A Simple Charity

by Rosalind Lauer

  “Such relaxing work, I’m about to doze off,” Fanny said aloud, stifling a yawn. “It’s a good thing you’re back, Anna. It wouldn’t be possible for me to be a midwife and enjoy gatherings like this.”

  “There’s plenty of time in the day when I’ve got an empty house at home,” Anna said. “If I’m out late tending to a mother, I take catnaps all day long.”

  “Well, I’m relieved to have you back,” said Fanny, “and I know I’m not alone.”

  “We all missed you, Anna,” agreed Lovina Stoltzfus, hostess of the event. “How are your daughter and her family?”

  Anna told the women about the wedding festivities in the Old Order Amish community where her daughter lived. “Two weddings a week, while I was there,” Anna said. “I was invited to three of them. Wonderful good receptions. But weddings in late June—it just doesn’t seem right.” In most of Lancaster’s Amish communities, November was the traditional month for weddings, but in Ohio, where Fanny had grown up, weddings happened in June and November.

  “I think I would like having two wedding seasons in the year.” Lovina’s daughter Annie spoke with a bright smile. “Sometimes, it’s hard to wait until November.”

  “Are you telling us you’re waiting?” rasped an elderly woman, Nell King. It was no secret that Annie had been courting Jonah King. “So we can expect a wedding here in November, then.”

  A few women chuckled as Annie’s hands flew to her face to hide the rosy blush of embarrassment on her cheeks.

  “But I didn’t say that,” Annie insisted. It was traditional for wedding plans to stay within the family until the couple’s engagement was announced in church.

  “It’s all right, child,” Anna said. “Anyone with eyes can see that you and Jonah King are two peas in a pod.”

  Annie lowered her head in deference to the older midwife, who caught Fanny yawning. “Don’t fall asleep on us now, Fanny.”

  “Still catching up on my rest. How do you keep up, Anna? Running here and there, often in the middle of the night.”

  “There’s little joy in hitching up a horse in the dark of night,” Anna agreed.

  “I know how that goes.” Joan Fisher’s dark brows arched down in a bad-tempered expression. “We’re out hitching up the buggy most days at three A.M. It’s gotten so I can put the harness on with my eyes closed.”

  Some of the women chuckled, but Fanny ducked her head and tended to her work. She had learned that it was best to avoid David’s mother—best to dodge his entire family as much as possible. Sometimes it still prickled to be around them—a constant thorn in her side.

  When David had died, there had been some talk about his life being spared had he gone into the family bakery; it was verhuddelt talk, as far as Fanny was concerned. The bishop had clamped down on the gossip, but once the word was out, it did its damage like a slug in the garden. Nowadays, Fanny counted her blessings that the bishop had helped her move on from David’s family. Oh, the Fishers had disapproved when she had taken up with Thomas and his children, but once Fanny and Tom had married, their displeasure had faded.

  “Baking is an early business,” Lovina commented.

  “Early to bed, early to rise.” Joan’s stern brown eyes caught Fanny’s for a moment until Fanny quickly looked down at her stitching. “It’s not a bad way of life.”

  “At least you keep regular hours,” said Anna. “I go at all times, in all weather, and I’m not a youngster anymore. I’ve grown weary of fighting winter’s snow and ice. That’s why I think your idea is a good one, Fanny. A birth center that I could walk to, that would be right good.”

  A smile welled up inside Fanny at the midwife’s kind words. When Fanny first mentioned the notion to Anna, the older woman had liked the idea, but her stoic expression had left Fanny wondering if Anna would support a birth center.

  “What’s that, now?” Lovina asked. “Do you mean a clinic here in Halfway?”

  “Not quite,” Fanny answered. “This is just a place for women to have their babies.”

  “Our town had a birth center, back in Ohio,” said Mary Yoder. “Most Amish women went there.”

  Pausing with her stitching, Fanny explained how her grandmother had converted their Doddy house into a place for women to go to have their babies. “We’d like to do the same with our carriage house, once we get it fixed up. It would be a place for women to come and stay a couple of days.”

  “Imagine, getting off your feet for a few days,” Lovina said with wonder in her voice.

  “My sister says it’s very good indeed,” added Mary. “Every woman gets a bed and good food and plenty of back rubs for a few days. I wish we had something like that here.”

  “You see, Fanny?” Anna peered over her spectacles. “There’s a real need, and you know that business would be good. There’s plenty more babies to be born. I can barely keep up anymore.”

  The women were enthusiastic, the conversation brimming over with questions about how it might come to be. Even Joan nodded in agreement. Fanny beamed with pleasure.

  “So you can tell Caleb that my husband will lend a hand if he needs help on the carriage house,” Lovina offered. “Aaron is good with repairs.”

  “Denki,” Fanny said gratefully. “I’ll tell Caleb about the offer. Right now Zed Miller is doing a lot of the work, and he’s quite handy.”

  “Well, that explains one mystery,” said Dorcas Fisher. “I was wondering why Zed Miller is spending so much time at your place.”

  “That’s right.” Fanny lifted her gaze cautiously to her former sister-in-law, and then quickly stared back at her stitching. Although Fanny harbored no malice toward Dorcas, she tried to steer clear of the woman who had dropped her like a hot potato after Fanny went to work for Thomas Lapp, soon after David’s death. Many of the Fishers thought it was disrespectful to David for Fanny to take such a job, but at that time she had no choice. The Fishers had no work for her at the bakery, and she had suddenly found herself a woman alone, without any income. When the bishop had suggested that she care for Tom and his children, Fanny had jumped at the chance to do what she did best—running a household and taking good care of other folk.

  “Are you keeping an eye on Zed Miller now, Dorcas?” Lovina asked in that smooth way she had of turning a conversation.

  “I could be.” Dorcas lifted her chin, a bit defiant. Thirty-two and never married, Dorcas Fisher was a hardworking woman with strong opinions. Fanny had always felt a little sorry for her not having found a husband, but what man wanted to tangle with an angry bull? “I know Zed’s been out to Fanny’s place because he told me. The past two weeks, when he comes into the bakery, that’s where he’s spent the day.”

  “I heard he’s getting baptized,” said Sally Reil, another widow, with ten children. “It looks like Zed has come back to us for good.”

  “Let’s hope so,” Dorcas said as she tugged a stitch through. “Zed is just the kind of man we need around here. A bit older and wiser.”

  Although Fanny kept quiet, she did agree. For single women in their thirties who were looking for a husband, it was slim pickings. A man like Zed was like a breath of fresh air.

  “He’s right around your age, isn’t he?” Lovina asked Dorcas.

  “Give or take a few years.” Dorcas grinned. “I’m beginning to think there’s a reason he comes into the bakery every Tuesday. I know he likes my bread, and we all know the best way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.”

  The women chuckled over the harmless comment, but Fanny felt a little sick at the thought that Zed might have eyes for Dorcas Fisher. That shouldn’t matter to her at all, but somehow it did. Shaken, she kept quiet until Dorcas prodded her.

  “So if you’re seeing Zed Miller day in and day out, you know him best. Tell us about him. What’s Zed really like?”

  “It’s hard to say.” Fanny pressed her lips together, stalling.

  She could tell them how he bent down so that he could be eye-to-eye with the children when he s
poke to them.

  She could tell them about the slow drawl of his movements, full of care and purpose. Nothing was rushed or hurried, and yet so much got done. In just two weeks, new windows had been popped in and secured. Rotted beams and trim had been replaced, all under Zed’s skilled hands.

  Or she might share how much she enjoyed his quiet presence, how it was the perfect complement to their active house, bustling with rambunctious children and determined young adults. Zed seemed equally comfortable whether holding the baby or teaching Will how to swing a hammer or discussing how to install plumbing with Caleb.

  There were oh so many things she could tell them about Zed, but Fanny knew that each little detail would reveal too much. Her words would tell them that she was growing attached to this man.

  Fortunately, she was saved when Lovina jumped in.

  “Come now, Dorcas, you’re asking Fanny to talk about someone behind his back, and gossip is a sin.”

  “Is it gossip when we’re saying nice things?” Dorcas asked, her brows raised in a sweet expression.

  “There’s not much to say about a man as quiet as Zed,” said Becca Yoder. “I’ve tried to get him talking a few times, but he’s silent as a stone.”

  Some of us don’t need to fill the quiet spaces with chatter, thought Fanny.

  “There’s nothing wrong with a quiet man,” said Lovina.

  “I wouldn’t know,” Mary Yoder said with a wink. “I can’t get my Eli to shut up.”

  Their joking eased Fanny’s tension for now, but as the women chatted, she took note of the single women in the room who might be interested in Zed. Maybe she felt stirred out of a need to protect him, like an older sister taking care of her brother. Ya, that was it. A good sister—nothing more.

  10

  Seated in a lone chair that was surrounded by the thirteen-member nursing board, Meg felt as if she were facing the fire and fury of the Wizard of Oz. The panel of nurses and laypeople was intimidating due to the mere fact that they outnumbered her. Add to that the vindictive style of Peter, one of the registered nurses on the board, and Meg felt her knees knocking together under the table.

  Surrender, Dorothy.

  Meg wiped her damp palms on her thighs, trying to calm herself with a little perspective. The inquisition was almost over; soon it would be behind her, and that would be a relief.

  Only two weeks had passed since she’d left Halfway. On her way back to Pittsburgh, Meg had stopped in a gas station and put a call through to the state nursing board about scheduling a hearing. They had agreed to hold an emergency session, though the first possible date had been two weeks away, which had seemed like an eternity.

  Ending the call, she had noticed a text message from an unknown number.

  This is Jack Woods. Got your digits from Zoey. Tell me that’s okay or else I’ll bug off.

  Joy rippled through Meg from head to toe. Jack was geographically undesirable, but it was nice to be courted. Besides, she was in need of a friend. She texted back with news that she had just scheduled a hearing with the board and was eager to set things straight.

  You go, girl, he shot back. And the truth shall set you free.

  That had been the first of Jack’s texts of wisdom. A few times a day, he sent her words of wisdom, Amish proverbs or Bible verses. He wrote things like You can’t keep trouble from visiting, but you don’t have to offer it a chair and Let it shine! Jack’s upbeat text messages lifted her spirits.

  In response, she sent him photos of her kids—the babies she had delivered, who were now toddlers or in grammar school. Since she was unable to practice, she used the time to connect with the families she had served. It was always a wonder to see the older versions of the babies she had delivered, to see the toddlers as they learned to walk or the older ones as they tossed a football in the yard with siblings. That had made those two weeks fly by.

  Although she kept sipping water, Meg’s mouth was dry and pasty. She wondered if the doctors on the medical board noticed the way her lips stuck together when she tried to speak, making a ridiculous smacking sound.

  “We’ve gone over your statement, Ms. Harper.” Peter was picking on her again. She couldn’t see his eyes because of the silver glare on his spectacles, but his crankiness came through loud and clear in his tone of voice. “Quite frankly, I don’t understand why you thought you could handle such a high-risk case. The mother was overweight and diabetic. No prenatal care. What was your reasoning for agreeing to the home delivery?”

  “Ms. Collier was not a typical client for me.” Meg explained how she worked with her clients throughout their pregnancies, how she kept charts on them and came to know their medical profiles and personal lives. She was grateful to see a few of the nurses’ heads nodding when she emphasized that a trusting relationship between mother and midwife was key to a smooth delivery.

  “Unfortunately, Ms. Collier was determined to have her child at home, with or without medical assistance. Afterward, I learned that she had not seen a medical professional for her diabetes for two years, and …” There was an embarrassing catch of emotion in her voice, and Meg cleared her throat and went on. “As you know, Ms. Collier did not receive prenatal care. I don’t condone this. But I made the choice to try to help her when her neighbor called me and reported that the local paramedics probably would not make it to the scene in time.”

  Her statement was followed by silence and a silver-spectacled glare from Peter. Was it a sympathetic silence? Meg didn’t know what to make of the fact that most of the people facing her from the board table did not look her in the eye. Were they looking away out of disapproval, or simply bored with the proceedings?

  “Ms. Harper?” A female nurse named Judith, a small woman with blond hair that was a sharp contrast to her black blouse, spoke up for the first time. “The sequence of events you describe in this case is nightmarish. Quite frankly, I don’t know what I would have done if I’d been in your situation. Can you tell us what time you called 911 and what stage of labor Ms. Collier was in at that point?”

  Meg answered as truthfully as she could, trying to keep the fear she’d experienced that night and her subsequent resentment of Deedee Collier from her voice. There were a few more questions, many of them covering the very same information she had provided in her account of the birth. Had they not read her report, or were they trying to trip her up? Meg didn’t know if the board had a psychological strategy for these hearings, but she tried to stay focused and honest. There was too much at stake here to let herself cave in to the emotions that tugged at her from all directions.

  At last, the commissioner sitting at the center of the dais held up her hand and asked if there were any more questions. When there was no response, Audra Machen asked Meg to step out of the room while they deliberated.

  Outside in the waiting room, Meg couldn’t bear to sit. Hugging her folder of notes to her chest, she paced from the glass door to the sofa and back again. In her heart, she had known that it was time to push this issue with the board, time to have the hearing and get her license reinstated. The dust had settled and the issues were clear now. They would see that she had handled the situation with the correct medical protocol. Wouldn’t they?

  Her stomach sank as she began to think of the worst-case scenario. What if they didn’t reinstate her license? She needed a backup … a plan B. Oh, no, no. She couldn’t bear to give up the one profession she was made for.

  Just then the door to the boardroom opened, and Audra summoned her back inside. Meg followed, not even trying to read into the poker-faced expressions of the thirteen people staring her down.

  The commissioner began with an explanation of the emergency session, how it was important to put a licensed practitioner back to work as soon as possible if a complaint turned out to be unfounded.

  Meg stared down at the floor, not sure where this was going.

  “In this case, the expedient hearing proved worthwhile, because we have found that the charges do not have foundati
on. We are reinstating your license, without reprimand.”

  Meg lifted her chin, her heart dancing. “Thank you,” she said, but some of the members of the board were already out of their chairs, collecting papers. For them, this was business as usual. But for Meg, it was the end of an extraordinary nightmare.

  Half an hour later, Meg was still in a pleasant daze as she rode the elevator down from the sixth floor. The commissioner had shown her to the administrative office, which issued licenses, and the woman there helped her through the paperwork to update her profile and reinstate her license. She was in good standing now, free to practice as a midwife anywhere in the state.

  “Congratulations on being reinstated.”

  Meg turned to the other woman in the elevator. It was one of the board members, Judith. “Thanks. I’m sorry I didn’t notice you there. I’m still in a daze. The last few months have been crazy.”

  “I’ll say. We don’t see cases like yours too often. You really went through the wringer. I know it must be extremely difficult to be under investigation, but our job is to protect the patient, first and foremost.”

  “I understand that. I really do,” Meg agreed. “Practitioners need to be monitored. The standard of care is important.”

  “I work for an ob-gyn now,” Judith went on, “but I was a midwife for a few years.” She let out a small laugh. “The hardest four years of my life, but also the most fulfilling.”

  Their eyes met, and Meg nodded. “I’m hooked.”

  “I sensed that about you.”

  “I’m glad to be able to practice again. But I’ll never forget this case. I’ll never forget Deedee’s baby when I saw him at the hospital. Even stillborn, he was …” Meg’s voice cracked with emotion. “He was perfection.”

  Judith bit her lower lip, nodding. “I lost a baby, too. It did me in. I was never able to go back to being a midwife with the same confidence. I admire you for getting back on that horse.”