The Midwife and the Lawman

by Marisa Carroll

  “Yes, she is a very good friend,” Sylvia said evasively. She looked past Devon and Joanna, refusing to meet their eyes. “Where is Maria?” she asked.

  “She’s playing with the other children in the reception area.”

  “I’ll go to her.”

  “All right.” Devon had known Sylvia was ambivalent about her pregnancy, but she was acting as if it didn’t exist.

  “You can tell Nicki, my receptionist, to give Maria an extraspecial treat,” Joanna said. “She’s an angel of a patient.”

  “Mil gracias.” For the first time Sylvia smiled. “I will do that. I think she’s very special, too.”

  Devon wasn’t certain how to proceed. She’d hoped Joanna might have better luck breaking through to Sylvia than she had over the past week, but that evidently wasn’t the case.

  “I’d like to speak to you if you have a few minutes, Devon.” Joanna held open the exam-room door so that Devon could precede her into the room. It was small and painted lemony-yellow. A colorful wall-paper border of children playing in a meadow covered the wall just below the ceiling. Propped in a chair in the corner, a big teddy bear wore a surgical mask and cap. Paper booties adorned his feet and a stethoscope hung around his neck.

  Devon moved to the exam table, resting both hands on the headrest. The paper covering crackled beneath her fingers. “First let me say I appreciate your seeing Maria and Sylvia at such short notice.”

  “I’m glad to do it. As I said told you earlier, Maria is fine. She’s slightly underweight, but otherwise she seems quite well-adjusted. No signs of abuse or deliberate neglect. She’s very sad about her mother’s death, of course, but she obviously adores her brother and sister, and close family ties are always good remedies for grief. I do recommend that if she’s going to be staying with you for any length of time, you send for her medical and immunization records.”

  It was as close as Joanna had come to asking outright if she had any kind of legal claim to the children. She wondered if her friend suspected they might be undocumented? If she did, she didn’t ask. It was the same at The Birth Place. It didn’t matter to Lydia whether the women under their care were illegals or not. Joanna Carson obviously felt the same way.

  “I…I’ll do that.” But how would she? The one thing the children were adamant about was that they wanted nothing to do with their cousin and steadfastly refused to divulge either his name or address. Would their family doctor forward the records without his permission? Did they have a family doctor? Yet more complications she hadn’t anticipated that day in the old mine.

  Joanna’s next statement echoed Miguel’s words from the night before. “You’ve taken on a big responsibility with these children, Devon. Especially Sylvia.”

  “I know I have. But…I had no choice.” Devon couldn’t quite meet Joanna’s searching gaze. She was tempted to tell Joanna the truth. Doctor-patient privilege would protect her confidences, but she kept her silence, knowing it would put Joanna in an awkward position. She changed the subject to give herself a moment to order her thoughts. “How are you feeling, Joanna? You certainly look the picture of health.” Before Joanna came to Enchantment, she’d lost a baby at birth. For that reason she was considered a high-risk patient and so was not under the care of the midwives at The Birth Place.

  Joanna took her cue. She giggled and the sound warmed Devon’s heart. “I am the picture of health. We both are. As a matter of fact—” she fished in a drawer and pulled out a familiar black-and-white image of an unborn child “—here he is. Isn’t he beautiful?” She looked up at Devon, eyes shining with love and confidence. “All the necessary equipment. Arms, legs, fingers, toes. And most wonderful of all, an absolutely perfect, healthy heart.”

  “Oh, Joanna, that is wonderful news. I’m very happy for you. You’re going to have your hands full with two in diapers, though.”

  “Max is so precocious she’s almost potty-trained already, and she won’t be two until November.” Michelle, “Max” to friends and family alike, was Ben Carson’s daughter. She was a dark-haired, brown-eyed charmer, heading into her terrible twos. Maybe that was why Joanna seemed to think it wasn’t so out of the ordinary for Devon to have taken three children into her home. Joanna had embraced Ben’s extended family with open arms.

  Devon smiled down at the baby’s image. “I swear he looks just like Ben.”

  Joanna laughed again. “That’s what I told Ben, too. He’s so proud, Devon. He’s already got a pony picked out for him, and I’m not even due until after Labor Day.”

  “He’ll need a pony if he’s going to grow up to be a rancher and a horse trainer like his daddy.”

  “Indeed.” Joanna leaned against the counter, one hand on the swell of her stomach. Her expression grew serious. “It’s going to take more than a sonogram image of her baby to solve Sylvia’s conflicts about her pregnancy,” she said softly.

  “I know. I’d appreciate any help you can give me.”

  “I think it would be helpful if she were to talk to Celia.” Celia Brice was the therapist who had her office in The Birth Place.

  “I’ve already tried to get her to talk to Celia. She refuses.”

  Joanna lifted her shoulders in a shrug. “I’m not surprised. She’s lost her mother. She’s been uprooted from her home. She’s pregnant by a boy who deserted her. With time and patience, she could find the strength to make the right decisions for herself and the baby, but I’m afraid time’s the one thing she doesn’t have in abundance.”

  “I agree.”

  “I have one other suggestion,” Joanna said, turning to open the door.

  “What is it?”

  “Talk to your grandmother. If anyone can get Sylvia through this pregnancy with the least amount of emotional and physical trauma, it’s Lydia.”

  THE SAME SOUNDS of women’s and children’s voices that permeated Joanna’s office greeted her when she walked into The Birth Place a few minutes later. Maria held Sylvia’s hand and looked around her with interest.

  “Are all those ladies going to have babies?” she asked, looking up at Devon, her dark eyes round with wonder.

  “Yes, all of them,” Devon confirmed with a smile.

  “Wow! Do you have any babies here today that I could play with?”

  Devon shook her head. “No, I’m afraid not today. But there are dolls in the toy box over there. And lots of books to read.”

  Maria swiveled her head toward the play area. “I’ll read a story to the doll baby,” she said. “Is it okay, Sylvia?”

  “If Devon says so, it’s okay.”

  “I want you to meet my grandmother, Sylvia. Wait here a moment and I’ll check with the receptionist and see if she’s free.”

  The waiting room was bathed in sunlight and was filled with pregnant women. Devon could see Sylvia’s gaze skitter across a half-dozen gravid bellies, and hesitantly her hand rose to rest on her own swollen stomach. Devon turned to the reception desk. “Trish, I’d like you to meet my friend, Sylvia Molina. And that sweetie over at the toy box is her sister, Maria.”

  The receptionist smiled and held out her hand. “Hello, Sylvia. I’m very happy to meet you.” Not by the flicker of an eyelash did she betray any surprise at Sylvia’s condition.

  “Thank you,” Sylvia replied.

  “Trish, is my grandmother with a patient?”

  “She just finished with her appointments. She’s having a cup of tea in her office.”

  “Could you see that we’re not disturbed for a few minutes?”

  Trish rolled her eyes at the buzz of activity that surrounded them. “I’ll do my best.”

  “Thanks, Trish.” Devon turned to Sylvia. “Her office is this way. My grandmother knows everything there is to know about having a baby.”

  Sylvia’s expression was mutinous. “I…don’t want to talk about babies.”

  Devon could feel Trish’s eyes on her. She spoke softly but firmly. “I know you’re afraid, but once we talk to my grandmother, you’ll f
eel better, I promise.” She held out her hand. “Come on.”

  Devon knocked lightly on the door of Lydia’s office. She hoped Sylvia didn’t notice that her hand was trembling a little. She should have handled this differently. She should have spoken to Lydia privately about Sylvia’s condition, not blundered in on her this way. But these days she always seemed to handle things badly when it came to dealing with her grandmother, so why should today be any different?

  “Come in.”

  Devon opened the door and stuck her head inside. “Lydia, I’d like you to meet my friend, Sylvia.”

  Her grandmother was standing at the window. Watching the mountainside for signs of the fire at Manny’s place, no doubt, just as Devon had been doing off and on all morning. “Of course I’d like to meet your new friend. Come in.” Lydia turned, her eyes widening momentarily as she took in Sylvia’s pregnant form. She schooled her expression instantly and smiled as she set her big earthenware mug of tea on the edge of her desk. She moved toward them, her sandals tapping on the tiled floor. She was dressed for seeing patients today, in a flowing brown skirt and matching tunic tied at the waist with a soft woven belt. Her graying hair was braided in a single plait down the middle of her back. Silver bracelets jangled on her wrist, and silver chains hung around her neck. The Madonna pendant, as always, lay next to her skin, close to her heart.

  Devon saw Sylvia glance around the room, taking in the hand-thrown pottery on the tables that flanked the leather couch, the Navajo blankets that served as throw rugs, softening the hardness of the tile floor, the dozen of framed photographs of family and friends, and of mothers and babies, that filled every spare inch of desk and bookcase.

  “Sylvia Molina. This is my grandmother, Lydia Kane. She owns The Birth Place. She’s a midwife. A comadrona. Ella es muy hábil. She’s delivered thousands of babies.”

  Lydia held out her hand. “Buenos dias, Sylvia. I hope you like it here in Enchantment.”

  “¡Mucho gusto! Thank you. It seems like a nice town.” The teen stood with hunched shoulders, her hands folded in front of her as though trying to hide her pregnancy.

  “It is. Are your brother and sister with you?”

  “My sister is playing…out there.” Sylvia gestured in the direction of the waiting room. “My brother didn’t come with us.”

  “Jesse took the old bicycle we found in the storage shed into town. He says it needs inner tubes for the tires. I told him if he could find them anywhere in Enchantment, it would be at Elkhorn’s Hardware.”

  Lydia motioned to the worn leather couch. “Tell me a little about yourself, Sylvia.”

  The teen’s eyes flashed again, but not with fear. “I’m going to have a baby,” she said defiantly.

  Lydia chuckled. “I can see that, my dear. Come sit down, and we’ll talk about it.” Sylvia hesitated, then moved forward, as though drawn by the authority in Lydia’s voice. She lowered herself awkwardly onto the cushion, holding herself stiffly as if expecting a blow. Devon perched on the edge of Lydia’s desk, letting her grandmother take command of the conversation. Joanna had been right. Lydia was wonderful at drawing her patients out. If she was going to stay in Enchantment, take over the clinic as Lydia wished her to do, then she might as well learn from the master.

  The realization that she was staying surprised Devon. Yes, she had given up the lease on her apartment and put her things in storage. She had made up her mind to resign from the practice in Albuquerque. But was she ready to completely rethink her approach to her practice of the profession? To embrace Lydia’s philosophy of woman-centered, female-empowered childbirth to the exclusion of years of medical training and technical expertise? She only hoped she was making the right choice.

  “I don’t want to have a baby,” Sylvia said, and dropping her head into her hands, began to sob. “Madre de Dios. I don’t want to have a baby.”

  Lydia laid her hand on Sylvia’s knee. Her voice was still calm and authoritative, but it had gentled. “I know you feel very alone right now, and afraid. That’s natural, but so is having a baby. You’ll be fine and so will your little one. Devon and I will help you every step of the way.”

  “No, no, no.” Sylvia pounded her fist on the arm of the couch. “What am I going to do with a baby?” She was crying as though her heart would break. Tears dripped from her chin and made dark spots on the cotton sundress Devon had bought her in Taos the week before. “My boyfriend ran away. He won’t answer my letters or take my calls. How can I go to school and take care of my brother and sister and a baby, too? How can I get a good job if I quit school? If I go back to my cousin, he will make me give the baby away, and I don’t know if that’s what I want, either. Oh, why did my mother have to die?”

  Lydia put her arms around Sylvia’s shaking shoulders. She looked at Devon over the girl’s bowed head, her eyes questioning. Devon heard the words as plainly as if her grandmother had spoken them in her ear. “How did you come to be responsible for this troubled woman-child?” Devon felt a jolt of pain. She still couldn’t confide the children’s circumstances to anyone, her grandmother included. Lydia looked and acted like her old self, but she was still recovering from a serious heart attack. Devon refused to add any more stress to her life. She would handle this alone, just as she’d been doing since she decided to take the children into her home.

  Then Lydia smiled, and Devon’s pain went away. It was a smile of approval and pride, a smile that said, You’ve done the right thing. It had been far too long since Devon had felt that approving warmth.

  Lydia turned her attention back to Sylvia. “Losing someone we love is never easy. But Devon and I are here to take care of you. We’ll help you have your baby.” Lydia’s voice faltered for just a second. Her hand went to the locket hidden beneath her shirt, then lowered to her lap. The uncertainty in her voice had been so slight Sylvia didn’t notice, but Devon did. “We’ll help you make the decision to keep her, or to give her to the right couple to raise and love as their own. But the decision doesn’t have to be made today, you know.”

  Sylvia lifted her head, brushing at the tears on her cheeks. “I pray every night that I will do the right thing. But I’m still so afraid.”

  Lydia motioned for the box of tissues on her desk. Devon offered them to Sylvia, who plucked two out of the box, wiping the tears from her cheeks. “Do you know when your baby is due?”

  “Doctor Jo said in a few weeks. She asked me when I had my last period. I can’t remember exactly,” she said a little desperately. “It was in October.” She looked down at her hands twisting in her lap. “The last time…the last time I was with my boyfriend was at Halloween.”

  Lydia patted her hands, stilling their restlessness. “That’s okay. We can make a good guess.” She lifted Sylvia’s chin with the tip of her finger. “But I think it is going to be soon, Sylvia. Three or four weeks at most.”

  The girl nodded. “Yes, I think so, too. I feel odd sometimes. Strange. There isn’t any pain, but my stomach…” She lifted her shoulders in a shrug. “It feels different and the baby doesn’t move so much.”

  Once more Devon and her grandmother exchanged looks over Sylvia’s bowed head. Braxton Hicks contractions. The precursor to true labor, another sign that Sylvia’s baby would be born soon. “That’s normal, too, Sylvia,” Lydia explained. “Your body is preparing for the baby to be born. Devon can answer all your questions. We can even arrange for a test at the hospital so you can see if the baby is a boy or a girl.”

  “Will it hurt?”

  “It doesn’t hurt. Devon is a comadrona, a midwife, too. And a nurse. She will explain everything you need to know.”

  “My baby will be okay?” But the tears had stopped and so had the restless twisting of her hands.

  “You will both be fine. It’ll take a couple of days to arrange for the sonogram. We don’t do them here, but in the meantime, would you like to hear your baby’s heartbeat?”

  “His heartbeat?”

  “Yes. We can do that
here and now.” Lydia stood up, resting her fingertips on the swell of Sylvia’s stomach. “I’ll make a bet with you. I bet I can tell you if the baby is a boy or girl just from the sound of its heartbeat.” Lydia would be able to deduce a great deal more than that as she listened to the heartbeat. She could make an estimate of the size of Sylvia’s pelvis, the position of the baby, if it was under any stress, all without upsetting Sylvia any more that day.

  “You can do that?”

  Lydia smiled. “Indeed I can. I’m right at least half the time.”

  It took Sylvia a moment to get the joke, then she smiled. “Devon, are you as good as your grandmother at this, too?”

  “No,” Devon admitted. Midwife lore held that male babies’ heart rates were faster than girls’, but it wasn’t something she relied on in her practice in Albuquerque. Most mothers opted for sonograms and knew what sex their baby was from early on. “I haven’t had nearly as much practice as my grandmother.”

  “Are you making a challenge of this, Devon?” Lydia’s gray eyes held a sparkle of mischief as she ushered Sylvia out of her office to the exam room across the hall. Devon was so surprised to find she was being teased that she opened her mouth to retort, but nothing came out. “Well, Devon, let’s see how good you are. Do you remember anything I taught you all those summers ago?” Lydia asked, turning in the doorway.

  “Everything,” Devon said, and followed them out of the room. “I remember everything.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  MIGUEL PUSHED his chair away from his desk and stood up. He was too damn tired to deal with the stack of paperwork Doris, the dispatcher, had piled on the desk before he even walked through the door. The burn on the back of his wrist hurt like hell, too, and that didn’t help his concentration any.