Heartbeat of the Moon

by Jennifer Taylor

  The search for Maggie’s song began to quiet the noise rioting within him: fear, anger, discordance. If he could but find the words for Maggie’s song, mayhap he would never have to leave again. He reviewed Josef’s symptoms. The fever had abated, but in its place Josef was confused, agitated, and aggressive. It was like no disease he’d ever seen. He rushed into the parlor and retrieved the other books he had gathered in his travels. They confirmed what he most feared, and with every bit of strength he possessed, he bid himself stay calm.

  ****

  Later, Maggie came downstairs, eyes heavy with sleep. “The Holy Sister spoke to me in a dream. She said I must save the baby. Julian of Norwich is so strong within me, especially since I’ve been with child.”

  “You are the instrument with which she performs her miracles.”

  He poured her a cup of tea, and handed it to her, wrapped his long fingers around hers to steady her grip.

  “Why me?”

  “Because of the love and dedication you have for your women, and your self-sacrifice. Because you are the finest woman I have ever met.”

  Her eyes, welling with tears, looked like a tide pool at dawn. It seemed their babe made her more emotional. He quite liked it, this softer side to his Maggie Moon.

  “It must be young Becky Myer’s baby, the one having trouble suckling. He’s the only newborn.”

  “You want to leave now.”

  “Yes, she tells me to make haste, to save the baby.”

  He fetched their cloaks.

  “I will not even bother trying to convince you to stay here, though I’ve walked in fog my whole life without mishap, until…”

  “Until last night, and I was standing right beside you.” He gently palpated her shoulder. “How does it feel?”

  “It is fine. At any rate, I’ve no time to worry about it.”

  He wrapped her cloak around her and handed her a roll with cheese. “You urge your mothers to eat, and so must you.”

  “Thank you.” She reached up to kiss him, a palm on his jaw. He closed his eyes to better enjoy the feel of her soft hand upon the rough texture of his stubble.

  She removed her hand. “We must go.”

  “Let’s away then, sweeting.”

  Upon arriving at young Becky’s home, Maggie was surprised and relieved to find her propped up in bed, nursing with success.

  On the way home, Ian took her arm. “You are holding your shoulder at an odd angle. It is hurting you.”

  “Don’t fuss over me, husband.”

  “We will put a compress on it when we get home.”

  “I don’t have time to sit about with compresses on my shoulder.”

  “You will make time, Maggie mine. I will not have you suffer pain.”

  Maggie sighed. There was no sense arguing with him. “Ian, if not Becky’s child, who is in distress?”

  No sooner had they returned to the cottage than Lena burst through the door, red-faced and panting.

  “Ian, Maggie! You must help me.”

  “Lena, what are you doing here? What’s amiss?”

  She held her belly with both hands, her face tear-streaked and red. “Josef is gone.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Maggie hurried to Lena’s side. “Lena, you walked over in this fog, alone? You know there is still much wreckage in the streets. And there are people who have lost much and are bitter about it.”

  “I didn’t think. I came to you because you are his friend.”

  Maggie helped her over to the divan.

  “He left before dawn.” Lena’s chest rose and fell rapidly, one hand embracing her belly.

  “Lena, where is your cloak, dear?” Ian placed a quilt over her shoulders.

  “You mustn’t worry. Perhaps Josef had an errand to run and did not want to wake you?” As soon as the words emerged from her mouth, Maggie knew how foolish they sounded. “I will get you some tea.”

  “No.” She made to rise. “There is no time. We must find him. He has been gone for hours, and where did he go? He was not himself.”

  “Lena, did he hurt you?”

  “No.” Her lips quivered. “But he frightened me. He was so angry. He tore the bedcovers with his bare hands. What have I done to anger him so?”

  Ian sat down beside her on the divan. He looked so pale. What ailed him? Surely Josef would return soon.

  He grasped her hands. “Lena, you did nothing to anger him. He is sick.”

  A fine sheen covered Lena’s pale forehead. “There is something else.”

  Maggie handed her a cup of tea. “Here it is, nice and sweet the way you like it. Just rest for a moment, Lena.”

  Lena’s hands shook so badly she could not hold her cup. Maggie held it to her lips. Lena pushed the cup away. “No, I must tell you. I know not what it means, but Josef had…” She blushed. “What do you English call it, a cockstand?”

  Maggie and Ian exchanged glances. Not an uncommon thing.

  “It hurt him. He held it and it pained him so, and he looked at me as if he wanted me, but would not let me touch him.”

  “We will find Josef.” Ian clasped Lena’s hands in his. “More than likely he was just feeling ill and did not want to wake you.”

  Suddenly, Lena paled and clutched her stomach.

  “Are you having pains, Lena?”

  “Yes,” she grunted. “My womb is pressing on me.”

  “Have your waters ruptured?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve had a trickling, but I thought I pissed myself.”

  She was more than likely in labor. Ideally, she would deliver at home. But it was too late. At any rate, Samuel’s horse was well known for his fright of fog, and who knew how Ian’s old nag faired in this weather? Better they should make her comfortable here, and send word to Sabine her mistress was in labor.

  It seemed Ian had read her mind, for he walked outside the door, and whistled for an errand boy.

  Maggie joined him. The lad was so encased in fog she could barely see him.

  “Care to earn some coin, Johnny?” Ian reached into his pocket and gave him a shilling and an orange.

  The boy’s eyes grew. “For certain, sir.”

  After Ian’s instructions, he raced off. They heard the pattering echo of his footsteps through the fog.

  “Let’s get you comfortable on the divan, Lena.” There was no argument from Lena, for she was too busy casting up her accounts. Maggie had never seen a delivering mother with morning sickness, not in her training or the eight years she’d been a midwife. Lena’s humors were surely unbalanced, and she was already weak.

  “My poor friend,” Maggie murmured. “It will be all right.”

  But inwardly she wondered if the baby had been harmed by Lena’s overexertion. Every good midwife knew witnessing frightening events could affect the baby. She shook her head; she would not let Lena have another stillborn.

  Ian rushed behind the counter and returned with a cup. “Here, Lena, this is a tonic and should help you feel better.”

  “It doesn’t matter about me. We must get Josef. Bring him home safe.”

  “I will fetch Samuel, and we will go together and look for him,” Ian said.

  Just then, Mrs. Stowe came in, her face rigid, lips pressed with distain.

  “Mrs. Stowe, how can I help you today?” Ian smiled, ever civil, but the woman eyed him with the utmost disgust. There was a bump on the outside door, and Maggie saw Pete’s profile as he leant against the window. He had the grey pallor of someone in dire pain.

  “Why do you not have your son come in? My husband is skilled in treating wounds.”

  “He will not touch my boy.”

  “He looks very ill,” Maggie said. Would the woman rather see her son suffer than have a competent doctor treat him?

  “I can take care of my son.”

  Maggie struggled to school her face against revulsion, for the memory of the underground dungeon and the screams of a tortured man rose in her gorge.

  Maggie
handed Lena a warm cloth to wash her face.

  “I need some willow bark.” Mary Stowe anxiously glanced out the window.

  “Mrs. Stowe.” Ian folded his arms on the counter. “The willow bark may relieve his pain somewhat, but it will not treat the pustulence invading his hand. It will spread, and likely has already.”

  “You know nothing.” She snatched the packet of medicine out of his hand and threw the coin on the table with a look of such malice Ian stepped back.

  She stalked to the doorway of the parlor and scowled at Lena. “Your husband has been seen all over town this morning, indecent, moaning and shouting epitaphs at anyone who will listen.”

  Lena eyed her between strands of hair, leaned over, and vomited again.

  Mrs. Stowe grimaced and made haste out the door.

  Ian tapped a staccato rhythm on the counter. “Pay her no mind, Lena. She is only happy when causing others unhappiness. She has never forgiven Josef for winning her husband’s love and respect, or her son for not possessing Josef’s work ethic.”

  He began humming one of Lena’s favorite songs.

  Lena smiled weakly. “Gott im Himmel, you have butchered the tune.”

  Her vomiting abated momentarily, and Maggie urged her to take some broth. “Try, one spoonful at a time, slowly.” She tucked a quilt around her. Mayhap she could rest a bit. After Maggie built up the fire, she was gratified Lena’s eyes had closed.

  The door opened again and Samuel, Sarah, and Ruthie filed in.

  Samuel wiped his face with a handkerchief, which came away black with soot from the forge. “Pierce.” He smiled at Ian. “So you’ve returned from your travels, eh? Why is it when you’re gone, all is tranquil, and when you return, chaos returns?”

  Ian grinned and shrugged.

  Sarah shook her head at her husband. “We are not here to harass Ian.”

  “My dear sister-in-law. Are you feeling quite the thing?” Ian asked.

  “Nothing a good night’s sleep won’t heal,” Sarah said, smiling. “Thank you for your concern, Ian. It’s why we’re here. Do you have a sleeping draught safe enough for little Grace to take?”

  “The imp does not sleep more than two hours a night,” Samuel rumbled.

  “How interesting,” Ian said. “Nor do I. Can’t say I know right off-hand, but I will think on it and find something harmless for her.”

  “We have heard the most foul rumors about Josef today,” Sarah said.

  Maggie held her finger to her lips and pointed to the parlor. “Lena’s here. I am fairly certain her travails have begun, though her pains are far apart yet.”

  Sarah’s brows rose. “It is early, but not dangerously so, depending on the size of the babe.”

  “Yes.” Maggie gathered supplies for the hours to come. “I had hoped her sickness would abate, and I could get some food into her to strengthen her.”

  Sarah nodded.

  While Ian treated Ruthie to a handful of sweetmeats, Sarah went over to the divan.

  “Lena is sleeping.”

  “Good. This is the best thing for her.” Maggie put a pillow under her feet.

  “Where’s little Grace?”

  “Ah, we dropped her off at Joannie’s for a time. She enjoys playing with the children, particularly the twins, who are but a year older than she. You know Joannie, the more children around her, the happier she is.”

  Last year, Joannie had served as wet-nurse for little Grace when Sarah was unable to care for her.

  Sarah nodded, her blue eyes turned inward, staring into the fire for a moment, as if she were alone. This happened sometimes with her sister. She would always be a bit altered, for after all, she’d been buried alive. Maggie shuddered.

  Then Sarah started and sat by the fireplace in the rocking chair. “Ruthie, come sit here with me. It is not often we have time to spend together without your little sister distracting us.”

  Ruthie beamed and skipped over to her mother.

  Ian slapped his forehead, eliciting a cascade of giggles from Ruthie.

  “Look what I brought back for you, Ruthie!” He handed her a book of fairy tales and bowed. “For you, madame. As always, I am utterly at your service.”

  Ruthie’s delight did much to cheer Maggie. The little girl was truly becoming a beauty with her pale skin, a hint of apricots in her cheeks, light blue eyes, and glossy, dark curls. She settled in her mother’s lap with gusto.

  Ian returned to the parlor, carrying a pail of water. “You will need this, I expect.”

  “I am glad you are here today, sister.” Maggie hugged her.

  Indeed she was, for anything could happen with a birthing, and if anything happened to Lena, she would never forgive herself.

  Ian kissed the top of Maggie’s head. His hands trembled. “Samuel and I will do our utmost to find Josef.”

  Just then, Lena stirred and bowed in pain.

  Maggie approached her, doing her best to exhibit a calm and comforting demeanor, though she did not feel so.

  “Come, Ruthie.” Sarah led Ruthie by the hand out to the shoppe. “You can tend the shoppe until Uncle Ian returns. There will not be many customers in this kind of weather, and you may call for me if need be. Read your fairy tales.”

  Maggie couldn’t help but smile at the ecstatic look on Ruthie’s face. “Yes, Mother.”

  Sarah quickly made a pallet on the floor and ran upstairs to gather the spare pillows and bedding from Maggie’s bed.

  Maggie knelt by Lena and took her hand. “You will be holding your babe in your arms soon, Lena.”

  “It is too soon.”

  “Not necessarily. Last I checked you, everything seemed fine. So, we will not worry.” She helped Lena sit up and handed her a cup of white wine boiled with mugwort. “Just a sip. It will fortify you for the trials ahead.”

  Lena’s skin was sallow, and the cup teetered in her hand. Maggie put her hand around her friend’s, and helped her hold it steady. “Take a drink, sweeting.”

  Before long another pain folded Lena into herself. The pain seemed severe for being so early in labor, but there was only one way to tell. She must not let the friendship she had with Lena cloud her judgment. But seeing her friend already suffering, with the added weight of not knowing the whereabouts of her husband, was enough to weaken the strongest woman.

  She must be professional. “Lena, let’s get you settled in front of the fire, and I will examine you to see how far along you are.”

  Lena nodded, her face pinched, eyes fixed on Maggie’s.

  Maggie and Sarah soon had their friend settled in front of the fire. Maggie anointed her hand with almond oil and inserted two fingers within Lena’s privy passage to gauge her readiness to deliver. “Lena, you are already more than halfway ready. With every pain, your passage widens and makes way for your child.”

  Sarah held a cup to Lena’s lips. Lena gagged and turned her head away.

  Maggie and Sarah exchanged glances.

  “Sarah. Fetch an egg, beat it, and mix it with two drams of almond oil. We will need to pour it into her privy passage when she is ready to push.”

  “She has already broken her waters, then?”

  “Yes, it must have happened hours ago.”

  A few hours passed, and the intensity and strength of the labor pains increased. When the pains abated momentarily, Lena sank back onto the pillow and all but fainted.

  Maggie hurriedly checked her progress. “It is almost time for you to push. A few more pains, and you will be ready.”

  Sarah wiped the sweat from Lena’s pale forehead. She held Lena’s hand. “You will meet your babe today. Remember, this will soon be over.”

  Sarah propped Lena’s hips up.” Lena, we must give you something to replace the waters you have already lost, to ease the way for the babe.”

  Lena opened one eye. “Will it take the pain away?”

  Maggie snorted. “If only.” She slowly poured the mixture into Lena’s privy passage, and as soon as she finished, Lena ha
d another contraction. “Where is my Josef?” Lena’s hoarse faint voice echoed in the silent room. “I want Josef.”

  “Samuel and Ian will find Josef. Your job is to deliver this babe.” How could they find anyone in the thick fog? And where would Josef have gone?

  Another pain assaulted Lena, and Maggie’s womb tightened in sympathy. Lena had reached the stage in labor where the delivering mother became the pain consuming her, the baby’s head engaged in a passage so small it seemed impassible.

  “I need to push.”

  “Pant like a dog, Lena. You mustn’t push just yet. Good girl. You are very brave.”

  After the contraction, Lena grew so still, Maggie thought she’d fainted.

  “Lena.”

  She opened her eyes to a slit. Maggie breathed a sigh of relief. “Take a bit of wine.”

  Lena turned her head and vomited, then moaned as another pain began.

  “I see the head, a fine mass of hair,” Maggie said.

  Lena grunted.

  “With the next contraction, you can push.”

  Sarah kneeled behind Lena and helped her lean forward with the next contraction.

  Lena moaned.

  “Take a deep breath, and push. Push from deep within yourself.”

  Lena gasped a deep breath in and bore down.

  “Good, good.” The head had emerged, but with the end of the contraction, receded.

  “Soon you will have your child in your arms, dear Lena,” Sarah soothed. “Close your eyes now, and rest.” She wiped her face with a cool cloth.

  A contraction upon her again, Lena held her breath and pushed, and the babe’s head emerged. But the babe was a deep, dusky blue. Maggie put her finger in its mouth and pulled out phlegm, in hopes of clearing the airway.

  “Oh God, take it from me, take it!” Lena screamed, as the babe’s shoulders began to emerge.

  Maggie could do nothing for the baby until it emerged completely. Fear stiffened her fingers as she waited for Lena’s next pain. She prayed from deep within herself. Please help me. Help me save the child.