Healing Sarah

by Lorin Grace

  Amity nodded.

  Sarah conducted the examination as Emma had taught her. The baby was bigger than she expected. But through the dress and petticoat, they could only guess. She looked up to see that Amity’s eyes were closed.

  Emma patted the girl’s hand. “Are you tired, dear? Why don’t you sleep for a bit?”

  Sarah followed Emma out of the room. “How has she hidden this so long?”

  “I don’t know. I think because she didn’t realize what was happening. I think the baby could be here as early as mid-July. But I know I am not myself most days, and Dr. Morton asked me not to do any more midwifery. I think either he or Mrs. Morton should look at her. Amity has had some sort of attacks or seizures since the incident with the horse.”

  “But what of the fornication laws?”

  “I doubt Amity understands how this happened. Reverend Palmer won’t press charges, I am sure. As far as the judge, the general outcry from the charity circle will keep him from levying a fine. However, her father … I don’t know what he will do. He has refused offers for any help with Amity over the past two years.”

  “Perhaps it is better to let her think she is fat for now.” Sarah cleared the cup and bowl Amity had used. “When she leaves, we’ll go talk to the Mortons.”

  Tim knocked on the door of Dr. Morton’s home. By day, the house looked less imposing. The maid opened the door and showed him to the parlor, where he found Mrs. Wilson and Sarah visiting with Mrs. Morton.

  “Dr. Dawes, I am glad you are here. Let me see if my husband is ready for company, and we can go discuss this problem. It may well be that Dr. Dawes will need to be involved as well.” Mrs. Morton swept out of the room.

  They barely had time to exchange pleasantries before the maid returned and led them up the stairs. Curiosity ate at Tim. What problem could they all need to discuss? Maybe Mrs. Wilson knew she needed help.

  Mrs. Morton directed them to several chairs placed around the room. “Mrs. Wilson, please tell my husband what you told me.”

  “Amity Barns came to our home this morning asking for help. I don’t think she had eaten in days, so we fed her. But her problem wasn’t so easily solved. I believe she will deliver a child in late July or early August. She has no idea, so I only felt her through her dress.”

  Dr. Morton shook his head. His wife looked grave. “Did you attempt to question her at all?”

  Sarah spoke. “No, we let her take a nap and prepared some mint tea packets for her to take home. From what she said, I think she is not eating because her father told her she was fat. I thought it best to let her believe he was right.”

  “I wish I could go down to the docks and talk to Barns myself. He tries, but he is too proud to take help. We already know he won’t talk to any church women. And Norris won’t show the girl the compassion she needs.” He turned to his wife. “Have you spoken with Amity in the last couple of years?”

  “No, she doesn’t talk when I am around.”

  Dr. Morton frowned. “Mrs. Wilson, for now I am going to give you permission to see one patient, but only if Miss Marden is there. Over the next two weeks, invite Amity over as often as you can, around noon. Dearest,” he patted his wife’s hand, “you will drop by. Hopefully we can get Amity used to you. Dr. Dawes, you will also just happen to stop at the house and pray the girl likes you. With her seizures, the delivery may require your assistance. If she can keep the secret for a few more days, perhaps I can get Barns to come here for a discussion.”

  Tim looked at each person in the room. “May I ask just who it is we are discussing? I am rather confused at the notion of letting a woman think she is fat when she is expecting.”

  “Not a woman. A child. Amity Barns turned fourteen last month. She has been under my care since a horse kicked her in the head at the age of twelve. The injury resulted in blindness in her left eye, a stutter, and a perpetual state of confusion. To this add seizures, which she has experienced with increasing intensity and frequency over the past several months. She lives with her father in one of those rundown apartments near the docks. Even if she survives her lying-in, the baby will need to be placed. Honestly, I don’t know with the seizures if she or the baby will survive.” Dr. Morton leaned back against the headboard. “I know she will let me treat her, and with any luck, I will be up and around by then, but the chance of something out of the ordinary happening earlier is too great.”

  “I can stop by whenever necessary,” said Tim.

  Dr. Morton looked at his wife. “Dear, why don’t you get our guests some refreshment. I am sure Mrs. Wilson will be happy to help.”

  Sarah started to follow the women from the room, but Dr. Morton called her back. “Miss Marden, how is Mrs. Wilson?”

  “She is having her lapses more often. Are you sure about this? What if she thinks Amity is someone else?”

  “Amity trusts her enough to seek her out. I think she must understand something, or she would not have gone to see a midwife. If I put someone she doesn’t like in the room with her, she screams to the point of passing out. Dr. Norris won’t go near her if she is conscious. Hopefully she will be comfortable enough around my wife and with Dr. Dawes. Are you confident in delivering this baby if you need to?”

  Sarah paled. “I haven’t delivered one in over two years, and never alone.”

  “But you were taught by the best. Don’t tell my wife, although I suspect she knows. Perhaps you can accompany Mrs. Morton to some of her calls.”

  Sarah pondered for a moment. “Only if I don’t have to leave Emma and the husbands don’t object.”

  “Oh yes, those troublesome creatures.” The doctor’s eyes drooped, and he yawned. “I suspect my wife snuck another dose of laudanum in my tea. Dawes, we will talk later.”

  Tim held open the door for Sarah. Seeing her nearly every day would not be difficult.

  Mrs. Morton and Mrs. Wilson sat in the parlor swapping tales of difficult birthings. Sarah joined them on the couch. Had Tim not delivered his own share of babies, he may have run from the room. The tales became a debate of birthing chair versus other positions. Mrs. Wilson contended births required a number of positions and a birthing chair was not always available or practical. Somehow this moved on to the topic of doctors hurrying too much and the use of forceps. This earned Tim three sets of glares.

  Tim stood. “I believe my presence is no longer desired.”

  Mrs. Wilson waved her hand dismissively. “Horse feathers. You may learn something—if nothing else, to listen to the mother. She knows what her body is telling her. Even little Amity will do things she has never seen or been taught because they are natural.”

  “We are not saying that sometimes extreme measures aren’t needed, just that men want to rush things. With more and more doctors being involved in deliveries––” Mrs. Morton shrugged.

  The maid entered with a tray.

  Mrs. Morton gestured to Tim’s vacated chair. “Do stay, Doctor. We need to improve our plan for Amity.”

  The shortbread had more to do with Tim’s decision to stay than did the cajoling of the women.

  Eleven

  Forty dollars is a lot of money.

  Stay away from Dr. Dawes.

  The handwriting matched that of the last letter. Too bad she’d burned it.

  When Sarah heard Emma stirring in her bedroom, she knew she had better get breakfast soon. She ran up to her room and hid the letter in the first volume of Pride and Prejudice.

  Sarah cradled two-year-old Seth, his head nestled on her shoulder. His soft, rhythmic snoring enticed her to join him in his slumber. However, the reverend punctuated his oratory quite often by pounding a fist or raising his voice, and she had no desire to join the list of red-faced parishioners who found themselves awakened by one or the other. Next to her, Benjamin fidgeted. Samuel reached ove
r Bessie’s head and tapped her twin brother’s shoulder. Benjamin sat still for a minute, then began swinging his legs.

  Warm contentment filled Sarah. Twenty-four years she had sat in this pew with her family—first in her mother’s and father’s arms, and then next to Lucy and Samuel, eventually holding each of their little ones in turn. She looked over to the other Wilson pew, where Emma sat with John and his children. Today Emma’s oldest son, Thomas Jr., joined them with one of his sons. Sarah couldn’t remember the teen boy’s name. Emma’s only living daughter, Carrie, sat next to her. Neither of Emma’s children had brought their spouses.

  A sharp kick to Sarah’s calf brought her attention back to her nephew. Benjamin hung his head. Sarah glanced at Samuel, who had missed the event since four-year-old Stella had climbed onto his lap. Bessie stealthily moved to the vacated place next to her mother.

  What would it be like to escape this pew with its never-ending game of musical chairs? Sarah pretended to adjust little Seth so that she might look back to the pew where Maryanna sat with her new husband. Her oldest niece was faced in the direction of the preaching. As she turned back, she noticed Tim sitting next to his mother. One corner of Tim’s mouth raised in a half smile, and he winked.

  The audacity to wink in church! Who on earth would he be winking at? Sarah turned her attention back to the front of the room. Several widows sat in the pew in front of the Wilsons. Perhaps Tim hadn’t been winking at anyone and it had been a trick of the light.

  Seth replaced his snores with his thumb and shifted to look around.

  When Reverend Palmer ended his sermon with a loud amen, little Seth’s face puckered up. Sarah hurried to distract him before he could cry. Fortunately the hymn was one of her favorites, and she rocked her nephew as she sang Isaac Watts’s words:

  I sing the mighty power of God

  that made the mountains rise,

  That spread the flowing seas abroad,

  and built the lofty skies.

  I sing the wisdom that ordained

  the sun to rule the day;

  The moon shines full at God’s command,

  and all the stars obey.

  Halfway through the song, Seth made a dive for his father. Samuel momentarily balanced both his youngest children on his lap before Sarah coaxed Stella into her arms. They accomplished the switch in time for Sarah to sing the last stanza:

  While all that borrows life from Thee

  is ever in Thy care;

  And everywhere that we can be,

  Thou, God art present there.

  Halfway through the prayer, Stella loudly made an urgent need known. Several parishioners near Sarah almost succeeded in containing their laughter until after the amens were said.

  Sarah rushed out of the church and around the building. While she waited for her niece to complete her visit to the necessary, she vowed that someday she would sit at church without a child in her arms for an entire meeting.

  The younger Frost sister, Miss Brooks, and Miss Page were gathered at the end of Tim’s pew, effectively blocking his escape to the aisle. They tossed polite words at his mother and cast longing looks at him. Why couldn’t he be as quick as Ichabod? The three women continued to chat as people squeezed around them, trying to leave the church, the Widow Garrett and her other granddaughter among them. A black lace fan flashed in the widow’s hand as she tapped it on Miss Frost’s shoulder. “Come, Ester, you are making it difficult for others to exit.”

  The girl bowed her head and hurried from the building. Miss Brooks took Miss Page by the arm and dragged her after them.

  Tim’s mother took his elbow to escort her out. “I thought they would never leave. Next week I am running out with Ichabod! Ester Frost is too young for you, anyway. I don’t think she has graduated from the academy yet. Promise me you won’t court anyone so young.”

  “Of course, Mother.”

  They were among the last to reach the door, where Reverend Palmer wished each of the congregants well as they left. He shook Tim’s hand with a firm grip. “Dr. Dawes, I am glad you will be with us for at least several more weeks. I see some of our young ladies are endeavoring to persuade you to stay longer, but I fear their exuberance may be having the opposite effect.”

  Tim nodded politely.

  “Will you be seeing Dr. Morton this afternoon?”

  “Yes, I am going there directly after I see to Mother.”

  The reverend pulled a sealed missive from his coat pocket. “Would you deliver this to him? It is a copy of the letter I sent to our good judge requesting no charges be brought against the girl. I can only pray the Lord’s justice is poured out on the man who did this to her. I am not aware of anyone looking to adopt, but I will keep my ears open. I believe there is an orphanage in Salem taking babies.”

  As Tim tucked the letter in his coat and followed his mother down the steps, Sarah came around the side of the church with the niece she had been holding in her hasty exit. Tim bowed slightly. “Miss Marden, had I known you were behind the church all this time, I would have endeavored to meet you.” As he hoped, Sarah’s face pinked.

  Her eyes darted around the still-crowded churchyard. “I assure you I was not waiting for you. Good Sabbath, Dr. Dawes.” She continued to the tree where the rest of the Wilsons congregated, pausing to speak with Miss Brooks and Miss Page. Both women turned to smile at him as the little girl pulled Sarah away.

  Tim looked for his mother, hoping to find her before he was trapped again, and found Ichabod helping her into the carriage.

  His brother loosened the reins. “I can see her home if you want to go to the doctor’s now.”

  “Would you mind dropping me by?” Tim didn’t wait for an answer as he climbed up on the back seat.”

  “So, you have them chasing you now? You can keep all the old ones. Just leave Miss Ester Frost alone.”

  Twelve

  It had taken several minutes to get all the children to leave the house with Emma, Maryanna, and her husband, Philip. The gathering around Lucy’s table took on a solemn air, Thomas Jr., Carrie, John, and Samuel and Lucy taking their seats with grim expressions. Sarah thought of those missing—Joe, where ever he was, then Daniel, and, of course, Mark.

  Thomas Jr. started the family meeting. “Samuel, I think you should lead the discussion as I don’t know nearly enough of the situation. Your letters are few and far between.”

  Samuel leaned forward. “Ma seems to spend more and more of her time somewhat addled. When I stopped by a couple of weeks ago, she thought I was Pa and tried to kiss me.” Samuel’s face reddened. “If my boys had been there, the situation could have become much more embarrassing, as Ma and Pa always behaved in front of the grandchildren. The hardest part is when she realized I wasn’t Pa, it seemed as if she’d just learned he died. Sarah says this happens often. Sarah, please share with everyone what you told me.”

  “I don’t know that there is much to say. At least once a day she seems to think I am someone else, or a much younger me. The fact I am no taller than most twelve-year-olds doesn’t help. Although she is just as likely to mistake me for Lucy. When she is talking, she will forget words. You can see the frustration on her face, almost like one of the little ones when they are learning to talk. Even though I had Samuel remove the horse from our stable last month and put it in the livery, she has still tried to leave to go help women in the night. The only time she seems to be in the present is when being a midwife, which she isn’t supposed to do anymore. It doesn’t help matters that Mrs. Larkin hasn’t been in the family way for ten years. Emma is insistent she must help. As neighbors, the Larkins are very helpful, as Mrs. Larkin’s grandmother went through something like this before she died. The biggest problem is, I can’t take care of Emma on my own anymore. She has problems cooking, and she will just get up and try to leav
e for no reason.”

  Carrie spoke up. “I could send Constance over for the rest of the summer.”

  “How old is she?”

  “Twelve.”

  Sarah bit her lip. “I think whoever comes to help should be older. At least old enough to understand the madness Emma experiences.”

  John nearly jumped out of his seat. “Madness? Ma is not mad. Why, just last Wednesday she helped with the children and there were no problems.”

  Sarah raised her brows. “None?”

  “No.” John crossed his arms.

  “But she did call your daughter Carrie all day and had her bawling again. Then, when she came home, she spent the evening talking to me as if I were Mama. Fortunately, I agreed Samuel should marry Lucy and it ended.”

  Samuel kissed the back of his wife’s hand, and she gave him one of those smiles Sarah envied.

  Carrie spoke next. “What is the harm of Ma living in the past? She isn’t hurting anything.”

  Sarah looked to Samuel for an answer. How could she tell them their beloved Ma would scream and scratch and kick and yell when she didn’t get her way?

  “Ma grew upset with me when she thought I was Pa and slapped me across the face when I wouldn’t kiss her.”

  A collective gasp echoed around the table. None of Samuel’s siblings would call him a liar, but disbelief radiated from them.

  Samuel looked at Sarah. “Does she get that way often?”

  More often than I care to admit. “She broke a cup when she threw it at the wall.” And missed my head. “And sometimes she has tried to hit me.” She tugged her sleeve down, making sure to hide the scratches from that morning. Emma had refused to go to church until Sarah convinced her Reverend Woods had passed years ago and that no sermon on the importance of properly officiated marriages would be preached. The former minister considered Emma and Thomas’s marriage to be a mockery of both church and state and had gone as far as to mention it at Thomas Sr.’s funeral. Emma had never forgiven the old minister.