At Odds with the Midwife

by Patricia Forsythe

  Gemma held out her hand and shook his. “You’re forgiven, Cole. Now get some rest.”

  He answered with a boyish grin. “Yeah, I guess I better before the sleepless nights begin.”

  He shook Nate’s hand, then indicated his bandaged wrist. “Thanks for fixing me up, Nate.”

  “You’re welcome. That’s my job.” He paused, frowning. “Cole, the guy you got the check from, this Fennerman. What did he look like?”

  Cole nodded toward Bob. “About Dad’s age, maybe younger, but like he’d had a hard life. He was bald and, well, tired looking. Not a big man, smaller than me. Smaller than you, but it was like he’d shrunk.”

  Grimly, Nate nodded and started for the door. Bob drove them across the bridge, then said good-night, eager to return to his family.

  They checked in with Junior, told him about the baby’s safe delivery and walked toward their cars.

  “Gemma, we need to talk. I have a lot to tell you, and—”

  “Not tonight, Nate. I’ve had a rough day. Two rough days.”

  “Yeah, I know, and a lot of it’s my fault.” In the flashing caution lights from the barricade, he looked exhausted and distressed, but he gave her a smile. “I’m sorry for everything I’ve said and done that hurt you. I’ve been trying to tell you that for two days, but something always came up.”

  She shrugged. “And a couple of times I stopped you because I didn’t want to have another disagreement.”

  “No more disagreements,” Nate promised, holding up his hand in a pledge. “At least not in the foreseeable future. Can you come over to my place in the morning? I’ve only got a couple of patients scheduled. I can get Stacie to move them to Tuesday. There’s something I want to show you, and tell you—unless you’ve got patients or classes to teach?”

  “Sure, I can do that.” Before she climbed into her Land Rover, she asked, “That man Cole met, the one who gave him the check...”

  “Fennerman?”

  “Yes. Do you know him?”

  “All my life. I think it’s my dad. In fact, it has to be. His middle name is Fennerman.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  GEMMA PULLED UP to the curb in front of Nate’s house. She stepped out of her Land Rover, trying to avoid one of the puddles that lined every street in town. The rainstorms were finally clearing away and the flooded areas around the lake were receding, but there was still plenty of water and mud everywhere. She had been out to check on Yvette and her baby and was delighted to see her doing well, with her husband and in-laws attending to her every need.

  It was going to be a hot and humid day, but Gemma didn’t care—even if it meant her curly hair would be wilder than usual. In fact, she’d left it down around her shoulders because there wasn’t much she could do about it, anyway. Besides, she thought it looked good that way with her favorite yellow sleeveless dress.

  She’d woken up several times last night, thinking about Nate, his promise of no more disagreements and his certainty that the man who’d given Cole the check had been his father, George. Of all the twists and turns of the past few weeks, that had to be the craziest one.

  Her knock at Nate’s door brought an immediate response. He swung it open and invited her in with a wave of his hand as his gaze swept over her. “Come in, Gemma. You look beautiful.”

  “Thank you,” she said, smiling as she stepped inside.

  “Want some coffee?”

  “Coffee?” She shook her head, trying to clear it. “No, I had some at home.”

  “Come sit down, then.” He urged her toward the couch, then sat beside her and turned so he could take her hands in his.

  “I’ve been an idiot, and I’m sorry. I was so stuck in the past, so caught up in my family history, my determination to do what I had to do and then leave Reston for good. I couldn’t admit that I was wrong.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “My feelings about midwives. It was easy to fall into the trap of being dismissive about your profession, and it’s widespread among doctors. I thought I had a good reason after what happened to Mandy, but you’re right. Brendyce wasn’t a midwife, or any kind of medical professional. I guess I knew that at twelve years old when I called the ambulance for Mandy.”

  “I’m glad to hear you say that, Nate.” Her lips trembled into a smile. “I’ve got something to tell you, too. It’s true that I have a habit of rescuing people. I see now that you didn’t need me to stand between you and the town, after all. But it was a way to inject myself into your life.”

  “Why did you need to do that, Gemma?”

  She answered with a small shrug. “Habit of a lifetime. And seeing you again made me think of how things were years ago.” She raised her eyebrows and twisted her lips to the side. “When I had a huge crush on you.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Nate said, grinning.

  “Yeah. And I still had some of those feelings when I saw you again, but your objections to the Sunshine were too painful.”

  “I’m sorry, Gemma. I respect you and everything you do. I was too far down the road of denial to admit I was being stupid and stubborn. You were right about the treatments for Yvette and Misty. They were lucky to have you.”

  This was so different from what he’d said before, Gemma couldn’t help the lump that formed in her throat. “Thank you.” She blinked back tears. “Is that all you have to tell me?”

  “Nah, I’m just getting started.”

  Her hands tightened on his. She looked into his face, noting that he looked tired but at peace, and his eyes were clear, not the deep stormy gray she’d seen so often of late.

  “That’s good because I’ve felt, ever since the first night when you came into my yard, that something was eating at you, and that your objection to midwives was a cover—at least partly.”

  “You’re right.” He leaned forward and kissed her, then rested his forehead against hers as if pulling strength from her.

  Nate stood and tugged three cardboard cartons from beside the sofa, sliding them over and flipping open the flaps on the first one. “It’s true that I came back to Reston to try and make things right, reopen the hospital. I guess I wanted to be a hero, try and make my whole family look better.” He reached into the box and pulled out a handful of baby clothes. “The truth is, I didn’t even know my family. It blew apart before I ever learned what made them tick, what made us the way we were.”

  Gemma held the tiny clothes on her lap, running her fingers over the fabric, touching the softness as Nate told her how he’d found them in the box. “These are so sweet,” she said, “but seeing them like this, price tags still attached after all these years, makes me want to cry.”

  “Yeah, I know. I think that buying these things for Mandy’s baby was my mom’s way of trying to show what she couldn’t say—that she loved Mandy and she would love the baby, too.”

  “My family is way too open with our emotions, so it’s hard for me to imagine what it was like for Mandy, having a mom who couldn’t talk about how much she loved her.” Gemma looked up. “I’m guessing she was that reserved with you, too.”

  “Yes, and I think I finally know why.” He returned the baby clothes to the carton and set it aside. He opened the tops of the other two boxes and removed a stack of notebooks from each.

  “What’s this?”

  “My mother kept journals, from the time she was a little girl. I had no idea, although I guess my father knew. He must have been the one to pack these up and seal them.”

  “Have you read them?”

  “A few. I couldn’t sleep last night, so I figured out which ones she’d written first and...”

  He paused, his throat working as he fought his emotions. “Nate? What is it?”

  “My mother was shy. It was a crippling shyness and I think she must have fought that, a
s well as depression, from childhood.”

  “Social anxiety,” Gemma said.

  “It explains why she stayed home so much, didn’t belong to any of the local organizations, had few friends. It also explains why she cleaned house all the time. She had to have something to do.”

  “Being in her home probably made her feel secure.”

  “I think so, but it was like a prison. The fact that she had Carrara marble, mahogany floors and Oriental rugs at least made it a pretty prison.” Nate shut his eyes for a moment and sighed. “My whole life, I thought she was just cold. Everyone must have thought that, everyone in town, but she was terrified of interacting with people, even her own kids.”

  “But she was married. Your dad...”

  “She must have overcome it for a while. She mentions being on medication in one of the journals from forty-five years ago, probably some early version of antianxiety drugs, but those weren’t the kinds of medications an ethical doctor would have let her take for the rest of her life, so at some point, she must have been taken off them.”

  “So her social phobia and depression returned.”

  “It must have been miserable, and I never knew. I learned a lot about her when I found the journals from when Mandy came home.” He opened one of the notebooks and read aloud. “‘So glad Mandy is home but she’s sad because her worthless boyfriend left her. She’s ready to have a baby any day! I can see in her the same darkness that I battle, but she refuses to stay inside, goes out walking every day—where people can see her. She’s got some woman with her who claims to be a midwife and will deliver the baby. I don’t like this, but I’ll go along with it and I’ll make sure George goes along with it, too, so our girl doesn’t run away again. I know I was the one who drove her away before, but I won’t let her go again. I’ll do whatever I have to so I can keep her here.’”

  Gemma wiped away the tears that had started when he’d read the first few words. “That’s why she wouldn’t go against Mandy, wouldn’t call an ambulance. She was afraid Mandy would leave and never come back. Which is exactly what happened.”

  Nate closed the journal and returned it to the box. “There’s a huge gap in these journals. For years after Mandy died, she never wrote another one.”

  “She was probably sunk so far into her depression, she couldn’t.”

  “Until about ten years ago, when she seemed to get a little better, but then cancer took her. Since she rarely left the house, she didn’t go to doctors, and...”

  Gemma watched the sadness in his face, reached over and took his hands again. “There’s nothing you could have done, Nate. It’s impossible to force someone to get medical care.”

  “I could have been a better son, been more understanding. I was in med school, learning how to take care of people. You’d think I could have learned to have compassion for my own mother. But I didn’t know how bad she was until it was too late. Selfishly, I didn’t want to come home if I didn’t have to—not even for holidays. Dad didn’t call and let me know what was happening until she was actually in the hospital.”

  “That must have been agonizing for her, having strangers taking care of her, asking her questions...”

  “It was. I can see that now, but at that time... I was mad, mad at her for not being who I thought she should be, not being a fighter, giving up on life. I was mad at my dad...”

  The emotions on his face changed from sorrow, to anger, to determination.

  “My dad needs to answer for some of this. Sure, he must have felt helpless against her anxiety and depression, but that doesn’t excuse what he did.”

  Nate stood and held out his hand. “Gemma, will you go with me to Five Points? I’ve got to see a man about a theft.”

  * * *

  THE FIVE POINTS CASINO was bustling for a Monday morning, Nate thought. The parking lot was full of cars and buses.

  “Don’t these people have jobs?” Gemma asked as they stopped near the welcoming front entrance. The facade was angled in so it could funnel people into the double front doors. It made him think of the mouth of a shark, one that had an electronic sign over its snout that advertised fun, entertainment and riches untold.

  “Not when there’s money to be won,” he answered. He was so glad Gemma was with him since he had no idea how this was going to play out. The day had started on a promising note when she’d told him she still had some old, good feelings for him. He was deeply grateful for that admission. She was easy to love. Him, not so much. His family, really not so much. He only hoped that after they talked to his father, she would be willing to marry him.

  Once they were inside, Gemma asked, “Any idea where to look?”

  “Poker used to be his game, probably still is—at least it was last Saturday night from what Cole told me.” He nodded toward the arched doorway of a room full of poker tables. “I’m guessing that’s where we need to go.”

  “I’ve never been a gambler, never played poker,” Gemma said.

  Nate pulled her close to his side. “Don’t ever start. With your expressive face, you’d lose every time.”

  She bumped her hip against him, making him laugh as they walked into the poker room. There were games going at several tables, but at one, a man was sitting alone, playing solitaire.

  Nate couldn’t help the way his body stiffened in response and he knew Gemma had felt it because she gave him a questioning look.

  “There he is,” he said, walking toward his father with his heart pounding and a sick twist in his gut.

  George Smith barely glanced up, but waved to indicate the other places at the table. “Hello, son. I wondered when you’d show up. Have a seat.”

  Nate pulled out a chair for Gemma, then sat beside her, across from the man he once thought he knew. Gemma scooted her chair closer and slipped her hand into his.

  “Hello, Dad,” he responded.

  George looked up from his game, even while his hands hovered over the cards, as though he expected this wouldn’t take long.

  “So Cole Burleigh delivered the check, did he? I wasn’t sure he would, being so hungover and all. I recognized him as soon as he walked in here. It was fate. I’d had that check for only a day when Cole walked in. I was going to mail it, but having him deliver it was better, even if he was acting like an arrogant badass.”

  “Cole’s all right,” Nate said. “He’s not a thief.”

  George shrugged and went back to his game while Nate took in the grayish cast of his father’s skin, his sunken cheeks and balding head. “You don’t look well.”

  George tossed down his cards and sat back in his chair. “Well, apparently this is what happens when you pursue a life of crime. It ages you pretty fast.”

  “Are you saying you’ve committed other crimes, besides embezzlement?”

  “Nah, that’s my only one. So far.”

  His father’s cavalier attitude had the sickness in Nate’s gut transforming into fury. He scooted to the edge of his chair and leaned in, speaking in a low, enraged tone. “One was enough, Dad. Why did you do it?”

  Gemma tightened her hand in his as she said, “You hurt a lot of people, Mr. Smith.”

  He looked her up and down. “You’re that Whitmire girl, aren’t you?”

  “Yes. My name is Gemma now, and we’re here for answers.”

  Nate felt a surge of pride in her forthright manner, acknowledging that he had been annoyed when she’d turned it on him. It was exactly the right note to take with his father.

  “Answers,” the older man snorted. “I don’t have answers, don’t even have good reasons. All I ever had was gambling, looking for excitement, for a big score so I could get out of Reston, and...”

  “Away from the memories,” Nate added. “Away from Mom...and me.”

  George pointed a finger at him. “Hey, I provided s
ome money for your education. You wouldn’t be a doctor now if it wasn’t for me.”

  “If I’d known the money was stolen, I never would have taken it.”

  “Well, good for you. You don’t have to worry about it, though, because that check will pay back what I stole.”

  Nathan gaped at him. “No, it doesn’t, Dad. It’s pennies on the dollar.”

  “Yeah, I know.” George gathered up his cards and stacked them neatly, tapping the edges against the table to make them perfectly even. “But that’s probably all there’s gonna be. If I held on to what I’d made gambling, I could win more, maybe even the full amount I took, but—”

  “You could also lose it all.”

  Nate saw a flicker of regret in his father’s eyes before his cockiness returned. “Maybe, but I figured, what the heck, give some back, so I got the cashier’s check and gave it to Cole.”

  “Because if you’d kept it any longer, you would have canceled the check and gone right back to a high-stakes poker game,” Gemma added, her hand tightening on Nate’s.

  “Easy come, easy go.”

  “But why now?” Nate asked. “After all these years?”

  “It was time.”

  Nate glanced at Gemma, who met his gaze with sympathy and nodded toward his father. Taking a breath to settle his confusion and anger, he slipped into physician’s mode and gave his father a clinical assessment.

  “You’re sick, aren’t you, Dad? What is it?”

  “Liver, kidneys, take your pick.” George tilted his head to the side. “That’s what people do, isn’t it? They try to make amends when they think they’re dying.”

  Sick regret roiled in Nate’s stomach. “Is that what you’re doing, Dad? Dying?”

  “Not quite yet.”

  “There are treatments...”