The Midwife's Legacy (Romancing America)

by Jane Kirkpatrick

  Steven sounded winded. “Sorry, I just got back from a run. I hope I’m not calling too late—”

  “No, not at all. But I’m out to dinner at the moment.”

  “Oh, then I’ll let you go. I just thought I’d see if you were free tomorrow.”

  A date? He was actually going to ask her on a date right after she and Shar discussed that very thing? She looked at Shar and flashed her a big smile.

  “Yes, actually, I’m free tomorrow. Unless someone goes into an early labor, of course.”

  Shar gave her a thumbs-up and speared another forkful of salad.

  Kendra heard a light laugh from Steven before he spoke. “I guess that’s always a caveat with you, huh?”

  “Right.”

  “I thought I could stop over at your place and take a look at those pieces of furniture you mentioned.”

  Her optimistic mood dropped down a few beats. “Oh. Yes. That would be fine.”

  “And then maybe we could run out for lunch. If you’re interested, that is.”

  Kendra met Shar’s eyes, and her smile returned. “Lunch would be fun. Sure.”

  “Great. Around eleven, then?”

  “Eleven. Yes.”

  “Oh, wait. I should mention something while I have you on the phone.”

  “Yes?”

  “Marianne talked with John today. Her husband?”

  “Okay.”

  “She, uh, he confronted her about dropping her care with Dr. Zibarro. They’re friends, you know, John and Antoine.”

  “Yes, I remember that.” Again, Kendra’s mood felt a pinch.

  “Apparently John was pretty upset about her turning to a midwife.”

  Kendra said nothing. She wasn’t sure where Steven was going with this.

  “But Marianne stood firm and told him he wasn’t in a position to dictate who delivered the baby.”

  “I see. Well, good for her.”

  “Right, that’s what I said. But I still wanted you to know, since now John knows your name. There’s nothing he can do, I’m sure, but I don’t want you being blindsided. Marianne is still really excited to be working with you. But John? He can be a real … well, I don’t think I have a word that’s descriptive enough yet polite enough to say to a lady.”

  She tried to laugh at that, but the whole issue made her stomach ache a little. “Thanks for letting me know. We’ll have to say a prayer and hope for the best.” Why did that sound more trite than inspiring when she said it? Didn’t she believe God would help? “I’ll see you tomorrow, Steven.”

  “Great. Looking forward to it.”

  She ended the call and looked up at Shar, who stopped chewing.

  “Why don’t you look happy? It sounded like he asked you out.”

  “Yeah, he did. I’m happy about that. But it’s sort of like someone handing you a gift and saying, ‘Oh, but I should alert you to the unstable bucket of cold water hanging over your head.’”

  “What’s the bucket of water?”

  “Marianne’s husband, John. He’s upset that she’s going to use me for the delivery. And now he has my name.”

  “Well, so what? You’re not doing anything illegal.”

  “No, but I’d rather not make enemies at the hospital. You said yourself the medical community can be very political.”

  Shar took a long drink from her glass, set it down slowly, and appeared to be speaking to the glass, rather than to Kendra. “Now, let me get this straight.” Then she looked at Kendra, her eyes narrow. “Some surgeon with questionable character takes up with another morally challenged doctor, destroying at least one marriage, if not two. One of the victims of their adultery seeks your help for herself and her baby. You take the high road and step in at the eleventh hour for this poor woman. And you’re the one making enemies? What’s going on at that hospital, anyway?”

  Kendra felt her chin jut up as she listened to Shar. “You know, you’re right. If anyone has a problem with my helping Marianne, there’s something seriously wrong with them. Let John Parkham speak badly about me. Maybe people will consider the source and be supportive of Marianne and me. I’m going to do the right thing here.” She took up her salad fork as if it were a battle-ready weapon. “I’m going to lean on God and do the right thing.”

  “You go, honey!” Shar did the same with her fork.

  This time Kendra’s belief was all over what she said. Of course God would want her to deliver on her promise to Marianne. Maybe there’d be negative consequences to her decision, but as in everything else, they would just have to rest in His always-capable hands.

  Chapter 6

  Steven arrived at Kendra’s house the next morning and took his time before knocking on her door. He was plenty eager to see her, but he couldn’t help his surprise when he saw her home. He had expected her to have chosen a fairly modern place to live, like one of the new town homes built in the area during the past five years or so.

  But this was a side of Kendra that surprised him. The house was small, old, and decidedly quaint. Three front steps led to a small porch with the Victorian charm of white balusters, brackets, and spandrels. The porch was just large enough for the two-person swing that hung from the wainscoted ceiling.

  He stepped back, stroked his chin, and studied the gable decoration and fish-scale siding. “Huh.”

  The front door swung open. “What are you doing out here?”

  She wore a beautiful, sardonic smile, a bright blue top, and gauzy white pants. He realized she probably heard his truck’s engine when he first pulled up, so she knew he’d been milling about outside for a while.

  He matched her smile and opened his arms, indicating the entirety of her house. “I love your home.”

  She walked outside and stood beside him, regarding her house as if it belonged to someone else.

  “Yeah. Me, too. I’ve always thought it looked like a gingerbread house. Cute, right?”

  He turned away from the house and looked at her. Before he could catch himself, he had given her a swift once-over. “Cute. I don’t think I was going for that word, but it seems especially suitable at the moment.”

  Her face quickly colored and she looked away, a shy smile remaining.

  She walked toward the house and glanced at him over her shoulder. “You want to come in and give me the verdict on my desk and armoire?”

  “Yep.”

  He followed her inside. Despite the house’s age, the interior felt fresh and contemporary. She had interesting taste, mixing modern pieces with several older ones, pairing refined, upholstered chairs with thick, rustic tables. Steven knew not to make judgments about people based on their home and furnishings, but as a carpenter, he did exactly that on some level. And he liked what he determined about Kendra based on her home. Adventurous, open-minded, and classy.

  He realized she had stopped walking because he no longer followed her. She stood in the kitchen waiting for him, her arms folded across her chest. He grinned at her. “You intrigue me.”

  She straightened and tucked her hair behind her ears. “Thank you. I think.”

  “Yeah, I meant it as a compliment. Who wants to be predictable, right?” He approached her and was caught up by those eyes of hers. The light in the kitchen brought out their intense ocean blue, and an amused twinkle was replaced by an expression more serious, the closer he got.

  He wondered if she would let him kiss her today. Certainly not right now. She turned and approached a stairwell in the corner of the kitchen.

  “I store both pieces in the basement. I’d like to use them up here, but I’m not sure if they’re worth fixing up or not.”

  He followed her downstairs and was able to give her an answer almost immediately. “The armoire’s had some water damage. See, right down here? Like maybe it was in a basement that flooded. I might have been able to fix that for you, but I suspect someone put it out in the direct sun to dry. That’s likely what caused this warping—too much harsh heat too soon.”

  “So
no-go with that one?”

  “I wouldn’t recommend putting too much money into it, no. I don’t think it was a very valuable piece to begin with. But the desk is a different story.”

  She smiled. “Really? It’s a lot older than the armoire. Passed down from way back, my mother says. From my great-grandmother, I think.”

  He squatted to study the desk more carefully. “Yeah, this is deco.” He looked up at Kendra. “From the 1920s or so. Mahogany. Metal and Bakelite handles. Some of the Bakelite is dried up and cracked, but we could replace that.”

  “Bakelite?”

  “It’s actually plastic.” He opened and closed a drawer. “One of the first plastics ever developed. Really popular in deco trims. And this oval area here on the front drawer probably had a medallion or hand-painted piece in it.”

  “What a shame.” Kendra sighed. “I guess it didn’t weather as well as the wood. Or am I wrong about the wood? Did it weather well?”

  He stood and rubbed the dust from his hands. “Yeah. This is a beautiful piece. I could definitely refurbish it for you.”

  She clapped her hands for a second before she caught herself and stopped. She looked like a little girl. She chuckled. “I guess it doesn’t take much to make me happy.”

  He tilted his head. “Nothing wrong with that. How about I fix this in exchange for your helping my sister? I mean, she’ll pay you, of course, but—”

  “Oh no, I couldn’t let you do that. Your time is valuable, too. You are a genius, after all.”

  Steven laughed. “Sometimes I forget. Okay, let’s go get some lunch, and then I’ll load this up and take it to my workshop when I bring you back. We could even swing by my workshop while we’re out, if you’d like. I’ll show you some of the things I’m working on.”

  The clear June weather prompted them to enjoy lunch outdoors. They walked out of a deli with drinks, chips, and sandwiches and walked across the street to a lush green park.

  “You sure you prefer this over a restaurant?” Steven didn’t want her to think he was some oaf who shied away from anything remotely elegant.

  Kendra took a sip of her soda and sat across from him on a picnic bench. “Honestly, I spend enough time indoors. This is a treat. And your workshop is nearby?”

  “Right down the road.” He pointed with a sandwich. And when he looked in the direction of his shop, he caught sight of his sister’s car parking nearby. “Oh.” He stood back up and took a few steps to see better.

  “What’s wrong?” Kendra stood, too.

  He pointed again. “That’s Marianne parking her car down there. The black Mercedes. You mind if I run down and tell her we’re here?”

  “Not at all. More chips for me.”

  He chuckled and gave her shoulders a quick squeeze before he started to leave. Then he turned back, shot her a mischievous grin, and grabbed his bag of chips before dashing away. He heard her wonderful laugh as he ran toward the Mercedes.

  He met eyes with Marianne well before he reached her, and she opened her window. “Who are you running away from?”

  Steven got in on the passenger’s side and extended his bag of chips toward her.

  “Come on and drive up to the park there. Kendra’s waiting for us.”

  She took a chip. “Oh, good, that’s perfect. I need to talk with her.” She handed him a handful of magazine photos. “These are the nursery ideas I wanted you to look at.” She pulled away and headed to the other end of the street. “Why are you two in the park?”

  “We’re having lunch.”

  “I thought you were going to ask her out to lunch.”

  “I did.” He pointed to the park as they pulled into a space. “This is out.”

  Marianne turned in her seat. “Please tell me you’re kidding.”

  He laughed, got out of the car, and ran around to her side. “We changed our minds once we left her place. It’s nice out today. And I wanted to show her my workshop, so we just came here. We’ll go to a restaurant another time.”

  He helped her move her awkward bulk out of the car. “Wow. How do pregnant women do this on their own?”

  She grunted with the effort but gave him a heavy-lidded gaze once she emerged. “Word to the wise, little brother. Try to avoid the word ‘wow’ when you talk about a woman’s size—pregnant or otherwise.”

  Before he could respond, she waved at Kendra and waddled in her direction.

  Kendra met her halfway. “How do you feel today?” She placed her hand on Marianne’s shoulder.

  “Like six weeks is an eternity. How about you?” She lowered her voice as if she didn’t want Steven to hear. “I see Steven is pulling out all the stops in his efforts to charm you.”

  “Hey!” Steven said. “I heard that.”

  The women laughed, and at the same time he heard what sounded like distant thunder.

  “Listen, Kendra,” Marianne said, “I wanted to warn you. John made a big stink about my switching to you for my birthing care.”

  “Yes, Steven told me. I’m sorry if that’s caused you problems. Are you still sure you want to—”

  “Oh, absolutely. Even more so than before. But what I wanted to warn you about is that John gave Dr. Z. your name.”

  Steven saw the immediate concern in Kendra’s expression. But he also saw her work to dispel that concern. She smiled, tilted her head, and gave Marianne a gentle shrug.

  “I expected that would happen sooner or later. Maybe Dr. Zibarro has too many patients to concern himself with losing one to me.”

  “I hope so,” Marianne said. She pointed at Kendra. “You know, what you really need is a clinic of your own.”

  “Now that sounds like a good idea.” Steven rested against the picnic bench and felt several drops of rain fall through the trees.

  Kendra and Marianne must have felt the same. Marianne looked upward. Kendra put her hand out. “Did I just feel—?”

  Within seconds, a downpour opened, and the three of them scrambled.

  “Steven, go ahead and help Marianne to her car!” Kendra grabbed at their food and shoved it quickly back into the deli bags.

  Steven gave Marianne his arm, but she could move just so quickly these days. They were drenched but laughing by the time they reached her car. He only hoped Kendra was as lighthearted about Oregon’s sudden weather.

  And she was. She ran toward them with her long dark hair plastered against her head, her wet clothes clinging to her body, and her arms full of soggy, disintegrating bags of food. She laughed as if this were exactly how she had hoped to spend her afternoon.

  Marianne opened her window a crack. “Get in, get in!”

  Kendra and Steven piled into the backseat. Kendra released her hold on the food, a limp pile in her lap. Steven reached over to help her get her hair pushed back from her face. She was the prettiest mess he’d seen in a long time, especially as their laughter slacked off and she met eyes with him.

  “Maybe we should just finish lunch at my workshop,” he said. “I’ll pick up your furniture later so it doesn’t get wet.”

  She bit her lip. “Um, actually, I think we need to postpone lunch, and Marianne, I need to ask you for a ride home.”

  “Sure, I can do that.” Marianne looked back at the two of them. “You’re probably pretty uncomfortable in those wet clothes. And that wet food.”

  Steven didn’t completely understand. “Well, I’d be happy to drive you home to change. You still look beautiful. Just get some dry clothes and—”

  “Thanks, but that’s not going to work out.” She smiled at him, and her cheeks colored. “I’m drenched. And I’m, uh, wearing white.”

  “Oh,” Marianne said. “Got it.”

  He frowned. “I still don’t get it.”

  Marianne sighed. “Steven, give the girl a break. She’s trying to remain modest. White clothes don’t do well in the rain.”

  When awareness finally dawned, he was embarrassed to have pressed to get his own way. He rolled his eyes. “Oh, man, what a dolt.
I’m sorry. Yeah, let’s reschedule. Maybe dinner?”

  At least he saw disappointment in her eyes.

  “I’m teaching a childbirth class tonight. But I’ll call you when I get home, and we can plan.”

  He smiled. “Sure.”

  He didn’t know how much good it would do to plan, though. Between their surprising weather and her unpredictable patients, he was starting to see that he was the one who needed to remain lighthearted when their plans went awry. The surprise at seeing Kendra’s charming old home was just a taste of how unexpected dating Kendra might be.

  Chapter 7

  A week later Kendra approached Marianne’s front door, her home visit bag slung over her shoulder. She stepped back when the door swung open. A pregnant, fortyish blond nearly squealed and took Kendra’s hand to pull her inside.

  “I am so excited to meet you! You’re Kendra, right? Of course you are. I’m Alice.” She called deeper into the house. “Lonnie! Lonnie, come here and meet Kendra. Turn off that game, babe, and come in here.”

  Dumbfounded, Kendra glanced around the foyer. This was definitely Marianne’s home. She awaited Lonnie’s appearance and the possible explanation it might bring. But the blond babbled on.

  “When Marianne told me—well, told us really—about you, I just quit Dr. Zibarro immediately. I mean, right. Away.“

  “Uh, Dr. Zibarro?”

  Marianne finally toddled down the stairs. “Alice, sweetie, let Kendra breathe. She thought she was just coming to examine me, not field your unbridled enthusiasm.”

  “Hey.” A burly young man in a Seattle Mariners T-shirt walked in. He had to be a decade younger than Alice. “You’re Kendra? The midwife?” He put his hand out.

  “Kendra the midwife. That’s me.” She shook his hand.

  Marianne steered Kendra toward the guest bedroom area. “See, I told you I was going to rave about you. And Alice and Lonnie here are six months along and haven’t been at all happy with Dr. Zibarro.”

  “He’s mean,” Alice said behind them.

  “Mean?” Kendra knew Zibarro could be brusque, but she had never heard of his being mean.