by Lorin Grace
She handed him the basket with the flour and sundries and hurried up the stairs, hoping he hadn’t seen the note.
Thirty
The first week of August seemed frightfully normal as far as the weather. Sarah donned the gray muslin and vowed to stay near the house. Amity seemed no closer to her lying-in than she had a month ago. Mrs. Morton thought it was because she wasn’t very active. Today’s goal? Convince Amity to walk past the bedroom doorway.
Sarah failed twice. Each time they reached the door, Amity would scream and thrash about. Mrs. Duncan tried once and got the same response. Amity returned to her bed.
“You should take a minute and get out of the house.”
Sarah rubbed the spot on her arm where Amity had hit her. “So should you.”
“Nonsense. I have been out already today.”
“Hanging the laundry on the line doesn’t count.”
Mrs. Duncan laughed. “Still, it is more than you have been out. Go take the slop to that pig of yours. Then you won’t need to change your dress.”
Sarah took the bucket and went out the back door. With all the sheets and things hanging on the lines, she walked a maze to the pig pen. “Hey there, Piggy Peggy. I brought you some food.”
The pig snorted.
“Don’t worry. I didn’t cook this week, so it is all edible. Well, other than the cake someone brought by the other day.” I’ve been reduced to talking to a pig. The loneliness that settled around Sarah’s heart the day Dorcas left had grown. Knowing the only reason she had been a friend was because she had been paid stung. Perhaps that was why Mrs. Duncan remained simply a kind person who worked in the house.
“Sarah? Sarah?”
“Maryanna?”
Maryanna made her way through a set of sheets. “There you are! Come offer me a drink and let’s talk.”
“What are you doing in town? Are you alone?” Sarah led the way back to the porch.
“Philip and Papa are with me, but they are off to the blacksmith’s. And I just came from Mrs. Morton’s.” Maryanna sat on the porch step.
Sarah looked her niece up and down. “There are only a few reasons for a woman of your age to visit a midwife. Are you saying?”
“In February.”
Sarah hugged Maryanna, aware that at the same time her heart overflowed with love and congratulations, the little hole hiding in the back had just grown deeper. “I can’t believe it! Your own baby. What did Lucy say?”
“Mama has been smiling for a week. Although she does find it odd Anna and Little Emma will be practically the same age as her first grandchild. Papa said they could have one younger, too. Mama told him to move into the barn and—”
“Don’t tell me he started to talk like a pirate!” Sarah had always thought Lucy and Samuel’s banter endearing, even if it was a bit silly.
Maryanna closed one eye. “Are ye sayin’ me bonny wench is a’feared of a wee grandbaby?”
Sarah hadn’t laughed so hard in weeks. “And I bet he isn’t in the barn either.”
“Never. Besides, Mama says the girls are still not sleeping through the night, and she needs the extra hands. But that is not the only reason we are in town.” Maryanna twisted her skirt, a sure sign she had another secret.
“You may as well tell me. Papa won’t have you clean the floors anymore.”
“Uncle John is also here. He says if there is one more freeze before October, he is out of here. Uncle Joe sent him a letter from Indiana last week, and he wants to move. They are trying to decide what to do with the farm since Daniel still owns part of it. Uncle Joe isn’t coming back, and he said to sell off his part. I think Uncle John will leave either way. His Indian corn is coming in nicely, or at least as good as anyone else’s. I think he is looking for an excuse to leave.”
“What does Samuel say?” Sarah fanned her skirts.
“He thinks Uncle John and Uncle Joe should just rent the farm in case they decide to come back. I don’t think they’ll come back to where Remember is buried, not when they are talking again.”
Maryanna was probably right. Joe had brought Remember from Boston to meet the family before declaring himself. If only he had married her before the visit, John would not have kissed her, and Joe would not have left. “At least the farm isn’t mortgaged, but who wants to rent a farm now?”
Maryanna laid a protective hand over her abdomen. “We do.”
“It would be nice to live in your own place after living with Philip’s parents, wouldn’t it?”
“I’m afraid if we don’t move soon, he won’t love me anymore. Mother Gardner is always pointing out what I do wrong. She even objects to the way I kiss!”
Sarah’s jaw dropped. There was no other response.
“Mama and Papa always kiss and hug in front of us, but in her house, it isn’t proper.”
Sarah handed Maryanna a handkerchief. “Does she know you are in the family way?”
Maryanna nodded. “I don’t want Uncle John to leave, but I want our own place.”
They felt the vibrations of the footfalls before they saw the men.
“So, this is where my girls are hiding.”
Sarah stepped into Samuel’s welcome hug.
“Did Maryanna tell you all the family secrets?” he asked.
“I am not sure.”
Maryanna stood next to her husband. “Yes, I did.” The couple blushed in unison.
John stepped forward. “Sarah, I’ve asked Samuel’s permission to ask you something, and he said you are a grown woman. Can I get you to walk with me for a minute?”
Sarah sighed, but she could endure one last proposal. “Only as far as the back fence. I am not dressed in the proper black to walk to the green.” She led the way, stopping at the stable, empty but for the nanny goat.
“I’m not asking you to marry me. Joe says there are more men than women out there because some of the soldiers didn’t go back home, like him. I know you feel you have no prospects around here, and if you want to go, you can come with us as my sister. I plan to leave in the next week or two. So you have a little time to think about it. I promise I’ll wait for Miss Amity to have her child if that is what’s keeping you here.”
It was the longest speech she’d heard out of John without him grumbling since Remember died. “I don’t know. I need to think on it.”
“You should probably pray too. Let’s get back before Samuel thinks I kidnapped you.” John didn’t wait for her.
Indiana. Miles farther than Ohio. If she left, her tormentor would stop and Tim would never learn the truth about her heart.
Going west was brave. Wasn’t it?
“She hasn’t eaten all morning?” Tim questioned Mrs. Duncan again before trying to find a pulse.
“She threw her porridge at Miss Sarah. And when she tried again, Amity got her across the nose.”
“Is Miss Marden injured?”
“Not bad.” Sarah entered the room and sat on the opposite side of the bed. “She has been rocking backward in the chair, but I only counted a couple of contractions in fifteen minutes.”
“Should I send for Mrs. Morton?”
Sarah brushed a hair away from the sleeping girl’s face. “Not yet. She has hours and hours to go. Don’t worry. I’ll send one of the Larkin boys long before she is needed.”
There was nothing more for Tim to do. The biggest concern with the birth was a seizure, though it had been more than a month since Amity’s last one. “Miss Marden, will you see me out?”
Sarah followed Tim out to the buggy.
“Let me see your face.” Tim reached for her, but she tilted her face up before he could touch her. Her nose was slightly swollen but not enough that anyone who hadn’t studied her face would notice.
“See,
I told you. Nothing to worry about.” Sarah lowered her face.
“We need to discuss what happens next with Amity. Come walk around the block with me. It is going to be a long night, and you could use a minute of fresh air.”
“My hat. I’ll be right back.”
He hated the black hat she wore to church during mourning and hoped she would wear the bonnet instead. No such luck. Sarah appeared in the church hat with the veil over her face. “If there wasn’t a breeze, I would be tempted to forbid you, as your doctor, to wear such a thing. Can you breathe under there?”
“Quite well, Doctor. But if I am seen walking with you, I must wear this.”
Tim offered his arm, and she took it. “I discussed the matter with Dr. Morton, and we agree that if Amity remains in this state, the best place for her will be the Friends Asylum in Philadelphia, run by the Quakers.”
“I’ve heard of it. They will at least be kind to her. What of the child?”
“The orphanage we had hoped to place the child with wrote that they are full at present. Most of them are. Already the poor are feeling the effects of the drought. Though there is meat on the tables now as so many farmers are selling … by winter?” Tim shrugged. “You know this, but the few families who’d expressed interest in Amity’s baby have all given the drought as their excuse for backing out.”
The wind caught Sarah’s veil as they crossed to the green. “More than likely, now that the father is known, they are afraid the child will be a bad seed.”
“Mrs. Morton advises we keep the baby here for a week or so as there are a few other women who are expecting, and sometimes when they lose one, they are willing to take another.” Tim moved them to the shadier side of the street.
“That’s … that’s … I don’t have the word for it!”
“I know, but it happens. If there is no one who will take the child, then we send it to Philadelphia with Amity and hope one of their orphanages will take it.”
“How are you going to get her all the way there?”
Tim swallowed. “There is a rumor John Wilson is leaving for Indiana in the next week or two and you are going with him. I thought you could see Amity safely there.”
Sarah stopped, pulling her hand from Tim’s arm. “Where did you hear this?”
“John told me Sunday after church.”
Sarah moved her hands to her hips. “I only learned of the plan three days ago on Monday.”
“You mean you’re not yet decided?” Tim held his breath, praying she wouldn’t leave.
“No, I am not. There are so many things I am loath to leave. But there is no reason I couldn’t teach out there.”
“John would let you teach?”
“Why wouldn’t he?”
“Married women don’t teach school.”
Sarah stopped again. “I don’t know what he told you, but if I go out, it will be as his sister, not his wife.”
Relief filled Tim. “I just assumed since he has proposed before . . .”
Several women came out of the boardinghouse. In unison, Tim and Sarah turned the other direction.
“I should be getting back. Mrs. Duncan will be worried.”
“And you have no desire to be caught in a conversation with me.”
At Sarah’s nod, Tim quickened his pace.
Amity still slept, so Tim didn’t linger. He hurried to his buggy, but he wasn’t fast enough to avoid Miss Page, Miss Brooks, and their new companion.
“Oh, Doctor! Is everything well? We saw you walking with Miss Marden, and she looked upset.”
“Miss Page, Miss Brooks, and Miss … ?”
“Oh! Do excuse our poor manners, this is Miss Long. She moved in just over a week ago.” Miss Page gestured to the newest boarder. “You were walking with Miss Marden, weren’t you? Is all well?”
“Yes, I was walking with Miss Marden. As you may know, she has a patient of mine living with her. I needed to discuss a matter privately. If you wish to be of help, you can pray for Miss Amity. Good day, ladies.” Insufferable gossips!
Near dawn, Amity sat up and began yelling.
Sarah ran across the street and woke the Larkins. On her way back, she saw the paper on the porch.
You did not try hard enough.
I see it in his eyes when he says your name.
At least she knew the writer was a liar.
Thirty-one
The sun was hanging low in the west when a knock came at the door. Mrs. Morton was conversing with a boy of about six or seven years. When they were finished, she asked him to wait. “Sarah, that was Mrs. Oakes’s son. And Widow Potting is already with Tilly Smyth. This is Mrs. Oakes’s fourth, and her last one came in just a couple hours, so I should be back. I’ll send Dr. Dawes over.” Mrs. Morton left muttering something about the full moon the night before.
Sarah tried to coax Amity into walking again or at least sitting in the rocking chair. But Amity just lay on her side and moaned.
Mrs. Duncan wrung her hands, her calm exterior with Mrs. Morton having dissolved. “She can’t birth a baby that way. She needs to be in a birthing chair, and Mrs. Morton took hers.” Not that it mattered. Amity wouldn’t open her eyes to even look at a chair.
“My sister Lucy didn’t like the birthing chair and delivered most of her babies on her side.” Sarah spoke before she thought and received a disdainful glare. “However, I think Emma’s old birthing chair is in the attic.” She ran to look before she could upset Mrs. Duncan again.
The narrow space didn’t much qualify for an attic, but in the ten years it had been in use, it had managed to fill up. Pushing aside a couple of crates, Sarah managed to pull the chair out of its spot. She stopped in the kitchen to wipe the dust and a cobweb off, the spider no longer in residence.
“Here we are. Look, Amity, Emma’s chair.”
“Emmm.” Amity looked around for the first time in hours.
“This is the chair Emma sat in when she had a baby.”
“Emmm.” Amity raised up on one arm, then collapsed back in bed.
Sarah wondered if talking about Emma would help. “Emma used to walk when she felt like you do. Would you like to walk like Emma?”
This time Amity tried to sit up. Sarah hurried to her side and helped her.
“Emmm.”
“Yes, sweetheart, we are going to walk like Emma.” Sarah helped her to stand.
Sarah found that as long as she talked about Emma, Amity would walk. She even walked into the kitchen. Sarah thought Amity might be looking for Emma, but if it got the baby to move, it would be worth it. They paused every few minutes to let a contraction pass. A knock sounded at the door.
Mrs. Duncan answered it.
“How did you get Amity out of bed?” Tim asked, his face registering surprise.
“Emmm.”
Sarah supported Amity through another contraction as she answered. “I told her Emma walked when she had her babies.” Sarah led Amity back to the kitchen and waited for another contraction to pass.
“Two minutes. I’d say she is closer than Mrs. Morton thought.”
“Then, Doctor, I suggest you get ready. There is clean water to wash in the kitchen.”
“Wash?”
“Emma would have insisted on it.”
“Emmm.”
Tim washed up, then went and set his bag next to the things Sarah had prepared.
“Don’t get them out unless you must.” Sarah stared at his bag and hoped he knew she meant the forceps. He nodded.
“Amity, sit in Emma’s chair. I want to see if I can see the baby yet.” Sarah positioned Amity in the three-legged chair. “Mrs. Duncan, will you please support her back?”
The housekeeper paled. “Not me! I’ll go see if the water is b
oiling.”
“Doctor, can you support her back?”
“How?”
“Just do what I am doing now.” Sarah traded places with Tim, then knelt in front of Amity.
After she finished, she washed her hands in water Mrs. Duncan brought in. “Amity, do you want to walk like Emma or sit like Emma?”
Amity leaned back. “Emmm.”
Tim raised his brows. “So, how long do I hold her up like this?”
“See if she can take her own weight. I can feel the baby’s head, but she isn’t quite ready yet.
Over the course of the next hour, Amity walked, rocked, sat in the birthing chair, and then pointed to the bed. Mrs. Duncan brought in coffee for both Tim and Sarah. Tim found himself looking at the clock, hoping Mrs. Morton would return soon.
Sarah rubbed Amity’s back and spoke soothing words. The contractions brought louder and louder moaning. One brought on a scream.
“Tim!” Sarah moved to hold the shaking, thrashing girl.
Like her other seizures, this one ended in a faint, followed by a contraction that didn’t wake her up.
“Can a woman give birth if she isn’t conscious?” Tim wondered aloud.
“I was going to ask you that, Doctor.” Sarah held Amity as another contraction caused her back to arch. “Help me get her on her side, like Lucy.”
Twenty minutes later, Tim had his answer. It was possible to deliver a baby and not be conscious. Mrs. Duncan took the baby from Sarah and cleaned her while Sarah waited for the afterbirth. Tim cleaned his instruments, then put them back in the bag.
An involuntary scream came from Amity, and the convulsions started again. Sarah tried to keep her from falling off the bed. Tim dove from the other side to help. Finally, Amity stopped shaking.
Sarah pointed to Amity’s mouth. “Blood.”
“She bit her tongue.” Tim wiped the blood away. “She should stay in the faint for a while. I am going to go check on the baby.”