by Leslie Gould
HARRIET DELIVERED A little boy two hours later after only three pushes, before Mamm arrived. It was one of the easiest births Emma had ever attended. While Emma cared for Harriet, Mathilde cradled the newborn in her arms.
“Go show the baby to George,” Harriet said. “He’ll be so pleased.”
Mathilde obeyed, and soon they heard a loud whoop. And then George yelled, “I have a boy!”
Minutes later, Mathilde came back in the room.
Harriet lifted her head from the pillow. “Was I right about him being pleased?”
Mathilde nodded.
“He got his boy.” Harriet lowered her head again. “George Jr., but we’ll call him Georgie.”
When the baby began to fuss, Harriet asked Emma, “Do you know of a wet nurse I can hire?”
“Nee,” Emma said. She knew of several Plain women from the services she’d attended who were nursing, but none of them would leave their families to live in the Burton household.
Mamm arrived soon after, declared herself not needed, and then asked Harriet, “Do you have help for the next several days?”
“We’re between maids.” Harriet slunk down in the bed. “The last of the girls who came west with me went on to Chicago, but Mathilde works for us.”
“I can stay if Baptiste can be with me.” Mathilde still held the baby.
“Of course. Why would he not be able to?”
Mathilde didn’t answer Harriet’s question. Instead she said, “I’ll go speak with Jean-Paul.”
“Give the baby to Harriet,” Mamm said. “I’ll stay here. Emma, you go with Mathilde.”
Although confused by Mamm’s request, Emma followed Mathilde down the stairs, stopping in the foyer on the right side of the house. George and Jean-Paul, who appeared uncomfortable, sat in the parlor on the other side of the foyer. George smoked a cigar while Jean-Paul, sitting on the edge of a chair, smoked his pipe. Baptiste sat on his father’s knee and lifted his arms to Mathilde as soon as he saw her.
Mathilde took him, holding him close. She spoke in French to Jean-Paul. He glanced at George and then said something back to her. Finally, he addressed George, “Does Harriet need Mathilde’s help?”
“Of course,” George answered. “We can’t find another maid, and Mother Andersen doesn’t know what to do.”
“Will you write up a contract? So we know how much will go toward our debt?” Jean-Paul asked.
“She won’t do it out of kindness?”
Emma couldn’t tell if George was teasing or not.
Finally, he laughed and said, “Of course I will.”
Mathilde said, “Baptiste must stay too.”
George frowned but then said, “All right.”
Emma didn’t believe Baptiste could be a problem. He reminded her of Hansi, quiet and eager to please.
Jean-Paul addressed Emma. “I’ll take you to your brother’s place and then take your mother home.”
“All right,” Emma answered, feeling uneasy about leaving Mathilde, but surely she’d be all right. She had been before.
Without saying anything, Mathilde disappeared into the foyer with Baptiste still in her arms.
Emma wasn’t sure how Mamm did it, but by the time she and Mathilde returned to the bedroom, Harriet was nursing the baby.
An hour later, as Mamm and Emma walked down the stairs, Emma tried to contain her curiosity. Mamm had always made it clear that working as a midwife meant shutting one’s ears. “You’ll hear things not meant for you,” Mamm had said more than once. “You’ll be tempted to share the information, to gossip. But you can’t. They aren’t your secrets to reveal, unless you feel someone is at risk of being harmed.”
But to Emma’s surprise, as Jean-Paul took them to Phillip’s farm, it was Mamm who quizzed him about the Burtons. Perhaps she believed Harriet was at risk.
“They came west four years ago from Philadelphia, planning to go to Chicago. But George had gotten it in his head that he wanted to try his hand at farming,” Jean-Paul explained. “Harriet, who I’m sure regrets this, convinced her mother to finance the endeavor. Lenore had the house split in two—one side for Harriet and George and their little girl and the other for herself.”
Jean-Paul paused a moment and then said, “The original plan was that Lenore would go on to Chicago, where she had invested in real estate.”
“Why hasn’t she?” Emma asked.
“Harriet hasn’t been well since they got here—or so she says. The maids who came with them weren’t happy here and all have left.” Jean-Paul frowned. “But Lenore doesn’t know the first thing about cooking or cleaning.” He shook his head. “Lenore and Harriet seem to relish in being miserable, while George pretends he knows how to farm, which he doesn’t. But he does know how to play the role of seigneur du manoir.”
“What do you mean?” Mamm asked.
“Let’s just say he knows how to take advantage of people.”
Something about Jean-Paul’s tone put Emma on edge. Did the debt they owed the Burtons come from deceit? And why would Judah associate with the man?
“What about Mathilde?” Emma asked, concerned for her friend and wondering if she should have stayed with her. “Is it hard for her to work for Harriet?”
“She does her work and ignores the rest.” Jean-Paul stared straight ahead at the trail. “We do what we need to do to survive.”
CHAPTER 15
Phillip and Isaac worked nonstop for two weeks, cutting trees from the woods that covered most of the property and dragging them to the barn site. Once the trees were cut, Judah, Walter, and Sarah, along with the baby, came on a Saturday morning to help strip the logs. Dat and Mamm hoped to come later, if Mamm didn’t have a birth to go to.
As they worked, Sarah commented on what a hard time Harriet was having. Emma didn’t respond. Harriet had summoned Emma five times in the last two weeks, even though Mathilde had been with her the entire time. Each time it was because Harriet “didn’t feel well.” The first time, Emma suspected milk fever, but that wasn’t the case. The other times, Emma believed Harriet felt weak because she seldom left her bed.
Emma had heard that wealthy women stayed in bed for up to a month after giving birth. Harriet was still in Lenore’s bed, with Mathilde seeing to her every need. Amish women took care of each other, true, but no one stayed in bed that long unless they were truly ill.
Attending Harriet frustrated Emma, but she enjoyed seeing Mathilde. Each time it felt as if Emma’s connection with Mathilde grew through a quick smile or a shared laugh. And Emma found herself caring more and more for little Baptiste too. He no longer made her long for Hansi. Baptiste was his own person, who adored his mother and was warming to Emma too.
But Baptiste seemed afraid of Lenore and Harriet. And he was also frightened by George. Whenever the man came into the room, he would hide behind Mathilde’s skirts and whimper. Even Lenore had noticed it.
“If it were up to Lenore,” Sarah said, “they’d all be headed to Chicago by now.”
“What keeps her from going?” Emma asked. She seemed to be the source of wealth in the family.
“Harriet is Lenore’s only child, and she wants to give George a chance at farming. It seems he’s failed at everything else he’s done—banking, shipping, and the law,” Sarah said. “Lenore’s stayed to be with Harriet. But now that they can’t find a new maid, besides Mathilde, I think Harriet won’t want to stay much longer either.”
Hiram, who lay on a blanket nearby, began to fuss. Sarah sighed and scooped him up.
As the others continued working, a rider approached.
“Jean-Paul!” Judah called out.
He waved as his horse slowed to a trot. Pulling his horse to a stop, Jean-Paul locked eyes with Emma. “It’s Mathilde’s time. She said the baby flipped last night while she was at Harriet’s, and while she was walking home today with Baptiste, she began her labor. She asked if you would come.”
“I’ll grab my bags.” A breech baby could be tricky, bu
t Emma had assisted Mamm with one back in Pennsylvania.
Judah started toward the barn. “I’ll saddle your horse.”
When Emma came out with her bag, Judah led Red out of the barn and helped her mount it. Then he turned to Jean-Paul. “I’ll come over soon to help with your chores.”
As Emma followed Jean-Paul down the trail, she prayed for Mathilde and for the baby. And for herself too, that she would be wise and remember all Mamm had taught her. She didn’t understand the kinship she felt with Mathilde, but out of everyone she’d met since arriving in Indiana, she felt the strongest connection to the Native woman. She prayed the Lord would help her serve Mathilde and her baby and not be reminded of her grief.
When they arrived at the cabin, Baptiste sat in the open doorway. When he spotted them, he jumped up and ran into the house. Then Mathilde appeared with him, standing sideways, with one hand pressed against her back and the other on Baptiste’s shoulder.
Jean-Paul dismounted, helped Emma down, and then led the horses toward the barn, while Emma headed to the cabin with her bags.
“Merci.” Mathilde stepped back into the cabin. “I wasn’t sure if you would come.”
Emma followed her. “Of course I would. I’d do anything I could for you.” She meant it.
Mathilde tried to smile, but it was more of a grimace. She was in the middle of a pain. Judah arrived soon after, and Jean-Paul took Baptiste outside, while Emma brewed Mathilde a cup of chamomile tea from the kettle hanging over the fire. Mathilde sipped some between pains.
The cabin was one room, with a bed covered with a wool blanket in the corner and a table and four chairs near the fire. It wasn’t long until Mathilde was ready to push, and she squatted on the floor near the bed.
Emma heard voices outside and wondered if she should send Judah back to Phillip’s to see if Mamm had arrived, but then a foot appeared. After the contraction ended, Mathilde stood.
Another pain overtook Mathilde, and she kneeled against the bed. Emma knelt behind her, and when the foot appeared again, Emma took hold of it and pulled. “Keep pushing,” she said, breathing a silent prayer as she did. Mathilde pushed, continuing to even after the pain stopped. Emma held on to the foot, and with the next pain, the baby fell into her hands.
She cried, “You have a girl!” Startled, the little one gazed up at Emma and began to cry. Mathilde climbed onto the bed and reached for her daughter. Emma slipped her into her arms, and, for a moment, the three were connected. The baby suspended between the two women, all of them entwined. And then Mathilde clutched the little one to her chest and whispered a prayer of thanks. “Merci, Seigneur.” Then she raised her head. “Merci, Emma. Merci.”
“What will you name her?” Emma asked.
“Agnes,” Mathilde answered. “After Jean-Paul’s mother. And her Potawatomi name is Wawetseka, after my mother. It means jolie.” Emma had heard Mathilde use the word before—very pretty. But it was more than that. It indicated a beauty on the inside too.
As she stared at Mathilde and Agnes, Emma suddenly realized that she hadn’t thought once of the baby girl she’d lost, or of Hansi. All she had thought about these past few hours was Mathilde and her beautiful family.
By midafternoon, Mathilde insisted she didn’t need help. Emma said she was happy to stay, but even Jean-Paul said it wasn’t necessary.
“Come back tomorrow to check on Mathilde.” He pressed a coin into Emma’s hand.
Emma refused to take it, thinking of the debt the couple owed to George. “Mathilde is my friend. It was my privilege to be with her.”
“Then when you come tomorrow, we’ll have produce for you to take from the garden.”
“Merci,” Emma said and smiled. Maybe Mamm was right—the best way to forget one’s own troubles was to reach out and serve another. That was exactly what had happened to Emma in serving Mathilde.
As Emma rode beside Judah on the way back to Phillip’s, he said, “I hope I’m not being too forward, but Sarah told me about your losses, about your husband and children. I wanted to let you know that I’m sorry.”
“Denki,” Emma whispered, but she found it odd he would be so empathetic toward her when he’d rejected the widow back home. Judah Landis was a complicated man.
“I imagine,” he said, “that working as a midwife must bring you both joy and sorrow.”
Emma was surprised a man would understand what no one else, including Mamm, seemed able to comprehend. She smiled at Judah and then said, “Today, it was all joy.”
EMMA CHECKED ON Mathilde several times during the next week, along with being called to Harriet’s as well. Without Mathilde’s help, the home had fallen into disarray. Each time she visited, Emma helped with the washing, cooking, and cleaning. All Harriet could talk about was when Mathilde would return. Emma assured Harriet that Mathilde needed time to heal too, but the woman didn’t seem to believe her.
On Saturday, when Mathilde, Jean-Paul, and their little ones showed up at Phillip’s farm, it was obvious Mathilde didn’t need as much time to heal as Harriet. It was now near the end of September. The weather had held, and Jean-Paul said sometimes the rains usually didn’t begin until mid-October or later. But sometimes they began sooner.
Jean-Paul began helping Phillip and Isaac finish fitting the logs on the barn. If Emma had to, she’d keep house in a room of the barn, but she hoped they’d be in the cabin soon.
Agnes was strapped into a cradleboard with a hoop made out of hickory near the top to protect her head. A smaller willow hoop, with a weaving secured in the middle and a blue feather and a white shell hanging from the bottom, hung from the larger hoop and dangled over the baby’s head.
“It protects her from bad dreams,” Mathilde explained as she saw Emma glancing at it. “And catches the good ones.”
Emma had never seen anything like it.
Mathilde unwound strips of deer hide on the cradleboard that secured the baby and then lifted her out to clean her bottom, using a wet rag. She pulled out a tray of soiled moss from the cradleboard, discarded it, and then filled the tray with clean moss. Emma thought that much easier than changing a cloth on a baby’s bottom.
Agnes’s legs and feet were wrapped in rabbit fur, and she wore a long-sleeved tunic, also made from fur. She also wore a hat and seemed as warm and cozy as could be.
Mathilde swung the cradleboard onto her back, over her buckskin dress, while Baptiste stayed close to his mother’s side. She pointed to the pile of river rocks and the buckets. The rocks were for the fireplace, which Emma hoped to cook over during the cold winter instead of a campfire outside. Her stove back in Pennsylvania was a distant memory now.
“Do you need more rocks?” Mathilde asked. “I can help.” She grabbed one of the buckets and started for the creek, while Baptiste bumped along beside her, determined to keep up. Emma followed, not sure Mathilde should be lifting rocks. She said so, but Mathilde simply said, “I am fine.”
When they reached the creek, Baptiste picked up a stone and hurled it into the water. He threw another and another as the women placed rocks into the buckets. When they’d finished, Mathilde picked up hers, and Baptiste, without being summoned, wrapped his tiny hand around the handle beside his mother’s to help her carry it.
Once they’d unloaded the rocks close to the cabin site, they headed back down to the creek. When they reached it again, Mathilde looked at the water and said, “Il me fait reposer dans de verts pâturages, Il me dirige près des eaux paisibles.” Then she looked up at Emma. “From the Psalms.”
“Ach.” Emma recited, “He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters.”
Mathilde nodded and then smiled. “The Black Robes taught us about the Bible, about Christ. My father believed because some of what they said was like our own teachings. Then all of us were baptized.”
“How old were you?” Emma asked.
“Twelve or so.”
“When did you meet Jean-Paul?”
�
�I saw him as a child when I went to the trading post with my father. But I was sixteen when Jean-Paul first noticed me,” Mathilde said. “Seventeen when we married.”
Emma guessed Mathilde was twenty or so now, maybe half the age of her husband. She hoped he would live a long and healthy life so he could care for his wife and children.
Once the buckets were filled again, the baby grew fussy, and Emma said, “Let’s sit and rest for a minute.”
Mathilde took the baby from her cradleboard and then placed her in her lap. As the baby continued to fuss, Mathilde untied the front of her dress and began to feed her. Baptiste threw another stone into the creek, and Emma searched for flat stones to skip across the water. When she found several, she stepped to Baptiste’s side and flung one across the water. It skipped twice. She threw the next one. It skipped three times.
He laughed.
She handed him the third rock and showed him how to hold it. She held on to his chubby hand, which felt like heaven to her, and flung it out toward the water. But he wouldn’t let go of the stone. She tried again. It appeared he didn’t want to release it.
Mathilde laughed and patted the ground beside her with her free hand. “Viens là.”
Baptiste plopped down, offering the stone to her. Then he began collecting more, placing them in a pile beside her instead of throwing them in the water. Emma thought of Jacob in the Bible making a pillar of stones to mark where God had spoken to him.
“I came here before with my family,” Mathilde said. “With my parents and two sisters.”
“Here?” Emma was startled. “To this creek?”
“Yes.” She nodded toward the water. “There’s a natural bridge, of rocks. Flat ones that are pretty easy to cross.”
Mathilde pointed to the thickets on the other side of the creek. “Jean-Paul and I picked berries over there, the day Sarah’s baby was born.” Mathilde’s English was better than it had been, perhaps from her time at Harriet’s. Or perhaps she’d grown more comfortable with Emma.
“Did you spend much time in this area as a child?”