go out.” Emma herded them back into her bedroom and directed Amity to sit at her table.
“Tell-l D-da.”
“Yes, sweetheart, we will, but let’s get your hair all pretty before we do.” Sarah used Emma’s brush and made a hasty braid.
As soon as she stepped outside, Sarah wished she had dried Amity’s hair completely. The temperature had dropped twenty degrees since dawn. The closer they got to the river, the more Sarah felt like running back for her pelisse as her shawl did little to keep out the chill.
Somehow it was fitting the weather had turned upside down today too.
Tim slowed the buggy to a stop in front of the rundown building. He hoped Sarah had only gone as far as the Barns’s small apartment. They had just reached the door when Amity burst out, dragging Sarah behind her.
“Where are you going?” Tim hopped down, unsure how to stop them from going to the docks.
“F-find Da.”
“It is awfully chilly out here. Why don’t you let me go fetch him and you stay in the apartment?”
“The doctor has a very good idea. With his buggy, he can go so much faster than we can.” Sarah tried to put her arm around Amity, but the girl shrugged her off.
Amity pointed her finger at the center of Tim’s chest. “G-go fin-nd Da.”
“I’ll be back as quick as I can.”
He looked back to be sure Amity and Sarah had entered the building.
Driving along the docks, Tim occasionally stopped to ask if anyone had seen Mr. Barns. After three false leads, he found the man supervising the unloading of several barrels from one of his late stepfather’s ships.
“Mr. Barns! Mr. Barns!”
“Hey, Barny, boss man’s brother wants ya!”
Mr. Barns hurried over to Tim’s buggy. “If it’s Amity, make ’em think it’s ship business.”
“I’ve been asked to fetch you. Foreman, he’ll be back soon. You are not to dock his pay!” It was probably going too far, but Mr. Barns needed all of his daily wages. He would pay it out of his own pocket if Ichabod had an issue with what he had done. Tim turned the buggy and set the horse to a trot.
“What is wrong with my girl?”
“She wants to tell you. She realized she is having a baby. She brought Miss Marden with her.” They stopped in front of the apartment building, and Tim ran up the stairs after Mr. Barns.
Amity greeted her father with a hug. “B-baby.” She pointed to her rounded belly.
Mr. Barns pulled her back into his arms. “I know, my girl. I know.”
Amity pulled away and studied her father. Reaching up, she wiped a tear from his face, her head tilted. Tim had come to recognize the gesture. Amity did it often when she pondered. “S-sad?”
To his credit, Mr. Barns lied. When Amity took his hand and laid it on her belly, she turned to Sarah with a perplexed look. “G-gone?”
Sarah came over and laid her hand next to Mr. Barns’s. “No, the baby is sleeping. Sometimes babies sleep. Then when you eat something or you want to sleep, they wake up and move again.”
Amity nodded, then yawned. “I sleep-p t-too.” She walked over to the corner and curled up on a little cot.
Tim and Sarah followed Mr. Barns out of the apartment.
“Should I stay with her?” asked Sarah.
“No, my girl be fine. I need to get back to work before they figure out I didn’t go see your brother. I don’t like lying.”
“Then let me take you to the office. I’ll tell my brother I needed you, and then you will have talked with him.”
“What if he cuts me pay?”
“I’ll cover it.” Tim turned to Sarah. “Come with us, then I’ll take you back. You shouldn’t be down here alone.”
Mr. Barns studied Sarah for a moment. “Docks ain’t no place for a lady. Best you cover your head with your shawl.”
Sarah did as Mr. Barns asked, and the three of them went over to the Morse shipping office. Tim explained as little as possible. Ichabod asked Mr. Barns into his office and closed the door.
Knowing his brother wouldn’t fire the man, Tim hopped back into the buggy. Sarah kept her shawl tight around her head, shading her face, even as they drew close to her house.
Sarah only nodded.
“Don’t be upset at me for keeps.”
“I’m not cross with you. Just thinking.”
When he stopped in front of the house, Sarah hopped out of the buggy and ran quickly into the house. Clearly she didn’t want him to follow.
Miss Page crossed the street in front of the green. Not wanting to have her quiz him, Tim didn’t linger. As the buggy passed her, he met her wave with a brief nod but urged the horse onward. He’d had enough of emotional women today.
Sixteen
The third day of June. Sarah bit her lip. Surely she could tuck her woolen petticoat away for the summer. With Amity coming daily, she’d neglected to pack away her winter clothes, even if she had needed them only last week for her jaunt to Amity’s. Too bad she hadn’t worn them that day.
She opened the trunk, banging the wall. The first volume of Pride and Prejudice tumbled off the shelf, the papers inside it scattering. The note left Friday morning landed closest.
Hiding your face under a shawl?
You know what they say about women who frequent the docks.
How far have you fallen?
Sarah tucked it back in the book. There hadn’t been another note since. Knowing someone was paying such close attention to her sent chills up her spine. It had to be a single woman who’d written them, but narrowing it down to just one seemed an impossible task. Mrs. Webb’s boardinghouse housed a dozen women at capacity. But she couldn’t imagine any of the women there being the author of the notes. Sarah put the book back in place and prayed there would be no more notes to add since there hadn’t been one for three mornings.
She placed her two warmest petticoats in the trunk and pulled out her lightest ones. Soon it would be too warm to be comfortable with these. Sarah couldn’t wait. Like everyone else, she’d grown tired of the cold. What would it be like to live farther south? Lucky Miriam. Ohio must be warmer than the North Shore. They’d had only a moment to speak after church, but Mrs. Miriam Wells couldn’t look happier.
Sarah would have talked longer, but Tim had joined them. Fearing she was being watched, Sarah made an excuse and left. It must have been enough because no new note awaited her this morning. She wished she could just respond. If people wouldn’t think she had gone mad, Sarah would shout it from the front porch. “I don’t intend to marry anyone. If you want Dr. Dawes, win him without my help!”
But that would lead to questions she could never answer.
The clock tower chimed eleven. Since he was the only one in the office, Tim decided it would be a good time to visit Miss Amity. Since learning of her condition last week, she had started to talk to him more and not avoid Mrs. Morton. Although not privy to the conversations, he knew Sarah had been doing her best to impart the information Amity needed to get through the delivery. No one talked about what would happen to the baby after. There would be pain enough then.
As always, Tim took his doctor bag into the house with him. Amity needed to not fear the bag like some of his young patients did. He found Mrs. Morton already there, teaching Amity some sort of sewing stitch for a small quilt. Mrs. Wilson sat on the other side of Amity giving encouragement. No Sarah.
“Dr. Dawes, how nice of you to come by. Would you like some chocolate?” Mrs. Wilson lifted her own cup. Chocolate wasn’t his favorite drink, but having a cup would allow him to stay longer.
Amity looked up from her sewing. “My b-bab-by.” She laid the few pieces she had sewn together over her rounded middle.
“Do you think spring is here to stay—or should I say summer?” Mrs. Morton started the conversation.
After ten minutes of discussing the weather and the next color Amity should add to her blanket, Tim finished the chocolate and a piece of shortbread. “Well, ladies, I bid you good day.”
“Good-d b-b, Doc-c.” Amity smiled at him.
“Good day, Amity. Say hello to your father for me.”
She nodded her head and bent back over her miniature quilt.
Miss Brooks and Miss Page walked by as he exited the house. Miss Brooks raised her hand in greeting. There would be no good way to avoid her. “Good day, Miss Brooks, Miss Page. Are you enjoying the sun today?”
Miss Page answered. “Oh yes. I am! I think summer has just arrived. We are on our way to visit Sarah—I mean Miss Marden. She isn’t ill, is she?”
Someday the two would earn their places as town gossips, providing the widows that occupied the front pew at church all contracted a case of the putrid throat. Tim tried not to smile at the thought. “I did not see Miss Marden today. I do not believe she is at home.”
A door banged open behind them.
“Doct-t-or bab-by.” Awe filled Amity’s face as it did every time she felt the baby move inside her. Mrs. Wilson put her arm around the girl and took her back into the house.
Miss Page looked from the closing door to the doctor and back again. “Oh, is she—? Oh, the poor thing! How did that happen?” She covered her mouth as if trying to silence herself.
“As you see, that is my reason for visiting today.” And every day if that knowledge will keep you from questioning me daily. “It is best Miss Amity thinks of me as a friend for her lying-in, as it will likely be more difficult than most. Now, if you will excuse me, I have other patients to attend to.”
“Oh, that is why you come so often. I thought—” Miss Page stammered.
Tim had no wish to know what the women thought, but he did need to attempt to quell any prospective gossip. “If you would please keep Miss Amity’s condition to yourself … I doubt it will remain hidden much longer, but she doesn’t need everyone treating her any differently than they do now.” Most people acted as if they didn’t see her at all.
Miss Brooks fanned herself. “We wouldn’t tell her tale. The poor child. But did she get herself into this mess? With her eye and head the way they are, she isn’t even pretty.”
“Miss Brooks, whomever is responsible for taking advantage of the girl wanted only easy prey. If he is found, he will be prosecuted. Miss Amity deserves only love, not your censure. Anyone can see she’s done nothing to ‘get into this mess,’ as you put it. Now, if you will excuse me, I must go.” It took great effort for Tim to hold his tongue as he drove away. Not pretty! Obviously no one ever had taught Miss Brooks that the type of beauty that mattered had little to do with hair or eyes or clothes.
Two pounds of sugar, two pounds of flour, and a ginger root. Sarah finished her purchases, then packed them in her basket. Today’s outing to the store was a treat. Emma always seemed to stay in the present around Amity, but Sarah didn’t dare leave them alone. Sarah took advantage of Mrs. Morton’s visits, as the midwife and Amity were to the point Sarah no longer needed to carry the conversation. Mr. Swanson added a peppermint to the basket the same as he had for twenty years and gave Sarah a wink.
She heard the bell chime the half hour as she walked past the church. Tim was coming down the road ahead of her and slowed his doctor buggy to a stop just beside her. Sarah looked around. No one seemed to be watching, but she couldn’t be too careful.
“I missed you at the house today.”
“As you see, I needed to get a few things. We find ourselves baking more than we used to.”
“I could give you a ride.” Tim reached for the basket, but Sarah kept it away from him.
“No. It is a beautiful day, and you are headed the opposite direction. Good day, Doctor.” Sarah nodded and walked on. There. If her note writer were watching, she would see nothing to threaten Sarah about.
Turning the corner, she nearly bumped into Parmelia. “Oh, pardon me.”
“My fault. I thought you were teaching the summer term. Didn’t it start today?” Sarah shifted the basket.
“Oh, Mr. Colburn has me teaching only on Tuesdays and Thursdays. He said he had a niece … Anyway, I am glad for the time off. I can get some sewing d
one before fall.” Parmelia’s smile didn’t reach her eyes.
“How could he do that? Didn’t he promise you the job?”
“Oh, it doesn’t matter. Was that Dr. Dawes I saw you speaking to?”
Sarah looked back the way she had come, the buggy no longer in sight. “Yes. He stopped for a moment. He is very busy.”
“Oh? We had a lengthy conversation this morning. He is such a perfect gentleman, but so busy.”
“I suppose most doctors are.”
“Oh, I’ve tried to get him to go to a lecture and a choral with me, but”—Parmelia sighed—“I guess one could get used to it.”
“Mrs. Morton seems happy enough, so I guess one does.” Sarah shifted her basket. “Nice talking with you, but I must get home with these.”
“Oh yes. Good day.”
Sarah couldn’t help but wonder if Parmelia started every sentence with Oh when she taught as well.
As she locked up for the night, Sarah heard a scraping sound on the front door. She peered into the dark street but saw no movement, so she opened it. A paper fluttered in the breeze.
How benevolent of you, caring for little Amity.
The perfect excuse to see Dr. Dawes so often.
Does he know how much you and Amity have in common?
Seventeen
Friday morning dawned, bringing with it a chill wind that fluttered the paper Sarah held. The third note this week. Besides the one she’d found Monday night, there had been another Wednesday morning, which was now folded in the pages of her book upstairs.
I see you read my notes. Why do you not listen?
That conversation was much too long to be all business.
Encourage him to take someone to the concert on Saturday.
Tuesday’s conversation on the front porch had been all business—on her end at least. Tim had expressed concern about the date Emma had set for Amity’s lying-in, as well as worries over Emma’s condition. Although she didn’t seem to slip away around Amity, she had called Tim by various names. Too bad the note writer wasn’t a better eavesdropper.
Hoping to point Tim in the right direction—away from her—Sarah had tricked Tim into attending Saturday’s concert yesterday, when Noah Larkin had come selling tickets, by feigning that she didn’t have the fifty cents to cover the cost of one. She hoped the person writing the notes didn’t realize he had asked her first. Using Emma as an excuse, Sarah had declined, assuming he would chose to escort one of the women from the boardinghouse after she’d pointed out that few of them could afford to attend on their own.