Katie hurried down the wagon road, hugging her cloak against the chill of the brisk morning. Her breath came out in wispy feathers, reminding her that winter was just around the corner as a stiff breeze sent the fall leaves raining around her in a cascade of colors. Soon the color would be gone, leaving the gray of winter to accompany her on her walks.
She doubted John had made any progress in his office after she’d left the day before. The pace he set wasn’t exactly breakneck speed, unlike the pace she was setting now. She had an eerie feeling something was watching her from the woods. Silly, she was sure, but she still took a moment to find a stout stick before continuing on to town.
Grandma’s mood had been nothing short of grumpy when Katie had left. Evidently, fixing her own lunch greatly interfered with her plans for the day, though it seemed to Katie that dying could be worked around lunch as easy as not. Her unsympathetic thoughts kept her company the rest of her journey and didn’t fully go away until she found herself standing on John’s front porch.
Should she knock or just walk in? It was the door to his office as well as his home, but so far she hadn’t seen
any patients, so she wasn’t sure if they walked in or rang the bell. Luckily she didn’t have to ponder long before John opened the door. He must have seen her walk up to the house.
“Good morning.” He smiled, and for the first time since she’d met him, it went clear to his eyes.
“Mornin’.” She returned his smile, relieved that the tension of the day before was gone.
He directed her into his office. “I haven’t accomplished much since you left, I’m afraid.”
Imagine that. “That’s all right. I’m sure today we’ll make great headway.”
What an odd expression on his face. Almost as though he didn’t want to make headway. Maybe he dreaded the task of organizing since he did it so poorly.
“I’ve asked Mrs. Adkins to bring you some hot tea, and I’ve built a fire. I thought you might be cold from your walk.”
“It is a little chilly this mornin’.” She allowed John to take her cloak before she made her way to the fireplace to warm up. How nice of him to think of her comfort, unlike Harold, who had forgotten her entirely until his checkers game was over.
The hot tea did wonders in fighting the chill, but unfortunately, the reprieve didn’t last long. Someone rang the door chime and in a moment, Mrs. Adkins was ushering Rebecca Fisher’s father into the office. “Katie?” Bruce said. “I’s hopin’ you could come with me. It’s time for Rebecca’s birthin’.” He gestured toward the street. “I brung the wagon.”
“Of course.” Katie grabbed her cloak and headed
toward the door, making it into the hallway before she remembered John. “I’m sorry, Dr. Keffer. This will probably take much of the day, but I can come back tomorrow to help.”
“Of course. Mrs. Fisher’s birthing takes priority, but…” He hesitated. “I was wondering if I could come with you.”
Katie glanced at Bruce, who shrugged as though he was leaving that up to her. “Come along, if you’d like, but I’m warning you, the road to the Fishers’ isn’t the best.”
John hurried to grab his coat and a small leather bag that she assumed had medical supplies, and followed Katie outside to Bruce’s wagon.
The bench up front was only large enough for Katie and Bruce, leaving John no choice but to sit in the back. There was nothing for him to sit on except the hard wooden floor planks, which explained why John winced when he finally climbed out at Rebecca’s cabin.
“I told you the road was rough,” she whispered, hurrying past him while he retrieved his bag. His only response was a grunt, but she didn’t have time to wait for more. This was Rebecca’s fourth child and chances were he’d be quick making his way into the world.
Rebecca’s husband met Katie at the door, a frightened expression on his face. “Somethin’s wrong, Katie.”
“Why do you think so?” She continued past Paul over to where Rebecca stood clutching the back of a chair, stoic but white lipped as the pains shot through her body.
“Somethin’ ain’t right,” Rebecca muttered, echoing Paul’s concerns. “My water’s broke, but the baby ain’t comin’ yet.”
Katie motioned to the bed. “Let me see what’s going on.”
She helped Rebecca walk to the small bed in the corner of the cabin, where she reclined slowly on the quilt. “All men out,” Katie ordered, waiting until the cabin was cleared. She lifted Rebecca’s nightgown and checked for the baby’s head. A quick internal exam confirmed Katie’s fear. The baby wasn’t lined up for birthing.
“Rebecca,” Katie said, using a calm, controlled voice. Panic wouldn’t help anyone right now. “We’re going to have to turn the baby.”
Rebecca nodded, despite the fear that flashed in her eyes. “What do you want me to do?”
Katie waited a moment while a contraction racked Rebecca’s body. “I want you to try to relax your belly while I push.”
She placed her hands against Rebecca’s belly and waited for another contraction to lessen. Then she shoved with all her might. The baby moved a little, but the next contraction shoved him back where he’d been. This would’ve been so much easier if she could have turned him earlier in labor. As it was, every time she pushed on Rebecca’s belly, it contracted with a vengeance. She needed help.
“I’ll be right back,” Katie said, hurrying to the front door.
All the men and Rebecca’s other children stood on the front porch, waiting for the wail of a new child.
“Dr. Keffer?”
John crossed the porch. “Yes?”
“I need your help.”
“Wait a minute.” Paul grabbed John’s arm. “I don’t want no man touchin’ my wife. Katie can do this.”
“Paul.” She leveled her gaze at him. “He’s a good man, and I’m right here. I need his help to move the baby.”
Paul shook his head again.
“Listen.” She leaned closely to him so Rebecca couldn’t hear. “If we can’t move this baby, Rebecca could die. Please let him help me.”
Rebecca yelled as a contraction ripped through her, leaving her panting and white in its aftermath. Paul blanched, nodding reluctantly in agreement to Katie’s request.
John wasted no time hurrying to Katie’s side, getting ready for the next relaxation of Rebecca’s abdomen. He jerked off his coat and rolled up his shirtsleeves before placing his hands beside Katie’s and waiting. As soon as the belly softened, he shoved with Katie, and the baby moved considerably.
“Don’t let up,” Katie instructed, fully aware that he probably knew what he was doing, but she didn’t have time to find out for sure.
They held pressure through the following contraction, then shoved again as soon as the next break came. Katie felt the perspiration bead on her upper lip as they worked to move the child into the proper position.
After about an hour of pushing, the baby slipped to the canal and Rebecca yelled, “He’s comin’!”
“I know he is,” Katie answered, moving around to
help with the final part of delivery. She lifted Rebecca’s nightgown.
Paul stuck his head in the cabin door. “You can come out with me to the porch now,” he said to John. “Katie can take it from here, cain’t you, Katie?”
Most men were funny about another man doing what they considered woman things, and evidently Paul was no different. Katie guessed she should just be grateful he’d allowed John to help turn the baby.
“Sure,” she answered briefly, having no more time for talking. A tiny head was making its way from Rebecca’s body.
Katie was aware John had stepped from the cabin with Paul, and she knew he had to be upset, but she’d think about that later. For now, one more push against Rebecca’s belly freed a small shoulder, and the fourth little Fisher slid into the world. Wet and wiggly, she let out a cry while Katie tied the umbilical cord and cut it.
She wrapped the child in a blanket and handed her to Rebecca. “It’s a girl.”
Rebecca smiled through tears of relief and exhaustion, reaching for her baby to place her on her breast. Katie loved this moment. The pain was over, for the most part, and both mother and child had made it. That wasn’t always the case and had it not been for John, Katie feared it wouldn’t have been the case this time either.
“Thank you,” Rebecca said, tired but happy.
“You’re welcome,” Katie said, and she meant it. She would smile for days because of this.
As soon as the afterbirth was delivered, she cleaned
up Rebecca and stepped out to the porch for a breath of cool air. John stood rooted to the spot, while Paul, Rebecca’s father, and her other children hurried inside to see the new baby. He was still clearly angry for being sent from the cabin.
“Thank you for your help,” she said, because she didn’t know what else to say.
“I’m a doctor. I should be the one thanking you for
your
help.”
Even though his anger wasn’t directed toward her, she wasn’t about to apologize for something she’d been doing for nearly fifteen years. “I don’t know how it is in New York, Dr. Keffer, but around here, menfolk don’t like it when another man touches their wives.”
“I’m not ‘another man.’ I’m a doctor.”
“But you’re a handsome one.” She regretted her words as soon as they left her mouth. She’d intended to point out the reason a man might be jealous of him, but instead, the statement hung in the air as his gaze locked on hers and suddenly she forgot her original intention.
He
was
handsome.
Terribly so.
“Well…” he finally said, before lowering his eyes, apparently at a loss for words.
So she took over. “Well…” It seemed to be the only word not lost at the moment.
Luckily, Rebecca’s father stepped onto the porch. “Y’all ready to go back to town?”
“Yes,”
they both answered, a little too quickly, as Katie darted to the wagon.
“How do I look?” Grandma asked, sashaying into the kitchen like a young girl on her first date. Her gray hair was combed and twisted into a bun at the base of her neck, and she’d put on her blue Sunday dress complete with a brooch pinned at the neck. Her cane dangled from her wrist like a bracelet as she crossed the kitchen to sample Katie’s cooking.
“Why are you so dolled up this evening?” Katie asked, as though she didn’t already know the answer. Today was Wednesday, and Randy Kopp was coming to dinner.
“Shoot, this old thing?” Grandma scoffed, with a wave of her hand. “I just thought I’d clean up a little for dinner.” She tasted Katie’s chicken noodles, then added salt. Grandma added salt to everything. Katie was just glad she wasn’t baking a cake.
She couldn’t blame Grandma for having interest in tonight’s guest. She’d gussied up a little more than usual herself, but what girl didn’t want to look her best when a handsome man came calling? A flutter landed in her belly, not because of Randy’s visit, but because of the brief memory of John’s face when she’d blurted that he was handsome on Rebecca Fisher’s porch.
Uncomfortable? Maybe.
Surprised? Definitely.
Pleased? Now, that’s where the flutters came in. A fleeting look in his green eyes had actually seemed pleased.
That, of course, was
not
the reason she’d decided not to go in and work this morning. Laundry needed doing. Noodles needed cooking.
And, maybe, bellies needed to de-flutter. Some.
A knock on the front door had Grandma moving faster than she’d moved in years. “I’ll get it,” she hollered, wielding her cane as though she’d conk anyone who got in her way.
Katie wiped her hands on her apron before removing it to drape across the back of a chair. She surely hoped Randy didn’t play checkers.
She stepped into the front room just as Randy was removing his coat. He gave Grandma a kiss on the cheek, causing her to giggle like a schoolgirl, and then turned his considerable charm on Katie.
Spit and polished, all dressed for courting, he was a sight to behold. “I brung you some apples,” he said, handing Katie a basketful of fruit. “Grandma’s tree done real good this year, and I thought you might like to bake a pie.”
“Why, thank you, Randy.”
She felt her face flush as deep a red as the apples when he winked and added, “You’re looking mighty pretty tonight, Katie.”
“Ain’t he sweet?” Grandma gushed as though Randy had spoken to her, just before she grabbed his arm and ushered him to the fireplace.
Grandpa’s snort drew Katie’s attention to the fact
that he’d stepped up beside her. “She’s actin’ like a danged fool. The floozy.”
Katie was used to Grandpa complaining about Grandma and visa versa, for that matter. It seemed they rarely had anything good to say about each other. But for some reason, tonight his comment made her stop and think. “Grandpa?”
“Huh?” he asked, still glaring at his errant wife.
“Why did you marry Grandma?” She suddenly had a need to know if the love had gone away or if there never had been any to begin with.
“Why did I marry her?” he asked, clearly surprised by her question.
She nodded. “Why did you vow to stay with her ‘until death do you part’?”
“Because I didn’t figure I’d live this long.” He grunted, then walked away, leaving Katie no clearer on her question than before the grunt, but she didn’t miss the way his eyes never left his floozy-fied wife. The love was still there, just a tad rusty.
“Supper’s on, everybody,” Katie said, returning to the kitchen and her salty noodles.
She set the kettle on the table and proceeded to dish out a bowl of green beans and boiled potatoes. A pan of warm corn bread finished the setting, just in time for Grandpa to say grace. Randy had taken the seat beside her, which probably was fitting. The brush of his foot against hers during grace probably was not.
He wasn’t even fazed by the look of censure she threw his way, a look she about wore plumb out by the end of the meal. If it wasn’t his foot, it was his knee or a slight brush of his hand against hers. Each chastising
glance she gave him was met with a wry grin or the slight wiggle of his eyebrow. She was beginning to wonder if Randy was his name or a description of his constant condition, when Grandma hailed him to join her on the settee by the fire so they could chat.
Ever the charmer, he couldn’t refuse. But when the evening came to an end, Grandma was still chatting. Katie couldn’t help feeling a little sorry for him.
“Katie?” he asked, as he pulled on his coat. “Can you step out on the porch for a spell and say good night?”
He looked so forlorn she couldn’t refuse. Besides, refusing to be alone with a man she was considering marrying seemed silly. Grabbing her coat from the peg, she stepped out behind him onto the porch. The door barely closed behind her before he pulled her into his arms.
“Randy!” She shoved against his chest, but he only chuckled. The boy was strong as well as pretty.
“Come on, Katie. How are we supposed to get to know each other if we don’t have a little kiss or two?”
She turned her head quickly, causing his lips to land on her cheek instead of their intended destination.
“Randy, we don’t know each other well enough for that.” She pushed harder, and he released his grip.
“Katie—”
She held her hand up to stop him midsentence, then pointed to the rocking chairs. Grinning, he followed her unspoken instructions and crossed the porch to a chair. Oddly enough, the boards didn’t creak as much as they had with Harold.
“I want to know why you want to marry me,” she said, taking the chair beside him.
His silence told her he really hadn’t thought about it before.
“Um…” He paused. “You’re a pretty woman and a good cook.”
“And?” If he said anything about his bowels…
“And I ain’t never lost a woman to no man. I ain’t goin’ to lose to them other two now.”
Competition. Suddenly she felt like a prize calf he was trying to win at the county fair. “That’s not a good reason to marry a woman.”
“That ain’t all,” he said, his lip curving up in his most devilish grin. “That just makes it more fun.”
And then he showed her why he had women falling all over themselves over half of West Virginia. He dropped his smile and took her hand, looking her squarely in the eye. “It’s time I settled down, and you’re a fine woman, Katie Napier. A man could do much worse for a wife.”
With that, he kissed the back of her hand and bid her good night, leaving her to stare out into the darkness, contemplating her alternatives. At this point, she could serve her purpose as either a trophy calf or a laxative. As if that wasn’t enough, Freddie had yet to make his bid. How was that poor boy going to top those?