The Midwife's Legacy

by Jane Kirkpatrick

  He nodded. “We’ll feed him breakfast and lunch, but someone else will need to feed him supper.” He sliced off another piece of wood with the knife.

  Polly stood. What had she done? Polly had been sure Mr. Smith would be happy, even grateful for Daniel’s help. Had the reverend been correct in his scolding? Who would take on feeding the little boy in the evenings and give him a place to sleep? Since she was traveling with the Bentzes, Polly couldn’t very well offer to feed the boy. And, as Mr. Smith said, he was half grown. Would people talk if she allowed him to stay with her? Surely not. After all, he was only a child. She stepped out of the circle of light and started to walk toward her tent.

  “You seem deep in thought.”

  Polly groaned inwardly. She recognized the reverend’s voice. “I am.”

  “Anything I can help you with?”

  She looked out of the corner of her eye and saw his knowing grin. “I don’t think so.”

  “You never know until you ask.”

  Polly stopped and turned toward him. She took a deep breath and confessed. “You were right. I shouldn’t have gotten Daniel’s hopes up.”

  “It didn’t go like you expected back there, did it?” He placed his hands in his pockets and leaned back on his boot heels.

  She wanted to be angry at him but knew it was her own fault that she’d spoken before she should have. “No, it didn’t. And now I have to tell Daniel he can’t go.” Tears filled her eyes. She hated being wrong, and she hated that she was going to have to break that little boy’s heart.

  The sight of impending tears caused Gordon’s throat to grow dry. He hated to see a woman cry. “Miss Schultz, I’ve asked Daniel to come along with me.”

  Her head snapped back, and the purple bonnet slid off her head. “You asked him?”

  Gordon nodded. He took his hands out of his pockets and gave her what he hoped was one of his reassuring smiles.

  Her eyes flashed under the rising moon. “Why didn’t you tell me you were going to take him? I wouldn’t have made the mistake of talking to the Smiths.” Blame and renewed anger dripped from her lips.

  His own anger flared. He’d done what he thought was right and asked the boy. Who did she think she was to question him? Crickets chirped around them as the silence lingered. “I’m not in the habit of answering to you, Miss Schultz.”

  “It would have been simple common courtesy to tell me earlier today.” She ground the words through her clenched teeth. Then she spun around and started walking again.

  “Oh no, not this time. You will not get the last word here.” He followed her. “I hadn’t decided to bring Daniel earlier.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  She didn’t believe him. Gordon looked up to the stars. What did it matter? What was it about this woman that drove him insane? He ran right into her back when she was stopped by a figure that had materialized out of the darkness.

  “Hello, Miss Schultz. I hope I’m not disturbing you, but my brother, Mark, said you were a midwife who might help me.”

  Gordon stared from the very pregnant woman to Miss Schultz. She was a midwife? But she was so young. And stubborn. Weren’t midwives supposed to be patient and kind?

  Miss Schultz extended her hand. “Please, call me Polly.”

  “It’s nice to meet you, Polly. I’m Margaret Fitzgerald.” She turned her gaze on Gordon.

  He heard Polly’s soft sigh. “This is the reverend.” A frown marred her features. Did she just realize she didn’t know his full name?

  Gordon stepped forward and offered his hand. “Gordon Baker. It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Fitzgerald.”

  “I’m so glad you are here, Reverend. My mother told me to make sure that a preacher was with me when my time came. Up until now, we haven’t had one on the train.” She turned her cornflower eyes on Polly. “I hope you don’t mind if the reverend is there when I deliver. That is, if you will be my midwife.”

  Miss Schultz looked as if she wanted to refuse his presence. Instead, she said, “You are in charge, Margaret. I will be there to assist. You can have anyone you want with you. Although, I must say, having a man in the room other than your husband is most unusual.”

  Margaret laughed. “I’m sure it is, but Mama can’t be here, and that was her request. I’ll honor my mother in doing what she asks.”

  Gordon turned to leave.

  “Please stay, Reverend,” Margaret called after him.

  He turned and smiled. “I would love to, Mrs. Fitzgerald, but I have a young man waiting for me at our wagon. I’ll come around and visit you and your husband tomorrow. Is that acceptable to you?”

  At her nod, Gordon turned his grin on Miss Schultz. “Good night, ladies.”

  Chapter 5

  Rain hammered the canvas with deafening force. Polly shivered within her tent. She’d piled all her blankets under her to sleep on but now sat huddled in the center of them as the storm that had arrived in the middle of the night raged.

  Thankfully, Jerome had made sure the tent had been sealed with tar to waterproof it before she’d left him and Mamadele behind. She gasped as the yellow brightness of lightning flashed its brilliance through the small space. Thunder crashed, its fury vibrating under her as the ground shook.

  That strike was close! She snagged her lower lip with her teeth and pulled herself upright. Should she go to the wagon and check on Idella? No, her husband was sure to be there, comforting her. If Idella needed her, he would come.

  Her next thought was of Beulah. Was the little mule all right? She reached for her green day dress and favorite purple shawl. She pulled them over her nightgown. Her thoughts on the mule, she opened the flap of the tent and was immediately peppered with rain.

  She turned away from the wind and slipped and slid to the area where the horses and mules were kept. Lightning sizzled and snapped around her. Thunder clapped and rumbled. She flinched and followed the sounds of bawling, braying, and neighing. She forced her sodden feet forward, toward the wall of stone that offered the animals little protection from the storm.

  Beulah brayed to her. A cry broke from her throat as she hurried to the little mule’s side. “I’m so sorry you have to be out here.” The sky darkened even further, and Polly could no longer see through the pouring rain; it drummed against the earth and stone. Polly wrapped her arms around the animal’s neck and buried her face against its wet hide. It was as if she were alone in the watery world around her. Lightning and thunder continued to torment her and the miserable animals around her. Polly looked out into the darkness. A new fear gripped her heart. Would she be able to find her way back to the wagons?

  Suddenly, Gordon Baker appeared like an apparition from the watery depths. “Miss Schultz, what are you doing out here?”

  Polly looked up into his face. Rain dripped from his hat. She said the only thing that came to mind. “I had to check on Beulah.”

  He nodded as if he understood. Rainwater splashed her head and back, making her shiver even harder. His warm hand wrapped around one of her cold arms, and he pulled her with him under a deep ledge jutting out from the rocky cliff. The beating of the rain on her soaked body ceased. She shot a grateful glance at the ledge of rock that now formed a covering over her and the reverend. “Thank you, Reverend Baker.”

  “You’re welcome.” A few moments later, the lantern he held flickered to life. He took his hat off and shook the rain from its brim. “As soon as this rain lets up, I’ll walk you back to your tent.”

  She wanted to argue and say she could return on her own, but she was simply too emotionally drained to argue. Her gaze met his and held. Rain continued to fall outside the small sheltered area. Lightning flashed and the thunder rolled, but those things no longer mattered. Something in his eyes made her feel safe.

  He took a step toward her. “Polly? Are you all right? You’re not hurt, are you?” He reached out and touched her arm.

  His eyes darkened to the color of blue smoke as his gaze ran over her. His touch scorched her s
kin. She caught her breath. Her voice shook as she answered, “No, I’m not hurt.”

  Something flickered in the depths of his eyes, and he sucked in air. He released her arm. “Good. We seem to have time to talk a bit. Would you mind telling me why you are headed to Oregon?” He moved to a large stone and sat down.

  Obviously, his touching her hadn’t affected him as it had her. She wrapped her arms around her waist and pressed on her stomach to stop its quivering. “I came to midwife Mrs. Bentz.”

  He tilted his head to the side. “That’s the only reason?”

  Polly nodded. Mamadele and Jerome had sent her with plenty of money to buy a farm and start a new life as a midwife, but for now, she didn’t look any further than getting Mrs. Bentz’s babies born. Gordon’s confused look prompted her to say, “The first rule of being a midwife is to put the mother-to-be above all else, and that’s what I am doing.”

  “Surely you have dreams of your own.” Gordon replaced the hat on his head. His eyes bored into hers.

  Polly’s hands began to shake. She clasped them together to hide how his gaze affected her. “No. Not at this time. Why are you going to Oregon?”

  “I have three reasons.” He raised his hand and counted on his fingers. “One, to preach the Word of God; two, to raise Daniel in the great outdoors, as his parents intended; and three, to farm a piece of land.” He looked up at her and grinned.

  She noted that he’d not mentioned marrying or settling down with a family. But, in a way, Daniel was now his family. Maybe, thanks to her meddling, he’d decided the young boy was all the family he needed. “Those are very good reasons. Will Daniel go with you when you travel to preach?”

  “I believe so. God willing, we’ll settle in a small town that needs a regular preacher and won’t have to travel much.” Gordon walked to the edge of their shelter.

  Her gaze followed his out into the darkness. The storm still raged around them, but its intensity had lessened. What would it be like to know what path you were to take in life? Mamadele had laid out the path for her, but was it the path she wanted to follow? Being a midwife was a great calling, but was it her calling? All her life, Mamadele had trained her to be a midwife. Her journal encouraged Polly to press on with the same drive and love for midwifery that Mamadele had, but was this truly to be her path?

  Polly looked up and found the reverend studying her. His blue eyes searched her face. Could he see into her soul? She lifted her chin. Did he know of the inner turmoil that she dealt with every day? Could he see the feelings of abandonment, aloneness, and sorrow?

  Gordon searched Polly’s troubled eyes. Protectiveness and something more welled in his gut. Various emotions washed over her face. Tears filled her hazel eyes. But the moment she noticed him watching her, she seemed to lift an invisible defensive wall.

  “Where is Daniel?” she demanded, crossing her arms over her chest.

  He sighed. “In the wagon.”

  Her voice rose above the rain. “Alone in this storm?” She wrapped her shawl around her slender shoulders and proceeded to walk around him. “We need to get back. You need to get back.” Gordon grabbed her arm to stop her from entering the inky darkness of the storm. “He’s not alone, and we are not going back yet.” Lightning illuminated their shelter.

  She swirled to face him. Her wet dress slapped his legs. “You cannot hold me here.” She jerked her arm from his hand.

  He felt his temper begin to rise. “It’s too dangerous for you to go out in this lightning.” A loud crashing boom filled the air between them.

  Polly jumped. Her frightened eyes searched his face. Her voice sounded small as she admitted, “I shouldn’t have come out into the storm.”

  Gordon looked up at the craggy roof over their heads and silently prayed, Thank You, Lord. The sound of her wet skirt dragging on the dirt floor alerted him that she was on the move again.

  She flopped down on the rock he’d recently vacated. He’d been thankful earlier when his knees had gone weak and the stone had been there to support him. Did Polly feel the same way now? Was the storm affecting her, or was it his presence? She wrapped her arms around her waist once more and rocked herself. He wanted to envelop her in his arms, hold her close to his chest, and smooth the wet hair from her wide forehead. He wanted to assure her everything would be fine. His gaze moved to her full lips. The desire to kiss away her fear urged him to move toward her.

  He took a step, and then the minister in Gordon came to his rescue. “No, probably not, but I understand your need to check on the mule.”

  “Her name is Beulah.” A flush filled Polly’s cheeks, and she ducked her head.

  “Beulah. I like that name. My mule has a name, too.” He knelt in front of her.

  Her eyes rose once more to meet his. “What is it?”

  “Rawhide.” Gordon waited for her to voice the question that sprang into her eyes.

  “Why Rawhide?”

  He felt the smile tug at his lips. “Because my hide was raw after riding her for a few days.”

  Polly’s laughter filled the small shelter. It reminded him of butterflies landing on pretty pink flowers, graceful and soft. He laughed with her. Maybe this young woman wasn’t all salt and vinegar. Could she be another reason God sent him to Oregon? He’d always wanted a family, and this trip had already provided him with a son. Was Polly Schultz God’s idea of wife material?

  At this moment, with her lips spread into a soft smile that touched her beautiful hazel eyes, he hoped so.

  Chapter 6

  I’m here, Idella!” Polly put her foot on the step but stopped as Idella shoved aside the canvas flaps over the tailgate of her wagon. “What’s wrong? Are you …”

  “I’m fine. It’s—”

  A woman’s moan came from the wagon’s interior. Polly looked toward the sound then jerked her gaze back to Idella, who was climbing out of the wagon. Idella turned and held out her arms. “Come on, Luke.”

  The toddler scrambled into his mama’s arms as another restrained groan came from the wagon.

  Polly whispered, “Who is that?”

  “Emma Edwards.” Idella lowered her voice. “I thought it best to keep her here until you arrived.”

  Polly nodded, read all the things the woman left unsaid in her expression, and climbed in the wagon. Emma lay on a soft mattress to one side, clutching her swollen belly. Her face was pinched and pale, her mouth compressed into a thin line.

  Polly made her way to the side of the bed. “When is your baby due?”

  The young woman gave a soft hiss and rubbed her hands over the fabric that covered her stomach. “Next month.”

  Emma’s eyes closed, and Polly noted how she clenched her jaw. “Is the pain constant? Or does it come and go like cramps?”

  Emma released a breath and opened her eyes. “Like cramps. I think … think she doesn’t know how to tell time.” She tried to smile through the pain.

  Polly nodded, kept her expression serene. “When did the cramps begin?”

  “Not long ago. I was carrying the Johnson boy. The pain doubled me over, and I had to put him down. Idella saw me when their wagon came by and they stopped. She told me to lay on the mattress. I know you aren’t my midwife, Polly, but Idella says you can help me.” Emma’s eyes filled with tears. “I don’t want to lose my baby.”

  Polly reached out and squeezed her hand. How many times had she heard women in labor say those words? Too many to count. She answered as Mamadele would. “I cannot promise you that will not happen, Emma. But I will promise you that I will do everything I know how to keep it from happening.”

  “That’s all I can ask. Thank you, Polly.” Emma grunted in pain and closed her eyes again.

  “You’re welcome, Emma. What is your favorite song?” Polly moved to the end of the wagon and opened the box that held her midwife satchel. She pulled it to her and looked for the items she would need to assist Emma with the birth of her new baby. Oil, needles and thread, a special candle scented with mint,
and clean rags. Everything was there, although she hadn’t planned on using them until November when Idella’s baby was due.

  “‘What a Friend We Have in Jesus,’” Emma groaned. “Polly, can I stand up?”

  Polly immediately moved to her side. “Of course, let me help you.”

  As soon as Emma was standing, she bent over at the waist. Polly stood by her side as the wave of pain passed. She tried to remember everything Adele had taught her. “Would you like me to rub your back, Emma? Sometimes that helps.”

  A midwife does what she must to comfort and give assurance to the mother. Mamadele’s words drifted to her. At Emma’s nod of approval, Polly began rubbing her lower back. “When the baby comes, we will sing your favorite song, Emma. How does that sound?”

  “Heavenly.”

  Two hours later, Polly announced, “I can see the head.” She did what she’d seen Adele do many times. She poured a little oil on her hands, worked to soothe the skin that formed a perfect halo around the infant’s head, and said, “You can push now, Emma.” While Emma pushed, Polly began singing: “What a friend we have in Jesus, all our sins and griefs to bear! What a privilege to carry everything to God in prayer!” She listened to Idella sing along outside the wagon.

  Polly supported the baby as she slipped from Emma’s body. First the little head, then the shoulders, body, and toes. Thank You, Lord. Thank You, Lord. “It’s a girl!” Polly announced for Emma and the small crowd waiting outside the wagon.

  She smiled at Emma as they heard a loud whoop from outside. “Sounds like your husband is pleased.”

  “Lawrence! Did you hear that? We have a girl,” Emma called to her husband.

  His head came through the opening at the front of the wagon. “I sure did.” He pushed his way into the cramped space and patted Emma’s shoulder.

  The young mother started to rise. “Wait for the placenta, Emma,” Polly warned her just as she’d heard Mamadele do in the past. “You can hold her if you want to.”